*This way.* The hinte led her past a room with a hole right through the floor. Tan-Tan had to pee, but she wasn’t going to squat with her bottom exposed to the outside to do her business, like some kind of wild animal, a leggobeast in the bush. The room didn’t even self have a door! She felt her mouth screwing up in disgust.
A next room, too dark to see good, then Benta’s workspace. Weaving and dyeing were everywhere: cayenne red and ochre yellow strips were draped to dry on lines strung from wall to wall; cloth was folded into squares and stacked on one of the low tables; a sloping loom was strung with a half-finished piece. Tan-Tan could discern the dancing black figures that Benta was weaving into it. How, with no hands?
Benta waddled to the loom. In her beak she picked up a warp thread that had been dangling off to one side. The end of the thread was attached to a shuttle. Benta started shunting it through the warp, using her beak and one foot just like a parrot eating a nut. With the foot on the ground she pressed the treadle.
“But eh-eh!” Tan-Tan laughed. Everything here so strange!
Benta stopped the loom, chirped, *Bath for you now.*
The bathing room was the dark one next to the piss hole room. It had one mako big flowertop growing from the daddy tree right into the space. It put Tan-Tan in mind of a pineapple top, but at least three metres across. The tips of it extended out through small holes in the side of the room. Cool, diffuse light came through the holes. A lantern hanging from one of the spiny flower petals threw a quivering mandala of light on the wall. As her eyes adjusted, Tan-Tan could see that the crown of the flower was full of water; a natural bathtub. Abitefa was strewing crushed herbs from a small bowl into the water, stirring it with her arms that were crooking into wings. The herbs smelt strengthening, like the scent of coffee brewing. Abitefa stood and from a low shelf took a little iron pot with holes cut out the sides. She waved it in the air and a sweet-smelling smoke curled from out the pot. The bathing place felt peaceful and quiet, the perfect space to cleanse your body and your mind.
Benta left the two of them alone in the room. Abitefa glanced at Tan-Tan, looked away, made to shuffle past her. “Ahm, Abitefa?” said Tan-Tan. The young hinte woman stopped and looked at her silently. Did she speak Anglopatwa? “I need to, uh, I need to piss.”
Sure enough, Abitefa led her into the adjoining room that she had walked past a few minutes ago. Tan-Tan peered down into the squatting hole. There was some kind of bowl hanging below it. Her stomach roiled at the sight of the pale, fat grubs churning in the mess inside. But she was going to burst, she had to go. “You could watch the door for me?”
Abitefa warbled, then switched languages: *Watch why.*
It was a question. “I mean, stand by the door and make sure nobody come by and look ’pon me while I peeing.”
Abitefa ruffled her developing feathers in amusement, but waddled to the door and stood. She skreeked loudly, *Nobody coming.* There was a flurry of answering calls and cries from somewhere in the dwelling. Tan-Tan hurriedly did her business while Abitefa rustled and bustled with laughter. The acid urine stung Tan-Tan where… feeling Bad Tan-Tan stirring, she abandoned the thought. She quickly pulled up her clothing and said loudly to Abitefa, “I done now.”
Abitefa took her back, continued preparing the bath. Not knowing what to say to her, Tan-Tan just looked round. On the floor beside the bromeliad tub it had a bowl with scrubbing husks. A handful of arm-thick stalks jutted out one side of the tub, pushed themselves out of a hole that had been cut for them trunkside of the room. Abitefa pulled one of the stalks to the inside. It was a big dark blue flower, pitcher-shaped, with a deep cup. Abitefa bent the stalk over the bath, emptied its load of water in.
“Oho,” Tan-Tan said.
*Bathe now,* Abitefa sang. She left Tan-Tan to figure it out herself.
Tan-Tan stood closer to the bromeliad tub. She could see a trickle of condensation running from the tip that went outside down into the tub. It would refill itself constantly and the douens could top it up from the pitcher flowers if they needed to. How did they drain it?
She was alone, finally. The flicker-lace light from the lamp threw soft, gentle shadows on the leaves and branches. Tan-Tan dabbled her hand in the bath water. It was warm. The trickle sound of the water was a soothing balm. It had a scent in the room of growing things, of peace. She was tired for true, seen. She was nearly swaying on her feet with fatigue. She made to strip off her shirt—but the door, it ain’t have no door!
She yelped when Abitefa shuffled back into the room unannounced. Startled, Abitefa dropped the folded unbleached cloths she’d been carrying. They stood staring at each other. Was the young hinte shy? Vexed? Indifferent? The elongated hands of Abitefa’s going-to-wings arms-them retained their fingers on their ends, that’s how she grasped things. Abitefa picked up one of the cloths and rubbed it against her own body.
“You mean I must dry myself with them?” asked Tan-Tan.
*Yes.*
She was gone again. Tan-Tan knotted two-three of the soft cloths together and tied them across the door.
Finally some quiet, oui. Tan-Tan took off her clothing and climbed into the flowertop. Her feet slid into the centre, where the wide spikes of the bromeliad overlapped to hold the water. It was warmer there. The heat seemed to be coming from the core of the flower. So strange to be inside a living bath! She lowered herself in.
As her behind hit the warm, fragrant water all her nicks and cuts from the day before awoke stinging. She sucked in air against the pain and eased in slowly. Her hands were trembling, her knees shaking. All of a sudden she felt sick. Every scratch was a memory, every gash an image. Bad Tan-Tan was screaming at her, accusing her. She could see the raised welts on her legs from Daddy’s belt. Sobbing, she scooped up some water, splashed her face with it. The water made a spot on her cheek burn. She touched it gently. A bruise, from Antonio’s slap. Another, a branch-whip from their flight through the bush.
The herbs in the water were soothing, eventually eased the pain of her wounds to a blessed numb tingle, but Tan-Tan was sobbing by the time she was clean. This wasn’t just a day trip, an adventure. She had had home torn from her again.
Tan-Tan crouched in the tub, watching the tears dropping one by one into the water. She felt sick to her stomach. Only good for dead, hissed Bad Tan-Tan. Her dripping eye water made rings in the bath.
She stayed there so until the chilling of her skin from the water brought her back to herself. She was hungry, yes? She climbed down from the bath and dried her skin. She picked up her birthday skirt—today was her birthday—to put it back on. A faint smell snaked out from it, different from the cleansing scents of herbs and smoke. A smell of blood. Tan-Tan skinned up her face and dropped the skirt into the bath water. She swirled it round, wrung it, laid it over one of the flower spikes to dry. She found a dryish piece of cloth from the pile Abitefa had brought her. She tied it into a dhoti round her hips, wrapped another cloth round her chest and tied it into a halter at neck and waist. She looked down at herself with a wry smile. “But look at what I come to, ee? Living in a tree like a monkey, wearing a halter top and a diaper. Lord, if Janisette see this outfit, she would dead with laugh.”
Janisette. Tan-Tan’s mind shut tight like a mouth again.
Her belly grumbled. Maybe Chichibud and them would give her something to eat? She slipped her sandals back on and left the bathroom, looking for Chichibud and his family.