"Oh, do not fear," she laughed, "that we are not well understood as slaves. Inthe camps, and among the tribes our red masters keep women such as I in ourcollars, to remove one of which without permission is death."
I nodded.
"And, too," she said, "What could a white woman in the Barrens be but a slave?"
"True," I said.
"We are thus, in our way, well marked," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"I was born Waniyanpi, in one of the Waniyanpi enclosures of the Kailiauk," shesaid, "the product of a forced mating, between parents unknown even tothemselves, parents selected and matched by the red masters, parents who, eventhough they were Sames, were forced to perform the Ugly Act, hooded and underwhips, on the day of Waniyanpi breeding."
"There is much here I do not understand," I said. "What are Waniyanpi? Who arethe Kailiauk?"
"Many of the tribes permit small agricultural communities to exist within theirdomains," she said. "The individuals in these communities are bound to the soiland owned collectively by the tribes within whose lands they are permitted tolive. They grow produce for their masters, such as wagmeza and wagmu, maize, orcorn, and such things as pumpkins and squash. They are also to furnish laborwhen required and may be drawn upon, at the whim of their masters, forindividual slaves. When one is taken from the enclosure one ceases to beWaniyanpi and becomes a common slave, an ordinary slave, one owned by anindividual master. Usually daughters are taken, for the red masters find thempleasing as slaves, but sometimes, too, young men are taken. The word" Waniyanpi' itself means literally "tame cattle'. It is an expression applied tothe collectively owned slaves in these tiny agricultural communities. TheKailiauk is. a tribe federated with the Kaiila. They speak closely relateddialects."
"Do the parents come from within the same community?" I asked.
"No," she said. "For the day of breeding the men, hooded and in coffle, aremarched between the small communities. On the day of breeding they are led tothe selected women, already hooded, tied and awaiting them. The breeding takesplace in the wagmeza fields, under the eyes of the masters."
"You spoke of an Ugly Act?" I said. I did not like the sound of that. Itreminded me of a distant and sick world, the world of tittering, ofembarrassment and dirty jokes. How much more honest are the whips and collars ofGor?
"The Sames," she said, "disapprove of all sexual relations between human beings,and particularly between those of different sexes, as being demeaning anddangerous."
"I can see where some might regard sexual relations between partners of oppositesexes as being demeaning for the woman," I said, "for in such relations she isoften handled, owned and put in her place, but, on the other hand, if shebelongs in her place, and it is her natural destiny to be owned and handled, itis not clear, ultimately, how this sort of thing can be demeaning for her.
Rather, it seems it would be fully appropriate. Indeed, treating her in anyother way, ultimately, would seem to be far more demeaning. But how can suchrelations be regarded as dangerous?"
"They are not regarded as being dangerous to health," she said, "but as beingdangerous to the Teaching."
"What is the Teaching?" I asked.
"That men and women are the same," she said. "That is the central tenet of theWaniyanpi."
"Do they believe it?" I asked.
"They pretend to," she said. "I do not know if they really believe it or not."
"They believe men and women are the same," I marveled. "Except," she smiled,"that women are regarded as somewhat superior."
"Their beliefs then," I said, "seem not only to be obviously false but actuallyinconsistent."
"Before the Teaching one must surrender one's reason," she said. "To scrutinizeit is a crime. To question it is blasphemy."
"It lies, I suppose," I said, "at the roots of Waniyanpi society."
"Yes," she said. "Without it Waniyanpi society would collapse."
"So?" I said.
"They do not take the disintegration of their society as lightly as you do," shesmiled. "Too, you must understand the utility of such a view. It constitutes anexcellent philosophy for slaves."
"I am not even sure of that," I said.
"It, at least," she said, "gives men an excuse not to be men."
"That seems true," I granted her.
"It helps them to remain Waniyanpi," she said. "They are thus less likely toattract the attention, or excite the anger, of their red masters."
"I understand," I said. "I think I also understand why, in such a society, thewomen are regarded as somewhat superior, as you put it."
"It is only that they are implicitly regarded as superior," be said.
"Explicitly, of course, all subscribe to the thesis of sameness."
"But why are the women regarded, implicitly, as superior?" I asked.
"Because of the contempt felt for the men," she said, "who will not assert theirnatural rights. Also, if men refuse the mastery, someone must assume it."
"Yes," I said.
"There are always masters," she said, "whether one pretends it is not so, ornot."
"In the hands of women," I said, "the mastery becomes an empty mockery."
"Mockery has no choice but to assert itself," she said, "when reality isforesworn"
I was silent "The Waniyanpi communities are sources of great amusement to the red masters," she said.
I thought of what is sometimes spoken of by the red savages as the Memory.
"I understand," I said.
The red savages doubtless found their vengeance a sweet and fitting one. Howalmost incomprehensibly cruel it was, how horrifying, how brilliant andinsidious.
"The Teachings of the Waniyanpi," I said, "were doubtless originally imposed onthem by their red masters."
"Perhaps," she said. "I do not know. They may have been invented by theWaniyanpi themselves, to excuse to themselves their cowardice, their weaknessand impotence."
"Perhaps," I admitted.
"If one is not strong it is natural to make a virtue of weakness."
"I suppose so," I said. I then speculated that I had perhaps judged the redsavages too harshly. The Waniyanpi, it then seemed likely, may have betrayedthemselves, and their children. In time, of course, such teachings, absurdthough they might be, would come to be taken for granted. In time they wouldcome to be sanctioned by tradition, one of humanity's most prized substitutesfor thought.
"You, yourself," I said, "Do not seem much infected by the lunacy of theWaniyanpi."
"No," she said. "I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned newtruths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age."
"How old were you?" I asked.
"I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old," she said, "takenhome by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-oldson. I learned early to please and placate men."
"What happened?" I asked.
"There is little more to tell," she said. "For seven years I was the slave of myyoung master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the otherchildren. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put mein a leg stretcher until I was fifteen." She was then silent. "I have combed myhair," she said.
"Come here," I said, "and, kneel here." She rose from the water, it drippingfrom her body, and came and knelt on the grass, on the bank of the small stream,where I had indicated. I took the comb from her and laid it to the side. I thentook the brush and, kneeling behind her, began to brush out her hair. It is notunusual for Gorean masters to comb and groom slaves, or ornament thempersonally, much as they might any animal that they owned.