Cimmeria

Cimmeria: From the Journal of Imaginary Anthropology

By Theodora Goss

«Cimmerians don’t recognize twins,» said Lisa. «That has to be the explanation. Do you remember the thirteenth-century philosopher Farkosj Kursand? When God made the world, He decreed that human beings would be born one at a time, unique, unlike animals. They would be born defenseless, without claws or teeth or fur. But they would have souls. It’s in a children’s book – I have a copy somewhere, but it’s based on Kursand’s reading of Genesis in one of his philosophical treatises. Milw would know which. And it’s the basis of Cimmerian human right law, actually. That’s why women have always had more rights here. They have souls, so they’ve been allowed to vote since Cimmeria became a parliamentary monarchy. I’m sure it’s mentioned in one of the articles – I don’t remember which one, but check the database Mike is putting together. Shaila must have been a twin, and the Cimmerians don’t recognize the second child as separate from the first. So Shaila is one girl. In two bodies, but with one soul. »

« Who came up with that stupid idea? »

« Well, to be perfectly honest, it might have been you. » She leaned back in our revolving chair. I don’t know how she could do that without falling. « Or Mike, of course. It certainly wasn’t my idea. Embryologically it does make a certain sense. Identical twins really do come from one egg. »

« So they’re both Shaila ».

« There is no both. The idea of both is culturally inappropriate. There is one Shaila, in two bodies. Think of them as Shaila and her shadow. »

Cimmeria. Photo by Elena

I tested the theory once, while walking through the market with Afa. We were walking through the alley of the dog-sellers. In Cimmeria, almost every house has a dog, for defense and to catch rats. Cats are not sold in the market. They cannot be sold at all, only given or willed away. To sell a cat for money is to imperil your immortal soul. We passed a woman sitting on the ground, with a basket beside her. In it were two infants, as alike as the proverbial two peas in a pod, half-covered with a ragged blanket. Beside them lay a dirty mutt with a chain around its neck that lifted its head and whimpered as we walked by.

« Child how many in basket? » I asked Afa in my still-imperfect Cimmerian.

« There is one child in that basket, Pati, » she said. I could not get her to stop using the diminutive. I even told her that in my language Pati was a woman’s name, to no effect. She just smiled, patted me on the arm, and assured me that no one would mistake such a tall, handsome (which in Cimmerian is the same word as beautiful) man for a woman.

« Only one child? »

« Of course. One basket, one child. »

Shaila’s shadow followed her everywhere. When she and her sisters sat with me in the room wit the low divans and the large-screen TV, studying American slang, she was there. « What’s up! » Shaila would say, laughing, and her shadow would stare down at the floor. When Shaila and I walked through the gardens, she walked six paces behind, pausing when we paused, sitting when we sat. After we were married, in our apartment in Arizona, she would sit in a corner of the bedroom, watching as we made love. Although I always turned off the lights, I could see her : a darkness against the off-white walls of faculty housing.

Once, I tried to ask Shaila about her. « Shaila, do you know the word twin? »

« Of course, » she said. « In America, if two babies are born at the same time, tey ar twins. »

Twins. Photo of Elena