Several of us have talked about this off and on, but today was our first Gathering on the subject since we got the truck. Travis, more than most of us, wanted to risk becoming more involved with our neighbors. We could contract with them to buy the specific handicrafts, tools, and crops that they produce well. We know by now who's good at what, who's dependable, and who's honest and sober at least most of the time.
Travis and I have already been asking around on our now more frequent trips to Eureka to see which merchants might be interested in contracting to buy specific produce from us.
Travis cleared his throat and spoke to the group again. "With the truck," he said, "only our first truck if we're successful, we've got the beginnings of a wholesale business. Then, instead of depending only on what we can produce and instead of only bartering with near neighbors, we can grow a business as well as a community and a movement It's important that we become a self-sustaining economic entity or we're liable never to move out of the nineteenth century!"
Well put, but not all that well received. We say "God is Change," but the truth is, we fear change as much as anyone does. We talk about changes at Gathering to ease our fears, to desensitize ourselves and to consider consequences.
"We're doing all right," Allie Gilchrist said. "Why should we take on more risk? And why, when this guy Jarret is liable to win the election, should we draw attention to ourselves?" She had already lost her infant son and her sister. She had only her adopted son Justin, and she would do almost anything to protect him.
Michael surprised me. "We could do it, I suppose," he said, and I waited for the "but." There was bound to be one with Michael. He obliged. "But she's right about Jarret. If he gets elected, the last thing we'll need is higher visibility."
"Jarret is down in the polls!" Jorge said. "His people are scaring everyone to death with their burning churches, burning people. He might not win."
"Who the hell do they poll these days?" Michael asked, shaking his head. And then, "We'd better keep an eye on Jarret anyway. Win or lose, he'll still have plenty of followers who are eager to create scapegoats."
Harry spoke up. "We aren't invisible now," he said. "People in the nearby towns know us, know what we are—or they think they do. I want my kids to have a chance at decent lives. Maybe this wholesaling idea will be the beginning of that chance."
Next to him, his wife Zahra nodded and said, "I'm for it too. We didn't settle here just to grub in the ground and live in log huts. We can do better."
"We might even improve things for ourselves with the neighbors," Travis said, "if more people in the area know us, know that we can be trusted, it might be a little harder for a rabble-rouser like Jarret or one of his local clones to make trouble for us."
I doubted that that would prove true—at least not on a large scale. We would meet more people, make more friends, and some of these would be loyal. The rest... well, the best we could hope for from them would be that they ignore us if we get into trouble. That might be the kindest gesture they could manage—to turn their backs and not join the mob. Others, whether we thought of them as friends or not, would be all too willing to join the mob and to stomp us and rob us if stomping and robbing became a test of courage or a test of loyalty to country, religion, or race.
On the other hand, making more of the right kinds of friends couldn't hurt us. We've already made some that I trust—near neighbors, a couple of people in Prata, and a few more in Georgetown, the big squatter settlement outside Eureka. And the only way to make more good friends is to make more friends period.
Adela Ortiz spoke up in her quick, soft, little-girl voice. She's only 16. "What if people think we're cheating them?" she said. "People always think that. You know, like you're trying to be nice to them and they just think everybody's a liar and a thief but them."
I was sitting near her, so I answered. "People will think whatever they like." I said. "It's our job to show by our behavior that we're not thieves, and we're not fools. We've got a good reputation so far. People know we don't steal. They know better than to steal from us. And they know we're neighborly. In emergencies, we help out. Our school is open to their kids for a little hard currency, and their kids are safe while they're here." I shrugged. "We've made a good start."
"And you think this wholesaling business is the way for us to go?" Grayson Mora asked.
I looked over at him with surprise. He sometimes manages to get through a whole Gathering without saying anything. He isn't shy at all, but he's quiet. He and his wife were slaves before they met. Each had lost family members to the effects and neglects of slavery. Now between them they have two girls and two boys. They're ferocious in guarding their children, and suspicious of anything new that might affect those children.
"I do," I said. I paused, glanced up at Travis who stood at the big handsome oak podium that Allie had built Then I continued. “1 believe we can do it as long as the truck holds up. You're our expert there, Travis. You've said the truck is in good shape, but can we afford to maintain it? What new, expensive part will it be needing soon?"
"By the time it needs anything expensive, we should be making more money," he said. "As of now, even the tires are good, and that's unusual." He leaned over the podium, looking confident and serious. "We can do this," he said. "We should start small, study the possibilities, and figure out how we should grow. If we do this right, we should be able to buy another truck in a year or two. We're growing. We need to do this.''
Beside me, Bankole sighed. "If we're not careful," he said, "our size and success will make us the castle on the hill—everyone's protector in this area. I don't think that's wise."
I do mink it's wise, but I didn't say so. Bankole still can't see this place as anything more than a temporary stop on the way to a "real" home in a "real" town—that is, an already established town. I don't know how long it will take for him to see that what we're building here is as real and at least as important as anything he's likely to find in a town that's been around for a century or two.
I foresee a time when our settlement is not only "the castle on the hill," but when most or all of our neighbors have joined us. Even if they don't like every aspect of Earthseed, I hope they'll like enough of it to recognize that they're better off with us than without us. I want them as allies and as members, not just as "friends." And as we absorb them, I also intend to either absorb some of the storekeeper, restaurant, or hotel clients that we'll have—or I want us to open our own stores, restaurants, and hotels. I definitely want to begin Gathering Houses that are also schools in Eureka, Arcata, and some of the larger nearby towns. I want us to grow into the cities and towns in this natural, self-supporting way.
I don't know whether we can do all this, but I think we have to try. I think this is what a real beginning for Earth-seed looks like.
I don't know how to do it That scares me to death sometimes—always feeling driven to do something I don't know how to do. But I'm learning as I go along. And I've learned that I have to be careful how I talk about all this, even to Acorn. Bankole isn't the only one of us who doesn't see the possibility of doing anything he hasn't seen done by others. And... although Bankole would never say this, I suspect that somewhere inside himself, he believes that large, important things are done only by powerful people in high positions far away from here. Therefore, what we do is, by definition, small and unimportant. This is odd, because in other ways, Bankole has a healthy ego. He didn't let self-doubt or the doubts of his family or the laughter of his friends stop him from going to college, and then medical school, surviving by way of a combination of scholarships, jobs, and huge debts. He began as a quietly arrogant Black boy of no particular distinction, and he ended as a physician.