Part one, the Qwamaq language, can be found here.
Part two, Journey to Rising City, can be found here.
I found a book while looking through my grandfather's things that gave instructions to open a gateway to another world.
Through the gateway, I met Zhoniker and his family, members of the Qwamaq ethnic group and speakers of the Qwamaq language.
Zhoniker and I went to a large city called Konoprar and moved in with Zhoniker's bio father.
A wisdom holder of the city showed me a document about my great great aunt Dora Lipman, who went missing in 1953. The document mentioned that she may move to a different city called Ullipar.
It's been a busy couple of months! Finals caught up to me. I think I did well enough. In any case, I should give a brief update on what's been going on with Zhoniker and Qwamaqqar.
Zhoniker has been teaching me a very small amount of Olsem. My Olsem is still pretty bad, but at this point it's safe to say that Olsem and Qwamaq are related. They both have trigger systems, and the classifiers in Olsem very closely remember the nominalizers in Qwamaq.
The most apt example of this I can think of right now is fek, which is a classifier for tools. In Qwamaq, /-faq/ is an instrumental nominalizer suffix. There are some ones that may be related but seem more opaque.
Olsem also has a noun class system. I still can't figure out if it has any basis or is completely arbitrary, but apparently I am in class A, along with every other person i've met except for some Olsem who are in class B. Though people in class B are sometimes in class A. That is the only reasonable pattern I've been able to find, all other objects seem to be arbitrary.
So why am I learning Olsem? Pretty simple! Actually no it's very complicated. So let me run over what happened. Zhoniker and I went back to Porer after I finished translating the document about Dora, and I asked her where further information would be. She took me down a different path in the catacombs, but in the room she took me to, the tablet she was looking for had gone missing. After looking around for it in the room, she noticed a coin on the floor.
Apparently, these coins belong to Olsem families. They mint these coins and carry them in pouches. They're not really used for trade, but the more you have from your own family, the more status you have within that family. Olsem families are apparently pretty large. If you kill someone from a different family, you must carry all of their coins with your own. Killing other Olsem (and killing in general) is taboo. Manslaughter is considered different, I think? I may elaborate if and when I meet an Olsem person who can explain it to me.
But what's relevant here is that whoever took this second document likely dropped this coin. some Olsem have been known to steal from the catacombs and sell documents to other Olsem to put in their "mountain home," which is a place in the mountains where the Olsem return to for the … winter solstice? There are two solstices of course but I'm not sure which one just happened a couple of months ago. They keep family belongings that they can't bring with them in special sacred hiding spots, basically. They are normally nomadic and move every four days, but they stay in their mountain home for a whole month. They decorate their camps with all sorts of treasures. Qwamaq tablets are prized decorations.
So essentially, I will need to journey to the mountains with Zhoniker. We will have to bring the door with us so I can easily return home, which sounds really inconvenient, and we'll need to get there before the next solstice (the mountain one). But most Olsem are apparently really strong. Must be carrying all those things around with them all the time. So Zhoniker is looking around town for an Olsem guide. We will leave within four days.
Before I leave though, I have been wanting to meet with the fortune teller. I have seen magic working in real time here, and if there's a chance I can learn more about what happened to Dora from this, I should try it out. Potentially, I'd like to visit the house of relics to see if they have anything before I leave Konoprar for the mountains. Zhoniker has confirmed to me that such a fortune teller exists, and that they he can take me to them.
Now I'm thinking: what if I make a much lighter door so Zhoniker and I can carry it around with us? like an inflatable one or something that can unfold or something? That way, we can have access to Matar and Konoprar, as well as wherever Zhoniker is at the time, all through my world. idk how doable that is. Signing off for now.
I've been wearing traditional Qwamaq clothing, with a catch: it's customary for foreigners to wear flowers in their hair, as a sort of marker. This seems to be because the Qwamaq shave their heads, but the Olsem all grow it out, and apparently so do other foreigners, but I've yet to see anyone who isn't Qwamaq or Olsem.
The Olsem have been moving through Konoprar on their way to the mountains. They avoid it for the solstice because their religion seems to discourage any worship or celebration not in honor of the chaos god they worship? But that may not be entirely accurate and it may not be quite that strict.
In any case, Zhoniker and I went to the fortune teller. Cataracts studded his eyes like cracks in three-year-old vegan leather. He squinted to see us. He was wearing a pale cream sarong. He greeted us: "tak ono tar Toraper tar Zhoniker Papolarosh Pamatar" (I encounter Toraper and Zhoniker of the shard of Matar). I still can't fathom how he knew our names, but he IS a diviner.
Every single wall had shelves installed all the way up to the ceiling, and each of these shelves was filled with labeled clay and glass jars. The glass ones were filled with liquids, powders, and various other semisolids. There was a block of salt on a lower shelf with a plethora of geodes and crystals. It was very dark inside the room. It kind of reminded me of my own abundance of spice cabinets at home.
"esiˈpakaŋŋa" (sit down), he said, gesturing to two chairs. There was no table, only stools carved of wood. It seemed he neither time, energy, nor desire or motive to sand them or wax them or have someone else do so for him, because were it not for my clothing, I would have gotten many splinters. Zhoniker was silent, so I followed his lead.
After several of the longest sort of seconds, he spoke. "esiˈʒaŋa anʃi ʃuqa fu qaˈmel?" (are you here in the room?)
Zhoniker affirmed with a simple "esiˈʒaŋa ampar" (we are) and I repeated after him.
"tʃiˈkeʃi anʃi fufu fol?" (what do you want to know about?) As he asked, he turned around, squinting at his shelves, feeling his stones, searching.
Zhoniker gestured toward me with what in Anglophone culture could be called a "shoo," but I've come to learn that it means "go ahead" among the Qwamaq. So I spoke. "tʃiˈtumus ono fu toraˌtoraˈper. ʃoˈkuri fufu tʃiˈkeʃi oʃi. esiˈmiʃ oʒa fu fol?" (Dora Lipman is my ancestor. Maybe you know. What happened to her?)
The fortune teller looked towards me, though it was unclear whether or not he could make eye contact with me. "toˈsari oʃi fin tumus fu esalaˈlinʃ papamˈpaka. koroka. tʃiˈkeʃi oʃi fufu toˈkor mekeˈnel maʃa paˈmolli fufu tʃitumus un tar ʃannaˈper paˈmaʃa." (You use the word "tumus" to describe your relationship. That means you must know that because you are spun from her thread, you alone are able to read it.)
Zhoniker spoke. "ʃoˈmaŋi fufu ʃopiˌmekenʃanˈnanʃ fu kanʃ papaˌnolseˈmer paˌmisiˈrer." (But reading threads is a task of the Olsem and their god of chaos).
The fortune teller handed the smooth turquoise stone to Zhoniker. "miˈqami fu Zhoniker Papolarosh Pamatar. ʃoˈponki fufu ʃoˈpuri toraˈper tatar aʃaˈqami fu toraˌtoraˈper. ʃoˈmaŋi fufu tʃiˈpalor qap tar fiɴqipoʃ paˌnataˈler paˈpampaka. toˈporem tatar tʃiˈkeʃi oʃi fufu esiˈʒaŋa tar aɴqwamaˈqer tar anˌolseˈmer fu qaʃufˌsensoˈfaq. ʃaŋka esiˈtumus fu rasimoʃ tar aŋkaˈper fim aˌnolseˈmer fim aɴqwamaˈqer. ʃoˈka fu aŋkaˌpaŋkaˈper. tʃiˌtakaˌpaʃikaˈpanʃ tar misiˈrer papaˌnolseˈmer tar nataler paˈpaɴqwamaˈqer." (Zhoniker of the shard of Matar. If Toraper wants to speak to Toratoraper, the ways of our spirits cannot help. You must understand that we and the Olsem have occupied the same fabric. Once, at a time, a people spun the Olsem and the Qwamaq into threads. A single people did that. Our spirits and their god of chaos are different interpretations of the embroidery of the world.)
Note: the word tʃiˌtakaˌpaʃikaˈpanʃ can be split into the roots taka and paʃika. paʃika just means "different," but taka can mean a bunch of different things and plays into the conceptual metaphor of needles as people and all that. It can mean: (1) to embroider, (2) to move all over the place, and (3) to interpret the natural world, often describing a spiritual system. The whole word is a verb meaning "to be a different act of interpretation of the natural world," but I translated it the way I did so that the deeper metaphor would not be lost through translation.
Zhoniker felt the turquoise stone, smooth and shiny. "aʃaˈqami ono fi twikakaˈpanʃ paˌtakaˈpanʃ" (I have been told of this way of seeing things).
"this way of seeing things" is literally "this embroidering of embroidering" which I think is pretty funny.
The fortune teller turned to me. "koroka tʃiˈkeʃi qap oʃi. ʃoˈpiŋa fufu aʃaˈqami oʃi fufu aʃaˈsel oʃi fu fol" (You do not understand, and that is obvious. But I will tell you where you must go). When older Qwamaq pause to think about phrasing or what to say next, they simply fall silent, and you're supposed to remain quiet and listen, and try not to distract them.
After a longer pause, he continued. "aʃaˈpakil fim ʃannaˈper paˈpiʃ fu ʃannaˈper paˌʃiʃrafaˈfer tar fummolliˈpor. ʃoˈmiŋku fufu eˈsufuŋŋa anʃi fim fuˈlor. aʃaˈqami ono tar nataler fifi esiˈʒaŋa tar ratʃiˌʃiʃraˈper paˌtoraˌtoraˈper fu ipiˈqar paˌporitʃiˈpar. ʃoˈmaŋi fufu tʃiˈkeʃi qap par tar esiˈʒaŋa anʒa fu fol. ratʃiˌʃiʃraˈper paˌtoraˌtoraˈper." (Only a Fulor* can tie your thread to the thread of a dead person. Thus, find a Fulor. The spirits have told me that Dora's bones are buried near Oritʃipar, but exactly where, I do not know.)
*Zhoniker later tried to explain what a Fulor was to me, but he kept saying "akakiper papanolsemer," so maybe they're kind of like the wisdom holders of Konoprar? But beyond that he doesn't seem too sure. All the more reason to find an Olsem guide who can take us to the mountains. I was also supposed to know that bones would allow a Fulor to connect me to Dora so we could speak to each other, which I didn't obviously.
I thanked the fortune teller, and Zhoniker did as well. Apparently, similar to songwalkers, the fortune teller does not get paid for his work. The community takes care of him. It's pretty nice, and not at all what I'd expect from a city of this size.
In other news, Zhoniker tells me he's met an Olsem travelling alone staying in Konoprar on their way to the mountains. He'll introduce me to them tomorrow or something. They just got here yesterday, and they would love to guide us to the part of the mountains when they get going in three days when they leave. He says I'll probably like them, but when I ask him why, he says "because of a far away tree" before smirking. So I guess I'll see.
Finally, Zhoniker says he would like to take me to the house of artifacts before we leave for the mountains. We'll be doing that tomorrow, and the Olsem is coming with us apparently! It'll be fun.
I had. SO much fun at the house of artifacts. I have a lot to talk about oh my god.
The Olsem person we met is named [dʒaʎtʃau] (which I'll romanize as Dzhagltshau from now on). She speaks Qwamaq very well, and immediately started asking me about which languages I spoke! As soon as I mentioned English, my native language, without missing a beat, she asked me to teach it to her. Then I said "I speak a lot of other languages too," and she said something along the lines of "well, teach me those too!"
So she's into languages. Which is amazing. I'm into languages!! This must be what Zhoniker meant when he said I'd like her.
Dzhagltshau is probably under five feet tall, but she's strong as hell, just as Zhoniker predicted. Quite the shtarker! She had apparently set up camp with a few more Olsem she didn't know very well outside the walls of Konoprar, but she brought her most important belongings with her, and she didn't seem bothered by the weight at all.
She had a very strong and robust voice and lots of energy, way more than any Qwamaq I've seen, who tend to be more reserved with their emotions. In fact, her voice was not only resonant, but it was so deep that it was lower than mine! For context, I'm a pretty high tenor.
I will admit that my spoken Qwamaq is still kind of shaky. I need to think a lot before I say things. But she was not only engaged with every moment of our conversation, but incredibly patient. I think speaking with her for the few hours we spent at the house of artifacts boosted my Qwamaq more than a whole month of talking to Zhoniker. Maybe I'm exaggerating. But for real, the Qwamaq are brief and calm, but the Olsem just go on and on. At least from what I can tell.
The NEXT big thing is that I found… a Torah?? I think??? It's a scroll, it's big, and it has hebrew written on it. We're not allowed to touch it, but I could recognize some words. Including… t'hom. Which is. Interesting. This warrants further research, but I don't really have much time right now. I'm about to go on a quick vacation, meaning that I can't visit Qwamaqqar between the 12th and the 20th. At all.
I took pictures, but with Uqumer's portable doors, I should still be able to return whenever I want to Konoprar without too much trouble. So I'll take a look at it when I can, but my Hebrew sans niqqud is not very good, the writing is very very old and not very legible, and I am busy. So that will come eventually, not soon. Not to mention I can only see the part that the scroll is opened to. The title on the side of the scroll reads "ספר תהום" which means "book of the abyss," which both sounds metal as fuck. But there's nothing called that in the torah or the rest of the tanakh. So this may be an entirely new book?
Zhoniker showed me and Dzhagltshau an orb that apparently belonged to a very famous songwalker centuries ago. According to legend, the famous songwalker sealed spirits inside of it with layers of paint. In between each layer of paint, they would draw countless tiny circles and force spirits to enter them, and then cover them up. Each new layer trapped the layers beneath it, increasing the power of the orb's energy, until the songwalker was able to "flap." Zhoniker used the root /fuli/ which means "flap like a bird," which becomes "puliper" which means "bird" usually. So.. they was able to fly? Not quite sure, Zhoniker doesn't have more specifics.
Apparently, destroying the orb releases all the spirits, who become indebted to the releaser. Zhoniker told me that he only knew this because Akakiper Pamatar told him, and most people don't know. And it's not "ethical" (lit. "in the clean worldview") to keep all the spirits trapped inside the orb. But he can't smash the orb without people getting incredibly angry with him for destroying a priceless artifact.
Those are the only important things we did that I feel like mentioning. I think we're going to get along really well. If you have any questions you would like me to ask Akakiper tomorrow, please contact me as soon as possible to insure that I am able to ask her!
Today, instead of visiting Konoprar, I went to Matar to ask Uqumer to make me a more portable door. She said that it would be ready in just one day. That's about all I did today. Short update! Akakiper is doing well, so are the children.
Uqumer finished the portable door! I thanked her and returned to Konoprar, and Dzhagltshau, Zhoniker, and I set out. Uqumer's portable door opens to a bathroom in a local public library. Unfortunately, I have to leave Saint Paul for a week starting in just two days, so I won't be able to visit Qwamaqqar without … taking the door to my room, Scott's front door, or the public library bathroom door with me on a goddamn plane. So tomorrow's update will be the last before a week-long break.
The path from Konoprar to the mountains is not too long, but once you get to the mountains, reaching the summit can take weeks, especially if you're coming from the south. The path we set out on was ancient. Mounds of stones stewed in the sun beside the road wherever it turned, adorned with what I assumed was an archaic version of the Qwamaq script, only made of logograms. Even Zhoniker struggled to figure out what they said most of the time. No wonder they adapted a rebus. But why the hebrew alphabet?
Dzhagltshau seemed to notice the interest I had in them and told me, trying to mix as many new languages as she could into her sentence, that they were Olsem pictograms! Dzhagltshau couldn't read them either, but she told me she was sure the three of us could figure them out together with the help of a Fulor, potentially. She admitted that she led a pretty secular life personally since she was a "molshtshua," which is a lone nomad who only reconvenes with their family during the few weeks the olsem spend in the mountains. Because of this, she's far from an expert on what Fulors actually do.
The road was well traveled, to be sure. Soon enough, and within a few hours of weary walking, we reached the foot of the mountain. Or, perhaps more accurately, the slope of the land got steeper, and the path began to curve to the side until we were walking between land that went up and land that went down (Dzhagltshau said that in Olsem it's called a "bokwar"). It's hard to know where a mountain's foot truly begins, after all, but it was apparent that we were in them. The sun began to set, and Dzhagltshau sat in the path, grabbing some thick flat stones that could fit in her palm. "apiˈkwikaŋa" (do this), she said. "esiˈkaŋa fim opekˈroʃ fu kumˈpam paˌlalaˈper" (make candles before dark).
Dhagltshau explained to us that the Olsem make candles to keep their hands busy when they stop for the night during a journey. Normally they would do this after setting up camp, but when travelling with a Qwamaq songwalker who can draw a circle shelter, there's no need really.
The Olsem always stop travelling as the sun sets. Maybe if we spent more time walking we would get up the mountain faster, but if it means getting to sleep sooner, I'm not complaining. The reasoning is that the Olsem are to observe more mundane and obscured forms of chaos, and they can only do this through routine. It seems like their concept of chaos is much different from mine. I consider myself an agent of chaos, but for me, that means avoiding and disrupting routine.
Knowing that Dzhagltshau was interested in languages, I sat by her as Zhoniker went out in search of fallen wood for a fire. "esiˈʒaŋa tar qamiˌʃuʃuɱˈfaq fu toraˈqar" (There are a large quantity of languages where I'm from).
"ʃoˌpiʃuˈler fu fol? qamiˌwaɱˈfaq? qamiˌqafiˈfaq?" (how many? five? eight?).
I'm still not quite sure how to talk about larger numbers more specifically, so I opted for "oˌqamiˌʃuʃuɱˈfaq" (many more languages).
While I thought she'd be excited, I saw her smile fade. "malli. toˈnus tar qamiˌpeɱˈfaq fu fiɴqifoˈloʃ?" (too much. How will I learn them all?). I suppose I hadn't considered that a possibility.
She told me all the languages she speaks, and says that she has learned every language she could get her hands on, finding pride in knowing what she thought was all languages. But now that she knows both that there is a whole other world full of them through my gateways, AND that one can make their own languages whenever they want like toki pona, she felt her sense of self crumbling. Languages were who she was. She was supposed to know ALL of them.
So I told her the truth, which was that I felt the same way. When I was growing up, I thought there were only a few languages, and that learning all of them was manageable. And I had a similar identity crisis around learning the truth. But I found solace in that I can still learn many languages, and have fun with them. Plus, I said to her, why should one be obligated to learn languages from another world they've never been to?
She is still deadset on me teaching her as much toki pona, English, and Portuguese as I can. Maybe some Tok Pisin, but I don't quite trust myself with that one yet. And seeing how the people of Qwamaqqar have already taught me more than enough of their own languages, I thought it was the least I could do, and committed to it.
My plan for tomorrow is to walk with Dzhagltshau in front of Zhoniker as he songwalks, and try to teach her toki pona through immersion. Either that or I'll teach her all three languages at once. It should be fun no matter what.
I taught her how to say "good night" in all the languages I knew (boa noite, buenas noches, sogni d'oro, good night, gut nakht) as well as a brief conversation about how there is no set phrase for good night in toki pona. She asked me what they all meant, but the only interesting one was the Italian, which means "dream of gold." So I had to try to explain what gold is, and she seemed confused and pointed to her abundant jewelry; I shrugged. I cannot identify gold at all.
Today while travelling up the mountain, our path crossed with the path of a group of four Qwamaq: two parents and two children. I was confused: what were Qwamaqs doing by themselves in the Olsem mountains? So after we all introduced each other, as is customary among the Qwamaq, I asked. "esiˈʒaŋa anʃi fu sokaŋoʃuˈler papaˌnolseˈmer fimol?" (why are you in the mountains?)
The one who led the group answered me. I could feel the terror massaged into his bones, and yet I could feel the resilience he wore on his shoulders. "toˈlika ampar fu iʃiˈmar. ʃoˈʒir fufu tʃiˈkifaŋ ŋammapa ano tar sokaŋoʃuˈler emeʃa." (we are fleeing Ishimar. The mountains will be kinder to us, godwilling).
We walked together and exchanged stories. I told them about Dora, and they seemed surprised! One of them even said "fukiŋapa ʃoˈfosol akiŋapa oʃi toraˌtoraˈper!" (I would be lying if I said that Dora was one of your ancestors!) But we showed them the door and that it worked, and they grew to believe me. I told them about where I came from, which was hard because a lot of the things I do day to day don't have words in Qwamaq, but I made do.
After a while, we sort of paired off. Dzhagltshau entertained the children, Zhoniker spoke with their leader, and I spoke with other parent. "ʃotor an fu aˌnoritʃiˈper fimol?" (How did the Oriti hurt you?)
"soˈsukwi par palaŋŋapa. esaˌʃannaˌpalaɴˈqar tar iʃiˈmar fu pwaɴˈqar. unˈpalam tar imiˈpaʃ paˈpampaka fu iʃimemˌpaʃikaˈpaʃ paˈqwamaqˈqar. uˈmaʃika tar iʃiˈmoʃ paˌpiʃiˈmar fu iʃiˌmaʃikaˈpoʃ. ʃoˈtʃila epi. tʃiˈʒif epi. tʃiˈpuri epi tar aˌnoritʃiˈper en qiɱfiqar. ʃoˈmiŋku fufu tʃiˈpakrom an anʒa." (Hear me well. Ishimar is a good settlement in the East. Our pottery is better than all other pottery in Qwamaqqar. The clay in Ishimar is different from other clay. It's soft. It is cleaned and made pure. The Horiti want it for luxury, so they are driving us out.)
In Qwamaq culture, it's customary to show respect through silence, and I assumed this case was no different, so we walked in silence for a while. She seemed to appreciate it. After a couple of minutes I asked: "esiˈmiʃ anʃi fu sokaŋopʃuˈler fimol?" (Why have you come to the mountains?)
"ʃoˈtwaq fu fraˈmanʃ papaˌnolseˈmer papaɴˌqwamaqˈqer. ʃoˈmaŋi fufu ʃoˈmiʃ fu aˌnoritʃiˈper. ʃoˈmiŋku fufu ʃoˈpasoke fu fraɱˈfaq paˈpampaka. ipenta esiˈsel iʒaŋel ampar ʃuqa" (The camaraderie of the Olsem and the Qwamaq has lasted centuries, but the Horiti came, and thus our camaraderie has grown. I have it on good authority that we will be welcomed here.)
I nodded and we fell silent again. It wasn't awkward at all; This kind of stuff happens all the time among the Qwamaq. In fact, sometimes it's considered weird to default to smalltalk. The Qwamaq prefer silence.
As we continued up the mountain, Zhoniker began to songwalk. The other Qwamaq walking with us joined in and it turned into a call and response sort of thing. Dzhagltshau didn't participate, but she was still smiling, so it seemed like she enjoyed it.
The song was about the mountains. It used the proper name "sokaŋoʃuler papanolsemer," so my assumption is that it's not sung in different environments. The song was actually about the olsem walking up and down the mountains as the years turn, and about flowers springing up beneath their feet. There were even a few Olsem words in the song that I didn't quite recognize.
It kind of reminds me of songs I sang growing up that would have a few lines of gibberish. Though of course, I expect that everyone present except for me had at least basic knowledge of Olsem. After I got a hang of the pattern, I joined in.
As our song reverberated, I started to see from a new perspective. The style of music made me spot circles in the landscape, and though I couldn't see them with my eyes, I could feel within myself that spirits were appearing in the circles and dancing to our music. They felt like small blue snakes made of energy. I could only feel them faintly at first but after the first ten or so minutes of singing, I could almost see them when I closed my eyes.
Eventually the song had run its course and the Qwamaq returned to silence.
The Qwamaq prefer to walk silently when there's nothing else to talk about, but the Olsem looove to talk, and Dzhagltshau was no different. She seemed set on pestering me to teach her all of the languages I know, but no pestering was needed! I was happy to oblige immediately.
I would love to transcribe the details of teaching her languages from my world, but it would be an unreasonably complex task. Just know that Dzhagltshau has begun to add English, Portuguese, and toki pona words into her sentences. I will be translating accurately to the meaning going forward.
I asked Dzhagltshau, "tʃiˈkat fufu esiˈkaʃi tar ʒoniˈker fu olseɴˈqar?" (Is it okay for Zhoniker to songwalk here on Olsem land?)
"taː tʃiˈfali tar anolseˈmer fufu kwɐ̃du ʃoˈkaʃi fu qwamaˈqer lon ma papaˌnolseˈmer. bʌt, tʃiˈratʃi qap ampar fufu kwika" (Well, the Olsem appreciate it when a Qwamaq songwalks on Olsem land. But we don't expect this.)
She went on to explain that it's not a part of their spirituality, but the Olsem believe it works because there is ample evidence that it does work. It's a "you can see it" kind of thing.
The Olsem take care of their land too, but it looks very different. They see themselves as an aspect of the chaos of the universe, and to venerate the chaos god is to bring power and growth to the land slowly. There's apparently a smallish mountain that the Olsem avoid for spiritual reasons. Dzhagltshau said it's "too smooth" (firimaˈlanʃ) to venerate? Or something? But it's nearly completely barren, much unlike the ones that surround it, which is evidence that the chaos god worship works.
We continued walking until the sun set, and our group set up camp while the Qwamaq family continued on. The three of us chatted for a while and I said my goodbyes and left Qwamaqqar. As soon as I'm done writing this, I will leave for the airport. I will return to Qwamaqqar on 18th of January! See you then.