The Land of the Gazelle People

Far away, in a land so remote and forgotten that it has only been visited by intrepid explorers and Lovecraftian dreamers, lives an ancient and largely unheard-of people. Early European visitors once believed the strange land to be an ancient remnant of mythical Lemuria, such that later cartographers left the land off maps, dismissing it as pure fantasy. To this day, whether by convention or conspiracy I don't know, this most exotic of lands remains missing from all maps.

The people of this unknown place have been isolated for so long that their language bears no resemblance to any known speech. To the outsider, no matter how harsh and loud their own language, this one is louder and harsher. Even German explorer Karl Mauch, discoverer of the Tomb of the Queen of Sheba and noted amongst his German peers for his near deafness and loud talking, describes the language of the natives as “unerträglicheunartikuliertenschreien”—a word with no direct English translation but with the general gist of “One thousand angry crows arguing over how to best kill a crying dog just outside your window at 5:00 am when you have a hangover.”

Despite the loud and and unmelodic language of the denizens of this uncharted place, their noble and ancient culture lauds physical grace above all else. Running and leaping are seen as the finest expressions of physical grace and all the adults of the land exhibit abilities in these areas in the extreme. If this place ever decides to end their isolation and participate in the Olympics, they will undoubtedly dominate all the running and jumping events for generations. Their own name for their land, impossible represent in Latin letters, translates to “The Land of the Gazelle People.”

But to reach these lofty heights the children of the island are put through an unimaginable ordeal. From the moment they are first able to walk until they reach adolescence, all children are forced to wear stone shoes about the size and weight of bowling-balls. They are not permitted stay still long or even to walk, but must always run. They can been seen everywhere, with the youngest running in short, staccato steps, barely able to lift their bowling-ball encumbered feet, but not allowed to stop for anything but sleep. Their play involves endless running. At meal times they circle around their parents. As their parents rest in the evening they run back and forth, toward and away from their parents, as the family converses in their unerträglicheunartikuliertenschreien language.

And while it is rare for anyone to even know about this lost land, let alone come in contact with any of its proud people who rarely visit the outside world, I am quite sure my upstairs neighbours are from this place.