Anthropology

​The Picayune settlement was founded very early in the nation’s history (well before its
first millennium), but even by the standards of its own time, it operated in provincial antiquity,
keeping mostly to itself and the surrounding regions, and remaining deeply ingrained with its
priestly order. Yet in its – some would say – ‘stunted’ progress, the settlement enjoyed a century or so of prosperity before it was suddenly wiped from the map along with the rest of the old Gulf Coast (the new coast would have been 20–30 miles inland of the old, depending on the location) in the well-documented and now quite avoidable super hurricane phenomenon of the mid-third millennium C.E. [author's note: knock on wood]. Underwater excavations and discoveries of the civilizations tragically lost began centuries ago and continue to this day. The Picayune settlement is only the latest among these, with its position on the ancient crescent line, and its disproportionately extravagant temple – which at least contains the true subject of this report. For my lauded peers have already made extensive catalogues of the settlement’s structures and artifacts, and rather than add to their exhaustive list, I purpose to piece together the culture of Picayune’s priesthood, through comparison of the archaeological findings with contemporary northern depictions of a ‘Southern Baptist Church.’

The layout of the living quarters reveals a tight-knit community, with the upper echelons
of the priesthood in constant interaction with the lowest of the low. With elegant architecture
reflecting the fibonacci spirals of nature, the suite’s entrance boasts the widest, lightest cells,
after which the hall turns in upon itself, housing deeper, more private offices. There is a sense of the esoteric in this design, of the dribbling out of knowledge, and the dribbling in of distractions. 

The most central of these offices therefore belongs to the chief priest, and has no windows. Our modern tastes may scoff, yet for a chief he can do no better, for the cell will likely stay coolest in the summer, warmest in the winter, and provide a space for study away from the constant needs of the settlement. Down the hall the lesser priests make their beds, the least being the only priestess found in the settlement’s records, and finally back to the opening of the conch shell we find the quarters of the priests’ female attendants. While these spaces are more spacious, much of them are used for the purpose of hosting the needy, or welcoming the wealthy members of the settlement who do business with the priests, rather than for the pleasure of the tenants. And without record of any payment or spouses for these women, we can only assume that they were slaves and virgins, consecrated as adolescents to the service of their gods. Indeed, a steady progression of age can be observed in the artifacts found in each attendant’s space, as if once one reaches a certain age, she crawls up in the pecking order, and a younger slave takes her place. Yet still lower than these women, are older male servants who keep their offices outside of the conch formation. Their roles seem to be of the upkeep of the temple, and their ages and infirmities suggest that they were cast off by their former masters on the doorstep of the temple, and given shelter and renewed purpose there.

Between weekly sacraments in the temple proper, the priests accept visits into their quarters from the people by way of the gatekeeper, the youngest of the female attendants. Trained in a special art to discern the auras of visitors, she grants or denies entry. A paradoxical position of the keenest vulnerability, and yet the most practical power. As well as receiving visits, the priests engage in many visits themselves, travelling in their bulky, uneconomical carriages,
common status symbols of the era and region. Their appointments range from charitable to
downright ambitious. Representations of this type of settlement by northern publications of the time claim much crossover between politician and priest, and we have no reason to believe Picayune an exception. The chief priest is the frequent guest of the leaders of state, and vice versa. Within the living quarters also, the priests hold regular feasts with the entirety of the household, even celebrating individual birthdays – when birthdays are known, that is. Though patriarchal in nature, at these feasts it seems the priesthood readily gives the female attendants an equal platform for airing grievances, at least insofar as they do not neglect keeping the minutes, watching the doors, and serving the food.

Besides existing for simple fellowship, these feasts act as meetings to discuss the
aforementioned weekly sacraments, large services that during the busiest times of the year hold up to half the population of the entire settlement within the temple’s grand antechamber. During sacrament, ritual sacrifices are performed, lectures given, and collective music sung and played on such lyres and ancient percussive instruments as my colleagues have studied at length. The sacrificial system is a subject where we must assume much, yet confidently. Most assuredly we know that regular monetary sacrifices are made to the gods under the management of the eldest female attendant – a post of honor as much as thrall. Less regularly is the sacrifice of foodstuffs, to please the gods with tantalizing aromas. The laymen and women of the settlement keep a kitchen on the temple’s grounds almost industrial in its level of operation. Money, food, and finally – human. Fragments of surviving literature make frequent mention of being ‘washed in the blood’, of ‘atonement’, and of being ‘crushed for our transgressions’. Such graphic language leaves little doubt of the nature of the most important sacrament of the year, taking place on the onset of spring – the common time in ancient civilizations for festivals symbolizing rebirth, often dramatized in a wedding and culminating in a human sacrifice. No victims of this ceremony have been fully confirmed, although one case, very close to our study thus far, is heavily theorized to be the last that occurred before the calamity. Perhaps she was even committed to the gods as supplication for a good hurricane season. If we have surmised correctly, that the gatekeeper herself was sacrificed on the altar of the Picayune settlement’s temple, then much can be inferred about the rituals associated by the state of the gatekeeper’s quarters when it was plunged under the deeps.

Many scraps of paper with cheery sentiments decorate her furniture. Well wishes and
tokens of the people to ward off her restless spirit. A gift of money is set in a prominent place,
with the marks of the chief priest himself. A travel stipend for her journey to the underworld.
Some food, especially sweet pastries, for this same reason. All in all, the gatekeeper is held
somewhat in reverence and gratitude for her role in this year's rite of spring, but why is she
chosen? From history we must assume as a form of punishment, an assumption supported by
acknowledging her prominent position in the settlement. Though she is a slave, her job is
special, and she will only be properly replaced with great effort on the priests’ parts. We can
only speculate on the gatekeeper’s crimes; common abominations of the time, according to the contemporary northern corpus on the subject, include–in no particular order– scientific study, higher education, being awake (?), too much melanin, and democracy. Of whichever the
gatekeeper is guilty, she does not fight her sentence. Unrestrained, she is offered to the gods,
and thus belongs to them for eternity.

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Taylor Inmon is a creative writing student (MFA) at Sarah Lawrence College, New York.