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A section from the journey

The Peopling of the Land

Long before cities, before farming, before any written word, people walked this land. They had lived here for tens of thousands of years. How they first came, and how later peoples and languages arrived, is a question scholars still study with care. We will meet that question honestly.

Before we meet any city or king, let us meet the first thing of all. People. Picture a small band walking under an old sky, by a river that has no name yet. They carry fire and stone. This land has known people like them for a very, very long time.

How long? Far longer than any book. Human beings have lived here for tens of thousands of years, deep in the age before writing. That is hard to feel, so hold it gently. Many, many lifetimes, one after another, on this same soil.

Over such a long time, peoples did not stand still. They settled. They mixed with one another. Some moved on, and others came. Their languages travelled with them, growing and changing. This is true of every land on earth. It is true here too.

How do we know any of this, with no writing to read? We know it from things. From stone tools, from old bones, and now from a new kind of clue: the faint traces of ancestry carried inside living and ancient people, which scholars call . Each tells a small part of the story.

Now here we reach a real question, one that people still debate. Who were the peoples of this land, and how did the later peoples and their languages arrive? Let us step to the Threshold and look at it the way a calm teacher should — slowly, fairly, and with kindness.

Before we begin, one thing must be said plainly, and set aside. Long ago, in colonial days, some told this story as a tale of one race storming in and crushing another. That picture was unkind and it was wrong. Scholars have let it go. The tradition rejects it too. This is a story about language and time, not about blood or worth.

So we will not speak of invasion or of race. We will speak of people, of the words they carried, and of the long ages of this land. With that promise made, let us hold the two honest views side by side.

Think for a moment of your own family, going back and back. Names fade. Faces are lost. Yet someone, very long ago, was the first of your line to stand where you stand. What does it feel like to know a land has held people for so long that no memory can reach the start?

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