The customs of the wagon People vary from those of other Gorean cities, ports and islands.  The way they greet, the things they eat and value, their calendar, their preferred weapons and mounts and their nomadic life style.  Throughout the Kataii Wagon camp web site, I’ve tried to include quotes concerning what is unique about wagon people.  Most come from book four of the canon, Nomads of Gor and most quotes refer to the Tuchuk and there are very few mentions of Kataii specifically.  For this reason, we will assume everything not specifically noted as unique to Kataii is identical with the Tuchuk and their customs.

What follows are a series of quotes from the canon that define customs unique to the wagon people and some brief comments on them.  These quotes just did not seem to fit in the other categories with their own pages on our web site.  So if you are interested in the clothing of slaves, see the slaves’ silk’s pages, or what is unique about the animals or food or weapons of the wagon people, refer to those pages.  I tend to put the quotes specific to wagon people at the bottom of said pages, but try to include as much information that is true of Gor in general as well for all.

As always, if there are any additions or changes anyone feels would improve this page, feel free to e-mail me. I'm Ubar Ammar.

Among them, too, were soothsayers and haruspexes, and singers and musicians, and, here and there, small peddlers and merchants, of various cities, for such are occasionally permitted by the Tuchuks, who crave their wares, to approach the wagons. Each of these, I was later to learn, wore on his forearm a tiny brand, in the form of spreading bosk horns, which guaranteed his passage, at certain seasons, across the plains of the Wagon Peoples. The difficulty, of course is in first obtaining the brand. If, in the case of a singer, the song is rejected, or in the case of a merchant, his merchandise is rejected, he is slain out of hand. This acceptance brand, of course, carries with it a certain stain of ignominy, suggesting that those who approach the wagons do as slaves. Nomads of Gor, 34.

Though Free Men (not Women) in wagon camps use the "Tal" greeting and a raised right hand with the palm facing inward to the shoulder and also greet more formally by grasping right wrist to right wrist and shaking arms, sometime the following occurs:

He grinned a Tuchuck grin. "How are the Bosk?" he asked.

"As well as may be expected, said Kamchak.

"Are the Quivas sharp?"

"One tries to keep them so," said Kamchak.

"It is important to keep the axles of the wagons greased," observed Kutaituchik.

"Yes," said Kamchak, "I believe so."

Kutaituchik suddenly reached out and he and Kamchak,laughing, clasped hands." Nomads of Gor, 44.

The above exchange is traditional among wagon people sometimes use to cement their unity as wagon people in mutual understanding for their customs and life style.  In online Gor, I’ve seen the above used as a kind of test to see if the wagon person addressed knows anything about being of a wagon camp.

Wagon people are wary of strangers and the holding of grass and earth is used as a way of cementing the relationship between two as peaceful.

Suddenly the Tuchuk bent to the soil and picked up a handful of dirt and grass, the land on which the bosk graze, the land which is the land of the Tuchuks, and this dirt and this grass he thrust in my hands and I held it. The warrior grinned and put his hands over mine so that our hands, together held the dirt and grass, and were together clasped upon it.

"Yes," said the warrior, "come in peace to the Land of the Wagon Peoples."  Nomads of Gor, 26.

Holding of grass and earth even makes two brothers of a valuable kind.

"He is a stranger," she said. "He should be slain!"

Kamchak grinned up at her. "He has held with me dirt and earth," he said.  Nomads of Gor, 32.

"You would risk," I asked, "the herds – the wagons – the peoples?"

"Yes," said Kamchak.

"Why?" I asked.

He looked at me and smiled. "Because," said he, "we have together held grass and earth."  Nomads of Gor, 52.

Remember, the herds are the most important possession of a wagon camp

Wagon people are very fond of wagering as the following quotes show. For an extensive list of games, including ways to wager online, see our Games Page.

The Tuchuks, not unlike Goreans in general, are fond of gambling. Indeed it is not unknown that a Tuchuk will bet his entire stock of Bosk on the outcome of a single kailla race; as many as a dozen slave girls may change hands on something as small as the direction that a bird will fly or the number of seeds in a tospit. Nomads of Gor, 60.

"Odd or even?" he asked.

I had resolved not to wager with Kamchak, but this was indeed an opportunity to gain a certain amount of vengeance which, on my part, would be sorely appreciated. Usually, in guessing tospit seeds, one guesses the actual number, and usually both guessers opt for an odd number. The common tospit almost invariable has an odd number of seeds. On the other hand the rare, long-stemmed tospit usually has an even number of seeds. Both fruits are indistinguishable outwardly. I could see that, perhaps by accident, the tospit which Kamchak had thrown me had had the stem twisted off. It must be then, I surmised, the rare long stemmed-tospit.

"Even," I said.

Kamchak looked at me as though pained. "Tospits almost always have an odd number of seeds," he said.

"Even," I said. "Very well," said he, "eat the tospit and see."

"Why should I eat it?" I asked. The tospit, after all, is quite bitter. And why shouldn’t Kamchak eat it? He had suggested the wager.

"I am a Tuchuk, said Kamchak, "I might be tempted to swallow seeds."

"Lets cut it up." I proposed.

"One might miss a seed that way," said Kamchak.

"Perhaps we could mash the slices." I suggested.

"But would that not be a great deal of trouble," asked Kamchak, "and might one not stain the rug?"

"Perhaps we could mash them in a bowl," I suggested.

"But then a bowl would have to be washed," said Kamchak.

"That is true." I admitted.

"All things considered," said Kamchak, "I think the fruit should be eaten."

"I guess you are right," I said. I bit into the fruit philosophically. It was indeed bitter.

"Besides," said Kamchak, "I do not much care for tospits."

"I am not surprised," I said.

"They are quite bitter," said Kamchak.

"Yes," I said. I finished the fruit and, of course, it had seven seeds.

"Most tospits," Kamchak informed me, "have an odd number of seeds."

I know," I said.

"Then why did you guess even?" he asked.

"I supposed," I grumbled, "that you would have found a long-stemmed tospit."

"But they are not available," he said, "until late in the summer."

"Oh," I said." Nomads of Gor, 149-50.

As soon as Kamchak had agreed to Albrecht's proposal the children and several of the slave girls immediately began to rush toward the wagons, delightedly crying "Wager! Wager!"

Soon, to my dismay, a large number of Tuchuks, male and female, and their male or female slaves, began to gather near the worn lane on the turf. The terms of the wager were soon well known. In the crowd, as well as Tuchuks and those of the Tuchuks, there were some Kassars, a Paravaci or two, even one of the Kataii. The slave girls in the crowd seemed particularly excited. I could hear bets being taken. Nomads of Gor, 59-60.

We decided to wager to see who would get the second bottle of Paga. "What about the flight of birds?" asked Kamchak.

"Agreed," I said, "but I have first choice."

"Very well," he said.

I knew, of course, that it was spring and, in this hemisphere, most birds, if there were any migrating, would be moving south. "South," I said. "North," he said. We then waited about a minute, and I saw several birds, river gulls, flying north.

"Those are Vosk gulls," said Kamchak, "In the spring, when the ice breaks in the Vosk, they fly north." I fished some coins out of my pouch for the Paga. "The first southern migrations of meadow kites," he said, "have already taken place. The migrations of the forest herlit and the horned gaim do not take place until later in the spring. This is the time that the Vosk gulls fly."

The following passage pretty much speaks for itself.

The Tuchuks and the other Wagon Peoples reverence Priest-Kings, but unlike other Goreans of the cities, with their castes of Initiates, they do not extend to them the dignities of worship.  I suppose the Tuchuks worship nothing in the common sense of the word, but it is true they hold many things holy, among them the bosk and the skills of arms, but the chief of the things before which the proud Tuchuk stands ready to remove his helmet is the sky, the simple, vast beautiful sky, from which falls the rain that, in his myths, formed the earth, and the bosks and the Tuchuks.  It is to the sky that the Tuchuks pray when they pray, demanding victory and luck for themselves, defeat and misery for their enemies.  The Tuchuk, incidentally, like others of the Wagon Peoples, prays only when mounted, only when in the saddle and with weapons at hand; he prays to the sky not as a slave to a master, nor a servant to a god, but as warrior to a Ubar; the women of the Wagon Peoples, it might be mentioned, are not permitted to pray; many of them, however, do patronize the haruspexes, who, besides fortelling the future with a greater or lesser degree of accuracy for generally reasonable fees, provide an incredible assemblage of amulets, talismans, trinkets, philters, potion, spell papers, wonder-working sleen teeth, marvelous powdered kailiauk horns, and colored, magic strings that, depending on the purpose, may be knotted in various ways and worn about the neck. Nomads of Gor, 28.

A consequence of the chronological conventions of the Wagon Peoples, of course, is that their years tend to vary in length, but this fact, which might bother us, does not bother them, any more than the fact that some men and some animals live longer than others; the women of the Wagon Peoples, incidentally, keep a calendar based on the phases of Gor's largest moon, but this is a calendar of fifteen moons, named for the fifteen varieties of bosk, and functions independently of the tallying of years by snows; for example, the Moon of the Brown Bosk may at one time occur in the winter, at another time, years later, in the summer; this calendar is kept by a set of colored pegs set in the sides of some wagons, on one of which, depending on the moon, a round, wooden plate bearing the image of a bosk is fixed. The years, incidentally, are not numbered by the Wagon Peoples, but given names, toward their end, based on something or other which has occurred to distinguish the year. The year names are kept in living memory by the Year Keepers, some of whom can recall the names of several thousand consecutive years. Nomads of Gor, 12.

The Wagon Peoples do not trust important matters, such as year names, to paper or parchment, subject to theft, insect and rodent damage, deterioration, etc. Most of those of the Wagon Peoples have excellent memories, trained from birth. Few can read, though some can, perhaps having acquired the skill far from the wagons, perhaps from merchants or tradesmen. The Wagon Peoples, as might be expected, have a large and complex oral literature. This is kept by and occasionally, in parts, recited by the Camp Singers. Nomads of Gor, 12.

The Wagon Peoples war among themselves, but once in every two hands of years, there is a time of gathering of the peoples and this, I had learned, was that time. In the thinking of the Wagon Peoples it is called the Omen Year. Nomads of Gor, 11.

"It is the Omen Year," had said Kamchak of the Tuchuks….  It is in the spring that the omens are taken, regarding the possible election of the Ubar San, the One Ubar, he who would be Ubar of all the Wagons, of all the Peoples." Nomads of Gor, 55.

The games of the Love War are celebrated every spring ... whereas the Omen Year occurs only every tenth year. Nomads of Gor, 115.

The animals sacrificed, incidentally, are later used for food, so the Omen taking, far from being a waste of animals, is actually a time of feasting and plenty for the Wagon Peoples, who regard the Omen taking, provided it results that no Ubar San is to be chosen, as an occasion for gaiety and festival. As I may have mentioned, no Ubar San had been chosen for more than a hundred years. Nomads of Gor, 171.

"This is the first Omen," said Kamchak, "– the Omen to see if the Omens are propitious to take the Omens."Nomads of Gor, 172.

Conrad spoke. "The Omens have been taken," he said.

"They have been read well," said Hakimba.

"For the first time in more than a hundred years," said the Paravaci, "there is a Ubar San, a One Ubar, Master of the Wagons!"...

"Kamchak," they cried, "Ubar San!"Nomads of Gor, 334.

I was looking on the faces of four men, warriors of the Wagon Peoples. On the face of each there were, almost like corded chevrons, brightly colored scars. the vivid coloring and intensity of these scars, their prominence, reminded me of the hideous markings on the faces of mandrills; But these disfigurements, as I soon recognized, were cultural, not congenital, and bespoke not of natural innocence of the work of genes but of glories, and status, the arrogance the prides, of their bearers. The scars had been worked into the faces, with needles and knives and pigments and the dung of bosk over the period of days and nights. Men had died in the fixing of such scars. Most scars were set in pairs, moving diagonally down from the side of the head toward the nose and chin. The man facing me had seven such scars ceremonially worked into the tissue of his countenance, the highest being red, the next yellow, the next blue, the fourth black, then two yellow then black again. The faces of the men I saw were all scarred differently, but each was scarred. The effect of the scars, ugly, startling, terrible, perhaps in part calculated to terrify enemies, had even prompted me, for a wild moment, to conjecture that what I faced on the plains of Turia were not men, but perhaps aliens of some sort, brought to Gor long ago from remote worlds to serve some now discarded or forgotten purpose of the Priest Kings; but now I knew better; now I could see them as men; as now more significantly, I recalled what I had heard whispered of once before, in a tavern of Ar, the terrible Scar Codes of the Wagon Peoples, for each of the hideous marks on the face of these men had meaning, a significance that could be read by the Paravaci, the Kassars, the Kataii, the Tuchuks, as clearly as you or I might read a sign in a window or a sentence in a book. At that time I could read only the top scar, the red, bright, fierce cordlike scar that was the Courage Scar. It is always the highest scar on the face. Indeed, without that scar, no other scar can be granted. The wagon peoples value courage above all else. Nomads of Gor, 15-16.

"When I have time," said Harold, "I will call one from the clan of Scarrers and have the scar affixed. It will make me look even more handsome."

I smiled.

"Perhaps you would like me to call him for you as well?" inquired Harold.
"No," I said.

"It might take attention away from your hair," he mentioned.
"No, thank you," I said.

"All right," said Harold, "it is well known you are only a, Koroban, and not a Tuchuk." But then he added, soldierly.

"But you wear the Courage Scar for what you did not all men who wear the Courage Scar do so visibly."

I did not speak. Nomads of Gor, 274.

"Without the Courage Scar one may not, among the Tuchuks, pay court to a free woman, own a wagon, or own more than five bosk and three kaiila. The Courage Scar thus has its social and economic, as well as its martial, import."   Nomads of Gor, 113.

"To a Tuchuk," said Harold, "success is courage - that is the important thing- courage itself - even if all else fails - that is success." Nomads of Gor, 273.

A young man, blondish-haired with blue eyes, unscarred, bumped against the girl's stirrup in the press of the crowd. She struck him twice with the leather quirt in her hand, sharply, viciously. I could see blood on the side of his neck, where it joins the shoulder.
"Slave!" she hissed.

He looked up angrily. "I am not a slave," he said. "I am Tuchuk."

"Turian slave!" she laughed scornfully. "Beneath your furs you wear, I wager, the Kes!"

"I am Tuchuk," he responded, looking angrily away.

Kamchak had told me of the young man. Among the wagons he was nothing. He did what work he could, helping with the bosk, for a piece of meat from a cooking pot.... He did not have his own wagon or his own bosk. He did not even own a kaiila. He had armed himself with castoff weapons, with which he practiced in solitude. None of those, however, who led raids on enemy caravans or sorties against the city and its outlying fields, or retaliated upon their neighbors in the delicate matters of bask stealing, would accept him in their parties. He had, to their satisfaction, demonstrated his prowess with weapons, but they would laugh at him. "You do not even own a kaiila," they would say. "You do not even wear the Courage Scar." I supposed that the young man would never be likely to wear the scar, without which, among the stern, cruel Tuchuks, he would be the continuous object of scorn, ridicule and contempt. Nomads of Gor, 67-68.

"You are a coward!" cried Kamras. I wondered if Kamras knew the meaning of the word which he had dared to address to one who wore the Courage Scar of the Wagon Peoples. Nomads of Gor, 102.

"It should be worth the Courage Scar," said Harold from above, "don't you think so?"
"What?" I asked.
"Stealing a wench from the House of Saphrar and returning on a stolen tarn."
"Undoubtedly," I grumbled. I found myself wondering if the Tuchuks had an Idiocy Scar. If so, I might have nominated the young man hoisting himself up the rope above me as a candidate for the distinction.  Nomads of Gor, 191.

"Be patient, Tarl Cabot," said Kamchak, beside me on his kaiila. "In the spring there will be the games of Love War and I will go to Turia, and you may then, if you wish, accompany me." Nomads of Gor, 55-56.

"The stakes, flat-topped, each about six and half feet high and about seven or eight inches in diameter, stand in two long lines facing one another in pairs. The two lines are separated by about fifty feet and each in a line is separated from the stake on its left and right by about ten yards. The two lines of stakes extended for more than four pasangs across the prairie."

"In the space between the two lines of stakes, for each pair of facing stakes, there was a circle of roughly eight yards in diameter. This circle, the grass having been removed, was sanded and raked."  Nomads of Gor, 112-113.

"The institution of Love War is an ancient one among the Turians and the Wagon Peoples...The games of the Love War are celebrated every spring..."  Nomads of Gor, 115.

"The theoretical justification of the games of the Love War, from the Turian point of view, is that they provide an excellent arena in which to demonstrate the fierceness and prowess of Turian warriors, thus perhaps intimidating or, at the very least, encouraging the often overbold warriors of the Wagon Peoples to be wary of Turian steel."                                  Nomads of Gor, 116

I once asked Kamchak if the Wagon Peoples had a justification for the games of LoveWar. "Yes," he had said. And he had then pointed to Dina and Tenchika, clad kajir, who were at that time busy in the wagon. "That is the justification," said Kamchak. And he had then laughed and pounded his knee." Nomads of Gor, 116.