Four- Meet Twitter Bird.
Am I a bird? A tree? A dog?
“I will follow the white man’s trail. I will make him my friend, but I will not bend my back to his burdens. I will be cunning as a coyote. I will ask him to help me understand his ways, then I will prepare the way for my children, and their children. The Great Spirit has shown me — a day will come when they will outrun the white man in his own shoes.”- Many Horses
My ceremony. My day. All the attention on me that Chiam would yearn for. Flames twisting like knots in my heart as I stood at the center of the field. Hollers and hoots surrounded me as tribal members wore masks of various animals in celebration.
Plumes of cannabis smoke covered the field and it’s stench was overwhelming. I had to cover my nose by pinching it to stop myself from a contact high. Frills from my white summer dress swung with the whispers of the wind.
My hair tied up in a tribal bun and knotted together like a pretzel. I could make out Paco in a bear mask-wearing his familiar Pancho weaving his hands back and forth across a blazing fire.
They called him the fire Weaver making threads out of the flame to show our passions in the dark of the moon. Within his flames weaved a shape of a dancer flowing to the beat of a drum coming from Dayami.By breathing I could taste the sweat from other teens in the tribe who were dancing to the rhythmic thrum of the drums. My bare feet stepping on stones while twisting their sharp edges between my toes.
Hums of songs drifted around me. I felt like a stranger in a new country but these are my people. My people that follow the traditions of the old fellows, and speak of stories as lessons to be learned before they happen. Our ceremony of the spirit starts as a community endeavor and ends with the individual alone. It is a coming of age ceremony that many cultures experience throughout the world. If I know one thing it is that the majority of cultures have progressed with the times for their ceremonies. But we continued our age-old traditions. Thanks, Gramps.
The music, people, and smell of grilling buffalo mixed in with the flames. I passed Paco’s fire to make way for my mother’s traditional blue flames of fortune. Her mat is a dark ocean blue with a clear ball shining a rainbow of colors inside it. Some call her a fortune teller, and others say she can predict all your troubles with a simple look. But this was her place in tribe ceremonies.
I sat cross-legged on her mat. In our culture, we have a person who is the ribbon closer to our ceremony. A ribbon closer is a person who shuts out the outer world distractions from the adolescent who is turning into an adult. My ribbon seal is a light pink ribbon and wrapped around my head comfortably before the ribbon closer tied it together at the back of my head.
An echo from Dayumi’s drums pounded through my ears. It was like the heartbeat inside my chest. My eyes were starting to lull themselves to sleep. Drifting off, I could barely recognize the loud bell which alerted the crowd it was time for the spirit ceremony to commence.
Around me, silence overcame with only the crackles of our lit fire behind me, and owls hooting among the barren field. A deafening silence wafted with the smell of half-cooked buffalo and spiced potatoes. Food of the warriors. “ Open your mouth child of Nvda.” Grandfather’s booming voice combined with the flickers of the flames. “ Take in the food of our forefathers, and may you be guided with strength, conviction over pride, and ego on your journey.”
The buffalo was half cooked and I tasted its sticky hotness as it slid down my throat. Buffalo meat half cooked tasted nothing like a rare steak. No water. For liquid was said to deter your spirit animal and leave your spirit animal to die. After eating, everyone who attended the ceremony aside from the fire weaver, and fortune-teller went home. I could hear the silence ringing in my ears.
“May your spirit bring you strength my U-we-tsi-a-ge- ya,” Her hands yanked me to my feet as they threw me on my father’s horse who had him on it. I could tell it was his horse because of the neigh. His horse found me annoying. It always made this hiccup like laughter when I passed by its stall.
Tears streamed down my face as we began to gallop from the field to the unknown. They say the dead speak to you and others say the dead have taken lives out there in their spiritual journey. If you are not strong, you will not survive, says the Cherokee legends.
“Nature doesn’t need knowledge, because nature is knowledge, knowledge manifest.” ― Martin Pretchel
Meeting The Forest
I felt my eyes drift like a log upon the ocean. Floating. Not soon after my body flung onto the cement. I rolled a little scraping my knee on a rock causing a trickle of blood to leak down past my ankle. In the background, rushing water from a waterfall met my ears. The world was still dark to me as the ribbon remained around my eyes.
My father grabbed my hands dragging me further to the sound after leaving his trusted horse behind. “ My daughter, all I ask of you is that you remember the survival training from Native school,” Dad spoke as he held my hand through what I presumed to be a forest. I scoffed at his words.
“Dad, I never attended a Native school.” He gasped at my response and chuckled nervously. I think in some sense he had forgotten what mother wanted out of me. She wanted me to fit in with Americans. Before he could answer me, I felt his firm hands let go of mine. Then as if I was being abandoned like a newborn child, I heard his feet leaving as they crunched on dried up leaves.
I shivered from the cold as whispers of the wind zipped past my ear. Cold, lonely, and I couldn’t see. Damn these ribbon ceremonies. When they said survival skills were a must…well…I’m regretting my mother’s decision to send me to American schooling. Who needs math, biology, and chemistry when I’m out here in the darkness and wilderness…
Why? Dots circled around my eyelids, and my mind dizzily tried to awake to the strange place of the forest. Owls hooted, nocturnal creatures scattered around me, and I couldn’t bear to wonder if a snake was sneaking up to me. I need to see it. But my hands continued to hang at my side as if they couldn’t rip the ribbon off my head.
A pounding in my head said I was about to have a full-blown migraine over not being able to see. Complete darkness does that to you. After taking in a deep focusing breath, I nervously reached up to rip the ribbon from my eyes. I am exactly where I imagined myself. Dark shadowy forest with a couple of tall trees overcasting the sky above me. Great. Off to a wonderful discovery. I was in the forest of nowhere. This is a cobweb ridden place of horror.
Slivers of cold caressed my bare heels. Cricket’s mating season screamed out in the darkness and my eyes began to swirl in dehydration even though I hadn’t moved a step. A lulling rush of water met my ears from afar. The waterfall…right. I twisted around staring at more trees and darkness with barely a light from the silver moon. My foot hit a huge rock as I tried to walk through a clearing towards the distance rush of the waterfall. Howling in pain and hopping on one foot, I tried to assuage the throbbing pain by staring at my foot with my eyes.
Humming the rhythm of the night owls, I tried not to think about the pain on my toes as I tip-toed forward. A slithering snake withered along my feet and its bright skin gleaned from the moonlight. Hissing it curved around my toe and sinking its two sharp fangs into my calf before I flung it towards a tree. If I know anything about snakes…the brighter they are…the more poisonous they can be. I shivered from the pain. It scurried away but the liquid from my blood continued to leak, Both my feet were now damaged. First night out on my own and it can’t get much worse than this.
I came upon a ledge where the world began to spin like the Earth was rotating too quickly for my eyes to catch up. I lurched all over the grass wiping away bugs with the back of my hand. The sound of distant rushing water quailed my yearning desire to move. Sleep covered me like a blanket comforter and lulled me into an elusive dream.
Talking animals and swirls of rainbows are what I expected. Not what I got. In my dream, I could feel my heart flutter and an image of me standing in a church watching Chilam’s eyes being gouged out by a ghostly figure. Behind her, there was a bronze statue of Jesus with blood drooling from his lips, and a heart that slowly beat to the thrall of Dayumi’s drums. The whole ordeal felt surreal like a dream inside a dream.
I jolted awake to sprinkles of sunlight gracing puffy white clouds. A tiny blue bird came swirling over to me poking at my hair as it flew away. Only to come back and do it again. It looked like a hummingbird. In my language, they are called ‘Wa-Le-Lu.’ My hands started swatting at the bird as my energy was still low, and I could feel the slowing of a heartbeat from the poison of the snake. I was dying. My brain knew it. “Let me die in peace bird,” I whispered but the relentless beak of the hummingbird kept poking at my hand. Until it looked down to see my open fleshed calf that was bitten. The bird dove down to my calf and began to wipe its blue wings against my wound. Its feathers felt soothing against the heat of poison. In searing pain, I stumbled to the edge of a ledge.
Down below bright clear water was splashing into a lake. Swirls from fish breathing and lily pads for frogs decorated the water. I closed my eyes taking the scent of freshwater as droplets sprayed across my body. If I was going to die…what better way to death then by diving off a cliff while being poisoned. So, I jumped. Leap of faith, or suicide…I needed to drink water either way.
Cold slathered my body as I splashed into the water, and sunk a little into its embrace. Floating in the water felt like feathers tickling me along my ears. I could stay under the water without ever yearning for air. Whispers from the sea sounding like a young woman encouraging me to swim up. Breathe child.
I began kicking my feet and arms upwards till I broke out of the dark cold water. When I broke through the surface a welcome breath of air-filled up my lungs. A feather from a bird floated down onto my hair. I swam for the rickety shore before me as a bird sang its tune like a lullaby for a baby. During my swim, I realized the pain in my calves had disappeared and I was no longer in a state of panic. A fine calmness had taken over.
I pulled my weak body above the water, and back onto slick grass. Wiping my hands along the grass, I expected them to be twisting before my eyes from the venom of the snake. But all I could see was stones, and trees around me. Exhaustion paled in comparison to my curiosity as to the buzzing bird who was still flying around me. Why did I have a hummingbird following me this late at night? Shouldn’t it be with its family? Or am I hallucinating hardcore? I began to drift asleep to the sound of the bird’s chirping.
“The dawns I have felt in my soul testify that I am known by the Giver of light. To walk forward, I need only walk where he shows me.” ― Anasazi Foundation, The Seven Paths: Changing One’s Way of Walking in the World
Who Are You?
Sunlight burst against my eyes and I couldn’t help but stir awake. Along with the grass, budding pink, yellow, and purple flowers littered the ground. They were the only type of flower to bud in spring within the midwest. Their fragrance sifted into my nose. Lost is an understatement. The forest of nowhere had me breathing in waterfall air, and the bird continued humming ahead of me. It swiveled and poked me whenever I tried to stray from its lead as it brought me deeper into the forest.
Traversing on the dirt path. We crept up on a giant oak tree. I heard the humming bird’s toes perch on a branch softly as it looked into my eyes with its sky blue eyes in return. I am your guide or the trials of your heart. For some, it takes weeks, and for others, none will be found. But you and I, my dear, are bred from the same.
I swiveled my head around in circles trying to focus on the voice that rang inside my head. A talking tree is my spirit animal? At first, I imagined the talking tree from Pocahontas and thought that it was far too cliche to be the source of the voice. My hands even reached out to the tree but nothing magical, or earth-shattering like the tales of old spoke of. Just plane bark and fingertips. I heaved a sigh. Can trees even guide people? They don’t travel, right?
“How can you guide me if you are implanted into the ground six-feet under?” I poked the tree like an idiot, wondering if hikers wander this path. Going to the looney bin is not on my to-do list today…hopefully, no one sneaks up on a talking tree having a sincere introduction with me.
Chuckles like chimes resounded around me. Now, I have invisible leaves laughing at me? I didn’t sign up for a secret pageant did I? Sweetie above you. The words echoing in my head. I swear I’m going mad like the mad-hatter.
My eyes lifted to look at the little hummingbird. I narrowed them as the feathers ruffled up in what could be taken as a sassy attitude towards me. “You are my spirit guide?” I huffed in disbelief. A tiny bird is hardly capable of protecting people.
I am your spirit animal. I’m here to guide you to darkness, and out of it. I am the singer of sorrow and the sound of joy. Your people call me Wa-Le-Lu. My name is not yours to know yet or keep. But my protection is yours to keep.
It’s bright blue feathers spread out about two inches thick. The beak sprouted out as it dove for my shoulder like it was a personal perch. I’m positive talking birds are included in the hallucination list for crazy. “Alright, twitter bird, tell me what forest did I get thrown into?” I heaved a sigh.
Forest of Gods is what we call it. But in your tradition, we are in spirit forest. A place where you are between the world you perceive and what is reality. I smelled the aroma of fresh dung and water coming from the pond behind me. My twitter bird was silent as I kept trekking forward hoping it would eventually lead me to food and civilization. Tracking animal shit is not a favorable option for food.
“When the last tree is cut, the last fish is caught, and the last river is polluted; when to breathe the air is sickening, you will realize, too late, that wealth is not in bank accounts and that you can’t eat money.” ― Alanis Obomsawin
Back on the Reserve
Montega tossed out his cigar on a freshly cut lawn. His eyes strung up with bright red, and wetness. Police lights flickered down the street leaving an echoing flow of light to keep up half the reservation. He rubbed his hands back and forth feverishly from an internal layer of ice. Trickles of sweat streamed down his arms.
“Sir, are you sure you came back home to find this girl dead?” Quizzically he looked at the chocolate-colored Un-Ne-Ga. He spoke in a slightly stranger version of the Un-Ne-Ga cultural language. But his people considered a part of their way of categorizing them. A brother whose ancestors too were bloodied by the white man. A history paved in the past.
“Are you implying me of murder?” He was no fool. Maybe not half as educated as his sister dearest, but a fool he is not. “ I came home after our tribes’ ceremony and found a body lying on the floor of my kitchen. It is not custom here to lock doors. Unlike in the cities, you are familiar with.”
“Do you have any relatives that can- stupid question. Where is your chief?” The officer set down his pen enabling a breath of fresh air out of Montega.
“My chieftain is sitting at home curious at what his granddaughter's spirit walk entails.” Commoners knew nothing of the importance of tradition anymore.
“Where is his home?” Montega pointed his fingers at the only house with an American flag hanging from it. The only place that tried to support the Un-Ne- Ga and their savage ways. The chocolate-covered Un-Ne-Ga turned to leave but before he did- he took off his cap as an officer and tucked it away. “ Thank you, brother.”
Pounding disrupted Paco from his thoughts as he stared at his daughter’s proposal. “ Coming,” He shoved a document covered in red ink under the desk, and shakily stood up moving his joints by force. The door swung open to see a sergeant standing without his cap. “ What happened?”
“Sir, We found a teenager dead on one of your residence’s premises. Tribal police made the call but we could not locate you at the time due to your ceremony.”
“Do you have a name?” A fire and death. Paco breathed heavily as his fists clenched.
“The name of the body won’t be disclosed until I figure out who the parents are.”
“You want me to go identify it?”
“Yes. Paco. If you wouldn’t be troubled.” The pair began to walk off his property chatting about ideas on a new casino proposition from another tribe that neither the cop nor he approved of.
Coming up to Monteag’s house, the yard looked filled with Christmas lights in June from cars. “Hello Paco, “ Montega slipped another cigar in his mouth. “ Busy night tonight.”
“Do you know where my grandson is Montega?”
“He has not come home since the ceremony. I’m sure he is just romping around with our girls still. “ A cop whistled an alert to the other two cops who were guarding the property. Just like soldiers, their stiffened shoulders loosened at the sight of Paco. Relief.
Paco entered the familiar home with the flag for the tribe hanging at half staff for Dayumi. A form of respect stolen from the Americans. “It’s not good Montega. It’s no good to allow the Un-Ne-Ga to widdle around the property.” He whispered in Montega’s ears grabbing the cigar to take a puff out of it.
“Too late now, We can’t turn the bees around once they’re here.” He smothered his hands against his pants. Lack of sleep written in his slouching eyes.
“Can I see the body?” Paco looked at the sergeant again.
“Sure.” The sergeant waved his hand for Paco to go in. His eyes glanced over the snow like body as drips of rain slipped down his face. His half Grandson’s girlfriend laid sprawled out naked. Dried blood circled around the floor.
“I will contact her mother. Her father is still in the hospital from a terminal illness in the state capital.” Paco folded his arms as unwarranted water slipped down his face. Where is his grandson of all people?
“I will leave you to handle the rest. Your people have particular ways of burying the dead, and ours do not want to interfere with sacred rituals.” They shook hands before the Un-Ne-Ga departed. Paco standing left with the debris of the problem. “ Montega, go tell the girl’s parents. When you run past my daughter’s house grab her as well.” Squatting next to the dead body, Paco noticed white powdery flakes near her nose. Un-Ne-Ga powder is a dangerous game.
An Hour Later
Montega returned with Aiyanna. “Paco, did she overdose on Un-Ne-Ga powder?” Took her all of five seconds to recognize the traces of the drug on the dead body. Her medical background expanded far and wide.
“Yes.” Silence clung around the air for a few minutes.
Back to the forest
Hours passed and my skin felt like burning lava. Thirst welted up in my throat like a bubble about to burst. I stumbled through the forest with a mystery in my head. Clambering past twig after twig, I felt my toes starting to bleed again. Water droplets trickled down my cheeks.
Two days, and I wasn’t any closer to escaping the torture of being in a jungle. My twitter bird remained on my shoulder whispering deceitful advice. Take this turn, go past this tree, and why? To get even more lost in a place that is eating away the little body fat that I have stored.