Without a moment’s pause, the small boy answered, “Food.”
With that, June grabbed the boy’s hand and headed to her pickup truck. They then drove to Gallup. The local trading company had only a meager amount of groceries, specializing in the tourist trade. Thirty miles away, in Gallup she bought a large bag of oranges, three pounds of coffee, some sugar, twenty five pounds of potatoes, onions, twenty pounds of pinto beans, two loaves of fresh bread and a large precooked ham. With a little coaching from Juaquen she also bought a couple of bags of candy. Loading the groceries into the bed of the truck she then said, “Ok, let’s go to your grandfather’s house. How do we get there?”
“Back to Zuni,” said the small boy. Returning to Zuni, June expected the boy’s grandfather to be living in the pueblo but the boy pointed on down the road and so June followed his lead. She kept looking at every house they encountered expecting it to be the house where the boy had come from, but he kept insisting on going further and further out of town on a well rutted gravel road. Finally after they had traveled some ten miles he pointed to a turn off. Two almost invisible ruts circled through a forest of weathered cedar and juniper trees up to the foot of a sandstone bluff where a classic Zuni style rock house appeared. It appeared exactly like so many ruins June had explored but this one was roofed, with a small stream of smoke coming out of a rock chimney. Opening the door made of rough planks, probably from a local sawmill, she entered a dimly lit room where the boy and his shaman grandfather lived.
Almost being afraid of the answer, she asked the small boy, “How in the world did you get into town?”
“I walk.” Walking was the only way they got around, but what was really on her mind was how did the boy and his grandfather know about her?”
Grandfather, the only name he answered to, indeed, looked like an Indian shaman known as a casique. Grandfather was not a pueblo elder; he was the town misfit, a hermit. Using any substance he could get his hands on in order to become inebriated, he probably was considered by all, an outlaw, June guessed. He did not follow the Zuni way. June figured that many had already branded him as a witch. They were undoubtedly mean to him, and enjoyed teasing him. Old, and unable to get around and unable to hunt now, he was without family except for his grandson; they were slowly starving to death. The young boy had gotten by, by stealing what he could from his neighbors. He too was not following the Zuni way, and had made enemies in the community, but the boy had no choice.
June had the boy stoke up a fire in the potbellied stove that the family used both as a cooking stove and the only source of warmth on cold winter days. She put on a pot of beans which would take some time to cook and then made some ham sandwiches. Grandfather only ate a slice of ham folded into a single slice of bread; he was afraid to eat more. It had been too long ago since he had eaten, but the boy wolfed down several sandwiches. The shaman then took a long drink from a bottle that was clearly an alcoholic beverage and began a quiet chant.
June said to him, “You know, it is against the law to have any kind of alcoholic beverages on the Zuni reservation.”
He looked up at her and said, “That’s true, but I know the answer to your puzzle. Besides, holding the bottle up, it was given to me. I have no money to spend on alcohol and no way of going off the reservation to get more.”
Since June had not asked any questions she was a little mystified. In her own mind, she felt like she had been taken as a fool, at which point the old man said, “I do not consider your questions foolish!” June was beginning to believe that the old man could read her mind, and sure enough he seemed to have answers for her questions before she asked them. Along with an uncanny ability to know what June was going to say, before she said it, the old man would demonstrate that he had an articulate understanding of the history of his people.
Grandfather apparently had always been a rebel in his own tribe. Every tribe has rebels, but Grandfather was indeed different, he was certainly not afraid to talk to an outsider, if she would provide him with certain things. It wasn’t that he wanted to take advantage of an outsider; he appeared to desperately need help, not only for his sake but for the sake of his grandson of whom he had gained custody after his son and his wife had died in an automobile accident two years ago. June could emphasize with him, the same thing had happened to Corey’s parents. Ken and she had adopted him.
Grandfather looked at June and said, “We have a bond, you and me, we are both responsible for others. Corey is very much in love with the new girl, uh...Penny, isn’t she?
June looked at him in amazement. There was no way he could have known about Corey and me.
“And, what are you doing hanging around a Navajo?” He said it with a big grin on his face, he was toying with her, and she knew it. She was truly mystified. Either Grandfather had incredible connections to town gossip or he had special powers that only a few mortals could claim. She had never talked to anyone about the Navajo, Hidalgo, because she knew how sensitive the Zuni people were about the Navajo. Currently they were at peace under the laws of New Mexico and the United States of America. Before, they had been mortal enemies.
As darkness settled over the ruin early, being in the shade of the bluff behind it, Grandfather began to chant again, he finally stopped and looked at June.
“You have a great mystery that you are trying to solve, something to do with my ancestors.”
June gasped, “That’s true, but how do you know?”
Grandfather looked at her and solemnly said, “Actually I have heard the town gossip. I do have friends that come and check on me to see if I’m still alive. My friend told me about you. He saw you at one of meetings you had with our elders. He was there, helping serve the food. ”He followed up his statement with a grin that showed many missing teeth.
“They didn’t tell you what you wanted to know did they?”
“No,” June had to admit.
“I will tell you because you have a good heart. My Grandson here thinks my stories are just like all the other stories he hears from people. They are just stories, a way to entertain.”
“I am descended from many shamans. My father was a shaman; his father was a shaman and so forth. I am a shaman but what few people seem to understand is that not all shamans are bad people. I am not a witch, or a bruja, we simply know things that give us an entirely different view of the world. We understand the futility of doing things that others do. My secrets own me.”
June asked him point blank, “What is a skin walker?”
“When we lived in the other world, in Aztlan or in what you call Chaco Canyon, the first people who lived there lived comfortably and in peace. But soon our leaders began to entertain visitors from the south, outsider, warriors, and tricksters from what is now known as Mexico. Outside people came among us, who worshiped evil beings. They were evil creatures themselves, butchering us and even using us for food. We fought back but soon the elders adopted the newcomer’s ways. Soon all the elders were living in a dream world brought on by the magic the shamans from the south had brought with them. The youth, within a short time, learned to enjoy hurting others. They roamed in packs, like wolves, preying upon anyone they could find alone. Sometimes, when they found a victim they would simply twist all of their bones until they died. They seemed to have superhuman strength, being able to turn bones into splinters. Children were burned alive while their mothers watched in horror. It was terrible times; people would walk around talking to invisible beings, attacking people, even family members, for no reason. Many people died. My ancestors left in small groups, sneaking away from Chaco Canyon and hiding in cliff houses far away to escape the intruders but after a while they were found by new enemies from the north who preyed upon us. We were trapped between warlike people from the north and the supernatural cruel enemies from our former home, Aztlan. When they found us, terrible deaths occurred.”
Finally we heard about peaceful tribes that were visited by star people.
“Star people?” June
asked. They came among them and showed then a better way to live. They are what the Kachinas are. They are the creatures in our ceremonies. Star creatures are very sacred and beloved beings just like they are in your culture, only you call them by other names. However, there were rebels even among them. They were not all good people; some of them were evil creatures. These evil ones were despised even among their own people, so they were cast out. Where the Navajo people now live and where our ancestors lived is where they settled. They are the ones who are causing the problems to the people who live there now, the Navajo. They are the ones who were left behind by the star people who returned to the stars. This place, you call earth, is their jail. They were left behind because of their evil ways and their evil intent. We discovered that they controlled our minds, our very thoughts. We made war on ourselves for their entertainment. It was the final thing we could deal with, so we journeyed south to this land where the rain was better and there were no Skin Walkers. Here we didn’t have to deal with the Ute’s and Navajos who were killing us and stealing our land. The Skin Walkers, as you call them, stayed there, I am not sure why, but I don’t believe they can’t journey far from their source of power, their home.
June asked him, “What is their source of power?”
The shaman thought over the question for a minute then answered, “Your scientist talk about breaking everything down into what is called elements, the tiny things that everything is made of. Each of those elements is further made up of atoms with protons and electrons.”
“That is very true,” said June. “New Mexico is famous as the birthplace of the atomic age.”
“There is a lot more there than protons and electrons,” the shaman added.
“There are many things inside the atom that are just now being understood by your scientists.”
“That’s true,” replied June. “They have discovered a whole zoo full of particles inside the atom as well as different kinds of energy.”
“When you get to the most elemental levels of matter, there is something there called dark energy by your scientist that they cannot understand; it defies the very laws that your scientist use to describe atoms. Skin walkers somehow use that energy.”
“How do you know all this, asked June?
“It is a knowledge we have always known, at least we seem to be safe here. Skin walkers don’t bother us here.” With that said; the old man turned over on his bed and started to go to sleep.
“Thank you,” said June. “Is there any way we can fight them?”
He remained motionless as he answered, “After several hundred years we never found a way to defeat them. They live to commit evil deeds or to have others do their evil deeds for them. They seem to draw energy, dark energy from the fear and sufferings and finally the death of their victims.”
June thanked him again and even hugged the small boy. June had her answers but they only created more questions. She thought to herself, by the strangest of circumstances, she had experienced the briefest encounter with a shaman. She wondered how many other elderly Zunis she had spoken to had known the secrets about this land? Based upon what Corey, Hidalgo and I had told June about our encounters, the serpents could control our minds but not our actions.
June thanked the small boy, said her goodbyes and started the short walk to her parked truck. She would have a world of things to talk about when she returned to Serpiente, but the first thing she noticed as she got to her truck was the raven perched on a tree branch directly over the cab. As she opened the door the raven flew away, but as she drove down the ruts out to the main gravel dirt road the raven swooped past her windshield several times, making her wonder.
Part 5
The Fight Game
History is a set of lies, agreed upon.
—Napoleon
There were giants in the earth in those days.
—Genesis 6:4
Clan Protector
It had taken almost a full two hands of the morning sun before Clan Protector began his morning climb up the trail leading to his favorite lookout. From there, he could enjoy a vast panorama and still keep an eye on the cave. He had hoped to get away before it got too hot but before he could leave this morning, he had many things to do. Clan Protector had hoped one of the women would prepare his food. He was accustomed to having this chore being taken care of when he was staying at the cave. None of them seemed interested. They had plenty of food but none of the cave dwellers wanted anything to eat nor did they want to prepare food for others. Some sickness was affecting everyone except Clan Protector. Everyone had diarrhea. They stunk. He did what he could do to help everyone and make the elders comfortable. Then he left to find his own food. More than likely he would go hungry but there was always a chance that a cottontail would make the mistake of showing itself to him.
His stomach was just starting to bother him. He wanted to be alone. Suspecting that the sickness came from something they were eating, he had not eaten anything since he left the lookout yesterday evening. He had not touched anything in the cave having prepared his own food while away at the lookout and he knew how to live very comfortably there, on his own. He felt strong and he was very smart, he had made a conscious decision to vary his routine.
Doing the same thing every day made you vulnerable to an attack. Cats were especially a problem; they sometimes studied you several days just planning how they would get too you. After hiding, when you least expected it, they would attack you. It would be lightning fast and usually fatal.
On his left thigh and ribcage, he had several parallel scars from a not so long ago encounter with a cat. Fortunately, his brother Red Ochre had seen the cat and came running to his older brother with a spear and war cry, the cat ran away. Clan Protector was very lucky. Even the sickness that the wounds caused didn’t seem to bother him now. He had healed well but he remembered the sickness that came over him as he healed. Every few hours Elder Women would wash the wounds out with hot water and then pack the cavernous cuts with herbs. It hurt. Now he had full movement and was growing stronger every day. Nevertheless on his journey to the lookout he had to be careful. Every living thing around him could hurt him in an attempt to protect itself. Even the plants yielded spikes and spines that often inflected poisons. But it was all instinct to him, he knew how to survive, but he was in serious competition with many other meat eaters such as bears, cats, and a multitude of teethed and clawed creatures that lived around him.
All his people were in constant danger. Fortunately, most animals avoided places that had been marked by humans, that is, where humans had peed on the ground. Most animals avoid the smell of humans but some cats were attracted to the scent. He had learned as a small child how to keep a spear between himself and a cat. He had been lucky, lucky all his life. He had encountered several cats, and it seemed that usually they would run from him if he could just keep the obsidian tip of the spear between his body and the cat.
Stopping and sitting down at his resting place, a small overhang in the rock where a human could just get in out of the rain and listen, Clan Protector was listening to what was close, hearing nothing unusual he enjoyed the opportunity to feel contemplative. Unfortunately, many ghosts were playing with his mind today. He decided that it would be easier to just continue on, besides he was starting to get hungry.
He rose, stretching all nine foot of his frame. He secured his black hair out of his eyes with a leather head band and continued his casual walk to the lookout. However, from here on up he would be gathering herbs and roots to prepare for his dinner as well as checking his deadfall traps in hope of catching squirrels. He relished his food. He had a large bag of rock salt gathered from the south end of the lake as well as peppers that were hot. He had traded for them long ago from like people from the south. From his lookout, he could comfortably and carefully study his world. Although he couldn’t see to the other side of the lake from his viewpoint he could imagine it. He had been there many times. He knew exactly what it looked like bec
ause even as a child he had been there.
The first time he tried to follow the hunters there he was caught right away and brought back by his elders, but a year later he had snuck out and followed them on their yearly hunt; alone and invisible, always well hidden in the trees like all great hunters and cats. The elders, of course, knew he was there and that time permitted his rite of passage into manhood.
Before preparing dinner, which would produce a small amount of wood smoke and possibly give his position away to other humans and cats, Clan Protector found himself staring and reminiscing, far below to the waves playing out their cyclic motions on the edge of a vast lake. A thought occurred to him, he was reminiscing about the times he had enjoyed on the other side of the lake. He remembered that on the far side of the lake the waves were much bigger. On windy days he enjoyed watching them crash on the sandy beaches. During the summer hunts he felt safe there. There were such a multitude of game to be killed and eaten; an armed human would be left alone. It would take too much effort for a cat or other carnivore to pester them, the hunting was far too easy. During the winter months it could be a death sentence to be there as the hunger in the wild cats increased when easy prey became scarce.
Clan Protector had been reminiscing that it had been several summers since he had seen other people like himself, across the lake. His daughter was ready to find a mate but there were few clans that he knew of and they required a dangerous journey to visit them. At one time, there were many clans of humans like himself who would make the journey to the southeast part of the lake and hunt each summer, but now except the few members of his own, he never saw anyone. Others that looked like him seemed to be slowly disappearing.
The Family at Serpiente Page 41
