Tilly and the Crazy Eights

by Monique Gray Smith

  46

  Arrival

  IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock on Friday morning when the bus pulled up to the drop-off zone at the Gathering of Nations Pow Wow. This was Tilly’s second trip of the day to the arena where the University of New Mexico Lobos played basketball, now transformed for the Pow Wow. She had come earlier to pick up the wristbands for everyone and so she would know where drop off was for elders and dancers.

  Tilly put the bus in park, leaned her head back against the seat, and released her stress with an exhalation that came from the bottom of her toes. “Whew, we made it! Sarah, we need to get you in there as registration for dancers starts in five minutes.”

  Silence.

  Not the kind of silence that could be filled with words, but rather, a silence that penetrates one’s soul. That was the kind of silence that wove through the bus that morning.

  Tilly turned to Mabel in the copilot seat, but she was looking out her window. Still, no talking and no one was making a move to exit. Tilly swivelled around in her seat so she could see the elders. Each of them was looking out the window toward the arena, mesmerized. With her hand, Tilly shaded her eyes from the glowing New Mexico sun and looked out at their view.

  Hundreds and hundreds of people were milling about. Most were visibly Native, including tiny infants in strollers, elders walking with the aid of canes, youth, and every life stage in between. Some carried blankets, some carried food, some had humungous cups filled with soda pop, and some had Starbucks cups. Others carried suitcases with their regalia safely tucked inside. Some held the hand of the person they were with, and some were there looking for someone to hold hands with. In the shade of the arena, some were in their regalia and practicing dance steps.

  There was no question about it: there was a powerful vibration coming from the arena and it wasn’t just the drumbeat. It was like something was alive in there.

  Inviting them to come in.

  Inviting them to be transformed.

  Tilly had been to many Pow Wows over the years, but she’d never witnessed anything like this. This many people. She looked back to the elders. Each of them remained transfixed at the scene unfolding outside the safety of their bus. Tilly couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for each of them to look out the window and see nothing but their own people. She wondered how it might feel as an elder to see their people openly celebrating what they’d had to hide for years. What had been illegal for years. And she wondered what it was like for them to see so many people proud of being Native. Tilly could feel the reverence spreading through the bus and noticed Lucy’s eyes brimming with tears. She continued to watch the elders. There was no measurement of time for this moment. It was a culmination of the past, the present, and a future of possibility.

  In a hushed tone, Poncho’s few words described the sentiment on the bus. “Well I’ll be….” He removed his cowboy hat and placed it on his knee.

  The elders continued to stare out the window. After a few moments, Poncho turned and looked at Tilly. She raised her eyebrows and gave him half a smile.

  With pauses between her words, Lucy said, “Look…at all…the Indians.” Her tone was somewhere between a whisper and her regular voice.

  Sarah’s chest constricted and she was about to turn to Annie and say, “I don’t know if I can do this.” But then, she saw her.

  The young woman who first visited after the Stitch ’n Bitch meeting where she had shared her dream, the dream that was unfolding right in front of her.

  Then when they were in Seligman. She guided Sarah to the Pendleton blanket that Sarah was now using as part of her regalia. And then, a couple nights ago, when they were in Sedona, she had appeared again. Now, the young woman was standing a few feet away from the bus. She motioned with her arm for Sarah to come out and join her. “It’s going to be okay, trust me.” The smile on her face and the warmth that exuded from her was enough to create a surge of confidence in Sarah. She hoisted herself up and looked down at her sister sitting beside her.

  “’Scuse me, Annie, but I got a Grand Entry to get ready for.” Sarah still had to register to dance and get ready. There was no time for lollygagging. Or for fear.

  Annie’s head slowly turned upwards. It was Sarah, but it wasn’t. Or at least not the Sarah she was used to. This Sarah stood taller. Her slightly stooped shoulders now straight back, her eyes were aglow and there was something else. Something indescribable. Something that Annie couldn’t put her finger on.

  Annie stood and stepped back and watched as Sarah walked the short aisle of the bus to where Tilly had opened the door. There, Sarah stopped, turned, and addressed everyone, “This is what we came on this trip for. Or at least what I came for.” She turned her gaze out the door and scanned the spectacular scene unfolding before her. Sarah turned to the elders once again and added, “So you can either sit there an’ watch or you can come in an’ watch me dance. Either way, I’m goin’ in now. Tilly, can you please help me get my regalia from the back?” And with that, Sarah exited the bus.

  Tilly hopped out and met Sarah at the back of the bus. She unloaded the suitcase and as she hugged Sarah, Tilly whispered in her ear, “I can hardly wait to see you dance.”

  “I can hardly wait to dance,” Sarah responded. She pulled away and Tilly reached down to hand Sarah her suitcase full of regalia. “Thanks, Tilly.” The women’s eyes held for a moment. “Been waiting all my life for this, so I best be gettin’ myself on in there.”

  Annie reached for her purse and followed her sister’s lead down the aisle and out the door. She hustled to catch up to Sarah. Tilly watched them disappear into the sea of people.

  Back on the bus, the elders hesitated. Although they all wanted to join in—this is what they’d come for—fear had them stuck to their seats. Fear of not knowing what to do when they got in there. Fear of being judged for not knowing what to do, not knowing each and every protocol. Fear of so many people in one place. Fear of not doing something right. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being arrested, even though that was not logical. They were of a time when ceremonies such as the Pow Wow were illegal, and participation came with a fine and jail time. Fear was swirling around every cell, in every body, of every elder sitting on that bus.

  Even though their logical minds were telling them their fears were unwarranted, their lived experiences told them differently.

  Eventually, Mabel opened the door. As she stood, she spoke over the top of her seat, “I’m going in to support Sarah. I know what y’all are thinking and feeling. I’m scared, too, but she needs us. I didn’t come all this way to sit in the bus when she dances. Grand Entry ain’t for two hours. We’ve got plenty of time to get comfortable in there. So…get over yourselves. Get your stuff,” she swung her arm through the air and pointed to the door, “and get a move on.” Such directness, some might even consider such harshness, was unusual for Mabel, but it worked. It was what everyone needed.

  A reminder that they were all there to support Sarah in her dream of dancing at the Gathering of Nations Pow Wow.

  After all, it was Sarah who got the whole trip started.

  Poncho stood first, put his cowboy hat on, and beckoned Rose with his fingers to indicate “Come on.” She reached up and he helped her out of the seat.

  Lucy stood, pulled her shirt down and ran her hands over the front of herself, flattening a few wrinkles. She leaned down a bit so she could see out the window. Her eyes began to fill with tears. Her legs felt wobbly and she sat back down. Seeing so many people who looked like her, who had the same skin color as her, who had short, curly gray hair like her, and many who even dressed like her was like nothing she’d experienced before. Lucy tested her legs again; this time they felt a bit stronger. Taking a deep breath and letting it go with a puff of her round cheeks, she said, “’Kay, let’s do this.”

  47

  It’s Pow Wow Time

  BY THE TIME Til
ly had parked the bus and rejoined the elders, Mabel was leading the group toward the entrance. Rose had woven her hand through Poncho’s arm. It was then Tilly heard Chuck say to Bea, “Why don’t you tuck your hand here into mine. Make sure I don’t get lost in there.” She watched as Bea reached down and laced her fingers through Chuck’s and how he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on it.

  Tilly took a couple steps toward Lucy and held out her hand. Lucy’s eyes swam with tears and she placed her trembling hand into Tilly’s. Tilly took Lucy’s hand and tucked it under her arm tightly and smiled at Lucy, “It’s okay.”

  “I know. I don’t know why I’m being such a crybaby.” She wiped her eyes with her free hand. Mabel came over and stood with them.

  “We can all feel it, Lucy. The Ancestors. They’re calling us in there with every beat of the drum. I feel it.”

  “Me too,” whispered Lucy.

  “What say we go in there?”

  Lucy nodded as a tear meandered down her cheek.

  Together, they all turned and walked into the Pow Wow.

  It was a blessing they had to be there early for Sarah to register, as it provided them an opportunity to gently transition into the enormity of what was to unfold. When they entered the arena, which would soon be filled with twenty thousand people, they were surprised by how many of the seats were already reserved with blankets and pillows. It took them a few minutes to find an area that had enough vacant seats for all of them and didn’t require them to go up and down too many stairs.

  Once they had laid out their blankets and settled in for the day, Poncho turned to them, beaming and, as if he was the announcer, bellowed, “It’s Pow Wow time!” He stood, lowered his voice a few notches, “And what that really means is, it’s fry bread time! Who wants a piece? My treat.” His humor eased the tension the elders were feeling.

  Lucy didn’t miss a beat. “Well, if you’re treatin’ .”

  “Me too,” replied Rose.

  As it turned out, everyone was in the mood for fry bread.

  “Whaddya say, Miss Tilly? Wanna come help me carry everything?”

  Tilly stood. “Love to.”

  They followed the signs out of the arena to where the food vendors were located. Along the way, a drum group started to sing and Poncho turned to Tilly. “That drumbeat. It hits me right in the ribcage and I can feel it all the way down to my toes.”

  Tilly nodded, and just loud enough to hear over the singers, she told Poncho, “I feel like I’ve entered a sacred space.”

  “I think it is a sacred space, Miss Tilly. Even in this ginormous arena, I feel the presence of spirit.”

  Just then they exited the arena and were out where all the food vendors were set up. Poncho’s mouth fell open. After a second or two of taking in the scene before them, he declared, “Holy Dinah! Look at all the fry bread stands. I’m sure some comedian could do a whole stand-up routine just about the fry bread stands and all us Indians.”

  Tilly chuckled. This man could move from talking about spirit to comedy in one breath and not make it feel disrespectful. Every day her love for Poncho grew.

  “How we gonna decide who to buy from, Miss Tilly?” He rubbed his chin and furrowed his brow.

  “Most people who come out will go to the first couple of stands, so why don’t we walk down to the end and buy from the last stand?”

  Poncho tilted his head and flashed Tilly a smile. “I knew I liked you right from the first time I met you.”

  Tilly was right, the last stand wasn’t busy and in no time she and Poncho were carrying stacks of fry bread back to the elders. As they munched on their fry bread, they watched the final preparations for Grand Entry. All the drum groups were set up around the perimeter of the arena floor and the announcers had a small stage to work from. It wasn’t long before the arena was filled with people. Even though they were seeing it firsthand, it was still difficult for the elders to conceive that this many people had come to celebrate, dance, and honor this tradition known as Pow Wow.

  Tilly felt the anticipation bubbling in the air. She watched as the male Fancy Dancers took the stairs two by two. The feathers on their bustles bounced up and down, almost as if they were dancing. Beside her, a group of Jingle Dancers gracefully descended the stairs, causing the chang, chang, swish, chang, chang, swish sounds to come from the silver cones on their dresses. Tilly noticed a family making their way down for Grand Entry. The gentleman was a Grass Dancer and dressed in green and yellow regalia. In one arm he carried a child, dressed in similar green and yellow regalia. Tilly couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought the little one might be about two years old. With his free hand, the gentleman hung onto the hand of a young girl. She had on a hot pink, Fancy Dancer dress with purple and white ribbons hanging from her collarbone area, a beaded white belt and white moccasins that went all the way up to her knees. Her hair was in two perfect braids, tied at the end with pink ribbons. On the other side of the girl was a woman dressed in full buckskin regalia. Her long, black, shiny hair was pulled back into one braid with an eagle feather tucked at the top. The woman was stunning. Tilly watched her with reverence and was in awe of the way she carried herself, chin jutted out, shoulders back, eagle fan held close to her chest. She didn’t have to look down to navigate the stairs, her feet simply knew where the next stair was. Tilly would look for her when it was time for the women’s categories. If she could walk the stairs like this, imagine how she might dance!

  Lucy leaned over to Tilly and said, “I don’t really know why I was such a crybaby earlier. I think I get afraid at things like this, you know, about being Indian.” Lucy looked around the arena. “I think, Tilly, if you hear mean ’n hurtful things about yourself and your people long enough, you start to believe it.” Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “At least I did. So being here, at the World Pow Wow, it brings all that stuff up.”

  Tilly put her arm around Lucy and leaned her head in until it rested on Lucy’s. They sat like that for a few minutes, neither saying a word. It was times like this that Tilly vacillated between profound empathy for what these elders had endured in their lifetime and awe at their extraordinary resilience.

  ***

  In the lower halls and stairwells of the arena, Sarah and the other dancers prepared for Grand Entry. There was something sacred for Annie about supporting her sister like this. She helped Sarah step into the white buckskin dress. Together they shimmied it up Sarah’s body, giggling when Sarah had to readjust her “girls” in order to get everything tucked in. Annie placed the shawl over her sister’s shoulders. It was the same bright yellow as a dandelion in late spring. On the back was a beaded chocolate-

  brown bear paw, and flowers were woven down the arms. Two more bear paws were down each side of the front of her shawl, and her white moccasins had a single yellow flower on the top. She draped the blanket over her left arm. The same blanket the young woman had handed her back in Seligman. Sarah’s regalia was, quite simply, stunning.

  Once Sarah was fully dressed, Annie reached into the suitcase and ever so gently pulled out Sarah’s eagle fan and handed it to her. Sarah held it in her right hand. She was ready.

  When Annie stepped back and looked at her sister, her hands came up to her mouth and reverence pooled in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look as beautiful as you do right now.”

  “Oh, Annie.” Sarah blushed.

  “No! It’s true! You are glowing!”

  “Oh, you.” Sarah teased, but then she looked at her sister. Really looked at her. Sarah’s tone softened. “Thanks, Annie. I couldn’t’ve done this without you. The chemotherapy, the sickness, the trip. All of it. I want you to know that I’m forever grateful.”

  It had been a privilege and an honor for Annie, and she was no longer able to choke back the tears. In an unexpected move, she reached out and held her sister’s face. “Seeing you like this is all t
he thanks I need.” The two women embraced, healing more than years of hurt and misunderstandings. Healing generations.

  Over the loudspeaker came the soon-to-be-familiar voice of the Master of Ceremonies. Every third or fourth word he seemed to linger on, it was a cadence common among Pow Wow emcees. “We’re going to do one more song and then it’s time for Grand Entry. Dancers this is your final notice to move on down into the tunnel and get ready. Everyone up there in the stands, all twenty thousand of you, take your seats. Now, White Fish Bay take it away. Last song before Grand Entry. Aho, Aho!”

  Annie released her sister. “Guess that’s my cue. I’m going to go sit with everyone.” She gathered up her purse and Sarah’s suitcase. With one final look at her sister, Annie added, “Go out there, Sarah, and have fun! Enjoy every single second of this dream come true!”

  All Sarah could do was nod. Her stomach was fluttering. Her mouth was dry, and she had to pee, but that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way she could go to the bathroom with her regalia on. Instead she took a deep, deep breath and let it out with a sigh. She closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing the eagle fan just a bit tighter and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. Imagine, her, Sarah Fraser from a tiny little reserve in British Columbia, Canada dancing in the Grand Entry of the World Pow Wow. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Plenty of crazy things had happened in Sarah’s life, but nothing as crazy—or magical—as this!

  The Master of Ceremonies came over the loudspeaker again, announcing, “Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, please rise and remove all hats. We’re going to start the Pow Wow off with the Gathering of Nations song and eagle medicine. The eagle here…” The emcee pointed to the eagle perched on his companion’s hand. “The eagle is going to go to all four directions and share his medicine. When this song is over we’re gonna go right into the Flag Song and entrance of the Eagle staff, the Flags, our Veterans, and our two thousand dancers!”