As we came around a root ball, I saw a small, pretty sunfish ahead of me. It was greenish with an orange breast. I darted after it, but it easily escaped my charge and swam into a school of other sunfish a safe distance ahead. They seemed to be laughing at my clumsy effort. I was disappointed and felt foolish. A tiny fish had bested me in my hunt.
“Wait a moment, Skyco. Here is another predator like us. Watch him hunt.”
Even before Roncommock finished his thought, I saw a big gar—or kowabetteo—emerge from the darkness of deeper water. It was at least as long as Roncommock’s leg when Roncommock was a man. With large, yellowish scales and a log-like body, it was similar in shape to the coppáuseo. Instead of the flattened nose, feelers, and fleshy mouth, however, the kowabetteo had a long beak almost like that of a heron or crane, but full of small, sharp teeth. It glided slowly along, barely sculling with its tail fin, giving all appearance of calmness, slowness, non-aggression. But while I was watching it, in a move so fast that I was not even sure I had actually seen it, the big fish darted forward and grabbed a sunfish from the edge of the school.
One moment it was still and quiet, the next it had seized a struggling fish, which it snipped neatly in half, then swallowed each half in two quick motions. Small silver and orange scales drifted down from the mouth of the kowabetteo. All the surviving sunfish scattered in a flash.
“Wow! So the trick is to move slowly and quietly, to lull the prey into a false sense of security, and then strike like lightning.”
“That’s it, Skyco. That is the way to be a hunter. Never be in a hurry, never rush things. Wait until the prey is within your grasp, then strike swiftly and strike hard. Don’t miss or it may be a long time before another opportunity appears.”
“I understand, master. Thank you for showing me.”
“Now it is time for you to try again. Show me what you have learned.”
We moved slowly up the river, along the edge of the bank where tree roots hung out into the slight current and grasses grew up along the edges. I could see a school of small minnows ahead and slowed down even more. I balanced my body with my pectoral and pelvic fins, barely pushing forward with my tail fin. Roncommock drifted back behind me, letting me lead as I stalked. When I felt I was as close as I could get, I flexed all my muscles at once and shot forward like an arrow from a bow. My mouth snapped shut on one of the minnows and I swallowed him down in an instant. My host’s stomach felt pleasantly full.
I turned back triumphantly to see Roncommock’s reaction at my success, but instead of seeing him in the river, we were sitting again by the fire, with the smell of sacred uppówoc drifting from it. I cleared my mind and offered thanks, not just to the bass I had inhabited, but to the kowabetteo that showed me the hunt and the sunfish and minnow that were eaten.
“This experience was different from that of the ant,” I said to Roncommock. “In both animals I felt strange sensations, and scent was again important. Being a fish, however, was more like occupying my own body, but with parts that were somehow both similar to and different from what I expected. I had fins where my arms and legs used to be, an eye on each side of my head rather than two in front, gills instead of lungs to breathe, and lateral lines that provided whole-body hearing instead of just one pair of ears.” Here I paused for a moment as I tried to gather my thoughts and explain the experience. “When I was an ant, it was totally unlike anything I had ever experienced, but when I was a fish, it was somehow familiar. It was as if I actually remembered being a fish—as if I had experienced life as a fish sometime in my distant past. As an ancestor, maybe? But how can that be?”
“It is important for you to understand that all life is linked together, Skyco. Those of us who become shamans simply see those linkages better than most other people and we are able to follow the links. We teach the next generation just as we were taught, connecting the past to the future, both stretching into a hazy distance so remote we can only barely comprehend. If we are connected to our ancestors as well as to our descendants, then perhaps we can detect them when we enter the great linkage of life and share experiences with other living beings. As you come to understand other forms of life, you will become a better hunter, and you will also become a better chief.”
Roncommock stood and moved from the fire to his sleeping bench.
“I must rest awhile until it is time to bless the new canoe. You should get some rest, too. Your journey will be arduous and you will be gone from the village for some time. I imagine the men will want to be out at the weirs by the time of the full moon, when the tides are best. They will return after the good tides are over, but they will come back slowly, lingering at villages of our kin along the way. You will need those skills of diplomacy you have been learning. I expect you to introduce yourself and to negotiate on behalf of our fishing expeditions with the leaders of the villages you visit. You must request accommodation from them. I hope you learned your lessons.” So did I. If I failed, we might be attacked as enemies.
We feasted in the village that night. I could smell wood smoke from the central fire and the delicious scent of bubbling succotash, which was a stew composed of squash, corn, and beans. Haunches of venison roasted over the fire, but the smaller or bony pieces of the deer boiled with the succotash and contributed to the fragrance of the stew. Women uncovered baked roots—some called okeepenauk and others called openauk—that they had buried under the coals at the edge of the fire. Ascopo was standing near his mother, who was scraping away some embers to expose the baked openauk, and I walked over beside him.
At the start of the evening, before we ate, Roncommock blessed the fishing venture. Because he was my teacher and I saw him every day in that role, I had almost forgotten that he was also an important man in our village, our shaman. He kept our customs and blessed our ventures. He was my teacher because he was the keeper of our people’s history. First, he thanked the cypress tree spirit for providing the canoe and asked the canoe to stay upright and afloat. He asked the waters to be calm and the winds to be mild for our adventure. He asked fish to come to our weirs and the sun to shine while we dried the fish and transported them to our village.
Roncommock then called forth Eracano. He was the medicine man of the village, not just the healer, but the one in closest contact with the spirits. Roncommock, as shaman, asked for blessings from the spirits and orchestrated the ceremonies, but it was Eracano who could tell us whether the venture would succeed. He entered the spirit world, communicated with the spirits, and received their replies. Now that I knew something about contacting the spirits through Roncommock’s training, I understood the ritual. I looked at Ascopo and smiled, but did not speak because doing so would interrupt the ceremony.
Eracano came to the central, sacred fire, which we kept burning constantly. Its embers were never allowed to burn out until we held the busk at the beginning of each new year. When it rained or stormed, we covered the fire to protect it and either Roncommock or Eracano tended it to ensure it was not extinguished.
Like Roncommock, Eracano shaved his hair on both sides, leaving a central ridge down the middle, but he lacked the fringe of hair across his forehead that Roncommock wore. The shamans and medicine men were the only ones who shaved their heads on both sides. All the other men wore only one side short and the other long, and the women and children, who did not shoot bows, wore long hair all around.
Eracano’s clothing was also different. Roncommock wore a short, rabbit skin cloak the year-round. All the warriors wore a loincloth of deerskin, like me, and we all added cloaks in the winter. Eracano, however, was the only one of us who wore the skin of a river otter tucked into the belt around his waist. Their pelts were brown furred and very thick. They lived near water, ate fish, and dug burrows into the earth. On land, they had a strange, loping run that looked more like swimming than running. Since the animals were comfortable on both land and water, they were powerful connections for the me
dicine man, helping him to reach the spirits bound to the earth as well as those of the water. Eracano usually wore the skin of a dried bird attached to his hair and dangling down to his ear to help him reach the spirits of the air.
Eracano danced vigorously around the sacred fire while he called to the spirits, stamping his feet and throwing up his arms until the sweat gleamed over his body. Drummers pounded out a fast beat, keeping up with the pounding of Eracano’s feet. The rest of us clapped in rhythm and occasionally a man would add a “humpf” at a particularly strong beat. When it seemed that neither drummers nor dancers could possibly continue at such a rate, Eracano abruptly sat down and the drumming ceased. He took out his special pipe from a pouch around his belt. He filled the pipe with a mixture of uppówoc and other herbs from the pouch, and smoked it while the drummers started again with a soft, rhythmic beat. Smoke swirled around his face, wreathing his head in a thick cloud of pure white, but the sweat continued to drip off his body, running in rivulets down his chest and back.
As Eracano communicated with the spirits, swaying to the drums’ more gentle rhythm, his eyes closed in concentration, and his lips moved without producing sound, the rest of us waited quietly and patiently. Even Ascopo and I found it easy to wait because we could see his intense focus and wondered what the spirits were telling him.
Finally he stilled his swaying, the drums stopped, and then he stood a little shakily and began to tell us what he had learned. We would have a successful trip, and all would return safely. The spirits would test some of us, however, and we should prepare ourselves for their contact. I sucked in my breath at that and Ascopo looked quickly over toward me. Our traps would catch large fish and we would return with much food for the village, but we would return with more than just food. Some significant event was ordained. We should watch for signs from the spirits and heed them. Indicating that his pronouncements were over, Eracano slumped to the ground from exhaustion. Roncommock helped him back to his wigwam as the celebration really got into full swing.
Ascopo turned to me and said, “What did he mean about testing by the spirits? That sounds like an early husquenaugh to me and I sure don’t want anything to do with that!”
“I agree, Ascopo, but maybe he means something else. I doubt he could be referring to us. Surely someone else will be tested.”
“I think we both already know that ‘that someone’ will be you. And what about that big event? What could he mean by that? Is that something scary or something wonderful?”
“I don’t know, Ascopo. Listen, I feel rather tired from the day and too excited about tomorrow to be able to really enjoy the celebration. Let’s get something to eat and then I will go to talk with Roncommock. Surely he will have some ideas about what Eracano meant.”
“Will you come tell me, Skyco?”
“I will try, Ascopo.”
I left Ascopo by the fire. When I reached the wigwam, Roncommock was already there.
“Ah, Skyco,” he said. “Tomorrow is a big day. Are you ready?”
“I think so, master.”
“You will learn to set the weirs and repair them, no doubt. You will also learn how to spear fish from a canoe and to attract fish at night. You will have many opportunities to catch fish.”
“It will be a pleasure to learn these things. And I look forward to seeing the big blue ocean and the sandy banks. These places are new to me and I have never traveled before to see them.”
“Skyco, it will be good for you to see these things, but you should also take the time to study the other villages. No doubt, your party will pick up more men from Ohanoak just downstream, but you will also travel through Weapemeoc territory. Have you learned the names of the leaders of each village?
“Yes, master.”
“You will certainly stop at Ricahokene,”
“Ribuckon,” I interrupted.
“Good, but who is chief of the Weapemeocs?” Roncommock challenged me to see if I had learned.
“He is chief Okisco, and he is in my family clan.”
“Tell me your relationship. It is important for you to keep kinship in mind. Our kinships determine who will help you and who you will fight when you become chief. When you succeed to the chief’s position, you will make a tour to cement these kinship obligations, and it will be easier if you have been to the villages beforehand. This trip is a good opportunity for you to reconnoiter with the Weapemeoc villages, to see them unofficially. They will be your closest allies.”
I recited my family history, at least as far as the tie between Okisco and myself.
“My mother and chief Menatonon were born of Sacquenummener, who is my grandmother. Sacquenummener and her two younger sisters were born of Mamankanois and my sister carries the name of our great-grandmother, as is her right. My sister will be head woman of our tribe. The first Mamankanois, in addition to being the head woman of the Chowanoacs, married a man from the Weapemeoc tribe. His mother was the head woman of that tribe, and the first daughter of her first daughter is the mother of Okisco, making him chief of the Weapemeocs. Thus the Chowanoacs and Weapemeocs have family ties.”
“Remember that, Skyco. Your uncle Menatonon is the most powerful chief in the area, for eighteen villages fall under his eye. Even though his body is now crippled, his wisdom is unparalleled. You must learn as quickly as you can, and as much as you can, for we do not know how long his body will last. Take this chance to study the Weapemeocs when you are in their villages and keep in mind that you will need Okisco and his sister’s son as allies.” Roncommock paused and I realized that he was studying my reactions.
“Skyco, I have reason to believe that you are the one who will be contacted by the spirits. Both Eracano and I have had visions and communications from the spirits that suggest as much. It is likely that the spirits will lead you on your spirit quest. You will fish, but you must follow your instincts and see where they lead you. Remain alert for their contact. And be careful,” he added almost as an afterthought.
Suddenly the thought of my upcoming fishing trip lost some of its luster; it was not going to be as much simple fun as I had hoped. What was I going to tell Ascopo?
My Fishing Trip
Ascopo and I were disgusted. We were stuck at Metackwem while waiting on the weather to improve before we could cross the big sound and make our passage to the east. The Chowan was a wide river and we made good time heading downstream, but as we approached the sound, the wind came up strong enough to throw up some choppy waves. We put in to Metackwem, another village of our tribe, to await better conditions. The men resigned themselves to the delay. They even suggested it was good to have strong wind, because when it calmed down and changed direction, the sound would be smooth for a few days and make our crossing easier. But I was not even out of Chowanoac territory yet!
At least the food was good. On the evening we arrived, the villagers of Metackwem were enjoying the catch from a particularly successful fishing expedition. On a grill over the central fire lay a huge flounder—which we called a pashockshin—as large as a warrior’s broad back. I had never eaten such fresh pashockshin before, for I had never been on a fishing expedition to the eastern sound, where the brackish water attracted fish such as the pashockshin, mesickek, and chigwusso.
At home, the Chowan River was chock-full of fish that preferred freshwater, such as largemouth bass, sunfish, chubs, kowabetteo, and coppáuseo. We caught huge catfish—which we called keetrauk and were bottom feeders—by impaling a piece of meat on a hook carved from bone, and sometimes hooked big coppáuseo that way, too. The big fish swallowed this bait and we pulled them up on a rope made of nettle fibers that was tied to the hook. If a kowabetteo bit the bait, his sharp teeth cut the line.
To catch other fish in shallow creeks, we built a stone weir by piling up the stones to create a sort of fence across the width of the creek. The women and children entered the water upstream, splashing and
scaring the fish downstream, where they encountered the stone fence.
The fish swam along its sides, becoming ever more panicked as the women came closer to them, until the fish found a single break in the fence, where the women had already placed a large woven basket. The fish darted through the opening into the basket-trap, and the women simply lifted the basket and took home a mess of fish. Clearly, the technique worked well in a shallow creek to catch small fish, but I was curious about how the men could build a weir in deeper water to trap larger fish.
Since the weather was comfortably cool and breezy at Metackwem, we ate outside the wigwams on a reed table mat. Each of us had his own wooden plate, and we served ourselves from the big fish, already cooked over the fire. The pashockshin was so big that its tail actually draped over the edge of the wooden grill. It was the only fish cooked over the big central fire. I wish I had seen how they turned the huge thing over to cook both sides. At least it was flat so that the whole body cooked evenly.
Not so for a huge chigwusso. The meat was filleted from the backbone before being cooked because it was so thick behind the head while thin along the tail that it would never cook evenly if left whole. It was so big that four large families of warriors fed from that single fish. The bulk of the catch was smaller chigwusso, pashockshin, or croaker—also called manchauemec. Everyone sat outdoors as we did, enjoying the late afternoon warmth from the returning sun of early spring.
The whole village smelled of wood-smoke and the pleasant tang of fresh fish. With all these fragrant aromas in the air, raccoons, skunks, and opossums would visit the midden tonight. I was sure that some of the older boys would lie in wait for these animals, proudly bringing home food for tomorrow, just as they did in my village when we had a great meal like this one.
Spirit Quest Page 8
