Today is our last day on the Rez. These students have opted to forgo the traditional collegiate rite of spring -- a week of drunken, naked “debauchalism” in Key West or Cancun -- to come here, the poorest county in the United States.
And now they don’t want to leave.
We spend the day at Floyd and Natalie’s place, feeding their horses, tending the site of Uncle Floyd’s sweat lodge, stacking tipi poles.
We are glad to be here today, staying close to what has become our new home; and to be doing these things, giving something back to our hosts who have given us so much of their time, their love, their wisdom.
Finally it’s time for our last supper – a delicious pork and hominy soup, with fry bread on the side. Auntie Mary Ann has joined us for dinner. Originally the plan was to go back to her house the day after we helped build her new privacy fence, and she would teach us about star quilts.
But we did not make it back that day, so now she has come to us. In the intervening time, she has pre-made a pillowcase in the star quilt style for every single member of our group (17 of us), and brought with her two bags of batting. All that’s left for us to do is stuff the pillow cases and sew the final seam closed.
(For the record, I stuff and sew mine closed without incident, thus avoiding what I reckon is the best chance I had all week of landing in the Emergency Room.)
When it dawns on the students what she has done, I can see they are moved and humbled by this sweet lady’s generosity.
But the giving doesn’t stop there. As the evening winds down, and with it our time on Rez, Uncle Floyd brings out his drums – one for himself and one for his delightful, spirited son, Maza – and proceeds to lead his family in singing prayers of thanks and blessing for our group.
The songs are all in Lakota, but he invites us to sing anyway. Hey, hey, hey, we chant at first, joining in more fully as repeated choruses become more familiar, choruses peppered with words we have learned this week – Wakan tanka (Sacred Spirit), Tunkashila (Grandfather), chanunpa (pipe).
For the last two songs, Uncle Floyd asks us to stand and dance to the rhythm of the drums. We rise and join effortlessly in this ancient ritual, for the drums beat with the rhythm of our hearts, pounding out our joy, our reverence, our gratitude.
When the last song is sung and the last prayer is prayed, Natalie disappears briefly and returns with gifts – tee-shirts for the students, tee-shirts and medicine wheel necklaces for the leaders of the trip.
And then Floyd holds up a beautiful beaded prayer wheel necklace. It is adorned with nine tipis, which represent the nine separate districts that comprise the Pine Ridge Reservation.
He then asks me to come forward and presents it to me. Pray for us, he instructs me, for the people of the reservation. And when you do, wear this necklace and remember us here.
I am moved beyond words. I want to maintain my composure, to respond with the dignity and strength that characterize this warrior-based culture. But in truth I struggle to hold back my tears.
Wopila, Uncle. (Thank you.) I will.
It is all I can say.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment