Three- We-Sa
When the Earth is sick, the animals will begin to disappear, when that happens, the Warriors of the Rainbow will come to save them. — Chief Seattle Suquamish
Talk to me of the flowers growing in the spring, flouting out their petals until fall approaches, and I’ll talk with you about the pearls of white falling from the sky that encoat us with silence. Again counting the cracks of the ceiling in my Grandpa’s house. The UN-Ne-Ga black devils dropped in a box at the door, and locked away behind a box.
I counted about thirty cracks in the silence along the kitchen table could cut worse than a professional chiefs knife. Crack of dawn- and here we were. Mother facing the tribe over a draw. Draws were like getting the short end of the stick. You had to plead your case like a child claiming another stole his lunch money. No one will believe you, but boy will you pour your soul out.
The stalemate making all the elders at the table scratch their head. No one wanted to admit voting one way over the other in fear of angering either Paco or Aiyana. Another problem on the table is the arson of Dayami’s home. A problem for both the table, and myself. I have a bone to pick with the arsonist.
Fresh baked strawberry cake made from Father’s garden wafted into my nose as the timer on the stove beeped making the silhouettes of the elders move in excitement. All the elders wore traditional parka’s with slight alterations on it. Each elder wore a different color parka to show not only status but their own specialty in the tribe. Grandpa wore a multicolored one as chieften.
Atop his wooden table sat a glass ashtray ridden with old cannabis wrappers( the kind that make it look like a cigarette) but the pungent smell says otherwise. Our tribe grows the herb for both medicinal purposes and pleasure I presume. Though, Mother is a stickler about touching drugs.
Grandpa came back from his kitchen setting down a fully whipped cream frosted strawberry cake on the table.” Paco treating us to the fruits of his labor again.” Hefted an elder called Jolon meaning the valley of dead oaks.
“We are the Tsa-la-ga. Let us eat,and discuss matters after desert.”Grandpa waved me over the table handing me a plate and fork. The fork being a dangerous tool for me. I dug into the cake savoring the smoothness of its design like it could carve the perfect man before my eyes.
Our table of elders resumed its serious position. Affliction permeated the air as I slid down onto a cushiony couch in the living room sifting through the book Father gave me as punishment. “As I recall Dayami’s house is burned to cinders out of arson. A rare sight among brethren. Only the Un-Ne-Ga have such disdain to their own. Do we have any suspects Aiyana?”Grandpa hardly ever directed questions to my father. It was like admitting he liked the guy while the rest of the tribe wanted him to burn.
The old play called Macbeth written by dear William Shakespeare whispered in my ear past the words of Thomas King. “My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.” I played with my white page full of words like a cat with a mouse paying little attention to the bloodshed arousing at the dining room table.
“We can rule out any of the relatives to Dayami, Why would Aiyana burn her only supporter’s home down?”
“Your disillusioned if you think my wife’s brother is a supporter but still- what would we gain by housing them?” My father’s words shook in my head for a second. Rattling the cobwebs of words forming in my head.
“Son in law, You know the tale of the two wolves. It is the wolf you feed that breeds me worry upon the problems we see.”
We left Grandpa’s with Mother shedding unkempt pearls of poison. Her hiccups in-between breaths familiar like the wispy wind. Walking home the air like dancing swords between us. The three of us silent as our feet treded home.
Fresh scent of sage wafted into my nose as I kicked off my shoes in the living room. Mother in her despair waddled upstairs like a lost child. My room like a mess from the awakened dead. Chilam sitting in the center of my room with her wispy angel hair falling around her face and a black devil device between her ears, sickened me. I wanted to tear it out of her ear like the savage our people are.
“Chilam,”I ushered into my room throwing my book at the headboard of my bed. “Can you for one second not make my room look like a Disney princess is living in it?”
“Give me a second hun,” Chilam’ s pristine sparkly blue finger nails set the devil device down, and coal eyes darted my way. “I was told to make it look like home so that I can be more comfortable.”
“That doesn’t mean tear down every single poster in my room!”If I began chucking book after book at her porcelain coffee face the great Wolf would feed me poison.
“Papa says I’ma be here a while, and half the room is mine.” The aftertaste of anger shot through my lungs paining me. My stuff. Taken from the walls, and shed into boxes as if the room no longer belonged to me. The bedding looked soft and luscious not like my blue fluffy comforter.
“If half of its mine why is my stuff in boxes?” My hands grasped a clear snow orb made of porcelain glass just like my cousin’s face. In a split second, it whipped at her black devil device turning over and over in slow motion before shattering atop it. Shards glistened along her left hand with pools of rouge dripping down. A yelp echoed in my sanctuary as the door slammed open.
“ Chilam?” Mother ran over to her niece coddling her like she was a daughter. Roaring in my ears a thirst of defiance again. An act to hurt the girl. For all the stones tossed my way as a kid but I bit it down chewing on the sour flavor of my tongue.
“Sislka threw a snow globe at me.” The swirls in my rainbow lava lamp looked like clouds as my mother tossed her eyes on me.
“How could you throw something sharp at your cousin? What are you ta-li?”
“No mother. I am not.”I scoffed turning in a familiar motion for the stairs and the living room. Smoke engulfed my lungs from a Cannabis pipe Dayami kissed. Fuzzed a little I flopped onto the couch finding another book strategically placed on it.
“You want to go digging up debris from the fire?” Dayami asked as he set up his camping comforter for the night made of soft fluff and a hard pillow.
“Why? Its not like anything survived other than you and Chilam.”
“Do you want to fight me on that?”Dayami stopped from laying down to get up slip on his sandals and his parka. He waved a finger at me to follow with a flashlight in his hand. I followed his footsteps outside into the dark. Not a soul from the tribe would be up. Not a soul would see us.
Owls hooted calling out fair warnings to us. We kept to the beaten path a flashlight in hand as we approached the burn toast cinder block. Along the ground bits and pieces of charred objects littered it. Gleaming light from the flashlight touched on unidentifiable objects.
He dug like a dog trying to uncover a bone. The grime flung into the air. His fingers pulled out a frame covered in sot and dirt. Black and white with a burned frame. A picture of Chilam at three year old, and my burned silhouette, so he says. He wasn’t done digging like a dog. Scooping up grime, or dirt and removing it.
A flicker of the flashlight due to the batteries running out caught a glimmer in the rubble. “Jewelry.” He stumbled to the shining object like a squirrel looking for nuts. Gold glimmered in the moonlight from a ring, and tears of joy dripped down his cream face. “Sislka,”Pausing as he dangled the ring between his fingers. “This is yours. Its a gift before your ceremony that my wife bought you.”
I grabbed the piece wrapping it around my warm left hand ring finger. It fit. Surprise, surprise my aunt knew my ring size. “Is there anything in the rubble Chilam might want to salvage?” My words stung. Why did I care? Hell, she was boxing up my belongings..heck if I wanted to bring back anything for her.
“Anything salvageable of hers is being reconstructed and paid for by paco.”We shut off the flashlight before the batteries ran dry and began a walk back in silence. My fingers toying with my new prized possession. Hooves pounding among dirt resounded in the darkness from the Buffalo traveling in the fields.
Dayami slammed the front door alerting all in the house we arrived. Naturally, a candle flickered on the living room table as the only light in the house. I slept with the ring attached to my finger.
Dawn broke. Sparkles of pale light stretched across the sky bleeding along puffy white clouds. Aylen wiped her caramel hands against jeans trying to assuage her nervousness of returning home. Cherokee land is nothing like Connecticut. Wide, expansive, and calming. Nerve wracking.
Aylen carried three things with her for the trip. A bag full of clothes, a device to text, and one book about mental health. All of these things came of use to her especially with escape with the man in the other tribe. Friendships among tribes is not unknown. But careful for treading too close bears no allegiance. A paco quote.
Strangely, home is a mystery to her. Half the roads painted in pavement in the east till her cab crawled upon tribal land full of dirt roads, and horse hooved pathways. In the East, their land littered with trees, and paved roads with vehicles newer than six years old. Nothing like home. Dust ridden home.
Passing Paco’s hypocritical home as the first tribal members residence proved how the tribes values are being exchanged for profit like so many other tribes. Profit with much gain and little loss as she witnessed up North. Along the path, lights clicked off as bed-time for the tribe is present.
Old Burnt house wafted into her nose. Waving her hand over her face made a horrible protector over the scent. Arriving at home…or a dumpster full of burned belonging. Her face scrunched in disdain. Where did her family go? Dayami must have paired them with his sister whose dangling hatred for her could be seen in a glance.
Turning on her heels she headed for Aiyana’s household with a scowl. Why couldn’t they just run to Montega’s house. At least that didn’t have a woman who scorned like the iron that melts metal. Her hands knocked gently on the door preparing for a battle. Words at the ready like a barrel of a hang gun that clicks when fully loaded.
The door swung open and her husband stood dressed cleanly, and smelling like a fresh shower. “Dayami, go grab your daughter, we are leaving my dear u-lv has done us a kindness, and we should not take advantage of it any longer.”
“l’ll go wake her up. Sislka will be ecstatic to get her room full of boxes back.”The door slammed and she stood heaving in the hypocritical air of her tribe. Chilam dancing out of the house, and Dayami both went with Aylen to Montega’s.
I ran up the stairs the second my front door closed and Chilam became a permanent absence from my room. Boxes stacked like I was packing to move lined my wall, and my bed sheets were made. Two unusual things. A pink card rested in the center of my bed. I opened and to my regret words in perfect cursive bleed-
“Dear cousin,
I know you think I am packing your things for you to move out of your own house. But you know the old saying ˜It’s better to donate than to accumulate?I think I got most of the organization done. I’m giving you a few things that won’t clutter your room, and donating them to your closet of need. ( haha) But the reason I was packing things is to keep it organized. There are sticky notes on where what box goes. On a side note- I am borrowing one of your dresses. I promise to bring it back in mint not burned condition.
Love Chilam
I folded the paper groaning a little. All she did is make me have more work. I flopped on my lemon scented sheets wiping my eyes full of watery tears aside. Sleep came to me in the form of acid like dreams, and welting despair.
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