“I think my riding jacket will be fine, Janet. It is wool.”
“I hope so.”
They were just finishing their tea when Michael was admitted.
“Good morning, ladies. I am sorry to disturb ye, but I’ll be ready to leave within the half hour.”
“I just have to feed Orion. I will meet you down at the stables in twenty minutes, Sergeant.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
* * * *
Sergeant Burke was riding Frost, and Elizabeth, who had only seen him on muleback, aside from his racing, had to admit that he looked quite different on his mare than he did on a shavetail.
“So, Antonio’s men will be waiting at the box canyon, Sergeant?”
“We agreed that they would wait until noon. If we haven’t arrived by then, they’ll understand you weren’t able to come.”
Elizabeth turned in her saddle and said, “I very much appreciate your willingness to do this, Michael.”
“ ‘Tis my willingness to follow orders, Elizabeth. Though I must confess I am grateful to have a rest from wood detail,” he added with a grin. “Now what is this celebration we are going to?”
“It is called a
kinaalda
and it is being held to celebrate Serena’s niece’s coming of age.”
“She must think a lot of you to have offered the invitation.”
“We have become friends. As I think you have with her husband?”
“So here we are, the two of us, off to a heathen ceremony in the eyes of all at Fort Defiance.”
“I can’t think of Antonio or Serena as heathen, can you, Sergeant?”
“Sure and
I
don’t, but I am surprised that a proper eastern lady like yerself doesn’t.”
“I am from Boston, Michael, which I assure you is a very enlightened place. There is strong feeling against slavery there, and much concern for the American Indian, I’ll have you know. There is a tradition of freedom that goes back to the Puritans.”
“And what do Bostonians think of the Mass, then, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth blushed. She had been brought up to believe that Catholic ritual was superstitious barbarism.
“I have already admitted to you, Michael, that there is some intolerance to certain groups in Boston.”
Michael snorted.
“Oh, all right. I confess that to me, going to this ceremony feels not very different from choosing to go to a Catholic ritual. They both would seem strange to me. But I hope I am open enough not to fear things once I have come to know them.”
“Like Irishmen and Navajo?” Michael said teasingly.
“At least Navajo,” Elizabeth responded, the twinkle in her eye belying her words. “Perhaps some Irishmen,” she added.
“Ah, ‘tis relieved I am to hear it, darlin’.”
Elizabeth touched the sides of her horse with her heels and guided her into a smooth canter. Sergeant Michael Burke was an uncomfortable man to be around. He would not let her old frameworks go unchallenged and his easy intimacy left her both embarrassed and wanting something from him that she could not even name.
Frost caught up easily and they cantered for a mile or so until they caught sight of the canyon, when Michael pulled his mare down to a walk. As Elizabeth fell in beside him, he pointed out the small group of men waiting at the canyon’s mouth.
“There they are.”
“I am so glad,” she said spontaneously. “I was a little afraid they might have forgotten. Or changed their minds about letting a
bilagaana
come to such a special occasion.”
“I see you know a Navajo word or two, Elizabeth. The Diné will appreciate that.”
“As do you, Michael.”
“Only a few, I am afraid. ‘Tis a hard language to learn.”
As they drew near, Antonio rode up to meet them. He greeted Elizabeth first and then Michael. “It will take us a few hours to get there so I am glad you are here early,” he said. “Today is the Biji…the Special Day, and I don’t want to miss much.”
Antonio’s men rode up and fell in behind them as he turned west.
“What does that mean,” asked Elizabeth. “The ‘Special Day’?”
“
Kinaalda
is four days and nights long. On the Biji, the fourth day, the
kinaalda
runs, as she has every day. But she also helps make the
aalkan
, the corn cake. And on the fourth night there is singing till dawn. You are lucky to be coming to this
kinaalda
, for Blue Mule is the singer and he is a great singer. He is my wife’s grandfather’s brother,” he added proudly.
“So the ceremony has already been going on three nights and days,” said Michael. “Jesus, and I thought a High Mass was long!”
“It is how it must be done, as the Holy People told us. Before there were even human beings, there were the Holy People. And
Asdzaa nadleehe
. Changing Woman. Though in some stories she is also White Shell Woman.” Antonio fell silent. Elizabeth wanted to ask him questions, but his silence seemed to indicate he was finished with explanations, at least for a time.
When he spoke again, it was only to say, “I could say a lot more, but I will leave that for my wife.”
The ride was long and by the time they reached the family hogan, Elizabeth was hot, tired, and almost dizzy from the hours in the sun. As they got closer, she was relieved to see that they were not the only ones arriving late. Several families were just dismounting and two young men were unloading stacks of firewood from two small burros.
“My wife’s niece is inside the hogan, mixing the
aalkan
,” said Antonio, leading Elizabeth over to the shade of a small cottonwood. “Why don’t you sit out here and I will get you some food and water.” Elizabeth was very grateful to him, for she had felt almost like fainting on first dismounting. It was wonderful to be out of the sun and the mention of water made her realize how thirsty she was despite the fact that she had had some several times during their journey. Food, she wasn’t sure of, since her stomach felt a little queasy, but when Antonio returned with what looked like tortillas and a pottery jar full of water, she smiled at him gratefully.
“This is just what I needed. Thank you.”
“There is a lot of food cooking, but you looked like you weren’t so hungry,” he said with a sympathetic smile.
“The sun was too much for me,” Elizabeth admitted, “even though I did have a hat. But that reminds me, Antonio,” she added shyly, “I brought a clean blouse to wear. I don’t want to be here all hot and dusty.”
“I’ll bring your bag over, Elizabeth,” said Michael, who had just joined them. “But first get some of that water into ye. Ye’re too red-faced and hot-looking for my liking.”
“Yes,
sir
,” said Elizabeth.
“Sure, and I am only a sergeant, ma’am,” he said with mock humility. “But I don’t want ye to be getting heat stroke,” he added seriously.
The water and bread made her feel better, but when she closed her eyes for a few minutes after eating and drinking, she drifted off to the sound of soft, guttural Navajo.
When she awoke a half hour later, she was revived and sat up and looked around curiously. The hogan was like others she had seen, except perhaps a bit larger. The women were just coming out and she was about to wave to Serena when she realized that they were part of the ceremony, for they were followed by a young girl.
In front of the hogan, a little to the side, she noticed a round, shallow pit which had been lined with corn husks. The women carried large containers and each one poured what looked like corn meal mush into the pit. When they were finished, Serena covered the batter with more corn husks, ending with a cross made out of four husks woven together. Then she stepped back and the young girl took corn meal from a basket and sprinkled it on top. Then it was all covered with husks and earth and live coals. Elizabeth was startled when only a few minutes later Serena’s niece gave a loud, sudden shout and, heading east, ran off followed by girls and boys and several adults. This must be the running she had heard about.
“I am happy to see you, my friend,” said Serena as she came over to where Elizabeth was sitting.
Elizabeth stood up and smiled. “I am honored to be here. Are you busy, or do you have time to explain some things to a very confused
bilagaana?
”
“I am ready to sit and rest,” said her friend with a tired smile and she sat down, gesturing to Elizabeth to sit beside her. “I have to tell you that while I am happy you are here and so are my family, some Diné are not so pleased. They don’t like the idea of a
bilagaana
at a Diné ceremony.”
“I can understand that. Are you sure it is all right with your family?”
“Of course. We all think it is important to have friends close by at such a time.”
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth softly. She reached over and pulled her saddlebags in front of her. “I need to change my blouse at some point, Serena,” she said, “but first, I brought a few gifts. Something for you and something for your niece.”
Serena sat quietly while Elizabeth pulled out the paisley shawl. “This is for the
kinaalda
.” Serena smiled at the accented Navajo. She fingered the shawl and admired the fineness of the wool and the jewel-like colors. Elizabeth pulled out her buckskin bag and, opening it, shook the tissue-wrapped cameo into her lap. She unwrapped it carefully, and laying it in her open hand, held it out to her friend. “This was my mother’s brooch. I would like you to have it, Serena. It seemed like the right thing to bring to this ceremony.”
Serena had never seen such a piece of jewelry. Instead of the suggestion of something, there was a head of a woman carved very realistically.
“It is a cameo. They are very popular among
bilagaana
women,” said Elizabeth shyly. “It is carved out of shell.”
The Navajo woman’s eyes lit up. “You could not have brought anything better, my friend. White and coral: good colors for a
kinaalda
. And it is doubly special because it was your mother’s. Would you like it to be part of the ceremony?”
Suddenly Elizabeth knew that this was absolutely the right place for her to be, the right time, and the right gift. For her mother’s brooch to be a part of this meant something, although she could not explain her feeling.
“Yes, I would.”
“I will put it with the other jewelry and my niece will wear it tomorrow when she races.”
“But I meant for you to have it.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get it back. The women only loan their jewelry to the
kinaalda
. Things that are rich and special. I have already put a turquoise necklace my husband gave me in the basket. But this is also special to me.”
“Biji?”
Serena laughed. “Yes, the Special Day. Antonio must have told you.”
“Yes, but not nearly enough.”
Serena scooted her bottom back against the tree. “Come, I will tell you the story.”
“A long, long time ago,
Altse hastin
…you would call him First Man, saw a dark cloud covering
Ch’ool’i’i
, the Giant Spruce Mountain. That cloud covered it to the very bottom and he decided he’d better go and find out what was happening. He set out singing, he surrounded himself with song, and when he got to
Ch’ool’i’i
, he still sang. And as he climbed, he sang.”
Elizabeth rested against the tree. Serena’s voice was beginning to “sing,” she thought as she fell into the story’s rhythm.
“When he reached the place where the peak of the mountain met the sky, lightning was flashing everywhere and he heard a baby crying. He could not see because of the dark cloud and the lightning and the bright colors of a huge rainbow which showered the peak, but he kept walking toward the baby’s cry. When he got to where it seemed to be coming from, the rain stopped, the clouds blew away, and the rainbow became softer. And at his feet was a small turquoise figure, no bigger than a baby, but carved like a woman. He carried it back to his wife,
Altse asdzaa
, First Woman, and asked her to take care of it.”
Elizabeth wanted to know how a turquoise figure could cry, and if it could, why did it sound like a baby, but look like a woman? But she did not want to interrupt the flow of her friend’s story.
“A few days later, First Man and First Woman heard the “wu’hu’huhu” of
Haashch ‘eeltii
—Talking God, the
bilagaana
would call him. He told them to come to Chool’i’i twelve nights from then. And so twelve nights later they went and climbed by way of a holy trail until they almost reached the top. There they found Growling God and….” Serena hesitated. One should tell the story true, she thought, but how could she explain all the others to her friend. For this time, she would try to make it easier for her friend. “Nilchi, the wind. And the Daylight People, who also had a figure of white shell. Talking God laid a buckskin down with the head facing west and on it they laid those two figures with their heads facing west and then he placed a buckskin over them with its head facing east and all the Holy People formed a circle and began to sing.” Serena turned to Elizabeth. “The song they sang is the same song the
hataali
, the singer, will sing tonight. They are very holy songs. You are lucky to have a chance to hear them.”
Elizabeth nodded. If she thought at all about what Serena was saying, the story was too different from anything she knew. Anything familiar. It sounded like the Holy People were gods, but maybe not. After all, there was someone
called
Talking God. It was better not to think, but just to listen.
“The Talking God and the Growling God lifted the buckskin so Nilchi could blow through it three times. And when they lifted the buckskins, the figure of turquoise was
Asdzaa nadleehe
and the figure in white shell was
Yool gai asdzaa
. Changing Woman and White Shell Woman.”
“So the wind brought them to life,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, the same wind that comes out of us when we breathe and speak. When it stops blowing through us, we die.”
Elizabeth’s face lit up. “Serena, we have this wind too. We call it the Holy Spirit. Although,” she continued thoughtfully, “someone could be alive in his body and not have the spirit moving through him.”