We are having sandwiches and sodas at the drug store after having shopped around at some of the local stores.
“Hurry, Jackie, finish your sandwich,” I say.
Just then Linda drives up. It’s three o’clock; she’s right on time. Out of the car she whirls dressed in a ceremonial costume.
Walking toward us she says, “Hey you guys. How’s it going? Are you ready to go?”
She looks beautiful, like an Indian princess. Dad looks at her all goo-goo eyed again, but says nothing.
“The Pow Wow is about to begin. It’s one of our oldest traditions,” Linda says as we compliment her.
“Your hair is gorgeous.”
“Linda,” Jackie gasps, “I want to borrow that dress. Is it real deerskin? And those beaded knee-high moccasins, oh my God, I want them.”
We gobble up the remaining bits and pay at the counter.
“Let’s go,” Linda says as we leave the store and get into her car.
“Pow Wows date back hundreds of years to my great ancestors. Many Indian Nations would come together to celebrate a birth, the harvest, or a victory on the battlefield.
“We fought with other Indian Nations for hundreds of years. They would raid our village and we would retaliate and raid their village. Then it was the settlers and then the U.S. Cavalry.”
Linda explains, “The Pow Wow is going to be in the Round Hall building, a special building.
“At the Pow Wow we will dance the Circle Dance in celebration of spring. I dress in traditional costume for the Shawl Dance. It is a dance that shows off a princess’s dancing skills.”
I interrupt, “Your outfit is so beautiful.”
“There will be other dances too, all of them have important to us.
“After the Pow Wow the Tribal Chairman, Tribal Council, and members meet in the business hall next to the Round Hall. Financial and cultural reports about the businesses and the reserve will be given.
“Oh, we’re here. I’ll drop you guys off at the door. Go in and get a seat before it gets too crowded.
“I’ll come and say hello after the Pow Wow is over. John, I will see you after the Pow Wow, right?”
Dad manages to get out a “yes”.
Jackie and I just look at each other and mumble, “Oh brother.”
I tell Dad, “You are not cool, you think you are, but you are not. Stop trying to act cool.”
We walk into the Round Hall building, a huge rotunda the shape of two half clam shells put together into a single round dome, but bigger.
Inside, the frame is made of mammoth tree timbers that go from the ceiling down to the dirt floor. A rock wall that looks like a natural stadium bleacher fills one side.
A couple of rows of wooden benches made of split trees line the rest of the outside walls. The sturdy benches have wooden legs made of small limbs cut from the forest a hundred years ago. The ends of the benches are decorated with intricately carved designs of animal heads and mystical-looking figures.
We end up with seats near the center of the hall but pretty far back. People are filing in, sitting everywhere and filling the place. I see many of the same people that were at the basketball game. One or two of them walk by us and recognize me from the game. They nod and I smile back.
“This place is full of Indians,” I whisper to Dad. “We are the only diaboos in the place.”
Dad replies, “Few Whites ever get to go to an all Indian Pow Wow on a reserve. We are surrounded by miles and miles of Indian land.”
Suddenly the Pow Wow begins with a single drumbeat echoing through the hall. It is a very slow, firm beat, very serene. Increasing in volume little by little, the drumbeat progresses to a more powerful, pulsating beat that reverberates throughout the building. Slowly more drums join in and the volume increases. Swiftly the musicians are in full swing, several more drums are added and begin different parallel rhythms.
I locate the musicians; their faces and traditional dress come slowly into focus.
I feel the vibrations hitting me, sound waves pounding my eardrums.
It sounds like a war rhythm. Maybe it's the same one Geronimo danced to the night before his band of Apache warriors went into battle. At a signal from the lead drummer, the drums slow way down to a whisper.
Indians dressed in regular street clothing and others in ceremonial garb cross the threshold from the seats onto the large dirt floor in the center of the hall. They begin to form a big circle, holding hands at first and then letting go after the circle is complete. Waiting patiently for the drums to get louder and to be joined by singers, the dancers pulse to the softly beating drums.
The Pow Wow has begun with the Circle Dance. Now the drums get louder and the singing begins as pounding feet of the dancers join in. The three together are a chorus like alto, soprano, and bass, all keeping rhythm. The floor begins to move as one. A circle made of Indians in step with one another, moves to the left two-stepping in unison, as if they are one. They circle in harmony looking to each other. Methodically revolving around the room a couple of times.
Abruptly the singing stops, the dancers become still, the Circle Dance has ended.
The drums begin again with little hesitation, missing only a beat or two. A single dancer takes the center of the great hall, turning, spinning across the floor, returning to the perimeter.
“Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya,” echoes as the room becomes alive with the singers and their sharp voices. The sounds grow louder with a higher pitch in every resounding “Hey Ya.”
“Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya.” The singers are in rhythm with the drummers. I listen as the refrains repeat themselves. I’ve heard something like this before, in movies or news clips depicting Native American celebrations.
Five, six, seven drums pound, repeating two perfectly timed beats. The second strike of the drum is very sharp and heavier than the first; boom Boom, boom Boom, boom Boom, boom Boom, boom Boom, boom Boom. Faster they pound, putting us all into a daydream, a spiritual-like trance. The beat of the drums are synchronized with the high-pitched melodic inflections of voices that soften and then sharpen on cue as the rhythms change.
For at least fifteen minutes the singers call and answer, back and forth from singer to drummer, drummer to singer, as the dancers provide the tempo.
Roots used for medicine and to ward off evil burn like incense throughout the hall. The Medicine Woman showed me these plants in her garden. She said they are used for healing and in ceremonies. It smells like burning charcoal with a scent of sage and desert dew. Clouds of smoke hang over us suspended in the cold air in the hall that I’ve now forgotten about. Colored layers of smoke resembling the sandstone and shale of the desert ravines and hillsides swirl and complete the hall’s spiritual harmony.
Jackie, Dad, and I stare at the dancers circling one-way around the floor as more of the Nation’s People come from their seats to join in the Circle Dance. In unison they move, fluid and smooth, they step toe to heel, toe to heel.
The men, women and children straighten and bend to the pulse of the music. Dust from the dirt floor rises a few inches at the dancers’ feet giving the illusion that they have levitated above the floor. Flowing strands of rawhide and silk threads hang down from their garments and sway back and forth in time with the drums and singers.
Chanting reverberates through the hall accompanied by drumming, piercing yelps, and the synchronized movement of the dancers giving the scene a surreal feeling.
“Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya, Hey Ya,” again saturates the air.
Suddenly everything stops. Silence! Suspended in motion are the dancers, musicians, and singers. No one moves or speaks. Frozen in whatever position or location they are when the silence began. They are unmoving, as if in a still life photograph taken at this very instant. Not a muscle flinch nor the glance of an eye changes.
Abruptly the stillness breaks and the suspended animation ends. All who are frozen step quickly to the side, forward, or back to regain their balance before falling down in the circle. Each dancer smiles as he or she regains their steadiness, happy to have “caught” themselves. The “catching” of oneself is an experience practiced throughout Native American folklore. Something to do with holding your own spirit, it’s a secret, like everything here.
Everyone is laughing and greeting each other. Smiles, eye contact, and nods are exchanged amongst the dancers around the circle and with the musicians. They are one great people.
The drummers and singers are smiling and laughing. Each of us sitting in the room rises to our feet, smiling and nodding too. It’s contagious, traveling through the Round Hall like a “wave” at a sports event. Next a rapturous applause breaks out with high-pitched calls and cries echoing for seconds that seem like minutes.
“The Deer Dancer is next,” someone behind us whispers to Jackie.
Some kids sitting by her are playing with her coat and scarf. Jackie is chatting with them as they tell her about their uncle, a Chief, who will be dancing next.
Again, the circle takes shape with a mixture of new dancers and some of the dancers already on the floor.
“Shush, Shush!” One to another they whisper, “Shush.”
The great hall becomes silent. Softly the drums begin their familiar beat, boom Boom, one two, one two, boom Boom, boom Boom.
Surprising us, the Chief leaps into the circle. A gasp emanates from the crowd. The Chief has a deer antler headdress called a “Gast o hweh.”
The deer antlers of the Deer Dancer’s headdress are real. They are connected to the headdress by a small piece of deer skull and covered with buckskin. It’s small like a cap with two large antlers standing straight up like on a deer. One large eagle feather is placed in the middle, signifying there is harmony and unity in The Nation.
Linda was telling me at lunch that when the Chief dances with the Deer Dance headdress on, he’s transformed into the “Spirit Deer,” a mythological deer.
The Chief continues dancing alone in the circle as the outer circle and everyone in their seats watches for the transformation. Musicians are chanting, drums are beating.
One by one mythological animals enter the hall, pass through the circle and form a smaller inner ring. “Bear” steps forward into the inner ring and joins the Chief. Next are the spirits of “Stork,” and then “Beaver”. Stork is one of Spirit Deer’s closest allies, always watching out for him from the sky. Beaver too is his friend; he makes the meadows, ponds, and lakes for Deer and the others.
The drums are pounding in the background and chanting has grown even more powerful. All of a sudden, a great crescendo of drumming and chanting erupts as the Chief leaps high into the air and lands on his knees. Surrounded in the inner ring by his allies, the spirits that have joined him. He looks up into the heavens as everything stops. The Chief is transformed into the Spirit Deer. The mythological animals circle around the now transformed Spirit Deer. The Deer Dance is over.
The inner and outer circles open up providing an exit of enlightenment for the Spirit Deer who departs on a voyage, a journey to protect the worthy from evil.
Silence follows and then everyone in the circle begins talking while returning to his or her seats.
Heather, the Medicine Woman, will be next. I didn’t even know she was at the Pow Wow. I learned after the basketball game that she would be performing the Bean Dance.
She steps onto the dirt floor wearing a large headdress that looks like a “Katsina” Doll. The Katsina, also known as “Katsinam,” is sometimes called a Kachina Doll. They are representations of supernatural godlike spirits, Spirit Beings that live among the Indian people.
Heather is wearing the Katsina spirit headdress of Wuyak-Kuita. This spirit protects you from evil trespassers. Around her shoulders is a ceremonial robe called a Button Blanket. The blanket is dark wool and decorated with beads and paintings of animals. It has rows of seashells sewn onto it. One of the figures is a deer, another an eagle, and the third design is a bear.
A small self-contained fire is burning red-hot flames on the floor. Heather enters to some drumming. Very low chanting can be heard in the background. Heather walks around the flame singing and then reaches into her bandolier bag, which hangs neatly around her neck and shoulder. She throws a handful of powder into the flame. Red smoke rises straight up toward the ceiling and hangs in the air over her head. Another fistful of powder is tossed in the fire. This time yellow smoke ascends, like a signal, to the ceiling joining the red smoke hanging over us. Minutes pass as Heather completes the rest of the ceremony. Several more clouds of smoke rise up above the bleachers as she dances around the flames.
The drums and chanting grow louder, reaching a deafening volume. All at once Heather throws two more handfuls of powder into the flame and dark clouds of black smoke engulf her. The chanting and the drumming suddenly stops.
As the smoke clears everyone gasps, “Oh, ah.”
Some people and many children get out of their seats and look, straining to see.
“Oh, ah,” again comes from the throngs of viewers followed by “shush, shush!”
Heather is gone, disappearing into thin air. The Bean Dance is over.
Jackie and I look at each other as I whisper, “Did you see that?”
Dad whispers, “That was amazing, she just vanished.”
Jackie says in a soft voice, “That was no trick.”
My ghost hunting face becomes twisted as I try to form the words to describe my loss of fame and fortune for not having brought my camera to film the Pow Wow.
I stammer, “Dad, you didn’t bring any equipment at all?”
My discovery of real spirits will go undocumented again.
Jackie questions, “Nothing, Dad? We have nothing?”
“Brought nothing of what?” He asks innocently. “Oh that.”
Finally coming out of Heather’s trance he whispers, “No, we have none of our ghost hunting equipment. Sorry, couldn’t take the chance that anything from work might be misplaced or broken. Or worse, someone might find out about our hobby. Besides we were supposed to be having fun at a basketball game. How was I supposed to know we’d be going to a Pow Wow?”
Disgusted I throw up my hands, “Nothing, we brought nothing!”
Linda’s Shawl Dance is next. It’s performed to celebrate an occasion, entertain, or teach. This dance is done in full traditional costume and performed by a special maiden selected by the Pow Wow Committee.
Linda appears on the dirt floor dressed as we had seen her earlier in her costume. She wears a deerskin dress with beaded mythological designs sewn into the shoulders complimented by beaded knee-high moccasins. Around her shapely waist is a Concha belt made of silver seashells inlaid with turquoise and coral. The blue turquoise represents the sky and the red coral symbolizes fire. She wears a headband, not a headdress, with beaded designs and three eagle feathers hanging down. Her cape has eagle feathers along the entire hemline stretching from her left hand and across her back to her right hand, like wings.
Musicians and singers begin in unison as she starts turning and spinning, portraying the legend for all of us to see. She is spectacular, her footwork precise and deliberate. It is a beautifully choreographed five-minute celebration of the Shawl Dance.
Almost as quickly as it began, it is over. The music stops and Linda stands still. A roar comes from all the people in the hall. They are stomping their feet and yelling high-pitched cries, whoops, yips, and bloodcurdling calls. They continue for almost a minute until she leaves the dirt floor. Even after she left bedlam continues, and when she returns and waves to the crowd mayhem gives way to applause that thunders through the room. The place is shaking as she exits for the last time.
The musicians get up and begin to gather their instruments and belongings. They receive a standing ovation with whoops and calls acknowledging their contribution. Finally calm prevails.
People in the hall are filling out through the doors. Everyone is leaving the hall. We gather up our things and head for the exit. Around us everyone is talking about how good the Deer Dancer, Heather, Linda and the musicians were.
I’m thinking about the video I could have made of the Pow Wow. I could’ve had a complete documentary of a real Pow Wow and a Medicine Woman vanishing. As I ponder my lost fame and fortune I turn my thoughts to walking Neewa and the three-hour ride home.
Linda comes running over to us. I am so excited to see her. Jackie and I run to her and give her a big group hug. Energized from her performance she pulls Dad into our group embrace.
Linda gets eye-to-eye with Dad, so close I thought their lips touched. “I will be coming home next week.”
Dad replies spellbound by the closeness of her body to his, “Oh you must come to visit us.”
Linda answers, “I will come, it’ll be great to see you guys.”
After a last embrace she runs off with her friends giggling, “See you next week.”
Dad motions writing on a pad, “We have to give you our number.”
“I have it,” she laughs as she is swallowed up in an ocean of long black hair, headbands, and cowboy hats.
Dad mutters to himself as we leave the great hall, “How did she get our number?”
Jackie and I look at each other, smiling.
I whisper to Jackie, “If Dad doesn’t know that Linda is Chester’s sister by now, I’m not telling him.”
Jackie replies, “He is so dumb, duh.”
We arrive back at the van after the ten-block walk in the freezing cold. We’re packed and ready for the long ride home. Neewa is so glad to see me, she jumps all over as we gallop down the street for her last run before we hit the road.
“I missed you Neewa, good girl, good girl, run girl run. We are going home.”
***
We arrive home in the middle of the night. The house and the neighborhood are dark.
After getting washed up, I’m in bed, ready to sleep.
“Dad, why does Jackie have to take a bath now?” I shout from my room. “Never mind.” I’m so tired I don’t even care.
She can use up all the hot water tonight. I’ll have plenty for my morning shower.