The Magic Flute

by J. J. Park

Another group gathered around sailors and foreign travelers to listen to tales of foreign lands. People from all walks of life mingled together.

  Horses and oxen carts rolled along the way, and stray dogs wandered around looking for food scraps. Loud and sharp noises from various artisan shops filled the air.

  Confectioners and vegetable merchants spread their products under the shade of tents and arcades, calling out their goods. Slave-traders, fishmongers, and shoe and dressmakers all did their best to attract customers.

  A lone woman from a low-income family checked out fish and fruit. A wealthy woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat looked into jewelry shops with a slave. She painted her face white to protect the skin from the burning sun.

  Through the clamor, Socrates and his students continued their dialogue, deeply absorbed in their thoughts.

  Dyami and Gopan continued walkabouts arriving at a house where a wreath of olives hung on the doorway, an announcement that the house had a newborn baby boy.

  The large house had a courtyard surrounded by separate living quarters, indicating the wealth of the family. The man of the house waited for the horse in the yard. In the women’s quarter, his wife attended the newborn with a female slave.

  Toward the city’s edge, they arrived at a small storefront school for boys from upper-class families. In one room, boys studied mathematics, reading, and writing. Each boy had a waxed wooden board and a stylus.

  In the adjoining place, a music lesson was in progress. They heard a lyre and a double flute. The flute’s sound made Dyami think of his flute and compare, but the sounds were equally beautiful. Each had unique qualities.

  In the open gymnasium, boys practiced various athletic sports: boxing, wrestling, running, discus throwing, the javelin, long jump. One group imitated the use of weapons with wooden sticks.

  Continuing the walk, they found the Temple of Hephaestus atop a hill at the edge of Agora. A craftsman prayed in the temple. They waited until the man arose before entering. The man looked at them with a curious and inquiring eye.

  “We are travelers from afar, and we’re here to see your beautiful temples. We salute you, sir,” Dyami answered to man’s inquiring eyes.

  “Welcome to Athens. You can find Ares and Apollo’s temple at the west of Agora between the Stoa of Zeus, then just to the north, an altar of Zeus and Athena. There is also an Altar for unknown God on Mars Hill,” the craftsman answered.

  Dyami and Gopan thanked the man and continued their walk through Stoa of Zeus. They visited the Apollo and Ares’ Temples and then walked toward Mars Hill until they arrived at the Altar to the unknown God.

  They lingered in front of the Altar, unaware of the significance of it in their life.

  It was getting dark in Agora, and they were ready to return home. Dyami played the flute.

  Dyami felt a touch on his shoulder; it was a squirrel. They were back in the Arizona forest. They headed home, feeling somewhat wiser.

  COMMUNAL CEREMONY

  The autumn arrived, and with it, the rigorous study and the new regimen. Still, their interest and desire to be a part of the reservation’s collective life remained strong.

  There was cause to celebrate this year. The data of Nantan’s nature preservation projects showed an increased number of bald eagles over the year. It was good news for the reservation; its finance heavily relied on tourism. To celebrate their success, the community council planned a ceremony.

  The ceremony began at sunset. A tall pile of pines set up on the communal grounds seemed to invite people, and a large number gathered around it. Men torched the piled woods, and the drum started to beat. It increased its pounds as the crowd grew larger.

  The sun’s soft orange glow faded over the horizon, and the light of the bonfire took it over. Children ran around while their mothers tried to keep them in tow. People moved slowly around the fire, warming up for the dance.

  Men threw more wood into the fire, and the flame grew. It crackled, flickered, and quivered with the movement of crisp autumn air, and soon developed into a tall bonfire, sending an orange-yellow gleam up into the air.

  The drum now pounded in full force, and people began to chant and dance. Dyami joined the dancing and singing:

  “Huh wuhli Nich Ha-man-a yo-oya hui huh wurt…..

  [Far on the desert ridges stands the cactus]

  La-na-Ha-va muh-muhk

  [lo the blossoms swaying]

  Ka-cho-wuch-chi, Ka-no-ya ki-moi.”4 [to and fro blossoms swaying, swaying.]

  The chanting grew louder, and dancing became more vigorous, coming to a climax then slowing down. Dyami sat down around the bonfire following other dancers, and the chanting continued.

  Dyami gazed into flames and soon became unaware of dancers and singers. Flames turned into rivers, trees, and animals.

  6

  THE NILE AND EGYPTIAN FARMER

  Dyami was standing on the gushing riverbank, carrying thick muds. It was a warm sunny morning.

  He wondered where he was and, looking around, saw a man and a boy about 11 years old observing the river not far from him. Their dark complexion and crude clothing told who they were.

  “Good morning,” the man greeted Dyami when he saw him standing near, and Dyami understood what he said.

  “Good morning. It’s a beautiful morning,” Dyami responded.

  “Yes, it is. I am showing my son Azizi how to determine the state of flood. The Nile is now in its last phase of flooding. I am Ackom.”

  He gave a curious look at Dyami’s shirt and jeans. Meantime, Dyami quickly assessed place and time from the words “flood” and “Nile” and determined that he was on the Nile bank in ancient Egypt, talking with an Egyptian farmer.

  “My name is Dyami, and I come from afar abroad. I’m here to learn about your culture, trade, and farming,” He concocted a story based on his quick assessment.

  “Welcome to Egypt. I do trading myself, but mainly I’m a farmer.”

  “What do you cultivate?” Dyami asked, satisfied with himself about making a correct assessment.

  “I grow wheat, barley, and flax on a small parcel of land along the Nile, just yonder.”

  “It must be a fertile ground for farming. You’re a lucky man.”

  “Yes, thanks to gods, Min and Hapy. I’m lucky to cultivate my land instead of farming for pharaohs or temples. Not many farmers have that privilege,” Ackom admitted.

  “Do you see marks on the river bank and stone pillar over there? That measures the flood level. If the water rises above or below the mark, it will affect the growth of grain, and we’ll have a poor harvest,” Ackom turned toward Azizi and explained.

  “The water is almost at the right mark,” Azizi noted.

  “Yes. The mark also determines the amount of tax we must pay each year; good harvest, more tax,” Ackom instructed Azizi.

  “That means we have to pay more tax this year?” Azizi asked.

  “He is a bright child. You must be proud of him,” Dyami interjected, and Ackom responded,

  “Yes, I am proud of my son. He has just finished preliminary studies in the village school.”

  “What did he study?” asked Dyami, curious about education in ancient Egypt.

  “He studied reading, writing, basic mathematics, and religion, and he excelled in all,” Ackom said proudly. Then he said, looking at the sun,

  “It’s time to get back home for breakfast. My wife is waiting for us. You’re welcome to join us. My wife bakes delicious bread.”

  Dyami graciously accepted the invitation. When they reached his farm, Ackom first visited the stable to see his slave, Soris, tending cattle, goats, and pigs. Dyami noticed how well Ackom treated Soris as if he was his friend.

  They continued through the garden behind the mudbrick house to the small temple that Ackom had built himself.

  “Before breakfast, I always pray to the gods. It’s my daily routine.”

  Once in the temple, he prayed to Hapy, the hermaphrodite god of the Nile, the
n to god Bes, the protector of households. Ackom believed that his son’s birth was an answer to his prayer to Taweret, the goddess of fertility. Afterward, Ackom led Dyami to the house.

  “We have a guest this morning. I invited him to breakfast,” Ackom said to his wife as he entered the house.

  “Welcome! We rarely have visitors from another country,” she remarked, noticing Dyami’s different looks and dressing.

  “Thank you for your kindness. I’m visiting from America,” Dyami said, hoping she would not ask about the unknown continent.

  Through the discourse with the farmer on the way, Dyami further discovered that he was near Thebes, and the year was 2500 BC during the reign of Kahket throne.

  It would be impossible to explain that he was from the future, more than 2,000 years ahead. Luckily, Ackom directed her attention to Nile flooding.

  “The river is at the last phase of flooding, and we’ll soon be sowing, right, Azizi?” Ackom commented.

  His wife set a simple breakfast consisting of bread, fruits, and beer on the flax mat. The bread, sweetened with fruit juice, was delicious, reminding him of his mother’s. The breakfast was similar to the one at home except for beer.

  “I plan to work at the quarry for about a week. The Pharaoh Menkaure5 is building a pyramid for himself. What is your plan, Dyami?” Ackom asked Dyami after breakfast.

  “Oh, I am not certain, but I thought that I would go to the marketplace to see how and what merchants trade,” Dyami made up a story.

  “If you would like, you can come with me to the quarry and see how we build the pyramid and perhaps join the crew. It will provide you with good nutritious food, clothing, and shelter while working there,” Ackom invited Dyami to join him.

  Dyami, pleased to hear that he would experience the actual pyramid building, immediately accepted the offer. However, the plan encountered a protest from Banafrit.

  “There’s much to do at home. Soris can’t do everything. Soon we’ll be sowing, and I need more fiber to spin thread. You don’t have to work at the quarry. We have enough.”

  “I want to make up for tax because this year, the tax will be higher. We also want to save for Azizi’s education. I’ll be returning soon enough to help out,” Ackom insisted, and the matter got settled.

  Dyami learned that Egyptian farmers gained tax breaks by working at the pyramid construction site during the Nile inundation.

  The two men traveled the Nile on the papyrus reed boat Ackom assembled himself. Ackom said it was a safer way to journey as bandits overran roads and often attacked and robbed travelers. He also used his boat for trade.

  “What do you trade?” Dyami inquired.

  “I trade grains and linens when there is a plentiful harvest, which I expect to have this year.”

  Ackom carried grains and linens across the Nile to exchange for meat and fish. Many merchants from the Mediterranean region and Asia came to the Nile to trade their goods. Though Egypt had a monetary system in place, Ackom preferred bartering.

  At the quarry, a strong young man, such as Dyami, had no problem getting the job. The hired men immediately cut stones and stacked them on large oxen-pulled sleds to transport them to the pyramid-building site. Men spread water on the ground to make pulling easier.

  The work was strenuous, and Dyami was new to cutting and hauling limestones. After some time, he felt exhausted. Ackom noticed this and suggested they return home. He and Dyami now developed a friendship, and Ackom hoped that Dyami would help him with the farming.

  When they returned home, they learned that Azizi got accepted at temple school for boys from noble families. The scribe knew that Ackom could afford the tuition. Education was a passport to a higher social stratum in the rigid, hereditary system.

  At the dinner that night, Banafrit served meat, expensive mainly consumed by wealthy Egyptians, and wine reserved for special occasions to celebrate.

  The Nile flooding deposited fertile silt on the river bank. Ackom and Soris plowed black muddy ground, and Dyami scattered wheat, barley, and flax seeds. Afterward, they drove goats, pigs, and cows over the field to cover seeds.

  After the sowing, they watered the ground regularly. Seeds sprouted and grew fast into crops bearing abundant grains in Dyami’s vision, calling for a harvest celebration.

  Harvest celebration was a significant communal affair. It began with honoring the fertility God Min. Pharaoh cut the first ears of grain and then led the harvest parade through Thebes’ streets. Priests displayed an image of god Min on a boat sailing down the Nile.

  Harp, lute, drum, and flute all played celebratory tunes, and people danced, gyrating and bending with the music. All class and gender mingled and drank profusely, letting go of any customary social restrictions.

  When the celebration ended, the harvest started. Farmers drove animals over grains to thresh them and winnowed fallen grains to remove impurities.

  After the harvest, Ackom had his private celebration with sumptuous food and drink. The generous spirit of Ackom and Banafrit left a deep impression on Dyami.

  As they ate, talked, and laughed, the evening star appeared in the western sky with the full moon, and Dyami heard familiar chanting and saw the bonfire now almost extinguished. He sat dazed.

  “Are you okay?” Gopan asked at his side.

  “Huh?” Dyami startled.

  “What’s the matter?” Gopan asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Dyami said.

  “You looked a little dazed there for a while. Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. Let’s join the crowd.”

  A feast awaited them, spread on the table near the bonfire. The feasting that Dyami had just left continued back at home.

  Dyami’s Grandfather did not miss his grandson’s trance. He was as curious and excited as Dyami himself about his visions. It appeared to him that Dyami was maturing along with his experiences.

  ***

  The day after the trance, his Grandfather took him to the teepee to talk. His good friend, elder Taza, and Dyami’s father joined them.

  “I saw you in a trance at the ceremony last night. Do you want to talk about it?” his Grandfather asked.

  “I had a vision of ancient Egypt, the very early civilization.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I stayed with a farmer’s family and helped them with farm work. I also worked at a quarry, where I cut stones to build a pyramid.”

  “The boy gets around. That’s wonderful,” Taza said.

  “I saw how hospitable they were towards strangers and how kind they were to the slave they had in their household. They treated people with kindness and hospitality.”

  “I guess we have much to learn from those ancient people,” Taza said, adding,

  “When I think about what happened to our people in the hands of those Palefaces, my blood boils.”

  The elder reiterated the tragic history of the Native Americans. He had heard first-person accounts of Apache massacres from his father. He never missed the opportunity to voice his displeasure.

  “Our ancestors lived peacefully in our beautiful God-given land, multiplying like stars until these Paleface devils came killing and robbing. Look what happened to our people. We’re reduced to almost none-existence and treated as such in our land.”

  After the long impassioned speech, which stirred up anger and resentment in everyone, Taza retreated into deep silence, puffing Calumet in intolerable resignation. His tirade brought an unpleasant memory to Dyami.

  “I heard an actor say that we were considered the lowest people in the world. Why?” Dyami reiterated what he had heard.

  “Where did you hear that?” Nantan asked.

  “On a TV program,” Dyami answered.

  “You must not believe everything people say,” Nantan said firmly.

  “Your father is right. Remember that we have a valuable custom and culture. You can be proud of them,” his Grandfather added.

  Kuruk continued to talk about his father, Ma
ngas, and his success in warfare against enemy tribes, mainly Comanche. Mangas was a peacemaker between his and other tribes and received two Calumets, a great honor in the Apache tradition. He also won many coups during the combat.

  “Look at this golden eagle feather. It was given to my Grandfather in praise of his courage when he inflicted a fatal wound on a Comanche chief,” his Grandfather continued.

  “To receive a golden eagle feather was like receiving a medal these days. It was an honor,” elder Taza joined in, restored from his bad memories. Both elders always brightened up when they talked about the achievement of their fathers.

  APACHE THANKSGIVING

  Thanksgiving arrived before anyone knew it. Thanksgiving Day was a time of meditation in the Native American community. It was a day of moaning on the massacre of their people and the loss of their land. Dyami’s family was no exception to this practice, and they braced for another contemplative day.

  Dyami felt sad, thinking back to the Egyptian harvest celebration, where all people celebrated the day in a drunken stupor. The thought that his family and friends could celebrate harvest just as jubilantly as ancient Egyptians instead of brooding was upsetting.

  Even though Dyami was happy to be free from the demanding schoolwork, resentment and dissatisfaction kept him in a gloomy mood. The current communal practice seemed to hold back his people hostage with the haunting memory of the tragic past.

  Furthermore, Dyami learned that the ancient Egyptian farmers believed that corns had spirits, and to appease them, they feigned pain during the harvest and pretended to be in grief. Similarly, Native Americans thanked the corn-spirit for nourishing them to survive.

  When he considered this connecting thread across time and cultures and his community moaning instead of celebrating Thanksgiving as Egyptians, his discontent escalated.

  Dyami discussed his thoughts with Gopan, Chenoa, and Ela and found that they and many other young people shared his feelings. They all felt the situation unfair. Dyami and Gopan decided to talk to Kuruk and Taza, knowing that they significantly influenced communal affairs.