Walking Into The Unknown

by Ginny Dye

  Carrie thought back to the year before the war when she had made it possible for every Cromwell slaves to run away through the Underground Railroad. “Is there anywhere for them to go?”

  Todd shook his head. “Where they won’t be hunted down and forced onto another reservation? No.” He forced a note of hope into his voice. “Reports are being sent that show just how bad things are, and at some point the government will decide it can no longer afford the cost. Despite how bad things are, the people are eating something. Feeding eight thousand people in the middle of the New Mexico desert is expensive. My hope, now that the war is over, is that someone in the government is paying enough attention to make things change.”

  “Do you believe that?” Carrie asked.

  “I have to,” Todd said. “All I have is hope that something will change for the Navajo. I have to hang on to it.” He looked across the reservation coming to life with the rising of the sun. “I could have gone back East instead of returning with the wagon train this time. I was going to…”

  “Why didn’t you?” Carrie asked after the silence had stretched out.

  “Because of you and your team,” Todd revealed. “I decided that if you were willing to travel for almost six months to try to help the Navajo, the least I could do was be here to translate.”

  Carrie blinked. “So you were planning this all along? Why didn’t you talk to me on the trail?”

  “Because I didn’t truly believe a group of white people from the East coast really cared about the Navajo,” Todd said bluntly. “I was taking a chance, but I thought I was foolish. I also didn’t believe you could handle what you would find here.”

  Carrie nodded. “What changed your mind?” Actually, she wasn’t sure he had changed his mind. Just because he was helping her this morning didn’t mean he believed she and her team could make a difference.

  “Chooli’s letter,” Todd said. “Chooli is an excellent judge of character, and she cares about her people. She loves her family, but she has a passion for the whole Navajo tribe. When I read her letter, it put all my fears to rest. It will do the same for her family.” He glanced at Carrie. “There is a tremendous amount of need.”

  “I know,” Carrie replied. “We will do all we can. I am going to need your assistance to make sure I don’t offend their culture. I am used to doing things a certain way, but I don’t want to do anything that will make them close me out. Will you help me?”

  “Certainly,” Todd promised. “The first thing you should do is attend some of the medicine men rituals. They may not allow you to be part of them with your homeopathic or herbal remedies at first, but I believe they will soon.”

  Carrie cocked a brow. “Did Chooli talk about that in the letter?”

  Todd grinned. “Chooli didn’t tell you what she wrote?”

  “No,” Carrie admitted. “She just said they would welcome me.”

  Todd laughed. “She basically told her grandfather to swallow his Navajo pride and let you help. She made it clear how much you helped with Ajei’s birth, and told about the men you saved when they attacked the plantation last fall. She made you into a great medicine woman.”

  “I see,” Carrie said faintly as she flushed with warm pleasure. She was flattered but nervous that she might prove inadequate. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Just like before, when she had served at Chimborazo, and then helped cholera patients in Moyamensing, all she could do was her best.

  She rode abreast with Todd as he wound his way through the reservation. She continued to nod and smile at people. They continued to stare at her with stoic faces before they looked away, but she wanted them to get used to her presence. She had to believe that, in time, they would trust her.

  “We’re here,” Todd announced.

  Carrie stared at the primitive adobe hut. At least Chooli’s family was no longer living in a pit in the ground with a cover over it, but she knew it was nothing compared to the beautiful home and land they had left behind. She could imagine how she would feel if she were ripped from Cromwell Plantation and forced to live like this.

  “Yá'át'ééh,” Todd called. When a woman stuck her head out of the door, he greeted her again. “Yá'át'ééh, Haseya.”

  Carrie recognized the word for hello and that Haseya, which was Chooli’s mother’s name, meant She Rises, but her knowledge of Navajo ended there. At least for now. She was determined to learn more of the Navajo language and regretted she had lost the opportunity during their three months on the trail.

  The woman staring at them looked like a very thin, older version of her daughter. Carrie knew the starvation made her look much older than she actually was. Todd spoke again. The only word Carrie understood was Chooli, but she saw the woman’s eyes ignite and turn toward her before she moved all the way out of the hut.

  Todd kept talking, gesturing as he spoke. Three more people came out of the hut as he was speaking. Carrie thought they must be Chooli’s father and her mother’s parents. By the time Todd finished, all of them were staring at Carrie, but their eyes were still wary and guarded.

  “Give them the letter,” Todd instructed.

  Carrie reached into her breeches and produced the envelope she had protected for three months on the trail. The man who she identified as Chooli’s father reached for it, his face a mixture of skepticism and eagerness. Moments later the four of them were nodding and smiling as he read the letter aloud to them. She saw Chooli’s mother clasp her breast when she heard the word Ajei and learned of her granddaughter’s birth. Carrie sat silently while the rest of the letter was read, meeting their eyes with a smile every time they looked at her.

  Chooli’s father turned to her when he finished the letter, folding it carefully before he handed it to Chooli’s mother. “Thank you.” His voice was deep and melodic.

  Carrie stared at him. “You speak English?”

  “Very little. I learn some. Chooli made me.”

  Carrie smiled. “I could imagine she did.” Todd translated what she had said when her father merely stared in confusion. She would have to keep her words very simple.

  Chooli’s father laughed. “Chooli strong woman.”

  “Yes,” Carrie said warmly. “I like Chooli very much.”

  The man nodded again. “You call me Shizhe`e.”

  “Shizhe`e means My Father,” Todd translated. “He is giving you a great honor.”

  “Thank you, Shizhe`e,” Carrie said, relieved she was being welcomed.

  Chooli’s father pointed to the rest. “She Shima. Him Shichei. Her Shimasani.”

  “Father. Grandfather. Grandmother,” Todd said.

  Carrie smiled. “Yá'át'ééh, Shima. Yá'át'ééh Shichei. Yá'át'ééh Shimasani.”

  Chooli’s father smiled. “Very good.”

  “Please call me Carrie.”

  “Very good, Carrie.”

  Chooli’s mother stepped forward and spoke.

  “They are inviting you into their hut,” Todd told her.

  The grandfather began speaking. Again, Carrie looked to Todd, wishing she knew Navajo.

  “He wants to know how you are going to help his people.”

  “Please tell him I would very much like to attend one of his rituals and help anyway he thinks I can. I understand he is a great medicine man.” Todd’s eyes glowed with approval before he turned to relay her message. Carrie relaxed when she saw Chooli’s grandfather look at her with acceptance and nod.

  Todd started talking Navajo again as they dismounted and made their way into the hut.

  Carrie sank down onto the dirt floor, noting the bed rolls stacked against the wall. It hurt her heart to know these people were sleeping on the floor with only a thin blanket for covering. All four of them were appallingly skinny, with large eyes looking at her from gaunt faces that still managed to hold dignity and pride.

  “They want you to know they have nothing to offer you. They are very sorry.”

  Carrie shook her head. “Please tell them I am ha
ppy to be here, and so glad to meet Chooli’s family. She misses all of them so much.”

  The time flew by as Todd translated and spoke. Carrie was happy to be able to report that Chooli and the baby were doing fine. When they asked what Chooli was doing, she explained that she was studying English, and also helping her with medicines for the tribe.

  Her grandfather snorted in disbelief and then began speaking rapidly.

  Carrie turned to Todd for the translation.

  “He wants to know what magic you worked on his granddaughter to make her interested in medicine. She has never cared about the rituals before.”

  Carrie hesitated, not sure how to say that she did not perform rituals, but had remedies that could help people. She did not want to say anything that would offend. “Once Chooli was away from her family, I believe she realized how much she wished she had learned.” Carrie knew herbs were a vital part of the ceremonies. “When she discovered I use herbs in my medicine, she wanted to know more.”

  “Navajo herbs?” Todd asked, knowing that would be their next question.

  “I use herbs known in my part of the country,” Carrie said. “It is very different from here. I want so much to learn the herbs and plants of this part of the country.” She gazed into Chooli’s grandfather’s eyes. “Please ask Shichei if he will teach me.”

  Todd spoke and then listened carefully as Shichei answered. “He will teach you,” he reported. “He wants to learn as well.”

  Carrie glowed with the flush of victory. “Thank you.”

  The morning passed quickly as the four family members pressed her for information about Chooli, Franklin and Ajei. Carrie saw Todd’s eyes widen when she revealed the plantation Franklin was working on belonged to her family.

  “She eats?” Chooli’s father asked.

  “Tell him she eats very well,” Carrie told Todd. “Every family on the plantation has gardens, and they all raise animals. She looks wonderful and is very healthy.”

  More happy smiles followed Todd’s translation. Chooli’s grandfather had listened very carefully, but Carrie was aware his eyes had never left her face. She prayed he was seeing what he wanted to see. When there was a long moment of silence, he spoke, his deep voice ringing with authority even though his body looked frail and fragile.

  Todd turned to Carrie when he finished. “Shichei would like you to join him for a medicine man ritual this afternoon.”

  Carrie nodded quickly, meeting Shichei’s eyes. “I would love to.” Then she turned to Todd. “Will you find out more about it for me? I would like to know what he will be treating.”

  *****

  “We’re invited, too?” Janie asked excitedly.

  Carrie nodded. “Chooli’s grandfather was reluctant at first, but I convinced him he would be doing so much to help us accomplish what Chooli asked us to do.”

  “Nice play,” Matthew said admiringly.

  “I thought so,” Carrie replied smugly, not revealing how nervous she had been to ask the revered medicine man for anything so soon. “I know all of you have read the information Felicia gave us about medicine men, but I learned far more from Todd after we left the hut.”

  Janie pulled out a chair from the small table in their quarters. “Tell us everything,” she commanded. “I don’t want to do anything to embarrass us. The more we know, the better prepared we will be.”

  The rest of the team took their places at the table and looked at her expectantly.

  Carrie was happy to teach them all she had learned. “All of you already know medicine men are a dominant factor in Navajo life. They are actually termed ‘singers’ because of all the songs and chants they do. The Navajo people are intensely religious. The medicine men are expected to become well versed in the mysteries of religion. It is their job to cultivate in the minds of the people the belief that the medicine men are powerful, not only in curing diseases of mind and body, but that they can actually prevent them with their chants and rituals.”

  She took a sip of water from the pitcher on the table, wondering how long it would be before there was no longer fresh water flowing in the Pecos River. What did the military drink to avoid illness? Carrie forced her thoughts back to the present. “Anyone can decide to become a medicine man or woman, but the rituals take years to learn. The only way to learn is to assist other medicine men. There are three parts to the healing process. Herbalists, who are mostly females, deal with medicinal plants.”

  “They do?” Melissa asked in surprise. “Are they using them here?”

  Carrie shook her head and frowned. “No. They only know the plants in their homeland, and they have not been able to find substitutes here.”

  “Which means the treatments we brought are going to be even more valuable,” Carolyn said.

  “It also means it’s going to make it difficult for you to write the part of your book that deals with southwestern plants,” Janie observed.

  “Yes and no,” Carrie replied. “I will document everything Shichei tells me, and then…” She let her voice trail off mysteriously.

  “Tell us,” Nathan demanded. “Or I won’t give you any lunch.”

  Carrie considered. “What are we having?”

  Nathan chuckled. “Steak and…”

  Carrie eyed him. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want information.”

  Nathan shook his head. “You are a hardhearted woman,” he murmured, and then chuckled when she glared at him. “Steak, green beans and peaches,” he said triumphantly.

  Carrie laughed with delight. “Something other than meat, biscuits or dried beans? When do we eat?”

  “If you eat would be a more appropriate question for you,” Nathan reminded her.

  Carrie laughed again. She loved the easy camaraderie they had all developed on the trail. “Fine. Todd knows of a woman healer who lives about five miles from the reservation. He is sure she will teach us the plants from this area.” She batted her eyelids. “May I have lunch now, please?”

  “Only if you keep talking while I fix it,” Nathan said. “I met the head cook and talked him out of some canned supplies.”

  “I’ll do anything for a man who knows how to cook,” Carrie said impishly as she watched him begin to move around the tiny kitchen. “Back to the three parts of Navajo healing. There is the herbalist, and there is also a shaman. Their job is to diagnose disease by hand trembling and stargazing.”

  “Stargazing I can envision, but hand trembling?” Randall asked. “I know I’m not the only one here who has no idea what you are talking about.”

  “The shaman is actually the most important aspect of Navajo healing,” Carrie explained, “though the medicine man gets more attention because the ceremony is so elaborate. The cause of a disease is much more important than the symptoms. The Navajo believe that illness stems from bodily contact with natural elements like lightning, water, wind or animals.” She paused. “Disease can also be caused by contact with foreigners, especially enemies.” She stopped talking to let her final words sink in.

  Janie was the first to comment. “So their letting us come to their ceremony is a really important thing because we are strangers, and because we have the disadvantage of being white. They surely must view us as their enemy.”

  Carrie nodded. “Which is why we must be respectful of everything that happens.”

  “Which means it will be helpful if we can learn as much as possible beforehand,” Nathan said, turning from where he was putting green beans on to heat. “What is hand trembling?”

  “It’s rather difficult to explain,” Carrie began. Maybe it wasn’t difficult to explain, she thought, just difficult to understand. “Hand trembling really is what it sounds like. The shaman, who is usually female, is said to have a gift if they experience it. It is not a skill that can be learned.” She struggled to put what Todd had told her into words. “The shaman starts out by asking questions. They believe part of the healing process is having the patient talk about what is going on with the
m, and what they believe has caused it. They make a blessing by drawing a line of corn pollen on the fingers and arm of the patient. They pray to Gila monster for guidance and then go into a mild trance. They believe the Gila monster belongs to one of the Navajo Holy People who will tell the shaman what is wrong with the patient. They know they have the answer when their hands start trembling over the part of the body that is ill. Once they have made the diagnosis, they know what ritual they have to pay the medicine man to do.”

  “I see,” Carolyn murmured, though her confused eyes told a different story.

  “Look,” Carrie said, “we don’t have to understand it. We don’t even have to believe it. We just have to respect it.”

  “All right,” Janie said slowly, “but then what?”

  Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know any more than you do,” she admitted. “Todd told me the medicine men ceremonies can last anywhere from one to nine hours. My understanding is that since the patient Shichei is treating seems to have both syphilis and dysentery, he will perform the Mountain Top Way ceremony because it helps with gastrointestinal diseases and skin disorders.” She thought about everything Todd had told her. “Shichei will finish the ceremony by preparing a sand painting that represents the Holy People. The patient sits on the painting. They believe the Holy People are drawn into the ceremony through attraction to their own likeness. They merge with the patient who is sitting on the painting.” She shrugged. “Healing happens.”

  Carrie understood the silence that filled the room when she was finished. “There is much about medicine we cannot understand,” she said weakly. “I believe there can be real value in having patients talk about their illness, and faith in their Holy People obviously is an important part for the Navajo. They believe medicine is more about healing the person than curing a disease.” She found herself understanding more of what Todd had told her as she talked. Verbalizing it was helping it make sense. “There are plenty of doctors who believe that homeopathic doctors are nothing but medical quacks because they can’t understand why it works. We’ve all been told we are not real doctors. I’ve been accused of fake medicine because I use the herbs Sarah taught me about.”