Totem Lost

by James Hadman

  The guests ate while my oldest brother, Abraham’s Copper Warrior, danced the Leave-taking Dance to allow Father to ascend to the spirit world. The mourners chanted and sang until dusk. The time to burn my father was upon us.

  My four brothers carried him outside, upright in his chair, and tenderly settled him down among the stacked firewood in the space reserved for his last trip. Mother reminded me that we needed to have an animal follow us from the house so Father’s spirit could accompany it and avoid being trapped in a house devoid of life. I gathered up the puppies and Arrow followed me outside, becoming the last living thing to leave Rust House. I felt certain her gentle nature guaranteed safe passage for his spirit.

  After Father’s corpse was in place, additional firewood was added to the pyre. Our village shaman splashed ladles full of seal oil onto the wood. The rain had quit and daylight was nearly gone when he threw in a blazing torch. At first, flames licked tentatively along the wood until they found it to their liking. Then they leaped high, blazing fiercely until they consumed the pyre and its sad contents. Smoke and sparks spiraled into the sky and vanished. Approving murmurs ran through the crowd as people pointed up at sparks carried aloft by the blaze. Surely Father’s spirit must have soared on high with them.

  I stayed close to Mother in case she needed help. I wasn’t conscious of time passing, but we were both exhausted by the time the pyre collapsed on itself.

  Seal Killer came up to us and said, “It’s all over. We have given him the best sendoff we could. The rest is up to the spirits. You two need rest.” Turning to Cedar Weaver, he said. “Take these poor women back to our house and get them settled down for the night. I have to go back to Rust House and pay off the mourners.”

  The look of gratitude on Mother’s face was a reward in itself. Good old Uncle Seal Killer—you could always depend on him. Cedar Weaver took Mother’s hand and headed toward her house. After a few steps she realized I wasn’t following.

  “You two go on. I have to go back to Rust House.” I told her over my shoulder as I followed Seal Killer. “My dog had puppies and I have to see to her and take care of some other things.” I had heard stories of strange goings on after funerals, things disappearing and even houses burning. When a house owner died, some people behaved recklessly, so I had responsibilities. Father’s journal, his valuables, and Rust House itself must be protected.

  The mourners were waiting when Seal Killer and I arrived. He quickly began to pay them for their service with iron tools, needles and knives, valuable items we were famous for, but we heard grumbling. One man gestured toward the boxes, masks, and robes stacked in front of the screen.

  “How about those things?” he asked. “Who gets them?” Seal Killer looked at him with such contempt the man shrank back.

  “Copper Hair’s treasured belongings go to his family. You mourners have been handsomely rewarded. There is nothing more for you here.” Chastened, they filed from Rust House and we were alone.

  “Such a sad time,” he said. “Copper Hair was closer to me than a brother.” He shook his head and ran his gnarled fingers through his long, mostly-gray hair. “Together, we celebrated our good times and mourned our losses for more than half my life. Now he’s gone and I’m left to mourn him. Raven’s Bones! I don’t know how I can carry on.”

  I put my arm around his shoulders and said, “You’ve got Cedar Weaver, your sons, and their families. You’ve got my brothers and their families. You’ve got me. We’re all together and you are our patriarch now.” He looked at me, his eyes moist with unshed tears.

  “I know you’re right. It’s the emotions of today that have gotten me down. I’ll be better in the morning. If you don’t mind, I’m thinking of asking your mother to move in with Cedar Weaver and me. This house has so many memories to haunt her. We have plenty of room and she would be comfortable. She and Cedar Weaver have been friends for years. You’d be welcome to stay with us, too.”

  That was quite a long speech for Seal Killer. He had obviously mulled it over to make the offer. As for me, I loved this house and had already begun trying to wrap myself in the happy memories it contained.

  “That will be Mother’s decision. She may be willing to move, but I’m not, I’m staying here.”

  “We can figure this out in the morning. Will you be all right here?

  “I’ll be fine. I won’t be alone. I have Olga and Elena to take care of me as they have for my entire life.” I paused and smiled at him even as my eyes filled with tears. “Along with them, I have my memories to keep me company.”

  He got up and I told him what a great help he had been in setting Father’s spirit free. We hugged and he left. I was beyond exhaustion. Arrow and I headed for my sleeping enclosure. I wrapped up in a warm robe and didn’t stir until daylight.

  18 January, 1778: The instant I came awake my sense of loss flooded back. It didn’t seem quite as keen a pain as yesterday’s and I was thankful for that. I smelled salmon roasting and realized I was very hungry. I got up and went down to the fire with Arrow following. Olga and Elena, two old Flathead women Seal Killer had acquired at the Trading Ground to help Mother with the twins and me, were there cooking. They had been our house slaves for as long as I could remember. Father had named them when they joined our household. Good Russian names he’d said. They smiled nervously at me and I smiled back to put them at ease. They viewed big changes in our lives with caution and I understood. Uncertainty about the future was bad enough for anyone, but, for them, their inability to control it made it worse.

  Olga brought a bowl of fresh water to wash my hands and face, and then Elena served me some roasted salmon. The simple acts of washing and eating eased the tension between us. I fed Arrow and petted her as I spoke to the women.

  “Don’t worry. I’m staying right here in Rust House and we’ll live peacefully together, like always.” Their smiles were radiant.

  After eating, Arrow and I stepped outside. As I headed for the privy in the pale winter daylight, I noticed that nothing remained of the funeral pyre but a pile of ashes. When I finished, I saw Salmon Daughter, the wife of our old yitsati, Iron Man, heading toward the pyre, a stick in one hand and a basket in the other. I joined her and, together, but without speaking, we sifted through the ashes, fishing for small, charred fragments of bone. When we found one, she pushed it out of the still-warm ashes with her stick and I put it in the basket. When the basket was half full, she paused and said, “I think that’s enough.” I nodded feeling tears fall on my hands as I held the basket in front of me.

  “Give me that,” Salmon Daughter said brusquely. “Now dry your eyes and we’ll take these to your mother.” I wasn’t offended by her manner. I’d known her all my life and this was her nature. “Iron Man is very sorry he couldn’t attend the funeral.” The usually self-contained old woman wiped a tear from her eye and continued, “He can’t even get out of bed any more. I have a feeling we’ll be digging more bones out of a pyre before the Berries Ripen Moon.”

  What could I say? We walked down the beach to Seal Killer’s house and went in. Arrow had been trained to wait for an invitation before going into other houses and when none was forthcoming she went back to her puppies.

  Mother and Cedar Weaver were seated by the fire and I was pleased to see that Mother was eating. Cedar Weaver must have helped her clean up because the black was gone from her face and hands. Her poor butchered hair was combed, but tufts were sticking out every which way. Her deep-set eyes brightened as we approached. Raven’s Bones! How she had aged in the short while since Father’s death.

  When she saw what Salmon Daughter was carrying, Cedar Weaver got to her feet and headed toward the back of the house. Salmon Daughter and I sat down. She touched hands with Mother and then gave her the basket. Mother began to cry and I put an arm around her.

  “Don’t be sad.” Salmon Daughter ordered in her sharp manner. “Your husband’s spirit is
flying free. These relics of his earthly body are to remind it where home is. Wolf Skin has finished the mortuary pole and my sons will put it in place today.”

  When Cedar Weaver returned, she was carrying a small wooden box. “Wind Spirit,” she said. “My husband has made this to keep Copper Hair’s remains warm and dry until his spirit needs them again. He made sure it fits within the mortuary pole.”

  After she helped Mother place the charred fragments in the special box, Cedar Weaver insisted we have a bite to eat. When we finished, my brothers helped Salmon Daughter’s sons erect the mortuary pole. After it was in place, Seal Killer assisted Mother in placing Copper Hair’s remains in the pole’s special chamber.

  Following our little ceremony, our group split up. Mother motioned to me and led the way back to Rust House. We settled down by the fire and looked at each other. She had made a point of making sure we would be alone and I waited to hear what she had in mind.

  The silence was becoming uncomfortable when at last she spoke. “Here, take this,” she said, handing me an ivory hair ornament carved in the shape of clasped hands that was designed to help control long hair such as mine. “Moose Woman gave me this when your father and I were wed. You’re a grown woman now and perhaps it will help you find a husband.” She had worn this ornament for as long as I could remember.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. She nodded.

  ‘I want you to have it.”

  “I’ll always treasure it,” I said and she helped place it in my hair.

  “Right after your father died you said his Otter Spirit came to you and ordered you to become a shaman?” I nodded. “I’m not surprised. Both sides of your family have strong spirits. You know I nearly became a shaman myself. No, I’m not at all surprised.”

  “Well, I certainly was. That entire encounter was very unsettling.”

  “Having your father teach you the reading and writing thing was what was unsettling for me. I’ve always wanted the best for you–a normal life. You should have been married and had babies by now. If you had, that spirit would never have come to you with such a demand.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It breaks my heart that you have been summoned but I love you, Daughter, and I will help. You must go to your great aunt Sky Shaker in Howkan. You need help learning how to control the spirits that will reside within you. Sky Shaker can instruct you, as she did me, on how to stay alive during your dangerous journeys into the spirit world.”

  I was taken aback. My father’s funeral had served to distract me, but now the spirit’s message came back full force. Mother wasn’t happy about it, but even she had accepted that I must become a shaman. What choice did I have?

  “She’s very old isn’t she? Do you think she will be able to help me?”

  “She may be old, but she’s smart and powerful. She’ll help you if I ask. What I don’t understand is that you received your calling in this manner. No daughter should inherit spirits from her father. Such powerful spirits, too. The Land Otter alone is big medicine–and the Killer Whale—aiee.” Mother placed her hands on her face and sobbed and I waited for her to catch her breath.

  “The Otter Spirit also told me you have my legacy,” I said. Her head snapped back like she’d been slapped. “Ah, yes. Your legacy,” she said, shaking her head. “So, what do you know about that?”

  “The spirit only told me that you have it, Mother.”

  “That’s true. I do have it, but I don’t want to give it to you until you’re ready to go stay with Sky Shaker. Let’s wait until things quiet down here first.”

  That evening Seal Killer presided over the division of Father’s things between my brothers and me. My oldest brother, Abraham’s Copper Warrior, became the guardian of Father Raven, our treasured crest hat. My younger brother, Abraham’s Copper Maker, took charge of the speaker’s staff. The twins, Abraham’s Copper Sun and Abraham’s Copper Shield, got to choose what they wanted from his ceremonial regalia. I was pleased when Seal Killer decided I should have Rust House, but it made sense. The boys already had houses. He gave away the three big canoes, one to each of the oldest brothers and the last one to me. My brothers exchanged puzzled glances. I imagined they were as surprised as I was, but Seal Killer explained his decision.

  “Wind Spirit tells me her aunt, Sky Shaker, is going to train Abraham’s Copper Spirit to be a shaman. Your sister will need the canoe to go back and forth to Howkan.” The twins, who had been the likely recipients of the canoe, looked at each other and shrugged.

  Thus ended several of the most eventful days of my life during which I said goodbye to my father, began my career as a shaman, became the owner of Rust House, and acquired a wonderful canoe decorated with Father’s crest animals that were now mine. I had even received Mother’s grudging blessing to become a shaman.

  Chapter Two

  12 February, 1778: By the waning of the Black Bear Sleeping Moon our lives had settled into what became our new routine. The death of my beloved father had left a dreadfully huge hole in my heart, but having Arrow helped me to mend. I enjoyed watching her care for her pups and when they were nursing I was mystified when my own breasts experienced twinges.

  My mother accepted Seal Killer’s offer to move into his house. “Too many memories floating around in here,” she said, looking around the huge emptiness of Rust House as she was packing up. “Of course, there are good ones along with awful ones from these past days. A new space and being with Cedar Weaver will help me deal with my loss. She’s a special friend and we share a lot of history.”

  Suddenly changing the subject, Mother said, “Did your father ever tell you ours was a love match, that no one arranged our marriage?”

  “I know he didn’t want an arranged marriage for me, but he never told me that about you two. All he said was how much he loved you and that you were true soul mates. I think that’s what he wanted for me.”

  Talking about Father made us both cry. We held one another and sobbed. After a bit, I took a deep breath, regained control, and gave Mother a clump of soft dry moss to blow her nose.

  “He was, you know,” she said.

  I’d lost the thread of our conversation during our emotional moment. “He was what?”

  “My soul mate! He used to tell me how he’d traveled all the way from Russia just to find me. It was a lie but a sweet lie. I’ve never looked at another man since the day I met him.”

  “I’m sure my soul mate is out there somewhere. I just have to find him.”

  “I’ll help you look,” Mother said, grinning at me.

  “I bet you will,” I said, and we both laughed until we cried.

  “This is an awfully big house for one girl, her dog, and two house slaves,” Mother said, looking around the vast space. “There is so much room here.”

  “I know, but I’m comfortable in Rust House and I don’t want to move.”

  You could invite Park and Aneeka and their family to live here with you? They’re really crowded where they’re living now.”

  “That’s a great idea. I need to hear laughter around me again. I like that entire family. Their daughter, Sparrow, and her husband are very nice people. From the time they were my baby sitters when I was little, Lili and Lulu, her two younger sisters, have always made me laugh. On top of that, those two are both accomplished weavers. Maybe they can teach me how to weave, too.”

  “Hah, I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “I get along so well with all those people, I’m going to invite their entire extended family to share Rust House with me.”

  When Mother and I explained to Park and Aneeka what we had in mind, they happily accepted the invitation and moved in with me. Rust House came back to life, echoing with the happy sounds of people living and children playing.

  5 March, 1778: This morning when Mother came to visit I reminded her about the legacy. “The Noisy Goose Moon is waxing and the issue of m
e becoming a shaman hasn’t gone away. I think it’s time for me to see what Father left for me.”

  “I suppose it is time,” she said and sighed. “I don’t like this. I don’t know why your father insisted I wait to give you the thing until after his death. He could have written a message to you and since you and he are the only two people who can understand those scribbles, whatever secret is in that legacy box would have been perfectly safe.”

  “Perhaps he wanted to wait until I was old enough to understand what he wanted to tell me.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Anyway, he made me promise not to pass it on to you until after he departed for the spirit world. The box is over at Seal Killer’s house. Wait here while I go and get it.” She returned a short time later carrying a long slender box made from yellow cedar.

  “Here is your legacy, Daughter,” she said, handing it to me. “This better be big medicine. Your father made me promise not to mention the existence of this box to another living soul and I never have.” I nodded and thanked her for complying with Father’s wish.

  “Can you imagine how shocked I was when you said that his Kushdaka spirit told you of its existence and that I had it? Aiee! That was scary, but it proved that you have your father’s power.”

  I felt the smooth oily wood as I turned the box. The designs were definitely Father’s work. His crest animals were painted on all four sides. The box was a bit longer than both of my outstretched hands but little more than three fingers deep. The lid fit snugly over the lip of the box, but by lifting one end at a time I worked it free.

  Mother was curious to see what it was she had guarded these past three summers. Father gave it to her shortly after he and Seal Killer had tried but failed to contact a whiteface canoe that briefly anchored near Klawak. I could conceal the contents from her, but she’d never forgive me if she discovered I had lied to her. I’d have to assume Father had planned for her to be looking on. Mother craned her neck and I held the box, so she could see while I fished out a loosely rolled piece of creamy white doeskin. I unrolled it and discovered it was covered with Father’s tiny script. I wondered what was so special that he couldn’t write this in his journal?