by Beth Piatote
I do not dispute that he was a captive. I dispute that he was a slave.
Though no one remained with whom he could speak, his language remains.
Our languages do not die, though sometimes they sleep.
Ishi sang to himself, he recorded his voice, and he laughed in the faces of those curious fools.
But Child, you’re missing the point, shall we say, of my story.
Shall I spell it out? Your politics are glass arrowheads.
Perfect, beautiful, and brittle.
And, need we say? Absurdly outmoded for the time.
ANTIKONI
What you call politics I call waí·swit—a way of life.
KREON
It is a way of death. Their law makes it so.
Your deeds, however holy to you, will not go unpunished.
ANTIKONI
Oh, to confound justice with laws!
You abide by the State, by laws made by man and upheld by force.
You abide with the State, you lie with your colonizers.
Surely you know as I do a greater Law, our tamá·lwit25
That our Elder Brother set the Earth in motion,
And the Earth lies with its head to the East,
Its feet to the West, and its arms to the North and the South.
When we die we likewise lie down in the same way
The head to the East, the feet to the West
We must care for the body this way
This is the way to care for the body from the beginning of time
From time immemorial, for eternal time.
KREON
And was this Law on the heart of brave Ataoklas,
A Cavalry scout, who paused not a moment before taking the blood
Of his own flesh, Polynaikas? Did he make a proper grave
For his own brother, the son of his own mother? Or was he
Just a treasonous dog?
I dare say you have more kinship with me than with that one—
Though you, like Ataoklas, may bring down your sibling with you.
Consider this:
It is I who redeem those brothers, not you.
I bring their story to life, I redeem what remains—
What remains of being human.
Love, betrayal, tragedy: by these grand themes
I return to the departed their flesh, their humanity.
It is the story, not the body, that matters, that endures.
The physical body, the blood, is dust. But the story walks and breathes.
I have given my life to that.
I have chosen the living over the dead.
ANTIKONI
You’ve chosen to make a living over our dead.
KREON
So judgmental! And tell me, would you prefer that I endure
Removal
from my office? Or perhaps that I face
Relocation
to another post. But knowing you, I imagine only
Termination
will satisfy you.
Don’t be a fool, My Child. If I give up this post, it will hardly cease to exist.
No! It will be filled by the So·yá·po·26 and his lies. I won’t have it.
Through diligence and obsequious posture I’ve gained
A most coveted post, and happily feigned
Pacification. It’s the only path to power.
It’s a shame that every war comes down to this:
A battle between the Hostiles and the Friendlies.
I regret that you’ve chosen the other side, as I will have no choice
But to prove through punishment of you—and your sister for good measure—
That I’m a good soldier for the State. It’s a sacrifice for the greater Good, you see.
Surely I’m speaking your language now.
(Calls offstage to GUARD )
GUARD! Remove this criminal from my sight. Lock her up
And her sister beside her.
GUARD comes and escorts ANTIKONI off stage. KREON paces, visibly distressed.
AUNTIE #3
There’s a story I know.
Not so long ago, there was a woman
And she had powerful medicine. She was the best gambler
Of anyone around. No one could beat her at Stick Game
Though many, many tried. Her power was known all around
And when she died
One of her rivals, a man from her mother’s band
Took two finger bones from her hand
And made a pair of gambling sticks.
This man became the most powerful then, virtually unbeatable.
People came from all around to lose to him.
His luck was fantastic.
He had those gambling bones, you see.
But at night
The ghost of the dead woman would appear
And insist that the man sleep with her.
Night after night, she bothered him. She seduced him.
She would not let him rest.
Finally he gave up. He returned the bones
And the ghost went away.
This is a true story.
THIRD EPISODE/SCENE IV
HAIMON joins KREON on stage.
KREON
My Son, two paths were laid open before you, but I have chosen
To close one road for your own good. And for the good of nú·nim Titó·qan.27
Is your heart reconciled to this upward path—do you follow me?
Or do you prefer to pursue your bride on another journey, surely doomed?
HAIMON
Tó·ta28, I am your true son, and true to you. Even as you have power to
Condemn the one who has crossed you, the State may do the same
Ten times over to you. Your punishment of her is mere discipline,
But if the State comes for you, you will pay in blood.
Not only you, but all Titó·qan will suffer, if you are Removed.
KREON
Surely, you are keen to history. The State makes grand monuments
To Indian defeat. Metacomet was drawn and quartered. The bodyless head of
Captain Jack was sent on a transcontinental tour. Geronimo was paraded in chains.
And Leonard Peltier—ah, just to say the name
Is to utter our state of helplessness. Helpless but not hopeless we remain
Within the walls of this foreign nation. We are occupied by them
And preoccupied by our desire
To bend their laws, not break them.
I am now Director of this Museum, this Palace of treasure,
And I am Master of all the State surveys.
You, too, my Son, may walk this path that I now forge for you
And those who come after. You may earn your law degree
And then you may decree
The futures of the living and the dead. Let fair Antíkoni cry out
In defense of a cosmic Order that binds us
Blood and bone to land, that the dead may be mourned
In a proper way, in their proper place, and that the living may then live.
I have no use for Eternal Laws! That indeed is the point.
I put my effort into what I may affect. Or rather: infect.
Under federal law the only constant is change. So we must constantly
Change, shift our shapes, perform for them what they wish to see
Then we shall have our Way, by minding their watch.
This is how we’ve survived, and how we’ve undermined
The United States of Surveillance.
CHORUS
(singing) Oh, say can you see!
HAIMON
Tó·ta, your acquaintance with the stories told from long ago
And the battles won by canny maneuvers
Show that you are wise indeed to the ways of the world.
You are right to keep your eye on the State
But might I mention, with all humility, that perhaps you turn an ear<
br />
To the cries of nú·nim Titó·qan. There’s quite a bit of talk, you see
And it is only in defense of you that I dare mention it.
Indian Country is aflame with rumors, and there may be trouble for you
If you don’t show leniency to the One Who Carried Out,
For she is most venerated and honored among them
As brave and upright. If you punish her harshly you may be rewarded
But a bounty will only tip the scales in her favor.
Indeed, she has such sympathy among our kin
Punishment will only breed more dissent. And they will call for your head.
They are not so helpless as you may think.
CHORUS
Surely the son speaks the truth.
KREON
(to CHORUS)
This one is yet a youth, caught up in the romance
Of a youthful act. Politics become more subtle with age,
When one is less inclined to move so quickly.
(to HAIMON)
Is your heart yet with this girl who defies me?
HAIMON
Tó·ta, my heart as yours is with our People
And from their hearts they defend her hand.
KREON
Would you have a woman setting the rules?
If you don’t respect me, Son, at least you should respect the office.
HAIMON
Yes, Father, the office was made for the White Man,
For his desires and powers alone. And yet
You have taken his place. I remind you only that you remain
An Indian. And an Indian is no one without his Tribe.
KREON
More romantic words from you! The Tribe, the Tribe!
That I could be rescued from the Tribe!
I have no use for tribal politics.
Let me be my own man.
No one pulling my strings, not the Tribe or the State
Or the sentimental appeals of my faithless son.
HAIMON
ʔikú·yn, Tó·ta, I speak the language of justice, not sentiment.
If you destroy her, others will fall, too.
KREON
Who is in place to defend our dead? I alone
Have the power to protect them, and all our patrimony here.
I will not be dispossessed. I am on my heart.
HAIMON
I see the truth of this. ʔi·nim a’á tiine.29
HAIMON leaves.
KREON
Let him try to save her.
(to CHORUS )
Aunties, what is your counsel?
AUNTIE #4
Wá·qoʔ titwatísa ná·qc.
They were living there; many people were camped together. And every morning
The hunters would go out. When they brought home meat, they would
Distribute it to everyone. This way, no one was hungry.
There were five brothers, and the oldest one was married.
The five brothers went hunting one day.
The oldest one shot a deer, and as he was butchering it in the mountains
He cut his hand. He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked the blood
From his wound, and as he did this, he realized that the taste of his own blood
Was delicious. He began to crave the taste of blood, and
Without being able to control himself, he began to eat this own arm.
He found that he could not stop. Soon he consumed his entire arm,
Then his other arm, his body, and his two legs.
He did not come home for several days, and soon his brothers
Went to look for him. The man became hideous; he was only bones and sinew,
and he carried his intestines in one hand like a rope.
When he saw his younger brother coming, he hid in the bushes and called out his brother’s name. The brother came, and when he was close
The man who was now a cannibal jumped out and lassoed him with his intestine-rope.
He tied up his brother and ate him.
Each day another brother came searching, and the Cannibal caught each one.
He killed and ate his own brothers.
In the meantime, the wife and their little baby were living
Beside the river with the people. When her husband and then his brothers
Did not come home, the people became worried.
We’re going to move camp, they said to the woman, and you should come with us.
No, she said. I will wait here for my husband and his brothers to return,
And we will join you later.
The people did not want to leave her, but she insisted.
She stayed there in her tipi, encamped by the river.
One day she heard a strange sound:
Clackity-clack, clackity-clack, and then her husband’s voice.
He was coming down the hill, his bones clacking hard upon each other, and
Calling her name. He carried his intestines in both hands.
Clackity-clack he came.
Truly! She saw that he was hideous. She picked up the baby
but soon her husband was there at the tipi door.
Oh, my child, he cooed. Let me hold him.
The woman could see how he was eyeing the tender flesh of the baby.
Of course, the woman said. Just let me wash him for you first.
You wait here while I go to the river and prepare him for you.
The Cannibal sat down to wait, and the wife slipped out of the tipi with the baby. As she left, she grabbed a wooden spoon and hid it under her arm.
She ran with the baby to the river’s edge.
Willows! she called out to the trees. When he looks for us, you sing so that he thinks we are yet here.
Shoo-shoo, the willow trees sang.
The woman threw the wooden spoon to the ground.
Become a canoe! she cried. And the spoon became a canoe, and she
Placed it in the river with her child, and it carried them to the village ahead
Where her people were encamped.
She arrived there and told the people about her cannibal husband,
And thus they knew what had become of him and his brothers.
In the meantime, the Cannibal became suspicious. He went down to the river
Where the willows were singing, shoo-shoo-shoo.
He was angry at this deception and beat the willows horribly.
Downriver, the people moved camp again, and the Cannibal never found them.
That’s all.
FOURTH EPISODE/SCENE V
The blind medicine singer TAIRASIAS is led on stage by a boy. He calls out to the CHORUS.
TAIRASIAS
Aunties! I come to report what I have seen
That you may discern if it is past, or present, or future
I have seen Antíkoni, and she lives yet among the dead.
KREON enters from his office.
KREON
Grandfather, what message do you bring?
TAIRASIAS
I declare again a truth you’ve heard many times.
I repeat the Ancient Laws, and the longing of the living
To properly abide with the Dead. Your power depends on this.
KREON
If I am toppled I will not be easily replaced.
TAIRASIAS
Care not for your own head but consider the barren skulls
Of those who came before. They like you dwelt in flesh and love
And now desire to rest. As long as human remains are held
As trophies in this endless war, the humans remain
Less than fully alive. So grant them their lives by honoring their dead.
KREON
It is not so simple as that. I cannot release that which belongs to the State.
TAIRASIAS
Grandson, when you hold captive the Dead, you enslave the living.
The talons of the State wrap ’round the bones o
f the departed
And dig deep into the flesh of those who remain.
You yet may change your course. For what can be gained
By killing again those who are already dead? Perhaps
Your ambition has made you blind, more blind than I, who see
That the museum is a Cannibal: consuming the living, piling up the dead.
Grandson, I worry for you.
But perhaps you cannot help yourself.
Perhaps you’ve tasted your own blood, and found it pleasing.
I’m warning you! Do not feed on yourself.
KREON
Grandfather, your words are sharp arrows
That you should aim at another target. I am not the enemy here.
If you persist in drawing these disturbing visions I may have no choice
But to be in the market for a new Medicine Man. I happen to know
Some reasonably priced Shamans who charge by the hour.
TAIRASIAS
By all means! I offer my words most freely, and promise great returns.
But if you prefer praise, and blind adoration of your rule,
You will certainly get what you pay for.
You see that this is a world of exchanges
And words will not redeem the dead.
The State demands this: blood for bone.
It has never been any other way.
KREON
I offer my mind, not my head. My words, not my mouth.
TAIRASIAS
Ah, you see: the Ancient One was delivered through the mouths of our kin.
Though not, as you say, by words,
nor by law,
nor by cries for justice.
Only a swab would redeem him. The State demands DNA.