by LeAnne Howe
“I know what happened, then.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know, that’s all.”
“Tell me.”
“Isaac and Delores stayed at the mound to look for something.”
“What was that?” asks Gore.
“Their destiny. When the police found them, they’d both been shot in Uncle’s truck. Their heads were facing east,” she says.
“That’s right.”
“Toward the Nanih Waiya.”
“Yes,” he says.
She doesn’t answer, but expects him to figure it out.
An October wind blows through Durant, cooling things off. Auda smells fall, which always makes her feel more serene. She gets up out of her bed and resolves to go out into the world again. Touch the things she hasn’t touched in a while. Her oak desk at the Choctaw Nation, her project files, the unopened mail she’s left. It is time to pack up her things and bring them home.
After she dresses, she walks down the narrow kitchen stairs, setting her feet in the familiar grooves worn there by the many women who’ve lived in the house before her. When she reaches the kitchen, the rest of her family are seated around the table playing cards. Tema has a long cigar jammed into the side of her mouth like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Gore holds his cigar between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a baton.
“Cuban, huh?” asks Tema. “Adair, you wanna try a puff?”
“I quit,” says Adair, grudgingly.
“Hand it to me, darling,” says Borden, shuffling the deck of cards. “You don’t even smoke Tema, you’ll be sick.”
“Borden?” asks Auda, “I thought you’d returned to Dallas. What about A Doll’s House?”
“Didn’t you hear?”
Auda shakes her head no.
“The theater sacked me—sacked us both, actually.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It gave me a chance to come to Durant, save my wife from the Mafia, and then, of course, attend an Indian trial. Imagine that, an actor from England in a Choctaw Indian Court!”
“Auda, didn’t I tell you the whole story?” asks Tema.
“I don’t think so,” she says.
“The day Hector the Harpoon broke in, Borden and the cops were hammering on the front door, as I was fighting for my life—and yours—on the stairs.”
“She’s always upstaging me,” he says, smiling.
Auda genuinely likes her brother-in-law. She walks over and gives him a hug. “I’m in your debt, Tema.” Then to Adair, “I’m also indebted to you. Which reminds me, when are you two getting married?”
“We’re off to the Bahamas to spend some of Gore’s money,” laughs Adair. “Or I should say, our money.”
“Speaking of traveling, Auda,” says Borden. “You must come to London and see Tema and me in The Taming of the Shrew. Our agent called today—the director wants us both.”
“That’s wonderful news,” she says. Then, turning to her mother, “We could go together, couldn’t we!”
“I’d like that,” replies Susan Billy.
“Where is Hoppy?” asks Auda. “I have something that may cheer him up.”
“Gone with Dovie and Kelly to feed GeorgeBush,” says Adair.
“What do you have, my girl?” Susan Billy walks across the room and puts an arm around Auda’s waist.
“It’s Uncle Isaac’s good luck stone,” she says. “He gave it to me to give to Hoppy.”
Auda watches her mother finger the gray stone. Since Delores’ and Isaac’s murders, her mother is more withdrawn. Her hair looks almost completely gray now.
“Yes, it’s always belonged to a powerful leader,” says Susan Billy. “I think Hoppy should have it.” Her mother walks into the library and returns with the porcupine sash and two burden baskets filled with loose shells. She wraps the sash around Auda’s waist, and divides the turtle shells among her other daughters.
“These are very old: the leather twine that once held the shells together snapped a long time ago, before Nowatima carried them with her from Mississippi to Oklahoma. All we have left are the shells. The porcupine sash and the shells once belonged to a descendent of Grandmother of Birds. If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll survive another generation or two. Who knows?”
Auda examines the loose shells, feeling the curved edges of the turtle’s mantle. All around her are the family she loves. Despite the sorrow they’ve suffered the Billys seem once again full of hope.
“Thank you Mother, these mean a lot to us,” says Auda.
Susan Billy then turns to Tema and Adair. “These burden baskets belonged to two of our ancestors, Haya and Anoleta. You’ve probably heard me tell the stories about them. They used these baskets to carry supplies when we fought the Chickasaws in 1747. The baskets were their legacy and I want you each to have one. I know you will cherish them as I have.”
Auda kisses Adair on the cheek, then Tema. Each of her sisters stifles tears. Her mother pulls out tissues from her skirt pocket and hands them to her daughters.
“Over the years,” Susan says, “I’ve cried a million tears. I feel like I was crying in the womb. Maybe I was crying for all my sisters who were stillborn before me, I don’t know. Nowatima said I was born crying. She said she knew I was going to make it because my tears were healing the deep wounds that I came into this world with. Somehow they have—and although I’m mourning the loss of my dear brother and Delores, I am through with tears.”
And then her mother’s voice, low as though filtered through cotton says, “I want you to know how proud I am of you all, and for the way you came together as a family. You girls are my true essence.”
The house is suddenly warm as wool, and alive with the ghosts of aunts and uncles, and future relatives. Auda feels renewed as she walks upstairs to put away the porcupine sash that once belonged to Shakbatina. As she stands in front of her mirror, she sees some other woman’s face staring back at her, radiant and bright with anticipation. Someone she’s never seen before.
17 | The Shell Shaker
Now I must tell you what really happened. Since I had acquired the knowledge of splitting myself in two, I must be the one to tell the story of Itilauichi, who came back to Choctaw Country when day and night were in perfect balance, and Indians had all the luck.
My story is an enormous undertaking. Hundreds of years in the making until past and present collide into a single moment. Auda did hold the gun in her hands, gently, as if it were inlaid with jewels. It was then that I slipped my hands in front of her hands, and together we struck a pose. The day was hers, all hers, but it was my day, too.
Nuklibishakachi, my breath is warm with passion; we Choctaws are hatak okla hut okchaya bilia hoh illi bilia. Life everlasting.
Hekano, I am finished talking.
Author Note
Shell Shaker is fiction and the portraits of all the characters appearing in it are fictional, as are some of the events and journeys. Still, some of the characters who appear in the novel are based on historical figures, such as Red Shoes, Bienville, Choucououlacta, Stung Serpent, and Chépart, and many of the areas described-such as Yanàbi Town and Ahepatanichi River-existed.
Primary documents were important in my research: Mississippi Provincial Archives, French Dominion, vols. I-III (Press of the Mississippi Department of Archives and History), Mississippi Provincial Archives, French Dominion, vols. IV and V (Louisiana State University Press), the Smithsonian’s National Anthropological Archives, Cyrus Byington’s papers, and the papers and recordings of Frances Densmore.
Secondary documents I consulted were Richard White’s The Roots of Dependency; Patricia Galloway’s Choctaw Genesis; The Hernando de Soto Expedition, edited by Patricia Galloway; Iberville’s Gulf Journals, translated by Richebourg Gaillard McWilliams; and Journal of Paul du Ru, (February 1, May 8, 1700) Missionary Priest to Louisiana, translated from a manuscript in The Newberry Library with an introduction and notes by Ruth Lapham Butler. In creating the cha
racter of Red Shoes, I relied on Richard White’s article “Red Shoes: Warrior and Diplomat,” Joe Wilkins’ article “Outposts of Empire: The Founding of Fort Tombecbé’ and de Bienville’s Chickasaw Expedition of 1736,” and I used statements by Alibamon Mingo about Red Shoes’ birthright to conclude that Red Shoes’ mother was not Choctaw. For the character of Jean Baptiste Le Moyne Sieur de Bienville, I relied on Grace King’s biography by the same name.
Some liberties have been taken with the Choctaw language in the novel. I use the verb Itilauichi, meaning “to even,” as a noun for “Autumnal Equinox.” After studying the historical Choctaw calendar names in Byington’s dictionary and in his papers at the Smithsonian, as well as Henry S. Halbert’s articles on the Choctaw language and culture, I reasoned that there may have been phrases used by early eighteenth-century Choctaws for the equinoxes that have fallen out of use. Important events for Choctawan people seem to have taken place around the autumnal and vernal equinoxes, and the summer and winter solstices. For example, on June 21 or 22, 1847 (depending on whose report you read), after twenty-two Choctaw towns united, Red Shoes was assassinated when the Sun went down.
Another story concerns the meeting between Hernando de Soto and Choctaw leader Tuscalusa. Documents tell us that on September 17, 1540, the Spaniards reached Talisi and found it evacuated, but with rich supplies that had been left behind. One explanation is that the townspeople had left for their yearly ceremonies. At Talisi, a runner, accompanied by a man assumed to be one of Tuscalusa’s sons, finally came with a message from Tuscalusa. De Soto sent them back to Tuscalusa to gather more information. The Spaniards, meanwhile, stayed in Talisi until September 25, after the Autumnal Equinox, when Tuscalusa finally appeared with supplies, food, carriers, and women for de Soto. I suggest the reason for Tuscalusa’s delay was that he was collecting warriors at a ceremonial gathering who would help attack de Soto at Mabila on October 18. Planning attacks on enemies during times of ceremonial gatherings was commonplace in the Southeast. Some two centuries later, in March, 1731, Red Shoes used the same strategy as Tuscalusa. He traveled to a community gathering, telling the French allies he was attending a stickball game. Once there, he assembled a group of warriors and made an attack on his enemies.
The word Osano, used in the novel to mean “horsefly” or “bloodsucker” comes from a song by Choctaw Sidney Wesley, recorded by ethnomusicologist Frances Densmore about January 1933.
According to Densmore, Wesley was the oldest among the Choctaws living around the seven old towns in Mississippi. Wesley’s Choctaw name, Lapin tabe se ihoke, translates “Kills It Himself.” Two recordings of the War Song were made, one containing the phrase “Hispano head man I am looking for,” the other, “Folance head man I am looking for.” Wesley substituted Folance (French) for the reference to the Hispano (Spaniards). Densmore says that Wesley did not know the meaning of either word, but sang the song as he had learned it as a young boy. She also notes that the song has more verses, each defying the head man of a tribe of Indians designated as Osano. The tribe could not be identified, but one of Wesley’s Choctaw translators said that Osano was given to mean “horsefly,” a term of contempt. Osano is pronounced WAH-sano. There are other Choctaw words for “horsefly,” such as olano. For more information concerning the Choctaw language see A Dictionary of the Choctaw Language by Cyrus Byington.
My translation and spelling of the word Ahepatanichi comes from several sources. The Ahepatanichi River (designated by Delisle, Carte des Envirns du Missisipi par G. de I’lsle Geographe, 1701), has a variety of spellings. Scholars have suggested it is the Black Warrior River where de Soto and Tuscalusa met. I used Ahepatanichi, because I believe it was called that by the Ahe pata Okla people, the Choctaws once belonging to the eastern district of the Nation in Mississippi. The name derived from a place where many wild potatoes grew. Pata means “spread out” in Choctaw. Indeed, modern Choctaws around Daisy, Oklahoma, refer to the mountains in Southeastern Oklahoma as the “Potato Hills.” Tanichi, part of the root of Ahepatanichi, means “to raise, to cause to rise; to raise to life from the grave.” For those interested in maps pertaining to the Choctaw, I suggest Galloway’s chapter in Choctaw Genesis (1995, 205-263).
Concerning the factions of the Choctaws, I have tried to remain faithful to the divisions present in the eighteenth century. The western and the eastern factions supported, at various times, different European allies. Even after removal, Choctaws continued to refer to themselves by three distinct regions. What is most interesting to me in the eighteenth century is that towns within these regions seem to have practiced slightly different, but related, ceremonies. Some towns had shell shakers, some towns had gourd dancers, and in some towns dancers used eagle feather fans. I believe that much more research and investigation into eighteenth-century Choctaw history will reveal a diversity of practices, and I urge more Choctaws to investigate the documents and their family histories to write their stories.
In the case of the Seven Grandmothers in the novel, I have used the story of the seven venerable women from “Story of the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit” by H.S. Halbert (Mississippi Historical Society, vol. VI).
A final note about location: Yanàbi Town was located in modern Kemper County, Mississippi, not far from the Sucarnoochee River to the west. Yanàbi Town was part of the eastern factions, loyal to the French. The Nanih Waiya is located north and west of Yanàbi Town. For more information about Choctaw towns, see John Howard Blitz’s Archaeological Report on Choctaw Indians of Mississippi (1985).
Before writing fiction, plays, and scholarly essays, LeAnne Howe worked in Oklahoma as a waitress, and in a factory making the stems for plastic champagne glasses. She has worked on Wall Street for a securities investment firm, she has been a journalist. Most recently she has taught at Carleton College, Grinnell College, Sinte Gleska University on Rosebud Sioux Reservation, and at Wake Forest University. Ms. Howe is an enrolled member of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma.
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