by Jen Minkman
Her eyes find mine, and I quickly look away. I do not want to make her feel scrutinized. When my gaze drifts back to her after a few moments, she is talking to an elderly man who is probably her father. She is holding his hand, comforting him when he silently starts to cry. I furtively observe her. So much power is evident in her posture and way of talking – it fascinates me. She is not serene. In fact, she is the complete opposite of me, but maybe that is precisely what is drawing me in.
“Who are the two people on the left?” I casually ask Yas, when he has finished his speech and the girl and her father are still in the village square.
“Naalnish and Ho’oneno of the Sun Clan.” His voice grows solemn. “Father and daughter. She has mercilessly killed her mother’s two murderers.”
I catch myself openly staring at Ho’oneno now. Who is this girl? She is so different from me, and yet, she reminds me of myself as I was in the past. She confuses me. Do I even want to know her?
Quickly saying my goodbyes to Yas, I turn back to the ceremonial hoghan to continue preparing myself further for the coming ritual. Now is not the time to get distracted.
When I come out the next morning to drink a few handfuls of water from the well at the edge of the village, I run into her again. It is still early, and she is sitting next to the water well grinding corn with a pestle.
“Ya’at’eeh,” I gingerly greet her. Somehow, she makes me nervous. Ho’oneno looks so unapproachable, the way she is sitting there all by herself.
She looks up. “Ya’at’eeh.” An unexpected smile breaks the cool surface of her face. It completely baffles me. The smile changes her entire appearance. It is as if the sun suddenly lights up her face, even though the sun has not fully risen yet.
“Would you like some corn porridge too?” She holds out the bowl of crushed corn kernels.
“No, thank you. I am fasting. I will be leading the hózhójí ritual tonight, together with the oldest hataalii.”
“Oh yes, that is true. Yas told me you are a hataalii too.”
Still a bit hesitant, I sit down next to her. Actually, I have no business here except quenching my thirst, but I would like to talk to Ho’oneno a bit more. Did Yas tell her about me of his own accord, or did she ask him questions? I hope it is the latter – that would mean she finds me interesting enough to find out more things about me, too. “Where do you and your father come from?” I ask.
“From the south. The situation was getting really bad. Every day, we would be under attack by Mexicans, so Tseyi seemed the safest place to go to.” She is staring at her hands.
“I am sorry about your mother,” I say quietly.
“Yes. So am I.” Her hand touches the turquoise pendant hanging from a chain around her neck. “This belonged to her.”
“It must be good to have something to remind you of her.” I cannot help myself – I am still staring at her. Ho’oneno does not look a day over sixteen, and yet, she seems so wise. I feel comfortable around her, but at the same time, I feel nervous.
“So, let me go back to the village. I do not want to tempt you any more than necessary,” she suddenly says, standing up.
I look at her, somewhat taken aback. “What do you mean?” I feel caught. Did she see me gape at her like that?
She chuckles. “With my corn porridge. You are not supposed to eat until tonight, are you? I do not want to make it any more difficult than it already is.”
“Oh. Oh, I see,” I owlishly mumble back, waving at her when she smiles at me and walks away in the direction of the new section of our village, where we have created newly-built hoghans for the fugitives.
I turn back to my parents’ hoghan, where Tsosi is just helping our dad saddle up the horses for a trip to the neighboring village. He follows me inside to wrap up a few pieces of corn bread for the journey, looking at me inquisitively. “Why the beatific smile?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Beatific smile? Me?”
He chuckles. “Well, yes. You can tell me all about it later, okay?” Laughing, he steps out of the hoghan.
Feeling confused, I slowly sit down on my mattress to put on some fresh clothes for tonight, mentally going over every small detail of my conversation with Ho’oneno. I know I should be focusing on more important matters, and suddenly, I wish I did not have to do a ritual or fast all day long. All I want is to work in the orchard and chat with her the entire afternoon. Picking peaches and making light conversation would be the perfect opportunity to get to know her a bit better.
But I can’t. I cannot want that. I have responsibilities – I know that only too well. All of a sudden, and for the first time in three hundred years, I feel a certain defiance toward Shash, my totem animal and protector. What he expects of me is beginning to feel like too much. But quite frankly, I should not blame him. I do this to myself – always putting pressure on everything I do. The fact I am the protector of the Diné people does not necessarily mean I cannot have a happy life filled with love.
I close my eyes, thinking back to the moment the yenaldlooshi appeared to me. The memory of their faces has not faded after all these years. I still remember what they looked like, and the sound of their voices. I just cannot see how they could still haunt me after all these centuries. How could they? They are witches, but they are certainly not immortal. They are dead. They have to be.
And then, it hits me. I let out a mocking laugh. What am I thinking? This is all just a fantasy. I have hardly spoken two words to that girl, and already, I am plotting my next ten moves. Maybe she is not even interested in me. She probably has a lot of other things than boys to keep her mind occupied, having only narrowly escaped a bloody war. In all likelihood, she just wants to be left alone.
Still, I feel apprehensive as I make my way to the ceremonial hoghan that night. A number of people are waiting in front of the building. Aditsan, the oldest hataalii, greets me warmly. Together, we take the group of six into the hoghan. My heart takes a little leap when Ho’oneno turns out to be among them. That is no surprise – she is guilty of killing two Mexicans and is undoubtedly in need of spiritually vindicating herself.
The ceremony lasts until well after sundown, and when we finally emerge from the hoghan again, my face is sticky with sweat and my eyes feel as if they can fall shut any moment. Despite this, I immediately stand straight and try to look as awake as possible when Ho’oneno addresses me.
“I feel a lot better now, thanks to you and Aditsan.” She smiles her sunny smile, and I can feel my heart skip a beat. She is so gentle and yet so strong.
“You are welcome,” I simply reply.
She watches the sky. “I had lost it, you know. The ability to walk in beauty. I found life to be unfair, cold and hard.” She steps a bit closer. “But now, I am thankful again. Thankful for everything I did get to keep. I am grateful for the safety that Tseyi provides us and all the clans living here.”
I glance upward too, taking in the stars that have inspired me so many times. “I am happy to hear you feel at home here.”
“That is not so difficult. Just look at this valley. Everything here is still so beautiful and untainted.”
I hesitate, my heartbeat quickening. “Have you walked the mountain path yet which takes you beyond the valley to the viewpoint?”
Ho’oneno shakes her head, looking at me curiously.
“Would you like to join me for a walk tomorrow? Perhaps I could show you around.” I smile at her, and the familiar smile that confuses me so much appears on her face again.
“Yes, of course,” she accepts enthusiastically. “That is nice of you. When do you want to go?”
“After breakfast?” If possible, I would like to spend all day with her, so I suggest the earliest time possible.
“That sounds good. All right.” For a split second, she grabs my hand and her fingers touch mine. “I will see you tomorrow. Thank you for the wonderful ceremony.”
“See you tomorrow, shan díín,” I blurt out without thinking twice. My stomach fe
els funny when she gapes at me with her eyes wide open. A cute blush creeps up her face, a shy smile trembling around the corners of her mouth as she looks down and intently stares at the earth in front of her feet. Then she turns around and walks away. I stare after her. She nimbly moves away from the square, chancing a look over her shoulder to take in my still beaming face. Then, she almost skips around the corner of the largest hoghan, disappearing from sight. A happily fluttering butterfly.
I exhale. Heavens. I am impressed with myself. I pulled that off quite well, after endless years of dutiful service and detachment.
“Well, that definitely explains the beatific smile this morning,” I suddenly hear Tsosi’s voice piping up behind me. Apparently, he has been waiting for me outside after the hózhójí. He must have overheard the conversation between me and Ho’oneno. He meets me with a large grin when I turn around.
“Yes... she is a nice girl,” I respond, still lost in dreamy thought. “So, how was your trip to the neighboring village?”
Tsosi deflects my question. “Oh no, do not change the topic. We can talk about the neighbors every day. I want to know everything about your new girlfriend.”
I start to grin sheepishly. “Well, girlfriend... Such big words. I am just going to take her out for a walk, shik’is.”
Tsosi waggles his eyebrows. “Oh yes. A walk in beauty, I suppose.” He shoots me a meaningful look.
I blush. “Right. I am going home. I am worn out, and tomorrow I want to be fit.”
“I can imagine,” Tsosi chuckles, still in his teasing mood.
As I saunter back home, I catch myself humming a tune. I have not done that for a very long time.
In the days that follow, Ho’oneno and I cover quite some miles of mountain paths. Sometimes, we sit in silence on the rock plateau overlooking Tseyi, but most of the time, we stroll along the canyon edge. More and more frequently, we are holding hands while we walk or sit together.
Ho’oneno talks. She tells me about the life she had in the south, the land I know so well from my previous lives. The area has radically changed. According to her, no one could be certain to live through the day, herds of sheep were stolen from Diné farmers to feed the growing population of Mexico, and our people were traded as slaves so the Mexicans could grow richer.
As she talks, I can see how the restlessness gradually fades from her eyes. It had already started after the hózhójí ritual, but it goes beyond that now. She seems more relaxed, care-free and happier by the day. She says she is like her mother, who was a strong, brave woman. When she talks about her mother, a light shows up in her eyes that seems more than love alone. Perhaps it is a feeling of loss I see in her gaze, a kind of melancholy and longing for something that will never return.
“Thank you for listening,” she says to me one night, as we are sitting next to each other on the plateau near the precipice where I used to watch stars by myself. “I just cannot stop talking. I am like a waterfall.”
“I like listening to you.” I let out a sigh. If only I could talk to her about the things going through my head. I know it is too much for another person to fully comprehend, but still, I wish I could. I would not mind sharing it with her.
“Am I boring you?” Ho’oneno sounds insecure. She must have heard me sigh. I throw her an apologetic look. “No, not at all. I was just thinking about my own life, that is all.”
“You do not talk much.” She looks back pensively.
“No,” I say after a short silence.
She smiles. “That is all right. You do not have to talk if you do not wish to.”
Without thinking, I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “I will talk one day,” I say, even though I do not know if I can stick to that promise.
Ho’oneno relaxes into my embrace. A warm glow radiates off her skin, and it suddenly tips my balance. All week I have spent in her company, but I have only gone as far as holding her hand. She still seems so inaccessible, but at the same time, so fragile. I do know I could take this further – the look she gave me when I called her shan díín for the first time is etched into my memory. Still, I am hindered by the cautiousness that has become second nature to me through the years, all the conscientious detachment I have had to bear weighing down on me. What will this girl get involved in if she chooses to stay at my side?
I turn my face toward her. She leans her head against my shoulder, staring into the distance. Very gently, I let my hand touch her hair, stroking the soft strands, and I can feel how she moves even closer. Then, she lifts her face to meet mine, smiling at me innocently and yet seductively.
“Hey,” she whispers close to my face.
“Hey.” My pulse quickens when I press my lips to hers, the sweet yucca scent of her hair wafting into my nostrils. I hear her moan softly, and I pull her into my arms. She caresses my chest, her hand resting on the place where my heart is beating wildly.
When Ho’oneno finally pulls away, she stares deep into my eyes. “You saved me,” she whispers with a smile full of love. “You saved me from bitterness and the wish to take my revenge inflicting pain on people. You gave me peace.”
I am lost for words. “You gave me peace as well. And love. I have never felt like this about anyone before,” I finally reply.
We sit on the rocks above the canyon until the sun sets – laughing, talking, kissing, embracing. I almost cannot believe this is happening. Everything is so incredibly beautiful, so good and so pure it brings tears to my eyes.
At the end of that year, I join Ho’oneno’s household, moving into her and her father’s hoghan. We organize a small ceremony to celebrate me joining her clan. Normally speaking, I would be joining her mother’s household, but of course, Ho’oneno’s mother is no longer alive.
With a solemn gesture, my wife puts the pendant once belonging to her mother around my neck. “I will stay with you,” she quietly states, looking at me with eyes full of love and affection, a hint of sadness mingled with those other emotions. During important occasions like these, she misses her mother terribly.
Naalnish puts his hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the family. I wish you both a long and happy life together.”
A longer life than he can imagine, in my case at least. I take Ho’oneno’s hand, pulling her close, kissing her like I have never kissed a woman before. With her, I feel at home.
1841
I have returned from the forest with a bag full of medicinal herbs. Aditsan has put Ho’oneno inside the hoghan where he often treats his patients with much success, but when I enter, he looks more worried than usual.
“I cannot determine the cause of her fever.” I hear how he is trying to suppress the panic in his voice, and that makes me even more scared.
I kneel down next to her. She has been terribly sick since last night. My sweet girl... my sunbeam. Her eyes glitter with fever, her cheeks burning with heat. She is delirious, but she does recognize me. “Shi’hastiin. My husband – you have come back.”
“Yes, she’esdzáán... my wife.” I hold up the bag of herbs. “I found you some medicine.”
Tears well up in her eyes. “I lost it,” she sobs, extending her cramped hands toward me. Puzzled, I look up at Aditsan, who wordlessly shows me a blanket with a large stain of blood on it. It is the blanket Ho’oneno fell asleep on when I left the village that morning.
“It happened this afternoon,” he softly explains.
I am trying to hold back my own tears when I look at all the blood Ho’oneno lost. She was three months pregnant, but the high fever raging through her body has proven to be fatal to our unborn child. I bite down hard on my lip. There is no time for mourning. I have to keep myself together, or else I will lose my wife too.
“Leg,” Ho’oneno whispers in a hoarse voice, when she has stopped crying in my arms. “Hurt.”
“Where does it hurt?” I put my hand on her thigh.
“Not there. My calf. Left.”
I bend toward the spot on her leg she is poin
ting at, and suddenly my attention is drawn to a lump on her calf. It looks like something underneath the skin has caused an infection.
I call Aditsan once Ho’oneno has dropped off in slumber again. “Can you come look at this? Could this be infected because of a thorn getting under the skin? Or a tick, maybe?” Neither of those two options would cause a high fever like this one, but I do not want to rule out any possibility. Besides, I do not have any other explanation.
Aditsan frowns when he looks at the swelling. “Strange. I suggest we start a ceremony to counter the infection, while also using a knife to cut the skin open. Whatever is hidden underneath, it has to come out, that much is clear.”
We work together in silence. My old friend prepares the herbs I have collected, makes a small sandpainting and starts to chant when Ho’oneno has gulped down the herbal tea with great difficulty. Her fever does not go down – it only seems to be getting worse. I am beginning to feel desperate.
When I finally put the knife to her skin, Ho’oneno wakes up and sits up straight. She cries out in pain before I have even touched her.
My mouth set in a grim line, I make a small incision while Aditsan softly chants and shakes his rattle. She seems to calm down a bit, staring at her leg with wide eyes. To my own surprise, I remove a small piece of bone from her skin which is not her own. It is almost like it was implanted by something or someone. A sudden shiver goes through me when I put the bone splinter on the floor next to me. I clean the wound and apply some ointment, feeling slightly relieved when I notice the wild look fading from her eyes. I touch her forehead, and notice the fever has gone down, too.
When I look at Aditsan again, he gives me a deeply worried look. He picks up the piece of bone with yucca fiber wound around his fingers and walks outside. After a minute, I can hear him digging a hole in the ground. The smell of smoking fire drifts into the house.
Ho’oneno has fallen asleep holding my hand, looking completely peaceful now. I wish I could say the same about my own state of mind. Feeling sick to the stomach, I go out, staring into the flames of the fire that Aditsan has lit in the small pit he has dug to burn the bone fragments and yucca fiber together.