75 Ween-cheen-chee-lah – young woman or young lady, often applied as a term of endearment
Lena remembered her mother performing this exact cleansing before they entered the sweat lodge to pray for her father. The scent of cedar needles, wild sage, wild sweet grass and tobacco brought back vivid memories.
Julie “bathed” herself with the fragrant fumes, facing the west, north, east and then south, and then kneeling upon the ground, ending her prayer by raising the bowl to the sky. The area was now sanctified, and the next ceremony could proceed.
Reva and Vicki sat upon the ground facing each other, legs crossed comfortably. This was the Naming Ceremony where Vicki would receive her NdN name.
Reva’s eyes closed as she prepared to announce her choice of name,
inspired by The Grandfather’s, after many hours of meditation.
Opening her eyes slowly, Reva gazed into Vicki’s wide orbs.
“Vicki will be known as Ina Waste Otawin76 Good Mother of Many. You have shown a great heart in taking my family in as your own, and have assured that we received the care we needed. I have seen
you feed the homeless and the struggling students. You have shown special care for my son, and I have watched as you have taught my
granddaughter, Lena. The Spirits call you Ina Waste Otawin, Good
Mother of Many, and so will we from now on."
Vicki and Reva rose, and made their way to the sweat lodge, a dome shaped-tent, erected earlier that day above a deeply dug hole. Water was poured upon the heated rocks, which Julie’s husband had placed within the sweat lodge in preparation of the ceremony.
Lavender was sprinkled upon them, so that its smoke would relax those within the lodge. Julie lead the Sweat Lodge Ceremony, explained its purpose and progression, and at intervals requested specific prayers be
offered up to Creator. Holding a canumpa, or pipe, and passing it, Julie
murmured a prayer. The heat increased within the dome-shaped lodge, and Lena began to feel light-headed.
“Now we must pray for someone other than ourselves,” Julie commanded, and various prayers were offered up. Lena prayed for her
father to continue to improve. Looking toward the top of the dome at the
prayer ties attached to the framework of the inipi, she wondered if Zitka
Mine would show up again and carry her up into the darkening sky.
The prayers finished, the ceremony ended, and everyone exited into a cooling night, thankful for a slight breeze upon their sweat-soaked brows.
Stepping out of the lodge, Reva took a star quilt, and wrapped it
around Vicki’s shoulders, then tied a hand dyed imitation eagle plume to her hair. Turning toward the relatives and guests, she announced,
76 Ee-nuh Wash-tday oh-tdaween – Good Mother of Many
“I take this one as my daughter. We have a bond through Hantewin77 and now she is my daughter. The spirits say that I am to make her my family. And so, Vicki, you are now my daughter who will be known as Ina Waste Otawin.” Reva announced, as Julie prayed over them with the canumpa pipe.
Traditionally, she would have tied an eagle plume to her new daughter’s hair, but since it is illegal for a non-Native individual, someone not listed on the tribal census of a Federally recognized Indian Tribe, to own one, an imitation feather was substituted. Reva then handed a lovely fan of macaw feathers to Vicki as part of the ritual. The Hunkapi Ceremony was now completed.
Julie stepped forward and motioned for Lena to stand before her. Surprising everyone, she tied an eagle plume in Lena’s hair and
announced,
“This is Ista Wambli-Win, Woman with the Eyes of an Eagle.”
Lena gasped, pleased and awed by the sound of her newest NdN
name.
Julie turned to the guests and proclaimed,
“This is Hantewin Ista Wambli-Win.” She then handed Lena a fan of Hawk feathers, and placed a star quilt around her shoulders. Smiling into Lena’s extraordinary eyes, Julie intoned, “Waste. Lila waste.”
77 Hahnz-tday ween – Cedar Woman
Chapter Ten
Half Side
Walking the path of my ancestors,
I bow to tradition,
And become Sioux once more.
Seeking, but not knowing
What it is I seek,
I search within myself
And find only a longing.
A chance encounter
Reveals a destiny,
In the touch of a hand.... The flash of a smile.
Our eyes meet across the arena, I duck my head...
Knowing but not seeing, What lies before me.
Love at first sight, Thought to be a myth,
I find myself confronted
With a glorious truth.
A sacred touch From the Creator above, Two souls become one And Half Sides are found.
Julie Spotted Eagle Horse Martineau
Lena sat outside of Julie’s tipi, a cup of Starbuck’s coffee nestled within the palms of her hands. Dawn was just breaking, and a sky of china blue and tender pink was beginning to emerge.
Dreamily searching the heavens, her breath caught within her throat. A single, white cloud, edged in pink, contained a smudge of apricot, as if Creator had wet his thumb and smeared the upper layer of the cloud to reveal the tender pastel color beneath. The effect was that of stained glass: ethereal, tender, unworldly.
Was it an omen? What did today hold for her? Lena felt a sense of urgency, a feeling of expectancy. The very air was full of portent.
Her path is not just with The People, Julie thought to herself. My path is here, learning the ways, living my life here among my own kind, but this wincincila will walk with all people.
Julie stood at the opening of her tipi, watching Lena as she gazed into the tender dome of Heaven. An overwhelming feeling of change washed over the stately matron. Turning to enter her lodge, Julie paused and looked again toward Lena. She gave an inward gasp. Lena sat within a nimbus of light, her beautiful hair floating on the fragrant morning air.
Lena and Nickie placed their powwow shawls over their shoulders, being careful not to allow the fringe to touch the ground. The Wopila, or Thank You Ceremony, in which Vicki would express her thanks to her new family for her adoption, was about to begin.
Vicki was already in the arena with Reva. Reva wore a blue shawl with red trim, the scarf beaded with chevrons and thunderbirds, which she had made shortly after her first lightning strike, and Vickie was in a beautiful shawl of pink and yellow, with beaded butterflies, made for her by Reva in anticipation of the Wopila.
Lena and Nickie, along with Julie, took their places near the front of an ever-growing line of family members, who wished to dance in support of their new kinswoman. Soon The Drum would begin the beat and sing a song in celebration of a new relative. A young man ascended the podium and leaned into the microphone.
“Hello, everyone. I am Sonny Glass, your narrator for this joyous occasion. We are here to celebrate the Making of Relatives Ceremony, culminated here today in the Wopila, or Giving Thanks Celebration.”
Standing at 5’11”, with long, blue-black hair, Sonny was a striking
figure in a white cotton shirt, turquoise bolo tie and jeans. Polished Western boots and a black cattleman cowboy hat caused many a young woman present to catch her breath in awe. His deep, brown eyes sparkled with humor and intelligence as he deftly held the crowd with his deep, resonant voice.
“For those of you here who are not NdN, I will explain what is happening here today,” Sonny continued, his voice melodic, his manner regal.
“Since the first memories, it has always been such: if a loved one
was lost through death, or moved away, it was not uncommon for an individual, or a family, to adopt someone to fill the empty place left by
the departed family member. Similarly, if a person had no siblings, or family members, the situation could be remedied through the same means.
“The Making of Relatives Ceremony, or Hunkapi, was celebrated last night, and is a rite not entered into lightly and meant to last for life.
“Today we witness the celebration of the adoption of a daughter, and she is here today to show her thanks to her new family.”
The crowd surrounding the showground applauded, and watched as the formed group began to proceed around the arena in time to the beat of
the powwow drum, Vicki and Reva in the lead.
In slow procession, they progressed. Vicki held a straw hat into which those wishing to congratulate her, dropped money.
“Congratulations,” they said. Vicki replied, “Wopila,” in return. Around the arena, they danced two, three, then four times. The
Drum ceased and Vicki walked to the group of men surrounding it, offering them the collected money with her left hand, the hand closest to
her heart. She and Reva, Lena, Nickie and Julie then strode to a blanket
spread upon the arena floor where gifts were presented to anyone who wished to partake of Vicki’s offerings.
There were Styrofoam gliders in the shape of birds, Frisbees and toy binoculars for the children, quilt squares of cloth in the four sacred colors, tied with raffia for those in the crowd who liked to sew, tobacco
for the Head Man and Sonny and candy for The Drum to “ease their
throats.” A simple quilt, lovely in its lack of pretension, was presented to the Head Woman, and a special gift that Vicki brought, completely on a hunch: a stuffed-toy lamb, which she presented to a two-year-old child who had performed his first dance in the arena the day before.
Lena noticed that no one was greedy. Each chose one gift, then approached Reva and Vicki.
“Wopila,” they each said, smiling, some adding, “Welcome to our family.”
Lena hurried to Julie’s lodge. Throwing herself into its dusky interior, she flung herself upon the ground. Hands pressed against her flaming cheeks, she fought for control.
Her mind went back to the arena, the Wopila, to the blanket where she stood with her family to welcome Vicki’s new relatives.
Lena was enjoying herself tremendously. Vicki and Reva’s happiness was apparent as they beamed at each other, and each person
who approached them to offer their welcome. Lena was very fond of
Vicki. No, she loved Vicki, and was happy and proud to welcome her into her family.
Vicki was good to Lena and her parents and grandmother. She made sure that the family earned a decent wage in order to be able to survive in comfort and to accord Peter the special care his condition required. She was like a second mother to Lena, so it was appropriate that she formally became just that. For, by becoming the sister of Mary, Lena’s mother, Vicki also became Lena’s mother, as the Lakota did not recognize aunts and uncles as such – at least not traditionally. A parent’s siblings were also considered the parents of any children born within the family.
When Vicki learned of this, she wept with joy. Taking Lena’s beautiful face within her hands, she kissed her forehead and both cheeks, whispering,
“I finally have a child.” Lena was touched.
She knew that Vicki cared for her, but did not realize the depth of
Vicki’s affection until that moment.
A slight breeze kicked up, and the smell of rain rode upon the puff of air. Lena gazed into the sky. Cumulus clouds now filled the china blue expanse of Creator’s heavens. The feeling of portent overwhelmed her for the second time that day, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
She could tell that he was beside her before any of her earthly senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste or touch, told her so. She just knew. She found it difficult to breathe, and a trembling coursed throughout her body. Turning slowly, her head bowed in confusion, she found herself gazing at a pair of exquisitely beaded moccasins. Little by little, she allowed her gaze to move up and up, her heart beating with such tremendous force, that the pulsation of the fabric of her white, cotton blouse bore witness to its frantic pounding. Before her was the regalia admired just two days before. Up, up, a strong, tanned throat, dark, flowing hair. She saw the flash of a brilliant smile. It was him. It was the Grass Dancer!
She heard him say,
“Congratulations,” heard Vicki’s happy reply, “Wopila,”
and he moved on.
There was a slight release of tension, but she could feel that he was still looking at her, his gaze focused upon her and her alone.
She couldn’t breathe! As soon as the Wopila was over, Lena walked rapidly from the arena and made her way to cover, like a rabbit
searching for a burrow in which to hide.
Lila Waste Winyan,78 Michael Young Bear breathed to himself. She caught his eye two days before, and he looked for her the following day, his disappointment in being unable to locate her surprising him. Now, here she was again, and a feeling of protectiveness, possessiveness and, yes, passion, overwhelmed him. The scene of only a few hours before played out before him: approaching her cautiously, stopping beside her, and being unsure of what to do, his nervous smile freezing as she looked up, meeting his gaze, giving him full view of her magnificent eyes.
Michael Spirit of the Grass Young Bear sat cross-legged on a patch of lawn in front of his cousin Sonny’s tipi. To say that he was in a state of shock would be an understatement. In fact, Michael was shaken to the very core of his being.
He knew that she was in the tipi across from Sonny’s. He had seen her fly into the entrance of the lodge like a rabbit running from a predator.
Did she feel the same thing I did there in the arena? he wondered to himself.
Upon approaching the family standing behind the gift-strewn blanket, with the mere intention of congratulating them on the adoption
of a new relative, he saw what he thought was a small child standing at the far edge of the group. Stopping and waiting for her to notice him, he
murmured,
“Congratulations.”
As she turned, he realized that she was, in fact, the young woman who caught his attention the first day of the powwow. Surprised and intrigued, Michael waited patiently as she slowly raised her eyes.
Was she trembling? he wondered? How could I tell? he answered himself, for the moment her eyes touched mine, even for that brief second, I was lost.
Michael had never been in love before. Oh, there were crushes and infatuations, and Michael dated his share of women, both NdN and wasicu, but these soul-shattering emotions were new to him. It was if she was already a part of him, his heart, his soul, his very breath.
Michael Young Bear was a tall, attractive man of the Lakota, his oyate of the Wiacca Sinte79 or Tail Feather People.
78 Lee-lah Washtay Ween-yan – Lovely young woman
79 wee-ah-kah sheen-tay – Tail Feather People
Standing six feet, with long, glossy black hair and deep, dark, brown eyes, his chiseled features and muscular body reminded many of the iconic actor, Christopher Reeve. Michael was unaware of his outward beauty. His awareness of himself was inward, rather than wrapped up in his appearance. Carefully planned, his regalia represented his dancing and included designs and symbols which reflected, not only his chosen dance as a grass dancer, but his family as well. How he looked in it, as far as women were concerned, never entered his mind.
Albeit only twenty-two, Michael led a frequently examined life, reflecting on his relationships with family and friends, even to his most inward thoughts and emotions.
He gazed at the tipi into which Lena had fled. She is but a little
bird, he reflected, unknowingly using her childhood name as a metaphor.
So small…so delicate…so beautiful.
Michael sat and watched the doorway of Julie’s lodge, waiting for
her to appear again. Waiting…waiting.
Sonny stood within the opening of his lodge and contemplated Michael. He knew what was going on in his young cousin’s mind. He had seen Michael’s reactio
n when Lena turned and finally looked into his eyes. Michael gave a start, and although Sonny could not hear it as far away as the podium, he could sense the gasp emanating from his young cousin’s throat.
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