Spirits of the Wildflowers

by Parris Match

Ahcoo’ah instructed the people to spread-out wide from the trail, to create dry fuel for the future. The brothers and sisters damaged the new growth, breaking the green stalks and branches of the provided brush as they proceeded towards the hallowed burning ground; making the necessary firewood for the next time, a dead companion must be committed and united with natures’ institution of the elements.

  A commanding call went out; directing the people to start collecting the power of the firewood needed to cremate and transform the body of the unwelcome visitor. Arriving at the burning place, the people stacked their firewood in a narrow crevice, between two mammoth boulders, one end of the separation being blocked with an interlocked back wall of rocks. The brothers and sisters amassed the firewood in the open kiln until it was as high as two brothers. Climbing up the side of the stepped boulder, dragging the body of the stranger, the brothers spread the slimy deerskin pelt on top of the firewood and carefully positioned the stinking corpse atop. Ahcoo’ah removed the carved wooden object from his waistband, which he had taken from the stranger’s neck; ordering one of the elder brothers to return up the side of the boulder and place it on the unwanted humans’ chest. The fire was mid-lit from an impassioned ember carried from the village, and the cleansing flames roared into the now morning sky, thick black acrimonious smoke rising. The Forgotten Ones, men and women, sustained the fire later into the day, until all of the morbid flesh remnants of the unacceptable stranger were gone; gladly returned to the almost harmless, dispersed, vaporous, miasmas of the spirit world.

  The wooden object positioned on the funeral pyre, was a symbol of abomination, to the free noble, compassionate Forgotten Ones; for public sacrifice was the worst evil in the grey enslaved history of their people. Because the direct personifying object, Ahcoo’ah had removed from the neck of the Stranger; was a small, finely hewn, wooden cross, outset with a crude carving of a near-naked man, arms out-stretched in bowed supplication, hanging rejected refuse, clearly cast down in death.

  Diminishing flickering light of the flame, remains on the enraptured faces, to the reminded ending of this fireside tale; Eeboh, also a brother story teller, naturally fulfilling his duty, re-kindling the peoples interest in the point of the Spirits design.

  Dacoh held a deep respect for Ahcoo’ah, carefully listening to every word he spoke, watching each gesture, and to take note of tone, emanating from him, learning the persuading ways of a gifted Story Teller. The often repeated stories of The Forgotten Ones were indelibly burned into the memory of Dacoh, filling him with the detailed history and traditions, as well as the inner native spirit, of his hardy vibrant people.

  During the summer following the visit from the impure Stranger, Ahcoo’ah told the stories over and over again, making sure every single one of the family was included. Many members of the tribe had died of the mysterious sweating illness; Ahcoo’ah felt a deep foreboding, which prompted him to teach all of the people the precepts and inscribed codes of The Forgotten Ones. Ahcoo’ah had a special place in his heart for Dacoh, like a father for a son; addressing Dacoh, in private talk on occasion, as ‘Dacoh’ah’. Dacoh was satisfied with pride when Ahcoo’ah gave him this complimentary identity; but he kept it to himself.

  Near the beginning

  The forced renascence of the visionary romantic excites the scent of the must, a fathers driving impulse for his pride; the most ideal, floral garden, of The strong and beautiful Forgotten Ones; was compulsively transplanted by Bahcoo’ah, the wisest of all the Story Tellers. If not for the innate wisdom, enduring fixed faith, and devotion, of the honorable Bahcoo’ah; the seed, the life-blood, and the delightful essence, of his family, would not have even survived.

  A great almighty river for always flowed from east to west, locked within its deep exacting channel, filled by many torrential tributaries from the never ending range of loftily-high snow covered mountains, reaching far into the cold intermittent northern lights. Crashing through enormous and thunderous rapids, the magnificent river turbulently dropped in elevation, leaving the isolated high-fields of idle rust, the abandoned tablelands of the vermillion mesa; then slowly meandered to the south, and again flooding into another cataclysmic descent, disappeared into a fathomless grand abyss. Where the river slowed, a vast rolling spacious plain exists; a fertile alluvial receptacle, retaining rich dark soil, populated by many colorful peoples; planted and arranged flowers, dispersed and separated, cover the open fields and also thrive within the shallow snug hollows and basins throughout. This abundant bountiful place was the home for numerous florescent families, Bahcoo’ah’s family being one of them. Bahcoo’ah was the recognized most eminent Story Teller for each and every one of the many people living on the rivers almost wide verdant plain.

  All of the people lived on the near level east side of the river; for on the other side, the land quickly arose to an elevated high crimson plateau; overlaid by a sparse sprinkling of stunted trees, splendid blushful mounds of shaped rock, withered tufts with the straw grasses, scattered prickly brush-islands of fragrant sage; a roughly flat arid countryside stretching endlessly westward. The inquisitive people of the fertile plain had made cursory explorations into the upper, rusty, pulverized and slated sandstone plateau; only atonal lyric Spirits in it’s emptiness, over the past generations; and had found it to be entirely bewitching, but an almost dry uninhabitable place, scarcely then inadequately watered on rare occasion. It was always looked upon as an unlimited barren marginal wilderness, not a reliable land for mankind to subsist and progress.

  The many families living on the firmly settled plain were a prosperous people, having plenty of food to eat, with flourishing crops of maize, beans, and multi-colored gourds; also growing cotton to clothe themselves, and to weave floor mats and woven blankets; or to take common bluish-white clay and assorted bent-grasses, to form decorative pottery and interlace intricate baskets; to keep or to use for trade.

  Seen and unseen alike glorious gifted corollas, wavering colorful petals in a perfect garden plot, symmetry or a little difference matters not; some and various fields of gleaming yellow and brilliant white, bright opened flowers close resembling the Sun; indications of crimson-red, parallel lines of purest-blue, seldom found orange, extravagant violet and even soft-pink, hidden in the shadowed hollows or openly grow beside the crooked winding paths or the circling byways.

  The affluent comfortable residents of the rolling plain were a small part of a greater nation of peoples, spreading hundreds of miles to the east and to the south. This large cohesive confederation of proper, clans and tribes, of collective families, was known as The People of the Sun.

  The northern perimeter of the Nation, of The People of the Sun, was bordered along the abrupt southern vermillion cascade of a connected series of high, brushwood covered, jade-topped mesas; extending far to the east, sporadically deeply indented by the Spirits’, sudden flood waters, occasionally angry erosion. These limited shallow box canyons, reaching into the mesas lustrous contrary orange-reddish-yellow interiors; that which reliably supplied the leaching water necessary for the mounded maize fields, and green then yellow gardens, of the gathered populace.

  Situated near the center of the colorado tablelands fall, built up against and under a protecting, concave over-hanging cliff, was the exceptional imposing and shinning Golden City; the collected soul and beating heart of the greater extended, Nation of the Sun.

  The grand majestic Golden City was constructed of hundreds of multi-storied compartments, stucco partitioned cells indented beneath the protection of the domed cliff, housing twenty-seven hundred closer citizens of The People of the Sun. Situated below, on a smoothed communal plain in the forefront of the chambered city, was an assembled collection of windowed adobe brick buildings, placed in a very precise manner; by slotted measure of opportunity, to quite capture the dual Spirits’ proclaiming light, and track the journey of the Sun Spirit throughout the year. The interior walls of the stucco-coated structures were orderly covered with etched and
painted pictures, depicting many revered secret symbols and significant stories of the ancient-people. In addition to these sacred houses of observation, three large, many tiered arenas were built, excavated deep into the ground, for the ritual bi-annual gathering of all the peoples. It was a splendid awesome sight to behold, when the bright clear morning Sun, explicitly shone upon the illustrious gleaming Golden City, of The People of the Sun.

  All of the main paths of the Nation, from the west, from the east, or from the south, led to the magnificent Golden City. Story Tellers from throughout the nation would convene within the city, at two cardinal specific times of the year, to confer and advise each other on the just state of affairs of The People of the Sun. Each community of peoples, whether located in the scattered nooks and valleys or an expansive plain, with their respective Story Teller, made-up the loose confederation of The People of the Sun, which had existed for more than several centuries.

  By an informal nodding consensus, the Story Teller of the Golden City was aptly recognized as the non-obtrusive benevolent leader of the Nation of the Sun; to serve as a primary example and respectable symbol for the tribes, and to represent and carry-out the harmonious traditions and bylaws of the people. This Story Teller’s name was wellknown by every citizen within the nation; the honorable Iicoo’ah, the grand Iicoo’ah, the humble host of the Nations’ alliance of equality.

  Story Tellers held each other in high regard; to criticize or to denigrate one another would be looked upon with extreme distrust. Polite deference was the key to peace. Grace and proper decorum was given to each and every Story Teller, not one having any more credibility than the other, not for someone to presume too much. The stability and prosperity of the nation depended upon this conviction; a gentle blending of individual impressions and modest emotions, for the continued survival of The People of the Sun.

  Residents of the Golden City were proud to be the beating heart of the Nation, the center of the people’s attention, and the cross roads for the commerce of the nation; their stature being reinforced by the celebrations of the longest and shortest daylight, privately considering themselves occupying one notch higher than the average citizen. Because of the large number of people living in the city, their society was much more closely structured; having many brothers of the tribe placed in authoritative positions, in-charge of performing specific duties, advised by the ultimate managing director; at the close behest of Iicoo’ah. The extensive fields of crops to be tended, spreading out from each side of the city, watered by the wellsprings seeping from the vast overhanging mesa, which protected this community from the winters northern chill; crafting pottery and weaving blankets and carpets, for trade throughout the nation and infrequently beyond; construction and repairing of the arenas and buildings of the Golden City; these were a few of the responsibilities of the selected brothers who would then obediently report back to their grand Iicoo’ah.

  Iicoo’ah firmly believed, in silent counsel; that if he were not in complete judicious control of the Golden City, the Nation of the Sun, would weaken gradually, begin to fail, suddenly collapse, and fade away.

  The administrative ability Iicoo’ah possessed was unmatched, his mind could regulate and keep track of hundreds of details of the needs of his people; he prided himself on his own opinion, to focus on the basic requirements of his brothers and sisters, and not to be dissuaded by their wavering temperament. He looked upon his people and spoke to them as children, placing his hand on their shoulders, bestowing his swaying patronage, and watching over their every fault. The residents reliant of the Golden City respected Iicoo’ah; but also silently feared him, for he was an exacting leader.

  Twice a year, during the summer and winter solstice, when the loyalty and viewpoint of the Sun Spirit were brought into question; Story Tellers from every part of the nation would converge on the Golden City, to meet and report on the present conditional status of The People of the Sun. The paths leading to the Golden City from distant villages would be filled with Story Tellers and their selected escorts, traveling for many days to reach the center of their nation. This was also the time for sacred rites and celebration, and games; an opportunity to show trade goods; a reason for members of a diverse family of tribes to sit in tiered sessions, and get to know one and another. The mixed population of the capital city almost doubled at these definite phases of the year.

  On the brushed smooth plain directly in front of the Golden City, a number of adobe buildings were situated in a very specific manner, with carefully observed narrow slotted windows; the symbolic abode of the wolf, the mountain lion, the bear, and the badger. These slotted windows were methodically placed to track the Sun, to determine the exact location of the Sun, in his journey from the north to the south, and then returning to the north again. The beginning of the beginning, or the beginning of the end.

  The Winter solstice was predominantly important to the people, for it was a plaintiff call, soon made evident, renewing their faith that the Sun Spirit would return to their land; that their world would remain secure, unchanged, and continue to be abundantly prolific. The Summer solstice was a sign and celebration of a promise fulfilled, and a time for supplication, including a beseeching reminder for the Sun of the Spirits, to return again. The observance of the winter and summer solstice contained customary highly-dramatic rituals, diligently practiced and performed by the humble incited people, including the relatively new ritual of ceremonial execution, to quell the fears of wavering doubt; the sanctioned sacrifice of many a human life, to rid themselves of the nagging demons, those evil spirits in their darkness.

  For several lifetimes, fearful provocation from a dark southern Myth had bored into the pith and marrow of The People of the Sun, affecting their fundamental consciousness. Mysterious fireside boogeyman tales, traveled thousands of miles, from wandering tribesmen to wandering tribe, slightly changing with each telling; ignorant exaggeration prevailed. Stories passed-on like a low lying ground hugging white mist, weaving through the twisting canyons, drifting as the night-fog across the peopled valleys; to wander over and within the far-reaching, insolated, wide and driest, deserts void; constantly snaking northwards. Rasping whispers in the bemoaning wind, told of a giant colorful godlike Bird People, who lived far, very far to the south, where the perceived doubtful and fickle, Sun Spirit, was a much honored guest. An extremely powerful and exceedingly prosperous people, who erected a vast broad city of stepped stone mountains, where they welcomed and praised the higher Sun, and customarily sacrificed multitudes of their relative people, to insure their continued authority and privileged wealth. The beady-eyed Bird Peoples’; their easily chosen victims’ blood flowed, like a torrential stream, down the staircase gutters of the mountainsides, their beating naïve hearts being ripped from their chests and eaten with glee, then heads removed for the people to see. Because of the immeasurable distance between these two cultures, the stories were not totally believed, even nervously laughed at, for they were difficult to imagine or comprehend; but still the husk covered seed of abysmal fear, was deeply planted in the shepherded gullible native soul of The People of the Sun.

  Sacrifice had been practiced for several phases, during the winter and summer solstice; especially on the inclination of the winter solstice, to persuade all of the Spirits with celebration and offerings, to coax the Sun Spirit with flattery, to return from its hesitating journey to the south. There was a quiet, almost silent, difference amongst the Story Tellers regarding the practice of sacrifice, but the powerful influence emanating from the Golden City, and the insane possessed spectacle of the colorful event, convincingly dominated the minds of the people. The people chosen for sacrifice were always from the outmost perimeter of their elite Nation; those who could be readily denigrated, degraded to a lesser level of importance, relegated to the darker scum of their Nation; to easily hate and despise.

  Whole families of a kind, including their secondary offspring, were captured and brought to the Golden City to be sacrifi
ced to the higher Spirit; for it was believed, if you spared those crude parasitic young adults, it would surely bring you future retribution. Upon capture; old wrinkled people, dark-skinned grubby little children, and newborn purplish babies, and the slight or defective, were killed immediately; on Iicoo’ah’s direct orders; for they would not survive the debasing forced march to the beautiful vital Golden City.

  Bahcoo’ah made organized preparations for the journey to the Golden City; as the summer solstice neared, the people of the plain, at Bahcoo’ah’s petition, gathered the numbered provisions, produce and trade goods that would be transported to the special council’ seat of their nation. Many brothers; a few from the household of Bahcoo’ah, as well as others from the scattered villages on the plain, would accompany him to the Golden City. The men who would venture to the Golden City were looked upon as being very fortunate, for they would eyewitness extraordinary happenings and sights, to relate to their respective waiting families on their return. The people of the near flat plain, with no exception, were very prosperous; having an abundance of food, and comfortable dwellings, to protect them from the negative elements of fear and doubt; one secure brother willingly helping another, if the need arose.

  Profluent satisfying water, mostly leaching through the gifted loam, benevolently delivered by the pleased fundamental Spirits, from the higher elevations of the waters course. To supply small pocketed surrendering springs; kept the hillock-partially-fenced alluvial rolling plain, always fertile; a verdant well-watered secure homeland of exceeding beauty and prolific bounty.

  Several years of a slight reduction in the water level, precipitated a leisurely withdrawal of some people from the shrunken southern tracts of the plateau, with a minor ambiguous result after discussion; to integrate with the families to their north, admitted gladly, causing very little concern among the populace, for there was more than adequate room for them to re-settle, surpassing all their current needs.