The board meeting in the museum was in full progress. Seventeen men and women sat silently around a large polished table.
Eventually the chairperson stirred. “It’s tricky alright, Charlie,” she said. “If we don’t handle this right and the Peigans decide to make a fuss, it could hit national news.”
“Right, that’s all we need, a confrontation,” muttered a voice from the far end of the table.
Charlie Budzynski shook his head. “No, no, don’t exaggerate. That’s not an issue. This request hasn’t come officially from the Peigan people. It’s just something my son found out and felt strongly enough about to want me to point out to the board. Mind you…” he added thoughtfully, “if we handle it right, it could do us a lot of good.”
“Well, I think it’s ridiculous,” said Mrs. Saunders forth-rightly. “Why should a 10-year-old boy dictate to us what photos we can hang in our museum? Photos don’t hurt anyone.”
“Nobody’s ’dictating’, Mrs. Saunders.” Mr. Berg leaned forward and looked across at the chairperson. “Danny’s in my class, and it was through a Socials project he researched that he came across this information. He’s a bright boy, I was most impressed with his project and the accuracy of his research. I think we should give him and his friend a hearing, then decide what to do.”
The rest of the board nodded in agreement, so the chairperson went to the door and ushered in a scared-looking Danny and Joshua.
The chairperson smiled at them and pulled forward two seats. “Thank you for coming to our meeting, please sit down.”
Danny and Joshua perched uneasily on the edge of their chairs while the chairperson turned to the board members. “This is Danny Budzynski and his friend, Joshua Brokenhorn.”
Everyone looked at them.
“Come on Danny,” whispered Joshua nudging him in the ribs. “Say your bit and let’s get out of here.”
Danny gulped. This was far worse than the class project. He looked around wildly and saw his father and Mr. Berg sitting together. They both smiled encouragingly.
“It’s about the display in the museum, in the First Nations gallery.” His voice came out tight and high in the big room. Danny cleared his throat and started again.
“See… I’ve been to the museum a lot for a couple of years… And… and the thing I liked best was the photograph of the Sundance.”
Everyone nodded understandingly.
“But then I got to know Joshua here and… and I did some research and listened to Joshua and his grandfather… and I found out that the photo shouldn’t be here at all.” He finished in hurry.
“That photo was given to us by the Glenbow Museum in Calgary. What is good enough for them is surely good enough for us,” said Mrs. Saunders flatly.
“But the people at the Glenbow museum aren’t Peigan,” said Danny earnestly. “To First Nations people the Sundance is sacred. It should never have been photographed as it’s too holy. The ceremonies are kept secret and it’s a ceremony that they don’t choose to share with white people.”
“Is this true?” said one of the other board members to Joshua.
Joshua spoke in a voice so soft the board had to strain to hear him. “My grandfather is one of the Peigan elders. He gave Danny the information but he said it’s hard for white people to understand.”
“So what do they want us to do with the photo?” asked another member of the board.
Danny shrugged. “I dunno. I never asked. In fact the elders never asked me to come here… It was just my idea.” he finished miserably. “I just didn’t feel good seeing the photo any more when I knew it was wrong. I think the elders would like it taken down.” Joshua nodded in agreement.
“Thank you Joshua, Danny. We really appreciate you giving us this information. The board will discuss the issue and let you know.” The chairperson rose and opened the door for them. Danny and Joshua filed out and the door closed behind them.
“What now?” Joshua asked, as he and Danny walked moodily down the sidewalk. “Do you think they’ll take the picture down?”
Danny shrugged.
Joshua sighed philosophically. “Well, we tried. See you tomorrow morning?”
“I can’t.” Danny looked uncomfortable. “There’s something I’ve got to do.”
“I’m working for your Dad in the afternoon.”
Danny grinned. “Want me to come and scoop? I’ll teach you how to do a quad.”
“Only if you promise not to touch the till.” Joshua fled, laughing, with Danny in full pursuit.
The next morning Danny had set his alarm early. There was only a hint of daylight as he quietly dressed and tiptoed out of the house. He headed west across the fields jogging through the farm lands until he came to the prairie bluffs on the banks of the Oldman River.
The sunrise was liquid gold. It spilled across the sky, firing the tips of the distant mountains then flooded down across the prairie, gilding every blade of grass.
Danny moved slowly across the bluffs, eyes down, searching. He was looking for something he’d found on a postcard and pasted in his scrapbook, something Joshua had said could be seen on these bluffs. An inconspicuous tipi circle. Slowly and carefully his eyes raked the ground.
There, he found it, a stone half hidden in the grass, and another, and another. A half-buried circle of stones, all that remained of a long-gone tipi encampment on the banks of the Oldman River.
Danny stepped gently into the centre of the stone circle and stood, alone with his thoughts. He then put his hand in his pocket, slowly pulled out the Scottsbluff point and held it up to the sunrise.
It glowed.
“You helped me, but you don’t belong to me,” Danny whispered. “But I can’t bear to give you to a museum. You belong here, on the prairie, with the spirits of the people who made you.” He knelt down, gathered a handful of fragrant sage and wrapped it around the point.
Carefully placing the package on the ground, Danny moved to the edge of the tipi ring and loosened one of the stones. Gently he lifted it out, placed it on the grass, and scratched a hollow in the soft earth where the stone had been. He returned purposefully to the circle centre. Very gently he picked up the fragrant package with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. He pulled out a willow whistle.
Holding the package before him, Danny blew to the north, the south, the east, and the west, summoning the newly-awakened world to witness his actions, then returned to the hollow.
Tenderly he fitted the package into the earthy nest, replaced the stone and adjusted the surrounding moss and lichen to fit. He blew on the top and the leftover dust scattered. There was nothing to show what he had done.
Danny moved back into the centre of the circle and picked another handful of sage. He crumbled it in his hands, breathing in the heady scent, then he lifted his hands in the air. “I give you back to the earth,” he whispered, “but one day, let someone else like me borrow you for a while.” He spread his fingers and watched the sage dust disperse on the breath of the early morning breeze.
Above him, a black silhouette circled majestically as a bald eagle soared overhead. Danny squinted up with eyes half shut against the brightness as it circled nearer the sun.
As he watched, a small black dot seemed to detach before the eagle disappeared. Danny’s body became at one with the earth. Only his eyes moved, following the black speck as it wafted downwards in slow circles. He held his breath, then expelled it in a great sigh as the eagle feather drifted slowly to his feet.