Chapter Twenty-Two: The Rite of Misink

Four teenagers sat behind the water drums on the four corners of the pile of logs and began a cadence, soft at first, for people had not yet taken their places in the outer ring. Some of the younger children had to be fetched and forced onto the laps of their parents. Hushing and shushing ensued. A few late arrivals straggled in and hurried to their places after dropping photographs on the remembrance table in the other half of the chamber. One late arrival, slow and elderly, leaning heavily on his cane, went to the remembrance table and lit a candle and then somberly sat in one of the metal chairs. All of this movement and settling down took at least half an hour, as the drums played, gradually building in volume, until everyone in the cavern was at last still and silent.

Claire got up from where she had been sitting beside Tuki and Samantha, crossed over to the pile of logs, and, as the drumbeat softened, announced to all, “Kàles’ta! Listen. Please welcome Chief Wëli.”

The drums grew louder with the applause as Wëli took the center next to the pile of cedar.

“Wanish. Thank you, Wisawtayas. We begin, as always, with the story of creation and the lighting of the fire. Please welcome our tribal storyteller, our Lachimo, Kent Wisawta.”

The drums and applause filled the cavern and then quieted as Kent, an old man with a missing tooth, took his place near the pile of logs. Wëli returned to his seat beside Donna on the floor.

The drumbeat softened as Kent cried, “Kàles’ta. Listen. Kunakwat, lowat, nuchink, a long, long time ago, in the beginning, nothing existed but an endless space. There lived Kishelamàkânk, the Creator, also known as Father Sky.

“From the dust of his stars appeared Kukna, or Mother Earth.

“According to his vision, Father Sky first created the Keepers of Creation, the four powerful spirit beings from the four ends of Mother Earth: Grandfather North, the spirit of rock; Grandfather East, the spirit of wind; Grandmother South, the spirit of fire; and Grandfather West, the spirit of water.” After naming each of the four spirits, the storyteller pulled out a feather from his robe, so that he now held four feathers in his hand.

“The Creator instructed these spirits to come together to help him infuse living beings onto Mother Earth. Grandfather North gave form to all life, Grandfather East gave the breath of life, Grandmother South gave inner fire, and Grandfather West provided life’s blood and also mortality.

“First came the plant beings, then the animals, and finally, the humans.

“Kishelamàkânk weaved many laws into his creation for harmony and balance, governing the powers of rock, wind, fire, and water, the circle of life, birth, growth, and death.

“Grandfather North has provided us with these logs and rocks. Grandfather East sends wind through the upper openings of the cavern to feed the fire Grandmother South will now provide as I light this match.” Kent took a box of matches from his robe, struck one against the box, and put it to the kindling beneath the pile of logs. Another man stood up and fanned the fire with a piece of cardboard as the sound of the drums increased. Kent then added, “We will call upon Grandfather West to provide us with water to put out the fire at the end of our celebration. Wanishi. Thank you.”

The drums and applause roared as Kent returned to his seat and Wëli got up and stood near the fire. The drumbeat softened and the applause ended.

“Now it is time for the lighting and passing of the hupa’kàn.” Donna brought him a small ceramic bowl with a hollow stem and flat mouthpiece. He patted the tobacco with his fingers, then with a thin stick, took fire from the kindling, and put the stick to the tobacco. He sucked on the mouthpiece to draw the air through and get the pipe smoking. Then he gave the pipe to Donna who returned to her seat in the outer ring, and breathed in from the pipe. As she passed it to her daughter, who passed it on around the circle, Wëli spoke.

“I tell you now how the pipe came to the Unikwëti of Lenni-Lenape. A long time ago when Mother Earth was young and the people were all one, a disagreement came about over a sacred medicine derived from the tooth of a certain bear. The Council fire burned for many moons. No agreement could be reached. So the people divided into groups and went their separate ways.

“Over time, the language and ways of each group changed. Nanapush, a spirit helper to Father Sky, became concerned. He went to Father Sky and reminded him of the pipe once offered to him by Grandfather West, symbolizing their reconciliation. Nanapush asked Father Sky if a similar pipe could be made and given to the Lenape.

“So Nanapush made a great signal fire, calling all the different groups of Lenape back together again to Council. As they circled around the sacred fire of peace, Nanapush fashioned a pipe from stone, filled it with sweetgrass, blessed it, and lit the pipe from the fire of peace. As he smoked, he spoke with the Lenape, and their hearts were filled with peace and understanding. Nanapush instructed them to take the pipe as a gift, to fill it with a certain tobacco plant, and to smoke it as he had done that day whenever they were in Council, so their thoughts would rise with the smoke up to Father Sky, the Creator, and peace and order would be restored among them.”

The pipe continued to make its way around the ring of nearly two hundred people sitting on the floor, crossed legged, side by side. All those past the age of wisdom, which was seven years, smoked, including the elderly on the metal chairs. As the pipe made its round, Kent returned to the fire of peace to tell another story. Wëli went back beside Donna.

This time he brought with him a birdcage, and inside on a small perch stood a black crow. Kent held the cage up for all to see. Then he asked, “Who knows what creature this is?”

Several children raised their hands in earnest, and Kent pointed to a young girl, age five or six.

“It’s a bird.”

“What kind of bird?”

More children raised their hands, and Kent chose a young boy, about seven.

“It’s a crow!”

“That’s right. And now I will tell you the story about our friend Crow, who wasn’t always black. A long, long time ago, when Mother Earth was young, Crow had feathers of many colors, but in saving the other animals from the Great Snow, his feathers became sooty and his once magnificent voice was reduced to an annoying caw.”

Samantha whispered to her grandmother, “This isn’t the same story about crow you told me last year.”

Grandma Beck shook her head. “No, you’re right.”

The storyteller continued, “One day, after he had turned the color of soot, he found four colorful feathers on his side.” Kent pulled the feathers he had held before from his robe and held them up again now in his other hand. Still holding the bird cage in the other, he walked around the fire of peace and the soft-beating drums so all in the circle could see and hear.

“Confused, Crow flew to Father Sky and asked him what this meant. Father Sky, our Creator, replied that Crow was very special in that not only had he saved the four-legged creatures from the Great Snow, but now he had an opportunity to save the two-legged as well. Crow asked how he was to accomplish this. Father Sky said it was for him to find out. He told Crow to fly back down to Mother Earth and listen to her heartbeat and then he would find his answer.”

Samantha shifted where she sat on the cold floor thinking to herself that she too should listen to the heartbeat of Mother Earth and maybe she would know what to do.

“But Crow had no idea where to find the heartbeat of Mother Earth, so he flew around hoping to find it. Then one day, he heard the beat of a drum. He circled above it, listening. As he neared the source of the beat, he saw it came from the two-legged creatures, and he realized their drums were the heartbeat of Mother Earth.

“He followed the people as they danced around the circle, feeling peace and tranquility, and suddenly the meaning of the four feathers came to him. They represented the four corners of the Earth and were a reminder to him and to the two-legged creatures that the circle of life depends upon all the people to care for Mother Earth. For, without her, there is no future. Crow realized the Creator had given him this sign so he could save the two-legged creatures as he had once saved the four.”

After the applause and hoots of appreciation, Kent invited other members of the tribe to come to the fire of peace and share stories they remembered from long, long ago.

Three others shared their tales—Muni, the oldest of the Earth, who was tall and wiry even beneath his deerskin suit; Harley Dan, a middle-aged biker and a Wolf who taught tennis lessons in Chester, and was not bad looking, Samantha thought; and Patty, a large woman and the oldest of the Fish. In between their stories, Samantha begged her grandmother to tell the story about First Man and First Woman. After much begging and pleading from her son and granddaughter, and then from others nearby who heard the pleas, Gale Beck finally stood up from the metal chair and went to the center to share her story.

“My Grandmother, Kexi Kishku Smith, told me this story many times when I was a little girl. I have told this story to my son, and also to my granddaughter, and now they wish me to tell it to you. It concerns First Man and First Woman and their decisions about how things would be.”

Gale related the story exactly as she had first on the plane and then again at breakfast that morning, bringing enthusiastic applause from the crowd when she finished and nods of recognition from three or four of the older among them.

Before Gale left the center of the ring, Tuki stood and introduced her.

Gale added, “Being here tonight makes me wish my grandmother had never left the Unikwëti.”

Then Tuki asked Luther and Samantha to come to the center as well, to meet the entire tribe. “Many of you met them before we began, but I wanted to be sure you all had a chance to learn who they are and why they are here. This is the line of Kexi Kishku, daughter of Chief Wëli Kishku.”

Samantha gave Tuki a grateful, nervous smile as they sat back down in the outer ring.

What an imposter I am. How can I tell anyone the truth now that I’ve gone this far?

After a few other stories, Wëli announced they would now have their remembrance ceremony, if those who had not yet lit their candles would please do so. He said the candles represented those who had died in the past five years, but it was traditional to name all those members of the tribe who had died within the past fifty years and all of the chiefs from the beginning of time. The drums beat softly as one woman crossed the ring to the other area and lit a candle at the far table next to about ten others, already with flames.

Wëli then read from index cards the names of the people the candles represented, the years in which they lived, which clans they belonged to, their professions, and their surviving family members. Then he began a list of names that sounded like a chant, a song, an auctioneer even. Samantha recognized Tuki’s father and mother among them. She glanced at him, and he gave her a smile.

Very rapidly, Wëli named the chiefs from the beginning of time, which Tuki had told Samantha took them back to 700 B.C. He recited them from memory, like a student of geography naming the countries of Europe or a student of science the elements in the Periodic Table. “Selàkhatin, Pahapema, Ahanikula, Masënulei…” The sounds flowed together and were also song-like and, to Samantha, hypnotic. She swayed slightly as she sat there and listened to the leaders of the centuries. The entire ceremony took about twenty minutes.

Then those in the outer ring held hands as a woman of the Wind led the group in prayer. She said, “Heavenly Creator, fill our hearts with gladness as we remember these loved ones who have joined your spirit world. Help us to know they are still with us even though we can no longer see them.”

The sound of the drums grew louder as the people paused for a moment, all silent, and then, Wëli spoke again. “Before we break for our first meal and for some free time for visiting and games, I want to remind you to be back in this formation by four o’clock, which gives you two and a half hours. As always, we will begin with announcements of personal achievement or interest, then we will discuss any business and concerns pertaining to the tribe, and then any concerns people have about the nation or world at large. Following this tribal meeting, which usually takes thirty minutes, we will dance three traditional dances. This time they are the Grass Dance, the Duck Dance, and the very popular Stirrup Dance, so you might want to grab a beer to get you in the mood. He paused for their laughter. “After the dancing comes the Rite of the Misink, so we need a young woman of childbearing age and a man of the Turtle to volunteer. No one has yet stepped forward. Samantha and Tuki, maybe you would consider the honor?”

The group clapped and hooted as they broke up and headed toward the serving line. Samantha’s face paled. She hadn’t expected this. Could she really represent Mother Earth in the Rite of the Misink if she weren’t a true descendant of the Unikwëti of Lenni-Lenape?

 

Samantha’s father and grandmother enjoyed eating flatbread, roasted corn on the cob, a number of salads and fresh fruit, and roasted turkey legs while they visited with other members of the tribe. But Samantha couldn’t eat. She was too anxious about the ceremony. Surely she could get out of it?

They also watched the games taking place around the fire. The younger children competed against one another first, then the men, and finally, the women. After Samantha laughed at Jack for falling down during a jumping contest, he challenged her to compete with the women. She at first refused the challenge, much too nervous to play, but everyone around her pressured her until she, at last gave in. She ended up feeling glad for the distraction and relaxed a little in spite of her fear. Tuki, Gale, and Luther looked on with amusement as she hopped across the chalk lines and the referees marked her position with small stones.

“Not bad,” Tuki said.

She laughed but inwardly thought, if only he knew just how bad I am. I should tell him the truth, now, before the ceremony.

They went to another area and watched a dice game.

Later, after they had eaten their lunch and the games had all ended, the drums, with their heartbeat cadence, notified the tribe it was time to reform the outer ring.

Announcements were made around the circles from individuals, mostly parents concerning the latest accomplishments of their children, followed, each time, by enthusiastic applause and hoots and requests for the child to speak. Most of the children were too shy, but some of them, including a four-year-old girl, said a few words to the group.

The four-year-old stood and said, “I did a good job on my dance recital.” She chewed nervously on the end of a beaded string.

The mother said softly, “Say when it was and what kind of dance.”

“It was in the summer, and I did ballet.”

The circle of people clapped and cheered as the little girl sat down.

When it came time to discuss tribal matters, Wëli asked Samantha, Luther, and Gale to step into the center near the fire. With a rattle made out of a turtle shell, he touched each of them, giving them a name. “Gale will be known as Chawachto, which means dear, or precious, because she is like a lost pearl we have recovered from the ocean’s depths. Luther will be called Zelozelos, meaning cricket, because he is light on his feet, has a grainy voice, and has a round face and eyes. Samantha will be called Wulik Etchilhillat, which means beautiful mediator, for she has come to help Tukihëla reunite with his white grandfather after all these years.”

Applause ensued, the three returned to their places, and the tribal meeting moved on to other matters, including a collection to help the recent Hurricane Katrina victims.

Soon the drums resounded more loudly and a flute and rattles made of gourds joined them as Wëli called the men forth for the Grass Dance.

Tuki encouraged Luther to join in, even though he stood there, bewildered and late in catching what it was he was supposed to do. The other men, moving in a circle counter-clockwise around the fire, shook themselves and stomped their feet, with their arms straight against their sides and their heads lifted up. Donna leaned over and explained that they represented the preparing of the field for planting with their stomping and the grass blowing in the wind with their swaying upper bodies. The dancers made several revolutions around the fire to the flute, the rattles, and the drums before they began to shout to the rhythm of the heartbeat, “Kwëti, nisha, naxa, newa. Kwëti, nisha, naxa, newa,” which Donna said meant “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.”

“It’s a way of teaching some basic language to the children,” she added.

The drums roared and the flute and rattles stopped as the spectators clapped vigorously. The men returned to their places in the outer ring and the women and children stood now, forming a circle around the fire holding hands. Claire and Donna coaxed Gale and Samantha into joining the group.

Wëli announced, “Let the Duck Dance begin!”

The flute and rattles rejoined the drums as the dancers dropped their hands and then made quacking motions with their fingers, dancing around the fire, counter-clockwise like the men, for one revolution. Samantha and Gale did their best to imitate the others. Then, during their second lap, the dancers flapped their elbows and wiggled their hips while the men hooted and cawed, and the children laughed at one another.

Samantha also laughed, especially when she caught Tuki smiling at her.

After alternating these motions for two more laps, the women and children began to sing as they continued with the dance: “Xami, xami, ng-a-tup-wi! Xami, xami, ng-a-tup-wi!” which Tuki later translated as “Feed me, feed me, I am hungry! Feed me, feed me, I am hungry!”

When Samantha took her seat beside Tuki, he put his arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear, “You make a fine duck.”

She flashed him a brilliant smile as they broke out in laughter. Then they returned their attention to Wëli, who now announced the Stirrup Dance.

“Come on!” Tuki said, jumping to his feet and pulling Samantha up. “This is the craziest one yet!”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, I agreed to the Grand March, didn’t I? You owe me!”

Samantha laughed and followed him to a place in the ring.

The men formed an outer circle and the women faced the men in an inner circle closer to the fire. First they stood and clapped their hands to the beat of the drum as the flute and rattles joined them. The younger children, unattended, ran in circles around the outside of the men.

Then each man bent his right knee up in front and took the hands of a woman across from him. Tuki had made sure Samantha stood opposite him. Luther and Gale stood on one side of them and Wëli and Donna on the other. The women then mirrored the men, each placing her left foot over her partner’s right foot, as though on the strap of a stirrup. Now, guided by the men, as the drums played louder, the couples hopped counter-clockwise around the fire, trying to maintain the position. When two partners lost their balance, so the lifted feet touched the floor, they returned to their sitting position in the outer ring.

Grandma Beck was too old to last for more than a few seconds, so she and Luther sat down in the outer ring.

Gradually one couple after another dropped out of the dance until there were only five remaining, including Samantha and Tuki. The people seated on the outer ring then began a chant to the beat of the drums: “Heya, heya. Unikwëti hach ki. Heya, heya. Unikwëti hach ki.”

Samantha recognized the sound of the voices that had rung in her head just before she had passed out and entered a coma in San Antonio. They sounded the same now. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, and Tuki looked at her, perplexed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

But she gave no answer, for her eyes rolled in the back of her head, her body stiffened, and she suddenly fell in his hands.

 

Samantha frowned and wrinkled her brow. When she opened her eyes, she saw Tuki scowling at her. “What happened?”

“I’ll let your father explain. Excuse me.”

But before Tuki could leave her side, Wëli congratulated the winners of the Stirrup Dance. He and Donna had won second place to Jack and his wife. Then he called Tuki and Samantha to the center of the ring to begin the Rite of the Misink.

“Sam, are you sure?” her father called out to her, to which she shrugged, and then, hesitantly, nodded.

Before Tuki could object, the mask of Misink was painted onto his face and a bear skin hide draped over his shoulders. Wëli gave him the turtle shell rattle. At the same time Tuki was being outfitted, Samantha was wrapped in a white robe of corn silk, and a bronze tiara with turquoise, lapis lazuli, and ancient coral was placed on her head. Someone then smeared white paint on one of her cheeks and blue paint on the other, and a snakeskin belt was fastened around her waist.

“Wëli,” Tuki said. “You ought to know that…” His voice was drowned by the crescendo of drumbeats.

The sound of the drums beat louder as the helpers returned to the outer ring, leaving Tuki, Samantha, and Wëli in the center with the drummers. Wëli took a pocketknife from his robe, opened the blade, and held it to the fire.

“Brothers and sisters, we are in the midst of two great spirit beings, Kukna, or Mother Earth, and Misink, the guardian spirit of game animals. Please welcome them.”

Samantha wondered what was going on as Tuki tried once again to whisper his urgent message into the chief’s ear. Wëli brushed him off as the crowd applauded and he hastened the ceremony onward.

Reluctantly at first, and then with fierce anger, Misink danced around the fire as the crowd chanted to the beat of the drum, “He-ya, he-ya. He-ya, he-ya,” until Wëli lifted his hands and silenced them.

Samantha felt her knees go weak.

“As a sign to Misink and all the animals who sacrifice themselves for us, particularly the turkey who honors us today, we draw blood from one of our own, touch the blood to our fingertips, and taste it with our tongues. This will enable us not only to pay homage to the animals whom we taste, but also to share in communion with Mother Earth and one another.”

Samantha looked nervously at Tuki’s eyes, but she found no sympathy there. He seemed to transform behind the painted mask into an angry spirit.

“Oh, Misink, I present to you the knife, so that you may cut into the flesh of humans as we do in the animals you guard. Our sacrifice will then transform into Kukna.”

Did he say cut? Samantha glanced nervously at her father, whose expression had also changed from happy to concern.

Tuki abruptly grabbed Samantha’s hand and pulled her toward him, causing a cry to escape from her lips. He dragged her in a circle around the fire to the beat of the drums.

Then, Tuki cut through the skin at the tip of her index finger.

“Ow!” she cried. “That hurt!”

“You okay, Sam?” her father called to her.

She frowned but nodded as the voices began to chant: “He-ya, he-ya. Unikwëti hach ki? He-ya, he-ya. Unikwëti hach ki?”

“What does that mean?” she whispered to Wëli.

“Hey there, hey there, are you Unikwëti?”

Her head spun and she could barely maintain consciousness. Tuki held her finger high in the air, holding her up and keeping her from falling. The men formed a circle around them, and one by one, they put their fingers to hers and licked her blood from their own. The women went next, Tuki squeezing the finger to draw the blood, and then the children, all the while chanting that song: “He-ya, he-ya. Unikwëti hach ki? He-ya, he-ya. Unikwëti hach ki?”

At one point, Tuki burned his eyes into hers and then uttered, loud enough for Wëli to hear, “Getschihillalowet!”

She blinked and fought to keep from passing out, her head dizzy, her knees weak. “What did you say? What?”

“Why do you say that?” Wëli asked.

Samantha turned to Wëli as her finger remained stretched out from her body, held by Tuki, and the children, one by one, touched theirs to hers. “What does it mean?”

“Traitor,” the chief replied. “What are you talking about, Tuki? Why would you say such a thing of Wulik Etchilhillat?”

Neither Tuki nor Samantha replied.

 

After the last of the food and decorations had been carried above ground and packed away in various vehicles, Tuki pulled Samantha aside on the gravelly parking lot just as she came from the portable toilet.

“So your father says you were adopted. I never, in a million years, would have pegged you for a liar. Talk about broken hearts.” He walked away, leaving her standing there with her mouth open.

In the backseat of the truck Samantha sat, arms folded, wishing she could scream.

Gale and Luther also remained silent during the ride down the gravelly road toward Gellermann Manor.

As they passed the old excavation site, Samantha tried to pinch back the tears by squeezing her eyes shut, but they dropped down her cheeks against her will. She knew there was little she could say to make things right again.

When Tuki pulled into the circular drive under the great sycamore, Luther and Gale thanked him for including them.

“I can’t tell you how much it all means to me,” Gale added.

Tuki nodded and muttered, “Of course,” as they climbed from the truck and entered the double oak doors of the manor.

They entered the foyer to find it abandoned, without Jes’s welcoming presence and offer of food and drink.

“I think I’ll turn in,” Luther said.

“Me, too,” Gale agreed.

“It is late,” Tuki said.

Samantha looked down at the red carpet and followed her father and grandma to the foot of the stairs.

As they all four ascended the stairs, with Tuki taking the rear, Gale and Luther spoke of the evening to one another sharing their exhilaration. On the second floor, the three Becks wished one another goodnight once again with hugs and kisses as Tukihëla turned the corner toward the west wing. When he was out of their sight, Luther and Gale asked Samantha what had happened.

“I hadn’t told him yet about, you know, being adopted,” she explained. “I had been meaning to, but I was still getting used to the idea myself. And then, well, I wanted to go to the powwow. I was afraid I wouldn’t be allowed if they all knew the truth.”

“Oh no,” Gale said, patting her granddaughter’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry another minute about it. Once you explain that you’ve just learned the truth yourself, he’ll come around.”

“I don’t know if he’ll give me the chance. Besides, I’ve known for months now.”

Luther patted his daughter on the back. “I’m sorry, Sam. I spilled the beans. I didn’t know you hadn’t told him. When you were having a seizure, I thanked him for including you even though, you know.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad.”

“It’ll work itself out, okay sweetheart?” Grandma Beck said.

Her dad added, “Just apologize. Say you’re sorry. It’s the only way.”

“Okay, Dad. Well, goodnight.”

She watched as they circled the cherry wood balustrade to the west wing and to the rooms that had once been occupied by the professor and Mark. They waved back at her and then disappeared behind their doors.

She stood there in the hallway feeling restless, knowing good and well she would not be able to fall asleep. She decided to creep up to the third floor, to the media room, to see if she could figure out how to turn on Brandon’s television.

She thought how strange it was that she had heard those voices before she knew the meaning of the words. How was that possible? Perhaps she had read the words in her Algonquian book and had forgotten about them, and then somewhere in her subconscious they had reemerged. She knew there had to be a logical explanation.

When she walked through the open door of the media room, she found the television already on. She walked further into what she thought was an unoccupied room, wondering if Brandon had stepped out for a moment or had forgotten to turn off the television. Then she noticed him lying on the couch, asleep. The back of the couch had hidden him from her view. She was about to step out when he opened his eyes and saw her standing over him.

“Oh heavens, my dear girl, you startled me. For a moment there I thought, with that paint on your face, oh never mind. So you’re back then from the visits with the other Indians?” He sat up and unruffled himself, beckoning to her to come and have a seat.

“Yes, we just got back.” She took a tissue from a box on an end table and walked around and sat on the other couch. She rubbed at the paint with the tissue, having thought she had already gotten most of it off earlier.

“Looks like you did more than visit, huh?”

She nodded. “Tuki’s uncle showed me a few of the traditions.”

“I apologize for leaving the breakfast table so abruptly this morning.”

“You? Apologize? That’s not necessary. You’ve been so gracious, allowing us to stay here, feeding us.”

“I’m ready to tell you what happened the night I kicked off the Indians.”

“Now? Tonight?”

“Are you up for it, my dear girl?”

Samantha glanced toward the French doors leading to the balcony outside, and her heart nearly stopped. In the pane on the door, she could see the reflection of Tukihëla. She turned, catching sight of a movement out in the hallway. Then she looked at Brandon, whose back was to the interior door, but whose facial expression hinted at understanding as he eyed the French doors across from him.

“Yes. Of course.”