CHAPTER 43
The men, young and old, drop their drumsticks on a large taut elk-skin drum that vibrates, sounding like thunder. Their painted bodies hop up and down and take turns spinning in place. Somehow, their timing never offsets the rhythm when they strike the drum.
"Why ha ya. Why ha ya. Wha nay hay ya. Wha nay hay ya."
They bend over and thrust their arms forward, beat the drum, then lean back and spread their arms out, flexing all their muscles. They contort their fingers to look like claws and demonstrate their spirit animals.
"Hey yo hey, hey yo, hey," the men shout over and over again. After three repetitions, the women sing in a loud chorus and some beat their tom-toms and shake their rattles. "Wanna hey, wanna hey, yo, yo heeeeeyyyyy ah-hoe." Their pitch drops off and the men pick up.
Women dressed in beautiful elk-skin gowns bring food out for the children, then line up. One woman pretends to row. The woman behind her does the same. They form two lines. Each woman from oldest to youngest follows suit. They slowly step and emphatically flip their heads so that their long hair swirls around their shoulders. Beneath their hair, their necks are painted with war paint, which flashes colors like the underpart of a blue jay's wings.
The men sweat profusely. Their painted symbols streak and smear all over their bodies.
When the sun sets, the tribe cries out, and many overexerted warriors pass out. They are carried away, while many of the warriors let loose their prayers. "Give me strength in battle. Victory over my enemies and protection from their weapons," Kiowa hears them say.
The women are harder to understand. They always say their prayers on the first day and make sure no one can hear them. Kida's prayer is unmistakable.
"Free Kiowa from his blindness and make him see the true path," Kida shouts, releasing a fistful of her best seed as a sacrifice.
Obeying his mother, Kiowa and a small band of warriors comprised of Paw, Makes Trouble, Two Moons, and Weasel Tail dance and beat the drum all day and all night. They leap. They hop. They squat. They spread their arms and spin around in a fanciful exhausting manner that makes their legs and arm muscles spasm and their backs ache. To everyone's delight and entertainment, they pour their hearts out and shout prayers.
"Can you hear me above all these prayers, Taime?" Kiowa whispers. "I do not think it is possible to attract Naukolahe's burning eye, with so many prayers, so I will be polite and wait for my brothers and mother to finish."
On the second day, Kiowa leans back and stares at the sun. The intense light forces him to blink and close his eyes. He prays for strength, then opens his eyes and begins a ritual that only the greatest warriors pursue. He stares and stares at the sun, blinking only when he has to. He prays. He fasts. He dances. His weak arms and legs move with less enthusiasm, so he compensates with a repetitive chant. "Am I made of leaves or something else? Who am I?" He focuses on the blazing amber light in the sky, and to the best of his ability, he ignores his numb legs and shaking arms.
At the end of the day, the women line up. They spread their arms out and circle like eagles. When they touch their fingers to one another's, they smile, then spin away from one another, forming a bigger circle. The next pair of women does the same. Each woman does this, all the way down to the youngest girl. Their chorus sings a beautiful song that rises in volume with the beat of the drum. Their voices grow louder and louder, until a large circle of spinning singing women raise their arms, cross them, and finish the song in a grand finale.
"Do you hear me, Taime? Are you ready to receive my prayer?" Kiowa cries out.
When he hears nothing, he continues to dance and stare at the sun, even though his friends and family stop dancing with him. Legs go up and arms go down. Sun goes down and stars go up. All night long, Kiowa dances, until early-morning light.
Knowing how much his would-be son suffers, Paw decides to bring Kiowa's pain to an end.
"Silence!" he shouts, holding Taime figure up.
The tribe goes quiet.
"You are ready for the test?"
Kiowa nods.
"To the medicine lodge!" Paw orders.
Kiowa steps off the boulder. His legs collapse. No one dares touch him. He struggles to his feet to the steady beat of the drum. The people cry out. He trots into a large dome wicker hut. A hole cut out in the roof lets sunlight rest on a circle of sagebrush.
The tribe packs in shoulder to shoulder.
"Naukolahe, please, give him the courage of the cougar and the strength of the bear," Kida prays.
Paw and Two Moons approach Kiowa with fistfuls of sagebrush. He takes it, and they lead him into a sage circle. His body is the only body completely illuminated by the early-morning sun.
Paw holds up a tough strip of leather.
Kiowa shakes his head no.
The tribe gasps.
Two Moons holds up a bear claw. He walks around the circle and shows everyone. Finally, he stops and holds it eye level with Kiowa.
Kiowa looks away.
"AH-HOE!" the tribe shouts.
Paw draws a long deep breath. He lets it out slowly as he holds up a severed eagle's leg with talons still attached.
Silence fills the room.
Kiowa nods.
The women gasp. The men cheer.
Two Moons holds another eagle leg up, with the talons also attached. The tribe screams to the point of madness.
Paw and Two Moons look at each other and then at Kiowa.
Kiowa lifts up his arms and shouts, "This is the test. Let us see if I am made of leaves…or something else." He strips down to his loincloth and nods to give the go-ahead.
Paw and Two Moons thrust the eagle talons into his chest. Blood streams as Kiowa grimaces and strangles his painful cries.
"Cougar courage, bear strength," Kida repeats over and over. She presses her hands to her lips and rocks back and forth. Tears well in her eyes.
Paw and Two Moons push sharp bones through Kiowa's flesh, pinning the talons in place.
Paw lifts his hand. A rope with a loop falls from the hole in the ceiling. Two Moons does the same and another rope falls.
They slide the loops over the severed eagles' legs and cinch them down. Two Moons looks up at the men on the roof and gives a signal.
Leather scuffs on wood, tightening the slack. Kiowa steps forward. His breathing is heavy. The drum begins to beat. The slack tightens until the leather creaks. Kiowa stands on his tippy toes, supporting his weight only a little. Mostly, he hangs by the weight of his body.
"ARRRGGGHHHH!" Kiowa cries out in extreme agony.