Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 23:49:01 -0500 From: Allen Marks <amarks@webhart.net> Subject: Story Native Americans: SUNDANCE SUNDANCE Allen Marks <amarks@webhart.net> Come now, children, draw your synthetic furs round you, and sit near this old man's fire. Come, travel with me to a time long past when we ruled the plains. A time before the cities and their white masters with their tame buffalo cows. Before the great iron horse laid his path across our wide land and united the pale ones against us. Back to a time when we were free to believe what the Thunderbird, The Helper of Man, taught us. I am Pentook, Shaman of the Pawnee, the One With the Eyes of Age. Yes, I am an ancient one now. I have had my visions and have lived to see a legend; to pass on that which is true. The story this night is but the start of the legend and holds many of our beliefs when they were strong, that you have rejected in your rush for whiter skin and more shell strings for trading. It is a tale of one of your age who finds his vision and his destiny in a single evening at the Festival of the Sundance. Tawktaw was just between boy and man. He was tall for his age and lithe of body. Not willowy but not like the bear either. One day he would shoot his arrows in the Hunt-the-Buffalo game with the other children; then, another day he would wander the plains, searching, but not finding, taking comfort is his sometimes manhood when he thought no one was near. His father knew the signs and approached me. Tawktaw was still young by the measure of years but there was within him something older that kept him separate from all his brothers. I sat many days watching him before I gave my answer. There was much about him that pleased me stirring up the old bone and much that showed promise, but promise is just unrealized potential. It may remain unrealized until the spirit takes its leave or it may become realized and elevate the man to his highest calling. The Sundance was approaching. I asked Tawktaw why he wandered alone so much but he could not answer or would not answer with lowered head. I asked what he searched for and this time his answer told me he was ready and had honour for the beliefs of the tribe. I would take him for instruction dispite his young age and prepare him for the dance. His father brought him one night later to my tent at the edge of the encampment. I received three rabbits, a buffalo horn and the boy. While his father was there Tawktaw sat with downcast eyes and said nothing in respect to the terms of the agreement. He played idlily with the beads at his neck. He would live here for the days until the Sundance and help me with the preparations. I would show him the steps of the dance, explain the symbols and try to give a meaning to vision-searching. After the Sundance we would see what the spirit had in store for him. Tawktaw's father left and night descended. The sun was lowering in the west and dark shadows came crawling over the ground. We looked at each other and silently I indicated the sleeping space where he could spread his sleeping blanket. It was small and we would be close. He soon slept and I dozed. It was comforting to have someone near the heat of another body. During the night Tawktaw turned fitfully in his deer hide blanket. I could hear the faint whimper of his aloneness and his movements had opened his blanket revealing his naked body. I moved my blanket and laid beside him, our slight touching giving warmth and comfort. He cast out an arm and it fell across my chest resting there and he slept quiet the rest of the night and I pondered my feelings which had been dormant for so long; the thoughts of my own son gone so many winters ago and his mother, also. I rose early for a cold swim. After breakfast I sent him to gather the budding wild sage and other sweet grasses of the plain. I went to the pond near the village to gathered dry reeds for whistles that were to be made. Tawktaw thought the gathering of sage ,grasses and reeds the work of women and he was eager to be done with it before anyone saw him and to get on with the more important preparations. I told him how the sage and sweet grasses would be used in the Sacred Tent fire to purify the dancers and give them the means to go beyond their bodies in physical and spiritual ways. Tawktaw seemed to understand and turned his attention to the dry rushes I was splitting. "How are these to be used?" He questioned. I showed him how to split the reeds and to place a thin piece of the inner bark of birch between and to bind the whistle. His first attempts failed when he tightened the gut cord too tightly and crushed the reed, I held out my finger and let him practice the proper tightness, with trembling hands he practiced and I noticed the tenting in the front of his breechcloth, soon he had the proper tightness and made many whistles in his young industry. His own whistle he decorated by the light of the fire with the symbol of the Thunderbird in flight. He attached another cord to it so it could hang from his neck when he was not using it. We braided the sage and sweet grass together making small ropes that would smolder producing smoke but not burn. The day drew to a close and night was here once more. This night I laid the two blankets together and with hesitance he got in. He lay with his back to me and I watched the slow rise and fall of his slender sholders in the dim light of the dying fire as he breathed. He must have senced my watching and turned to face me, looking at me with questions in his eyes he moved closer and snuggled against me. I held him and his rising manhood indicated that he enjoyed it. My own manhood was strengthening as he fell asleep. Tawktaw rose with the sun and asked how I knew when the time of the Sundance was near. I told him if he watched the sun everyday as a Shaman did, he would see that it flew higher and higher in the sky until it was as high as it could go and then it would start to glide back down, until winter when it was as low as it could go without striking the earth and then it would start to fly up again. At the time of its highest point it is summer and at its lowest, winter. The full moon just at or after this highest sun is the time of the Sundance. "Why is the dance held?" Asked Tawktaw. "The Sundance is held for the welfare of the tribe. If it is a good dance many of the dancers will receive their visions that will tell us how the buffalo will be this year, either many or few and how the crops will grow, strong or weak and of the sky water, much or little," I replied. "What is the purpose of dancing?" He asked. I answered. "The dancers dance to fulfill a vow they made last year at this time or to hunt for their own personal life vision. When it is a dancer's first dance, it is usually a vision hunt for his destiny." Still curious, he inquired, "How long does the dance last?" "The dance starts at sunrise and will not end until sunrise the next day. There is no sleeping during this period for the dancers. When the moon looks down, she is representing the sun and so the sun sees us all the time. Enough talk, for now I must choose the site of the dance and you will help me. I must find a large flattened hill and then a long tree from which the Sun-pole will be made." Together we searched for a suitable hill, I watched the young man going ahead of me with sweat glistening on his body, we found a hill not far from the village. To find the pole we travelled all day and returned late at night carrying it between us. While hunting for the Sun-pole Tawktaw asked what the pole was used for. I explained that in some tribes pieces of wood on long hide cords were put through the skin of the warriors and the braves pulled against these cords until the wood broke from the skin. In this way they thought they pleased the Thunderbird. But we do not follow this practice. In the Sacred Tent the sweet grasses and sage help to please the Thunderbird. The Sun-pole has cords with loops for one's hands. Once a dancer has taken a cord he must hold it till the end of the dance. The fasting and purification in the Sacred Tent prepare the dancers for their visions. It is time for rest now, Tawktaw, my young one." He paused at the words, but said nothing. The Sun-pole was lifted into place by the dancers and the hill top was cleared so I could draw the sun symbol. I painted an inner circle around the Sun-pole, yellow, to represent the sun and then I made a wider circle at the farthest reach of the dancer's cords. This circle I cut into four pieces and colored in sequence starting at the North; Black to represent the Storm Bringer; East, Red, for the Rising Sun; South, White, for Harvest Flower; and West, Brown, for the Sand Bringer. These areas represent the Cloud Pushers, the Old Men who govern the winds. The Morning Star I colored White, as Handmaiden of the Sun. The Moon I colored with gray ash as the sun's lesser representative. The days of preparation were almost over. I taught Tawktaw the steps of the dance and he learned quickly moving gracefully from one step to the next, not like some who were like lumbering buffalo. The next night the dancers would enter the Sacred Tent and the celebration would begin at sunrise. That night as we lay close in the blankets Tawktaw asked many questions about visions and what they meant but I told him he should not worry about these things, only about doing the best dance he could. Later would be time enough for what the visions meant. Tawktaw was eager, but worried that he might not have a vision. I told him that it was unlikely he would not have one if he really searched with his spirit as he did in his lone walks. He finally slept, needing assurance during the night that he was not alone so I held him close and again I felt the loss of my son. The Thunderbird, Helper of Man, visited my dreams and left me a feather from its wing; a precious gift. Could this mean a new son? During the day I was distracted, thinking about my dream, but I made certain that Tawktaw remembered the steps of the dance and that he ate much meat for strength. I let him rest and sleep during the day for it would be a long time before he could rest again. As I looked at him my mind jumped like a rabbit from one path to another never settling down. I longed to let him know that I did care for him and how much I would like to share with him my life and myself but I must wait a time. After supper, I saw Tawktaw to the Sacred Tent and there made sure that everything was ready. The only thing the dancers could have during the next day and night was sweet grass water. We all settled down to sleep, though everyone was excited and made much noise like the Blue Jay; with anticipation. There was much carrying on and joking but Tawktaw did not join in with them rather he sat quitely at my side, our legs slightly touching. As the sun rose above the horizon, the drums began. The dancers in the Sacred Tent all blew on their reed whistles and started chanting. Time passed quickly for Tawktaw at first. He sang and blew his whistle and when he was thirsty, he drank the tea made from the sweet grass. The dancers stayed in the Sacred Tent until they felt moved to go to the Sun-pole. Once they had left the Sacred Tent they could not return until they had had their vision. The sage and sweet grass ropes on the fire in the Sacred Tent filled it with heat and smoke in no time. The dancers sang on and blew their whistles. Sometimes they beat their backs with reeds and circled the Sacred Tent fire, the tent also grew thick with the smell of young men. One by one, the dancers were leaving the tent and soon Tawktaw would be left behind. He tried to feel for the call of the Sun-pole but could not. He sang on into the day. As the sun set, there were very few dancers left in the Sacred Tent. One dancer had already had his vision and lay mumbling with open eyes at the side of the tent. Tawktaw as fearful that he would not get a vision at all but also afraid that he would and that it might destroy him. He finally chose that being destroyed by a vision was more honorable than staying in the Sacred Tent and not trying at all. The scorn of the tribe could be terrible; I knew that scorn. The Moon, representative of the Sun, was just rising. Tawktaw emerged from the Sacred Tent and danced to the Sun-pole. He found a loop of rawhide and put his hand in it. He started to dance round the Sun-pole with the other dancers. At first, it was good to be out of the heat, smoke and smell of the Sacred Tent, but as the night grew on, the air became chill, despite the fires around the outside of the Sun Symbol. Tawktaw knew hunger. The drums had been playing the same rhythm for hours and his head pounded in sympathy. His feet had no feeling left in them, they had hit the ground so hard and for so long, but he danced on with his brothers who were getting fewer and fewer as the night progressed. Clouds of sweet smelling smoke rose up when I threw on more sweet grass ropes. The smoke was overpowering and Tawktaw was chocking on it but he was not to cough or sneeze. He was to dance and sing and blow his whistle until the Thunderbird answered his call. His singing was punctuated by staccato notes which would have been coughs and explosions of consonants which would have been sneezes. A few times, the reed whistle flew from his lips when he tried to blow it and squash a sneeze at the same time. Surely, he thought, the Thunderbird would not answer such a song as his. The fire around the dancers seemed to grow. It reached out towards him and he jumped higher out of its questing reach. He thought he heard a high pitched whistle and he looked all round with wide eyes and half crouched body as the sound grew louder and nearer. In his distracted state, the fire must have circled round him for he was consumed by its heat and fell. The sound of the whistle followed him down and turned into the victorious cry of the Thunderbird. The great bird approached on flaming wings and stood looking down at him with eyes of fire. Its beak opened and Tawktaw thought he was going to be eaten. The Thunderbird cried a deafening screech and flapped its huge wings. Though the great wings seemed to be blazing with fire, the wind from them cooled Tawktaw and he passed into slumber. The last thing his eyes saw was the blazing Thunderbird flying off over the horizon toward the first rays of the rising sun. The celebration was over for the tribe and for Tawktaw. When Tawktaw awoke the sun was already lowering in the sky. He had slept long and deep. His feet were sore and his legs ached. I opened the flap of the tepee and entered. Tawktaw tried to get up but he was too weak and fell back. I drew close and whispering softly in his ear masaged his legs and offered him drink. I questioning him about his vision. Tawktaw tried to answer but his throat was dry and raw. I gently held his head in my lap and offered cool spring water. Tawktaw saw more than concern in my eyes. He told his vision slowly and completely and I was pleased. I eased him down, arranged my robes to hide my arousal and left for the council of elders. I spoke in solemn tones of the Thunderbird's words from the sun. The season of harvest would be good but the harvesting would have to be done quickly as the snows would be early this year. I returned to my tent, Tawktaw was sleeping again. I got some of the herbal grease made from buffalo fat and began to rub it onto his legs. I started with his raw feet and toes, moved up to his knotted calfs and then his warm thighs. I continued to his back side and he moaned in his sleep opening his legs slightly. I applied some of the grease to the cleft between his cheeks and his hips moved back against my hand. I paused and noticed that I was fully hard. I grabbed myself and the grease felt so good that I can hardly remember what happened next. I know that I was filled with love and lust for Tawktaw and this may be my last chance. I gently lay down on him and started to rub my pole between his cheeks. Our body heat had made the grease quite liquid and slippery. I bobbed a few times at Tawktaw's pucker and then slowly entered, inch by inch. He moaned a little and I waited until he was comfortable and thrust further, soon he was pushing back to meet me. It had been such a long time since my son and I had done this that I wanted it to last forever. I thrust slowly and carressed Tawktaw's body whispering endearments and all the pent up love I had for him. My thrusts became more demanding and soon it was over for me. I lay holding onto his warm young body and slowly softening within him. I drifted off to sleep and dreamed wonderful dreams. I woke and Tawktaw was looking down on me from his arms and legs straddling my body. He was hard as rock and I reached for him but he stopped my hand. He slowly rubbed himself against my stomach and my pole watching until I was hard again. He lowered himself into my embrace and ground against me. When we were both near exploding he moved around and took my manhood into his warm moist mouth. It was almost as hot as his back side had been. I licked the buffalo grease and spent juice off his butt hole sending spasims through his body. I then started on his ball sack and tounged it until it was dripping drawing his balls into my mouth and swirlling them around like pebbles in a stream. Tawktaw had been giving my old pole a good cleaning and I was almost ready to erupt again. I took his slender tool into my mouth and applied sucsion and he pumped away with his hips and his head. We both shot at the same time. My small contribution was far out stripped by his gallons of sweet honey nectar. I swallowed and swallowed. After we had calmed down he lay tight against me and we slept until morning. Tawktaw's father came to my tent while I was out gathering breakfast and Tawktaw thought he was going to take him home. Instead, he asked how I had treated him and what Tawktaw thought of the knowledge I had. Tawktaw knew it was not the place of a child to judge an elder, but his father told him he was no longer a child but a man and he was to make his own choices in the future. Tawktaw thought long and the question seemed to be if he wanted to stay with me and become a Shaman or go to the tent of young men, for he could not return home now he was a man. Tawktaw answered that I knew many things and reasons for things that interested him. He decided to stay with me and he learned much and grew in influence in the council and in knowledge. We were more than Shaman and apprentice. Tawktaw became the greatest Shaman of the old ways, Tawktaw the Thunderbird's Friend, for the great bird had cooled his head with his own feathers. The End