Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Creative Project

Since I've seen people doing this, I thought I would like to share my story as well. 

I tried to record this story in a fashion that was the closest possible to an oral way.  Some words on the story are in Cherokee, and I did my best to verify that they were correct.

Yellow Flower and the Fox
Escuchen. Listen.
I will tell you a secret. Come closer now.
In the Botanical Gardens,
Where the path meets the water,
You can find a whispering tree.
It’s true.
Like many trees, it is asleep most of the time.
But sometimes,
Just sometimes,
When the sun wants to cool down
And decides to take a plunge into the river,
When the moon starts making its way up to the sky,
The wind rustles the leaves of this tree,
And awakes it.
When that happens, the whispering tree likes to tell stories to the wind.
These are not common whispers, mind you.
These are wordless whispers.
For words are magical things that belong only to certain creatures.
Trees have their own way of telling stories,
But this, I’m afraid, I won’t be able to explain to you.
There are only a number of things in this world that can be explained,
Which does not mean that the rest cannot be understood.
In fact, I only happen to know about the whispering tree
Because I was in the Botanical Gardens a few days ago,
And I heard one of the stories being whispered to the wind. 
It was a wonderful story, which took place many years ago.
Would you like to hear it?
Very well, listen.

Many summers ago,
When all this land belonged to the Cherokee people,
A young girl lived, called Yellow Flower.
She was beautiful and merry,
And she had a wonderful voice.
Even if she was very young,
She could sing the best songs,
And weave the best baskets.
When her tribe came here for the hunting season,
Her father told her:
“Uwetsi[1], take a clay pot with you,
And walk towards the west.
You will find a stream there.
You must bring water.”
Yellow Flower did as she was told.
She sang happily while she walked,
And soon enough she found a stream
With clear singing water.
She was about to put the pot in the stream
When she heard someone say very loudly:
“No! Leave the water alone!”
Yellow Flower looked around, confused,
And saw a red fox sitting at the other side of the river.
She had been so distracted by her own singing,
That she had failed to see him before.
“O’siyo, Tsula[2]”, the girl greeted him.
She knew that foxes could be dangerous if crossed,
So she decided to be polite.
“You must not drink the water from this stream, agiusdi[3]”,
Said Tsula, “You must not touch it even.”
Yellow Flower was not happy to hear this.
“Why ever not?”, she asked,
“My people need the water to survive.
Please, Tsula, let me get some”, she begged.
 But, once again, Tsula said she should not.
“The water on this stream is magical”, he explained,
“If you were to touch it,
You would be turned into a stone at once.”
Now, I’m not sure if you know this,
But foxes are cunning animals.
They like to cheat, and play tricks on people.
So I was not surprised when Yellow Flower asked:
“How will I know that you are not lying?
Can I be sure you are not trying to fool me?”
Tsula smiled then, and pointed to a place downstream.
“You see that rock that looks like a turtle?”, he asked.
The girl said she could.
Not too far away, there was a rock that looked,
Clearly enough, like a turtle.
Tsula spoke again:
“I tried to warn Saligugi, the mud turtle,
That she should not go into the water,
But she would not listen.
If you want good water,
You should go further north.
You will have to walk more,
But the water there is safe to drink.”
Yellow Flower smiled then.
“You have done a great service to me
And my people”, she said,
“I will not forget about it.”
She went back to the tribe,
And told everyone what had happened.
Yellow Flower’s father was so relieved
To find that his child was safe,
That he prepared a bag with the finest
Buffalo meat he had
And he handed the bag to Yellow Flower.
Then he told her:
“Give this to Tsula as a gesture of our gratitude.
But do not attempt to cross the stream.
Just throw the bag to the other side.”
So the girl went back to the stream,
Carrying the bag with her.
She soon found Tsula, sitting on the other side.
“O’siyo, Tsula”, she sang happily,
And was about to throw the bag
When a huge bear appeared from behind her.
The smell of the meat she was carrying
Had attracted the bear.
He roared loudly at Yellow Flower.
Terrified, she let go the bag and jumped forward
Towards the stream,
But before she could touch the water,
Tsula jumped beneath her.
He was immediately turned into a stone,
And Yellow Flower landed on him.
She was then able to get to the other side of the stream safely.
Yona, the bear, took the bag of meat
And went away.
“You saved my life twice”,
Yellow Flower said to the fox
Who was now a red stone in the middle of the stream,
“And my people will never forget this.”

That is the story the tree whispered to the wind.
When it finished, it went back to sleep.

I went back to the Botanical Gardens today.
I sat down and looked at the red stone in the middle of the stream
That looks like a sleeping fox.
I started to think about the story of Yellow Flower,
When suddenly…. There he was!
A red fox on the other side of the stream,
Leaning down to drink water.
“Tsula!”, I called.
He raised his head, and eyed me curiously.
“Yes?”, he asked politely.
I told him the story that I heard from the whispering tree.
“Is it true?”, I asked.
“Yes”, Tsula replied, “That was my great great grandfather”
He pointed towards the red stone with his nose.
“But”, I told him, “The water is not magical.
You can drink from it;
The children come here to play on the summer.
How can it be?”
“Ah”, Tsula nodded, “But of course not.
The water lost its power when my great great grandfather
Sacrificed himself for the little girl.
Sacrifice is powerful medicine,
Surely you know that.”
I said I did, and thanked him.
When I was about to leave, he called me back:
“Oginalii[4], let me tell you one more thing.
We foxes are the guardians of the rivers
And the streams.
Whenever you see a fox drinking water,
You will know it is a safe place to drink.”
I thanked him again.
Shortly after, I filled my bottle with the clear
Singing water of the stream.
And I came straight here to tell you this story.






[1] Daughter.
[2] Hello, red fox.
[3] Little woman.
[4] My friend.

Cherokee and Trickster Tales

Oh, boy. I'm ashamed of myself. I haven't blogged in a long time. I have been thinking a lot about all that I've learned, without the will and the time to write it all down. So here are my thoughts:

Cherokee
The trip to Cherokee was an interesting experience. I go back to the whole thing on my mind every once in a while, trying to decide exactly how I feel about it. It was not what I expected to find at all, even though I am not quite sure exactly what I expected to find in the reservation in the first place. But one thing I go back to, over and over in my mind, is Kituwah, the Sacred Mound. It makes me so incredibly sad to think about it. Yes, I know, it's great that it exists, that the Cherokee people can still go there and perform ceremonies. Nevertheless, it makes me really sad. So small, so empty, barely there... I try to picture in my mind what it was like, hundreds of years ago. I think of how proud it must have stood, how people came and went. I can even hear in my mind the laughter of the children, the conversations, and the noises of daily life. And now... an anonymous slope, empty and silent,  not even included in the grounds of the Reservation. How cruel it was, not to include the most sacred place for the Cherokee in their land. And that makes me sad. I believe nothing could have made me feel the depth of the trauma suffered by the native people like that small, incredibly silent piece of land.

Trickster Performance. 
I really enjoyed the trickster tales performances. I must admit it, when I first learned we had to do this, I thought it was silly. But it was definitely a great experience, both hearing the stories and telling one. It was not only fun, it was thrilling. I, for one, was truly entranced by the stories. I do feel they came to life. One can speak for hours about the functions of literature and their role on society... or one can tell a story and explain that more eloquently.
Making my bows was also fun, I have to admit. Speaking my own language! You have no idea how I missed that! It was an incredible experience.
Also, I found a nice animation of the story I told, in case anyone is interested in seeing it. I believe it's beautiful.