“That is really Old Bear, the Medicine Man,” whispered the Mint.
Again the crowd parted. The runner went to the Medicine Lodge and officially opened the door. His robe of four white wolfskins was dropped on the ground; his entire body was a glistening white.
“The First Man, Mumohk-muckanah, Madoc,” chanted the Mandans.
The First Man designated four men to enter and clean the Medicine Lodge. Willow boughs were brought to place on the floor, and wild sage was scattered over the boughs. Buffalo and human skulls and the articles used in the torture rites were positioned. The First Man stood silently, overseeing the work, his body harsh in its whiteness.
After a time, the First Man began to move through the crowd, screeching until all were listening. Then he related the catastrophe that had happened on earth when the waters of the rivers overflowed, saying that he was the only person saved from the calamity. He had landed his big canoe on a high mountain in the west, and had come down to open the Medicine Lodge. For this he demanded a present from each lodge of somesharp cutting instrument as a sacrifice so that the water of the Great Flood would not come again.2
Sacajawea leaned toward Rosebud and the Mint. “The Shoshonis have a story of the waters overflowing,” she whispered. “It was the mightiest buffalo who was saved from the waters, and he was instructed by the Great Spirit to make all the other animals from mud and sticks and give them names. He made two of each and gave them names, and he made the Shoshonis and called them brothers, so that the People and the buffalo have helped each other ever since.”
Rosebud was delighted with the story. “So, our stories are similar. We are indeed sisters.”
The Mandans had shifted their gaze to the Medicine Lodge for the next event, the Bellohck-nahpick, or Bull Dance. This was more elaborate than the Buffalo Dance and was repeated the sacred number of times this day, four.
The next day the Bull Dance was repeated eight times, then twelve times on the third day, and sixteen times on the fourth and final day of the ceremony. Twelve men, the village’s bravest, danced around the sacred wooden ark. For this ritual the ark was called the Big Canoe and represented the boat used to float in the Great Flood. The dancers wore buffalo skins with horns, hooves, and tail. They imitated the movements of the animal, twisting and contorting their bodies.
Their bodies were nearly naked, and painted black, red, and white. Each man carried a gourd rattle and long white staff. On each man’s back was a large bunch of green willow boughs. The men were grouped in pairs, occupying the four cardinal points around the wooden ark The pair toward the south represented Mother Earth. Separating the pairs were single dancers, naked except for a large headdress and an apron of eagle’s feathers, and carrying a rattle and staff. Two of these men were painted black with pounded charcoal and grease to represent the night; white spots of oiled clay were the stars. The other men were painted vermilion to represent the day, and were streaked with white ghosts, which the rays of the sun were chasing away. During intervals between dances, the men went intothe Medicine Lodge to rest and repaint for the next performance.
Each day the villagers came back dressed and painted in their finest for this celebration. Some brought strips of dried meat and passed them among their friends; others brought small hard cakes of corn-meal. There was much shrieking as the performing figures catapulted themselves in gigantic leaps, the clatter of their rattles making weird sounds.
Sacajawea responded easily to the mass hypnotism of this final night of preparatory chanting and frenetic dancing. Her blood beat with the drums. She shuddered in the violence of the assault on her rationality, the gyrations and weird intermingling of light and dark shadows, of noise and silence, of grace and violence.
When the First Man appeared carrying the hatchets and knives he had collected, the sudden, complete silence fell upon her like a blow. He deposited the collection in the Medicine Lodge; then this strong, ghostly white First Man slipped away to hide through the night. When the dancers, too, had disappeared into the blackness, the people of the audience quietly strolled back to their lodges. There was to be no more talking until the First Man reappeared at sunrise.
Sacajawea and Rosebud slept late into the morning. Redpipe and Four Bears were up talking and smoking when they awoke. Fast Arrow was meditating.
“My son is preparing himself for the severe ordeal he will pass through,” said Four Bears. His long hands tapped nervously on the pipesteam. “I do not feel hungry, but my guests shall eat well before going to the council this day.”
His women had prepared a feast. Parched corn had been pounded in a mortar and made into rolls, which were not cooked, but pleasant to taste. The Mint, flushed from blowing on the lodge fire coals, brought Redpipe a kind of hominy made of corn bruised in a mortar and soaked in warm water. The tastiest dish was roast goose. Three geese had been smeared with thick coats of mud. Then the birds were put into a hot fire and covered with live coals. When the clay coverings became red hot, they were cooled gradually untilthe fire died out. The shells were cracked with an ax, and the feathers and skin came off with the clay, leaving the flesh of the birds clean and well done. The women and children ate after Redpipe.
Rosebud was unable to eat, and left the lodge. A peculiar mood had drifted over her. It seemed to float on the morning breeze, to issue out of the heart of the untamed nature around her. It lurked in the very vast-ness of the prairie surrounding the village on every hand; it even seemed to rise like an impalpable mist out of the ground on which she now sat in the women’s circle. Other women had also begun to gather. The mood was difficult to interpret, but all knew that anything might happen during the Pohkhong, the torturing rites. A shiver passed over her, as if she were having a child.
Four Bears walked to the edge of the arena and picked up a large stone with a broad end in which a groove had been filed. The stone was round. When he returned to his place in the council circle, his eyes were burning. He turned to survey the people of his village; then he spoke. His words had an emphasis that seemed like the beating of a drum.
“We are small. Lost in time. What we do is of as much importance as what two fleas do. How many men have gone through this rite, and now what is left of them, their good, and their thoughts? Each man has his limit. He can go no farther than his own manhood. But in new experiences and feelings and exchanging of ideas with another, a man may go a step beyond himself to gain strength and wisdom. That is a great step upward for man—but not much in the face of the strength and wisdom of the stone I hold.” He raised the stone for all to see.
“A man moves toward his death each dawn. This stone has looked upon many men. The life of a man must be less to a stone than the life of a flea to us. Each man believes that lesser things are of lesser importance, and things of long ago are less important than things now or things in the future. But men do not reach the final wisdom of rocks. A rock knows nothing of time, whether of long ago or yesterday or whether the sun will rise again. All things are equally meaningful and meaningless.”
His voice took on fire. “There is nothing we do ourselves. We are each driven. Man is like an arrow. The string is pulled and at a certain instant it is released and the arrow goes in the direction it is pointed. The arrow, which so shortly before has been flying through the air like a bird, falls to the ground and is lifeless.” Four Bears leaned forward, his face sober, earnest, his arms flung out in a sort of benediction, his hands gripped together. Then he sat, his arms folded across his legs, which were folded underneath him.
The crowd turned to the white figure of the First Man, who now beckoned the candidates for the rites to enter the Medicine Lodge and be prepared.
Rosebud sucked in her breath and held it when Fast Arrow reappeared. On his left arm was his war shield and his bow and arrows, with a quiver slung on his back. He was covered with red, blue, and yellow clay paint mixed with bear’s oil, and he carried his personal medicine bag in his right hand. His face was sober, with a look of str
ength and determination on it that told of an inward resolve to keep full control of himself during the Okeepa Ceremony.
The candidates paraded around the arena, the sun glistening on their oiled skin. Rosebud drew a half breath, keeping her eyes on Fast Arrow. He moved with noiseless and gliding quickness, like an animal or a ghost. Then the young men moved back inside the Medicine Lodge. Four Bears, Redpipe, and the other chiefs and subchiefs of the village followed the candidates into the Medicine Lodge. All had gone through this same ordeal in their youth. This day, they were witnesses.
The women were forgotten. None was permitted inside the lodge. Some of the women began to moan and wail.
“Why do they do that?” asked Sacajawea.
“They know what is to take place inside,” answered Rosebud, her face graying with each woman’s cry.
The First Man lit and smoked his pipe and then delivered a short speech to the candidates, who were seated beneath wall pegs on which they had hung their weapons. He encouraged them to trust in the Great Spirit for protection during the ordeal they were aboutto undergo, and then passed authority in the form of a special medicine pipe to Okeeae Kaase-kah, the Conductor, an aged Medicine Man who would continue the ceremony. The First Man then shook hands with the Conductor and performed his ritual departure for the mountains in west, whence he had come to begin the Okeepa.
The Conductor, whose body was painted yellow, lay down by the blazing center fire and began crying out to the Great Spirit. He held his pipe toward the heavens. From this moment, the candidates were permitted communication with no one, and were to abstain from food, drink, and sleep until the end of the four-day ritual.
Fast Arrow’s eyes wandered from the arrangement of buffalo and human skulls on the floor to examine the scaffold. Tree trunks had been set into the ground. The dirt was scuffed in around the butts and tramped on until the posts stood as solidly as the upright corner posts of a Mandan mud lodge. On top of the posts were slabs set in notches, wedged tight with wood chips. On one of the slabs, not more than a man’s length and a half above the ground, rested his small medicine bag. He forced himself to look away.
The Conductor had moved under the scaffold to place a scalping knife beside a bundle of bone splints or skewers that rested on the center of the ring of skulls. He had brushed past the stout rawhide cords that hung from the top of the scaffolding, and set them in motion. Fast Arrow shuddered, once, twice, before he took firm control of himself.
Outside the Medicine Lodge, the women kept a staggered vigil, punctuated by shrieks and screams, accompanied by the barks and howls of the dogs. Rosebud and Sacajawea spent time in Four Bears’s lodge, helping the other women with the meals and caring for the children. As the evening shadows deepened each night, they joined the people gathered around the fires in the arena.
On the second night, Sacajawea and Rosebud unexpectedly met Broken Tooth and her children. None of the women was pleased by the meeting. On Broken
Tooth’s face there was open animosity; her greeting was curt, and she walked hurriedly past, swinging her hips. She was followed by a young woman who seemed quite unsure of herself, as if unable to understand the meaning of the words Broken Tooth spoke to hurry her along. In her anxiety to be gone from Sacajawea, Broken Tooth pushed through the crowd, and the timid girl, whose eyes had been on the ground, looked up to find herself abandoned. She was not more than eleven or twelve summers old. She was wrapped in red cotton trade cloth, and she looked frightened, like a doe. Her face was round and her legs short and stocky.
On an impulse, Sacajawea spoke a greeting in Shoshoni. The young woman looked startled, then a smile crept to her lips and she responded. Breathlessly, Sacajawea translated for Rosebud. “This woman once lived with the People, the Shoshonis! Hear her tongue!”
Rosebud looked at the round-faced woman. “Who is she with? Broken Tooth?”
Sacajawea repeated the question in Shoshoni.
“The Blackfeet were paid a good price for me three moons back—a beautiful shining knife. I am now the woman of Charbonneau.”
“Charbonneau!” gasped the two women.
“Ai,” the stranger said. “He does not scold too much and does not often hit with a piece of firewood, like Jussome and his woman. He leaves me with them when he goes. He is gone much and brings back plenty of food.”
“But you are not old enough to be a man’s woman,” said Rosebud.
“Ai, my man likes them very young. He prefers me to his other woman. Corn Woman, who is older now.” She shrugged. “It is not bad.”
“What are you called?” asked Sacajawea.
“Otter—Otter Woman,” said the stranger. “Charbonneau gave me that name. The Blackfeet only called me Squaw.”
“And this Jussome, he beats you? Why?”
“Every day, almost, he hits me, because I do not speak his tongue.”
“And so, Broken Tooth beats you also, because you cannot understand her talk?”
“Sometimes I do not know why she beats me.” Otter Woman felt for the welts on her back, and fear crawled across her face. “If she catches me, she’ll do it again.” She looked longingly at Sacajawea, and then she edged away. “I am glad to find one who understands my tongue,” she said.
Broken Tooth returned just in time to hear this. “You talk crazy like her!” she screeched at Sacajawea, and she gave Otter Woman a vicious look.
Otter Woman did not look again at Sacajawea, but followed Broken Tooth sadly, her eyes downcast.
Rosebud grabbed Sacajawea’s arm. ‘That man Charbonneau has two women, and still he chased you in the woods,” she said. “I see that you would help Otter Woman; but if you follow, it will only anger Broken Tooth, it will not help her.”
“For a moment it was like finding a relative, someone of my own blanket,” admitted Sacajawea. “She is of the Sheep Eater Shoshonis. I can tell by her talk. Maybe I will see her again.”
The final day of the Bull Dance began with the coming of the sun’s rays.
The whole village, their faces painted, red lines down their center hair parts, gathered in the arena or on the crowded dome tops of the lodges nearest the large Medicine Lodge. Suddenly a terrible scream burst above the shouting and singing, and a strange character appeared. He was running across the open prairie, darting about like a boy chasing a butterfly, heading for the entrance to the village stockade. His body was painted black, with white rings here and there. He had large white markings, like canine teeth, drawn on his face. The hideous creature uttered frightful shrieks as he dashed toward the crowd, and now it could be seen that an artificial penis of colossal dimensions, carved in wood, descended from the buffalo hair covering his pelvis. The penis moved as he ran, extending below his knees. It was painted as jet black as his body, with the exception of the glans, which was a glaring vermilion. Women and children screamed and ran for protection, dodging from his path. If a woman was not fast enough, hewaved a wand over her hands, and as he did so, the penis rose.
“That is Okeeheede, the Devil, the Satanic majesty of the Evil Spirit!” shouted Rosebud. “To be caught by him is worse, much worse, than being caught by the white man!”
When the bizarre character entered the arena of the dancers, Sacajawea saw that he had a small thong encircling his waist, and a buffalo’s tail behind.
The Conductor of the Bull Dance thrust his pipe before the eyes of the Devil, and its charm held him temporarily motionless. The women and children took this opportunity to retreat a safe distance. Seeing that he had lost the women, the Devil placed himself in the attitude of a buffalo bull in the rutting season, and approached the dancers. One by one, he mounted four of the dancers as the crowd shrieked in high amusement. When the Devil finally appeared fatigued, the women and children slowly surrounded him, no longer afraid, coming closer and closer until someone broke his wand. Then he was driven away. A huge crowd of women followed, pelting him with clods of dirt, until he was in the prairie and the frightful appendage was wrested f
rom his black body.3
The triumphant captor, none other than Broken Tooth, brought the huge penis proudly into the arena. She was lifted onto the scaffolding on the front of the Medicine Lodge, directly over the door. She harangued the people about the evils of this powerful counterpart of the Great Spirit. Her voice was high-pitched and raspy.
“I see clearly now,” whispered Rosebud, “why it was that the white trader, Jussome, contributed the trade cloth to the ceremony. His woman is the one to capture the Devil and thus be an important person in this village.”
“Ai.” Sacajawea nodded.
From the east side of the arena came a steady beating of drums and rattling of gourds, but Broken Tooth continued to talk, pushing her stringy hair over her eyes, telling how the Evil Spirit can come into anyone if he is not suspecting and watchful at all times. Then she did a fantastic thing. She positioned the black penisupward and spread her legs to straddle it. Slowly she sat down until the thing disappeared, her eyes blazing.
And even as the watchers roared and clapped and made coarse jokes and obscene signs with their hands, laughing and screeching in fever-pitched voices, the solemnity of the Okeepa came to claim the village.
Calling through a thin-walled wild goat horn, the Conductor of the Bull Dance ordered the dancers to halt. The official witnesses entered the Medicine Lodge to judge the bravery of the candidates.
Fast Arrow noticed the Wolf Chief and Chief Black Cat come into the lodge. He felt he was in great danger, but he could not rouse himself to stand on his feet. He was shaking so badly that he could not move. He had suffered hallucinations for some time now, the result of the strict four-day fast and no sleep. Brightly colored images, larger than life, floated past his eyes. He wondered if he had truly seen others enter the lodge. He was lying on his back on a robe. The leather thongs hanging from the top of the scaffolding became long, black bull snakes, writhing. He could not concentrate on the reasons for his fear. He seemed to turn to water inside himself. He had never felt this way before. Finally, with great effort, he turned his head from side to side and saw other candidates lying upon robes. Some seemed asleep. But that could not be. They were watched by seated officials.