The chief LE ranger (Law Enforcement, as opposed to Interpretive) had shyly asked Budd several days before whether he would attend this musical presentation and, knowing I'd enjoy it and he probably would, Budd agreed. We planned to eat dinner out, as the program was at the Holiday Inn. As an aside, that's the last time I'll have dinner there if I have a choice. There are NO healthy or low calorie options. I exceeded my calorie count by over 1000 that day, and exceeded the sodium allowance twice over. But I digress.
When we arrived, slightly late because of our dinner being delayed, we found William (the ranger) standing in the center of a small meeting room, with about six elderly couples seated around the sides of the room. William was playing an Apache drum (we learned this later) and singing some traditional Navajo songs and some that his father or he himself had composed. Between songs, he regaled us with the cultural context of the songs and the story line of the words, when there were any. Some were merely chanting.
Navajos are great story-tellers, as I learned last time we were here. I also learned that certain stories are only told at certain times of the year. This wasn't particularly evident in the lecture we were receiving along with the songs, but the story-telling certainly was. William would act out the entire story, sometimes with props, before he sang. One of the songs was about a young man who had acquired a large flock of sheep, and was chiding his would-be bride, who had turned him down, that now 'all of this', meaning his sheep, would never be hers. William brought out four toy sheep and one toy goat to sing over, and made quite a production of it. Did I mention that Navajos love to laugh also? Sometimes their jokes don't translate well, or at all, but we were getting a big kick out of this flock of sheep. After the song, he knelt down to pick them up and at one point sort of fell forward, his forehead on the floor for a second. Then he shook himself as if startled, and said, "Oh, I fell asleep." It took us a second, and then the room erupted as we realized he was counting his sheep.
From the Navajo songs, he went to a few from other tribes, always telling about the tribes and their languages. I learned for the first time that the Ute, Puebloan and Hopi tribes share a common language root, called Uto-Aztecan, while the Athabascan language root of the Navajo is related not only to the Plains tribes (which I knew) but also to the Apaches. I think I've mentioned before that this kind of historical detail fascinates me, and I found myself wishing I had brought a notepad to take notes.
William had us all get up and do two Navajo dances, one that he called the Navajo two-step, and another that he called the skip-dance. No pictures, sorry--it didn't occur to us to take the camera. These dances are very similar except that the second has a sort of hop on the second step. William explained that the dances are always done in the clockwise, or right direction, with the man on the outside and the woman on the inside, closest to the fire. These are social dances, as opposed to the ceremonial dances that he didn't go into. He did explain that even in the most solemn ceremonies, some social dancing takes place at intervals, to keep The People happy, so that sadness doesn't interfere with the healing that is taking place. We had missed the beginning of this two-part presentation, which was about ceremonies, the matriarchal and clan systems, and the Long Walk, but we cadged an invitation to the next one on Monday of next week.
As everyone sat down, quite out of breath from the skip dance, William told of a man who explained their dancing this way: when a child is small and wants his mother's attention, he tugs on her clothing until the mother drops what she's doing, picks up the child and soothes him. In the dance, the tapping of our feet on the earth is like the tugging on the mother's clothes, a way to get Mother Earth to pay attention to our needs. There was something about Father Sky, too, but unfortunately, I didn't have that notepad and can't quite remember how that fit in with the analogy.
After the dances, William took up a cedar flute, beautifully made, and played a haunting tune of his own composition. We later asked him if he had made the flute. The story behind the song was of a shy young man who didn't know how to approach the woman he loved, and sought the advice of the shaman, who told him to perform several tasks, culminating in the making of a flute, composing a song, and playing it to the young woman as she approached the place to get water. William hadn't made his flute, but it had been given to him by Travis Terry, a famous Hopi flautist that we met when we were here before.
The final section was another dance with all members of the audience participating. William laid out the two songs we'd be singing along with him--right--and the instructions for the dance. Where the other two had been couples dances, this dance is performed with individuals all linking hands in a large circle, and it starts in the counterclockwise direction. This, William explained, is like un-weaving a basket, and as we un-weave, all the bad things that might be in the basket are spilled and leave the basket. Then the song changes, and so does the direction of the dance. Now the basket is being rewoven and only good things are put in. This is called the Round Dance.
When the program was over and the rest of the audience had gone, we asked all the questions that we had been wanting to ask all evening. It turned out that William is somewhat of an international celebrity for his drumming and knowledge of the history and customs of his people. He has played in the Netherlands, Paris, Belarus, and in the South Pacific--I can't remember the precise location there.
The presentations here, by the way, are part of a series of educational events that are designed for older travellers who want a structured experience provided for them as they travel. I believe it is called Road Scholars. We're excited to be able to hear the first part of the presentation on Monday, also. Even Budd, who normally dislikes any sort of interaction with strangers, especially if it involves public dancing, thoroughly enjoyed himself.
On another subject, as usual, news that we would be here another month turned out possibly to have been premature. You'd think I would learn not to mention it until the travel orders are cut. While Canyon de Chelly does want Budd for another month, there are rumors that Denver does, too. If those turn out to be true, we'll go back to Denver at the end of the upcoming week, then return here again in November. This is actually better timing for what needs to be done here, as equipment is ordered that will take about six weeks to arrive. While we've been on pins and needles about it for a week now, at least the wait is almost over. We'll either know by Thursday, or we'll be here. I picked up a couple of long-sleeved tops and a pair of long lounge pants to tide me over until we can get to Salt Lake to retrieve cold-weather clothing, but at some point we will have to make that trip. Rather than speculate, I will wait patiently to be told when and where we're going (AGAIN1), and then I'll report.
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