Chapters (41)
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART TWO
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Nala was fresh air. Nala was the first bloom on a winter-bare branch. Calliope would miss Nala most.
“Thank you, kyawu.” She called her sister. “Come help me with the soap weed.” Unlike the blood pudding, this work Calliope actually enjoyed. The seed pods of the yucca root were boiled and used for food, though she had helped Nala use the entire plant for various purposes. They’d made the leaves into brushes and given them to the kivas for ceremonial masks and altars. They’d also soaked the leaves in water to soften them and knotted them together for rope. They’d dried the leaves to split and braid for water-carrying head pads and mats. And pounded the peeled roots into suds for washing hair, wool garments, and blankets.
Calliope had learned to weave yucca into a linen-like fabric they used for clothing. The central leaves of the yucca plant were gathered and each leaf folded into a strip three inches long then placed in a pot of boiling water together with wood ash. They removed the skin from the leaves and the children chewed them. Eunjoo found this part of the process hilarious. After this, the fibers were separated and straightened, and once they dried, they were soaked in cold water and rubbed between the hands. The softened fibers were then pulled into a fluffy mass and spun and woven like cotton. Eunjoo’s favorite game was mastering this new life, and she played it so well with Nala. Not everything here was ancient; a few modern accoutrements existed. But many Western ways were put aside for the old traditions. If Nala and the other young people missed electronics and those trappings of their modern life before, they never let on. Everyone here seemed content in the present, Nala especially. Her joy was so contagious Calliope wished she too could have built contentment here. And she might have. If she hadn’t already built a life elsewhere.
How would blood sausage have tasted if she’d never known what it was made of? What would Zuni have felt like if it hadn’t been the barrier between Calliope and her son?
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-ONE
POPPING BUBBLES
Dinner in Zuni was an affair every single night. The woman’s role in the religion was preparing the food, for food wasn’t meant just to be swallowed down like American fast-food culture had made it. Each meal was meant to be savored, slowly enjoyed.