Plant Them Deep (11 page)

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Authors: Aimee & David Thurlo

BOOK: Plant Them Deep
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“Do you think she’ll remember?” Clifford asked.
“Although we haven’t seen each other in decades, she’ll remember. Women don’t forget things like this,” she added with a smile.
“Then I’ll go today.”
“While you do
that, I’ll go to our family’s shrine and leave prayersticks. Afterwards, I’ll carry on with the work I’ve been given by the tribe. It’s what my friend would want.”
After Clifford left, Herman remained seated at the kitchen table, and they both ate cold roast beef sandwiches and sipped iced tea. “I would like to go with you to the shrine.”
“I don’t want you to come only because you’re worried
about me. I can take
care
of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Herman said. “The reason I’d like to go with you is because I’ve already made a bundle of pollen and white shell, but my family’s shrine is a day’s drive from here. Yours is closer and, with your permission, I’d like to leave my offering there.”
“Okay, but give me a few moments to gather up some things. I want to make sure my offerings
are ones the gods can’t turn down.” Unlike in her husband’s Anglo religion, when a Navajo prayed he never humbled himself. To plead or grovel showed the gods you were coming to them out of weakness, and they wouldn’t respect or honor such a request. Offerings followed age-old rules that were meant to compel the deities to help.
She continued, “I have some blue pollen and I’ve collected bits of
turquoise, hard coal, and abalone shell that I can leave, along with the prayersticks. And I know a
Hozonji,
a Song of Blessing, that’s the property of my family. It calls for blessings for our family—but my friend is like family to me.”
He nodded. “I also know a Song. We’ll work together.”
“Wait. There’s one more thing I need.” She walked to a drawer in the living room and pulled out a prayerstick
wrapped
in muslin. “This is a very special prayerstick. It’s covered in whiteshell, turquoise, and abalone, and wrapped in buckskin. It was made for my protection by an old
hataalii
when I was just a teenager. Like a chanter’s prayerstick, it will make what you pray for a reality if it’s held while you make your request to the gods. So when I ask that my friend’s health be restored, it will happen,
if the gods accept my offering.”
“These days, you should carry that prayerstick with you always no matter where you go,” Herman said. “Protection would be a very good thing for you to have.”
“We could all use some protection right now,” she said softly, thinking of her friend and her beloved
Dinetah.
R
ose and Herman walked up the rocky path that led to her family’s shrine in the piñon-juniper foothills near Beclabito. Many of her clan came here to this spot where the small cairn of rocks stood inside a crevice between two sandstone boulders, under a low cliff face. Once, long ago, when her clan had first come from Arizona, they’d run completely out of water by the time they’d reached
this spot. Both animals and humans were close to dying. Afraid and out of options, they’d done a Song of Blessing and left an offering for Changing Woman. The very next day they’d found a nearby spring.
To their clan this was now a place of good luck. Rose placed an offering of turquoise, abalone, and a piece of rare cannel coal on the cairn, then sprinkled blue pollen on it. Finished, she sang
her Song. It was a powerful chant but a simple one. She called to the mountains, and Mother Earth and Father Sky. Her song rose upward, reverberating with power and the strength of the ones who had come before her. As the last note faded away and silence prevailed, she stepped back.
Herman came forward and placed his offering down on the rock cairn. Even the birds grew quiet as his chant rose
upward, filling the air with the richness and strength of spirit that had held the
Dineh
together since the beginning of time.
His Song appealed to Sun and the Hero Twins, calling for peace and harmony.
When they at last stood in silence, they felt the comfort that came from having united in beliefs that were as old as the desert itself.
“I’m glad you came with me,” Rose said simply.
As they
walked away from the sacred place, Herman took the path that led to where he’d parked his pickup, but Rose stopped him before they’d gone more than a few yards. “I’d like to search the low areas around here for the missing Plant People. Can you stay a little longer?”
“Sure. As long as we have enough daylight to work, that’s no problem.”
“Darkness doesn’t set in until eight or so right now. We’ll
have at least two hours.” Rose reached into her purse and automatically brought out her camera. Then, realizing what she’d done, she stared at it for a moment. “My son is right. There are times when knowledge has to be withheld. I’ll have to take close-ups of the plants so the professor can identify them, but also be very careful not to give away where they are. The council will have to get by
without knowing the Plant People’s exact locations. There’s no telling where that information will end up unless I protect it.”
“I agree completely. It could do more harm than good,” Herman said, nodding. “Who is this professor you mentioned?”
“He’s an Anglo man my daughter’s professor friend recommended. He seems to know a great deal about plants in New Mexico,” Rose said. “I think he’ll be
a very good work partner for me. I provide him with the photos, and he’ll fill in the scientific names the council wants included in the report. They’re determined to make sure that the report is written in a way that will command respect in the Anglo world in case they have to present it to a federal agency to get special funding.
Of course, the professor’s credentials are ones the Anglo world will
accept easily.”
“What about the Navajo man assigned to work with you, the one connected to the nursery?”
“I think he was put there because of his political influence. He wants to make himself look better and make me seem incompetent, and maybe even sabotage the project in the meantime. He’s been no help. That’s why I’ve found a way to work around him.”
“I’m glad that everything is working out.”
He took a deep breath as the breeze rustled the evergreens, filling the air with the familiar scent of pine and juniper, and the subtle sharp but dry aroma of gray-green sagebrush. “Tell me which of the Plant People you’re looking for. If I know them, I can help you look.”
“This is an area where ‘oak under a tree’ was once found. The leaves and twigs are wonderful rheumatism medicine, but are
usually very close to the ground, like a creeping vine. It’s an evergreen. Bits of the plant can also be used to remove bad luck.”
“I know it. The plant has a habit of growing where nothing else does, like in the shade and around the base of ponderosa pines. It has small yellow flowers.”
“That’s the one,” she said. “Also keep an eye out for ‘hummingbird food.’ My friend likes to make a drink
by boiling the scarlet flower. It’s sweet to the taste and very good,” Rose said. “I’d like to bring her some, if I can find it.”
As they went farther into the narrow canyon searching for these particular plants, Rose heard laughter and, through a break in the underbrush and trees, saw some youngsters crouched beside some plants.
She placed a finger to her lips and crept forward. Herman tried
to hold her back, but Rose pulled away and continued ahead. She was determined to find out if the teens were the ones responsible for digging up the native plants.
Rose crept up carefully, Herman right behind her. Well hidden behind mature sagebrush, she crouched down and watched.
There were three young teens, two girls and a boy. The oldest couldn’t have been more than maybe sixteen. Rose
didn’t recognize any of them.
“Yeah, that’s the plant we’re looking for,” the boy said, checking the small notebook he carried. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that said CHIEFTAINS, Shiprock’s public high school team. “I heard my mom say that everyone wants this plant and nobody can find it. That’s why I borrowed her book. Now that we’ve found it, we can sell the plant and pick up some
cash for ourselves.”
“What’s it called?” the smallest of the two girls said, trying to look over his shoulder. She was wearing jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
“It’s called ‘hidden one.’ No, wait, that’s just what they call the root. But that’s the part we need. It’s supposed to be good for treating sore gums, and also for making dye to color yarn
and stuff.”
“I burned my gums the other day on a microwaved burrito and have a sore spot. I want to keep a piece for myself, okay?”
The boy nodded. “Yeah, you won’t even have to pay if you’re nice to me.”
“You wish. Just hurry and dig it up, will you? I thought we were going to that movie in Farmington tonight,” the other girl said. She was wearing heavy makeup and a cranberry-red tank top
that was obviously a few sizes too small.
“Take a pill. I’m having trouble with my mom’s shovel. The handle is all loose.”
“So why didn’t you take a better one?” the one in the ponytail said, scowling. “You’d probably do better digging with your hands.”
When they stepped back, Rose saw that the boy was using an old long-handled garden spade instead of an entrenching tool. She wasn’t sure whether
to feel relief or disappointment. To her, they were hardly more than children.
As the boy stepped around to the side, she realized what he was trying to dig up. What they had wasn’t ‘hidden one.’ They’d found ‘bad talk,’ a highly poisonous plant. If the girl with the sore gums tried chewing the root, she could die.
“Stop!” Rose came through the brush and marched right up to the kids. “You
cannot
take that plant. Don’t even touch it.”
“Old woman, this isn’t just
your
Rez. We can take whatever we want,” the boy said, standing up and nearly matching her five-foot-nine height.
“That’s not the plant called ‘hidden one.’ What you have there can
kill
you. It’s what we call ‘bad talk.’ It’s used in witchcraft.”
The boy gave her a suspicious look. “Or you could be lying ’cause you want it for
yourself.”
Herman came up beside Rose, facing them, arms crossed. “As far as I’m concerned, you deserve what you get. Why don’t you boil it in water when you get home, then drink it? If you really think we’re lying, that’s one sure way to find out for yourself.”
Rose looked at Herman, horrified. “No, don’t even think of doing that. It
will
kill you then.”
The boy’s expression was one of defiance
and skepticism. “We were taught about poisonous plants in biology class. I never heard of ‘bad talk.’”
“But you should have heard about jimsonweed,” Rose said. “That’s the name the Anglos give it.”
The boy took another look at the plant, his eyes wide. “Forget it! Let’s go to town instead!”
The trio left, ignoring Rose’s efforts to find out who they
were, and drove away quickly in an old Volkswagen
that they’d driven down the arroyo. After they were gone, Rose sat on a rock and took a deep breath. “If the kids have taken it upon themselves to dig up things they neither know nor understand, we could have some fatal poisonings, or a least several really sick kids.”
“Boys that age trying to impress girls will do almost anything. They don’t think—they just act.”
“You really took a chance goading
that boy,” Rose said. “I couldn’t believe you did that.”
“Sometimes my sons would challenge me like that boy did you. More often than not, the only way for me to get their attention was to stand up to them and give them something to worry about.”
“I’m glad
my
son was never like that,” she said, a touch of pride in her voice.
Herman rolled his eyes. “Remember my melon patch?”
Rose smiled, recalling
the summer Clifford had swiped a few of Herman’s best melons. “Okay, he wasn’t perfect.” She paused, then added, “Actually, he experimented with some of the plants in my garden once—seeing what they’d do to him, you know? But he got really sick and it scared him. After that, he began listening to my lessons about the Plant People.”
By the time Rose got home, Dawn was already asleep, and Ella
was sitting alone on the living room couch with a mixing bowl heaped full of chocolate ice cream.
“Daughter, how can you eat so much ice cream at once? Doesn’t it give you a headache?”
“Mom, the least of my worries is a little brain freeze. I had an extremely bad day—close to a world record. So I stopped at the gourmet ice cream parlor—your favorite place in Farmington—and loaded up on quality
ice cream. Now I’m going to sit here
and indulge myself.” She held out her bowl. “There are two flavors of chocolate and even some raspberry vanilla about halfway down. Join me?”
Rose looked at her daughter, then went to the kitchen for a spoon. She’d save sensible for another day.
The following morning Rose called the hospital and checked on Lena’s condition. There was no change. She’d hoped
that the gods would work more quickly, but it apparently wasn’t meant to be.
Fear over Lena’s condition filled her, but she forced it back, focusing on the work before her. Rose called Sadie Black Shawl, who was housesitting at Lena’s. I need your help,” she said, and told Sadie about the kids she’d seen digging up the poisonous plant.
“It’s a good thing you were there. Jimsonweed is extremely
toxic.”
“Summer school is in session right now, so I’m going to stop by the high school today and try to find out who those kids were,” Rose said. “Then I’m going to ask the principal to warn the students in school now, and the rest of them this fall, about the dangers of acting without knowledge of the Plant People. If we can make the kids understand, we might be able to keep this from happening
again.”
“And you want me to go with you?”
“Yes. You have book knowledge. Mine comes from experience. Together, we have something useful and valuable to offer them.”
“Agreed.”
“Wonderful! I’ll meet you at my friend’s house a bit after nine.”
Rose glanced through the open curtains of the kitchen. She
knew just by looking that it was still early, and she had some time left. Everyone relied on
watches and clocks these days, but she still operated on Indian time as often as she could.
Rose greeted Dawn as she ran into the kitchen with Two already at her side. “Good morning,” she said, giving her granddaughter a hug. “Are you ready for breakfast yet?”
She nodded. “Juice, please.”
“Apple or orange juice?”
“Orange juice, please.”
Rose brought Dawn her cup. As she turned to make her
granddaughter some oatmeal, Jennifer came in.
Jennifer went to the stove and took over preparations for Dawn’s breakfast. “Please, may I? I like doing this, and it’ll help me keep my mind off things with my grandmother.”
“I know you must be worried about her, Boots. But she’ll get well,” Rose said softly. She has to, she added to herself.
Jennifer sighed, but said nothing more.
Respecting
her housekeeper’s wish not to discuss it, Rose headed out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you with Dawn, then. I have to get ready to go.”
Rose went to her room to brush her hair and finish getting dressed. As she stood by the mirror and pulled her hair back into a bun, Ella walked into the room.
“After I get off work today, I’m going to take my daughter to Albuquerque with me for the weekend,”
Ella announced.

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