Native American Short Stories

The Bidai Tribe (Part 2)

Before the woman and her daughter even reached the spot under the trees where Otter Man waited patiently on the grass for his bride, the women heard wedding music and she pictured the many faces anxious to begin the feast which had been prepared.

Drums pounded in light repetitions, blending into beautiful tones from a flute she knew her own nephew had crafted for the day, reminding her of the upcoming dance which would take the guests into early morning.

As her mind rushed in excitement, she found herself barely able to feel her own pulse under the beaded porcupine choker tied to her throat; the faint jingling of tiny shells caught her attention as each one dangled, swooshing back and forth from the decorative black and white triangular pattern.

Each footstep brought her closer toward the gathering of her loved ones. If only her mother were still alive, the day would be perfect, the thought crossed her mind. But instead of lingering on a sad thought, the woman squeezed her daughter's hand and thanked her creator for all He had given to her family.

Her daughter reciprocated the squeeze with one of her own, her cheeks pushed back from the grin she wore. She felt at ease with the way her mother peacefully tossed her head back slightly, laughing.

Unable to control the giddiness any longer, the bride walked in step to a few of the drum beats, stooping low and bouncing up a bit higher, arms and shoulders keeping the rhythm.

"We are already having fun, aren't we?"

The woman nodded at her daughter.

As the drums and flutes sounded closer, the two gathered their composure, stood taller and wiped the silliness from their faces.

Rounding the group of trees, they finally made their appearance and paused for a moment until the drum beats began to slow pace. The other instruments slowly faded, soft voices uttering expressions of appreciation for the bride's beauty on her special day.

With a nod from her son, the woman turned to her daughter, hugging her deeply before making her way through the seated crowd.

The time had arrived.

Silence filled the gathering as the couple stood side by side in front of the tribal chief and medicine man, ready to be called one.

The tribal leaders raised their hands toward the sky, signifying the ceremony had begun.

Referring to the basket filled with fresh meat and jerkies Otter Man had provided with his own two hands and with the aid of no other member of the community, the chief asked that the bride's eldest brother pick the basket up and move it from the groom's side to that of the bride's.

"Otter Man has worked hard these last few days gathering this meat as a symbol of his effort to keep your bellies filled, but this offering also promises something else," he winked. Deviating from the normal ceremony recited for traditionally younger couples, the chief continued. "This dried meat serves as a promise that you will always have something hard to throw at him when he grows old and cannot hear your voice!"

The tribe giggled, smiles passing between young and old alike.

Waving a hand toward the ceramic jar filled with fermenting fruit, the basket of bread and the decorated gourds, the bride's brother then moved his sister's contribution to his new brother's side.

"Our dear sister has also been occupied lately. These vessels display her many talents, as we all know, for creating the beautiful things we have all shared by means of her generosity. By presenting them to you, Otter Man, she is promising you she will work hard to preserve the beauty of your home and just like you, that she will work hard at keeping you both fed." The wrinkly old man offered a toothless grin, adding, "The contents of that jar may help ease the pain of the jerky against your head when you grow old."

The couple's eyes met and they joined the group in a round of laughter before the medicine man took his place to seal the ceremony with a prayer, thanking the Creator for the new life being formed.

Three little girls, dressed in their best deer skins and with their hair decorated in long strands of beads, took their turns each hugging their aunt and presenting the gifts they made for her.

Turning an intricately designed ceramic bowl over in her hands, the woman traced the lines with the tip of her finger, moving her head from side to side slowly.

"I cannot believe you made this for me," she commented to her niece. "This is your own design, I can tell. I love it," she smiled. "Thank you, girls. Please, go find some of your friends and eat all you can until the dancing begins!"

She knew it would not be long; the drummers could be seen gathering near the large sitting stones and she'd seen her nephew with his flute only moments before the girls approached her. If the music did not commence soon, she would just dance anyway - this was her celebration and the energy she carried felt too heavy to carry around much longer.

A hand touched her shoulder and when she spun around, the familiar voice called her name.

"Liluye," she cooed. "I have missed your face!"

As her cousin scooped Liluye into a long-overdue hug, the two rattled on about their families - which of their children were doing what and of course, how she finally accepted Otter Man's request for marriage.

Before the two had finished their conversation, the older men had called the gathering to the dancing circle.

"Friends and family," their chief invited, "come dance in celebration as we welcome our new family. Help us give thanks to our Creator for this blessing!"

At the signal, the men began beating the drums with heavy hands, strong and loud.

Otter Man and Liluye started the procession, but within a few beats, invited everyone to join them as smiling faces young and young at heart picked up their feet and celebrated life.