Star Gift

Chapter Seventeen

As Blake and Michael entered into the village on the bike, there was a certain silence at midday that seemed foreign to Blake. Michael commandeered the Harley to an area of the reservation where some authentic pueblo buildings stood—obviously inhabited still. Coming out of one of the blue framed doorways, starkly contrasting with the earthen color of the structure, was a stocky woman wearing brightly colored green and red apparel. She had obviously heard the roar of the motorcycle and knew the source of it to be her celebrated son.

Michael shut off the engine and both young men walked toward her who greeted them with a cordial smile. Her arms were open to receive to object of her affection and Michael embraced his mother heartily. Others could be seen peeking out of windows on the upper levels of the complex, and the dark-skinned woman with the pleasant face and gray braided hair, ushered the two into the ground floor of the primative dwelling.

Michel introduced Blake to his mother softly and politely, and she took his hand in hers and nodded. She did not speak English but rather the very foreign dialogue of the Zuni, which Michael, out of respect and pride, maintained during almost the entire visit, only temporarily sharing with Blake what she had said in welcoming him into her home and village. Seated in the small kitchen, with what appeared to be 1960-ish appliances in the background, Blake gained some idea of the difficult history the Zuni people had endured, holding on to their culture in spite of the hardships and historically cruel treatment of them by the United States government over the centuries.

Nevertheless, over a strong herbal tea and a type of sweet, honeyed bread, the three spent an hour or so, with Michael obviously telling his caring and perplexed mother of his hew life so far away in the East. Incongruously, she had a cell phone on the table which rang and was answered several times while she answered in Zuni, excitedly announcing Michael's presence to other relatives and neighbors who inquired. Soon, the small kitchen was invaded by at least ten to fifteen villagers, all showing great emotion at seeing their compatriot, and most likely relative, sitting with his mother back in the very house he was raised in.

Blake was emotionally moved at this impromptu reunion, and especially from Michal's gesturing and touching the heads and shoulders of his people in a way that revealed both his shamanistic position in the tribe and their reverence toward him. As Michael held one of the youngest of the Zuni pueblo members on his knee and bounced her affectionately, he announced that his departure was imminent. There was great lamentation at this news and several of the Zuni who had crowded into the small room, including his mother, began to cry. Michael stood and held his hands out dramatically as a signal to not react so. This included a small speech which Blake understood through Michael's body language and facial expression, that he would never abandon his people, no matter what calling his education and temporary travels to the East would entail.

Soon all stood near him and joined hands. Michael began what sounded to be a prayer in the Zuni tongue, which all listened to reverently with eyes closed. Once the prayer ended, everyone in the room, made a point or touching or kissing him before they left willingly. It was all a moving and completely unexpected sight for Blake to witness.

Once the small crowd had dispersed, Michael reached into his pocket and took out a thick, sealed envelope, ostensibly money, and handed it to his mother as a gift. She nodded and placed it on a shelf, giving it no more attention but instead taking both of her son's hands in hers and kissing them. For a long moment the two stood transfixed, staring deeply and motionlessly into each other's eyes.

To Blake there was no need for words or any translation to express what the two were saying and receiving. Michael gave his mother one last hug and a kiss on the cheek and turned, himself holding back tears before departing. The two young men returned to the motorcycle and an even larger crowd of the pueblo's villagers were congregated around their young shaman as the bike sped off.