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Liles |
You might have to stretch
to believe what I am about to tell you, but I began my
life on the side of Rattlesnake Mountain on the Qualla
Boundary In Western North Carolina. I was a dogwood
sapling. An old Cherokee man, Mr. Richard "Geek" Crowe
put tobacco down by me on a spring day many years ago.
He asked if he could take me and use me in a good way.
He cut me off close to the ground with his pocketknife
and fashioned me into the drumstick you see before
you. He shaved off parts of my bark to expose my bare
light wood. He carved special designs into the bark on
my handle. He prayed as he carved. He said that these
designs represented things that were given to him by
his grandfathers.
Mr. Crowe gave me a new
and unexpected life. I never held it against him for
taking me off that hillside. I do not look at it as
having lost that life. That life, in a way, is still
with me. It was necessary for me to grow straight with
a close grain so that I could be ready for the new
life that was given to me by the Creator. For it was
the Creator that guided Mr. Crowe to find me on the
hillside. In this new life as a drumstick, I have
traveled many places and seen many things. Both parts
of my life have been rich. I found life with Mr. Crowe
very enjoyable. We made lots of music together. When
he was not using me, Mr. Crowe kept me in a leather
bag with tobacco, cedar, and some peppermint candies.
I felt safe there. I liked the smells in this bag, but
most of all I liked it when Mr. Crowe took me out and
sang with me. He would keep time with me on a rawhide
hand drum. Sometimes he would sing old Cherokee songs.
We would be all by
ourselves: Mr. Crowe, the drum, and me. There were
other times when he would take me to gatherings at
other people's homes or at the community center in
Cherokee. I remember well the time Mr. Crowe's
daughter had a ceremony and feast for her baby who was
getting an Indian name. I was witness to everything. I
saw it all! Mr. Crowe conducted the ceremony. He said:
"I give this child the name 'Sutaga'. This name has
been in my family for hundreds of years. This name
means 'whirling water' in the language given to us by
the Creator." This was a wonderful occasion. Everybody
was so happy. After the naming ceremony, there was a
feast. When people finished eating, Mr. Crowe got me
out, and we were joined by a guy named Nephew and one
of his friends.
The three men held the
hand drum out flat, and I was joined by two other
sticks in beating out the time to some songs. Man!
They were good ones. I liked being around all that
music... and that laughter! It was at this moment that
my life took another unexpected turn. At the end of
the evening, people were putting things into their
cars. In all the confusion, I got put with all the
stuff that Nephew and his family were taking home. it
was the next morning that Nephew found me. He said:
"Oh wah!" and told me that he would take me back to
Mr. Crows the next chance he got. But that next
weekend, he took me to a powwow in Knoxville,
Tennessee. Nephew was going to sit in with the host
drum. I had never experienced life on a big drum. I am
not just talking about size. I heard some people say
that this was the kind of drum that came to most
Native American people during the time of the Warrior
Societies. They said that this is the kind of drum
used at most powwows today. I had never experienced
the power that is possible when you get a group of
singers around one of these drums.
The songs that are sung
here have so many stories, so many memories. Nephew
used me respectfully on the drum at Knoxville. He
respected the fact that I was a wooden drumstick. He
did not hit the drum with me as hard as some of those
other guys with fiberglass sticks. But still, I felt a
big part of the music made at that powwow. Things at
the end of the Knoxville powwow got mixed up. At the
end of the closing song, Nephew put me down on the big
drum. Another singer gathered me up with all the other
sticks and put me into the drumstick bag of the head
singer whose name was John. In another hour, I found
myself in the trunk of John's car. Without my doing
anything, my life had taken another shift.
The next time light
came into the bag was in John's home in Maryland. John
was very surprised to see me. He knew where I came
from. He recognized me as Nephew's drumstick. He
laughed and said hello to me. He beat me on a chair in
his living room and tried out a new song that had come
to him on the way back form Knoxville. John told me
that he would get me back to Nephew some way or
another. I traveled to a lot of powwows with John.
John would use me only on special songs. These were
songs to honor people. These were slower songs. This
kind of song was usually followed by a giveaway when
people would give lots of gifts to other people at the
powwow. |
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I remember once when
John's drum went on a long road trip to Connecticut.
There was a big powwow being held outside a casino. I
had never seen so many Indian people in one place in
my life. They had come from all over North America.
There were contests being held for different
categories of dancing and singing. The prize money
they were giving would blow your mind! For most of
this powwow, I stayed in John's bag. But toward the
end of the last night, John's drum got an intertribal
song. They were joined by several singers from the
other drums. I felt John pick up his bag. The bag was
passed from hand to hand around the drum.
Unfamiliar hands reached
in and got drumsticks. That is when I felt Gene's hand
for the first time. He reached in and grabbed me just
as the song was starting. At first I was scared, but
then I realized that Gene was a good man. He had a
strong hand, but it was a gentle hand at the same
time. Something about him seemed very balanced. Gene
kept time with me on the side of the drum at first and
then moved me out to the middle with the rest of the
sticks. There must have been eighteen sticks hitting
that drum!
The power of that song
has stayed with me for the many days between then and
now. I know it is starting to sound like history
repeating itself, but it happened again. At the end of
this song, all those guys were shaking hands and
slapping each other on the back and laughing and
telling stories. Gene just walked back to his drum
with me. I knew he did not mean to take me. He was
trying to carry a lot of things: a tape recorder, a
chair, a bottle of water, a towel. I ended up in the
back seat of Gene's car.
I found out in a truck
stop in Pennsylvania that I was headed to Oklahoma. I
had heard Indian people talk about Oklahoma a good
deal. Sometimes they even called it Indian Territory!
I thought I had seen the powwow life, but my life as a
drumstick was just beginning. Down in Oklahoma, I went
all over the place. Every weekend there were four or
five powwows, and you did even have to drive far! But
there was one thought that kind of haunted me. I had
lost all contact with people who knew where I came
from. No one knew I came from North Carolina. I
wondered if I would ever see Mr. Crowe again. |
