Fifteen Forty-Two

Abstract

Iwas born on the land of the ‘AmuwuChumash, which was taken by the same people who took my land. This story is for them. guaha un tiempo ... They watched us glide in our proas around them, pointing, with mouths agape. Their faces were pale and sunken, they were hungry. We circled their square-rigged proa which was larger than any of ours. We look back and see everyone standing watching us. Some launch more proas and join the circle. One of us moves closer and we follow. Saxipak’a ... Hawks surveyed for pocket mice in the pickleweed. Harbor seals watched their pups splash in the estuary. A heron towered over the brackish water from an overhanging oak branch while hares retreated for their burrows out of the swaggering path of a hungry xus. He came to the edge of the river without a name and made ripples. The smell of oak ash and sweat caught his attention and he looked up the river and saw a dugout canoe paddled by two boys. The boys stared at the xus and the drumming of woodpeckers in oak woodlands echoed. The older boy gripped his paddle harder making it squeak just enough for the xus to hear. The xus stood up and the boys held their breath. They posed no threat to the xus. He lowered to all fours and disappeared into the bulrush. The boys watched where he once stood for a moment and exhaled. “It’s real,” said Pititi. “That was the xus father saw when he was your age, Silkiset.” “Maybe,” said Silkiset. “Don’t tell father.” “That was the xus father saw when he was your age, Silkiset,” said Pititi. “I still smell him,” Pititi said, scrunching his nose. “Do you know why they smell like that?” asked Silkiset. “Because they eat honey.” “That’s not real,” said Silkiset sternly. “Xus like to rub themselves on trees and the biggest ones use the biggest trees to scratch. That’s why they smell like fire.” “But he didn’t smell like fire,” said Pititi. “He just smelled bad.”