Tanayia Page 4

  The dining room is run by Sister Louisa and Sister Kathleen. They pretend not to listen to our talking and laughter, and as long as Sister Enid is not nearby we can eat our meal without the threat of beatings.

  On Monday, breakfast was cornmeal mush. Tuesday, I ate rice and raisins. Wednesday was the breakfast of oatmeal. Thursday, cornbread and milk. Friday was fish. Saturday was left over food from the week, mixed together. Sunday was oatmeal with raisins or sometimes nuts. In this manner I learned the days of the week.

  One of the Ute girls moves beside me. Her brown eyes are hollow from lack of sleep and hunger. I think of the children of my village and take her soft hand in mine. I notice she is trying not to cry, but as we near the kitchen a large Navaho girl pushes her aside.

  I glare at the Navaho girl and she takes a step back. The child moves nearer to me. I feel the warmth of her small body thought my cotton shirts.

  Reaching for two tin bowls and metal spoons, I guide the child so that she clutches my skirt. Slowly, we walk along one wall where the large pots of oatmeal are placed.

  When I arrive at the front of the line, a girl with crooked brown teeth, ladled a thick lump of cereal into my bowl. I handed her a second bowl and she frowned before glancing over her shoulder at Sister Kathleen.

  “One, girl. One.”

  I glanced down at the Ute girl and said, “for her.”

  Quickly, the serving girl filled the second bowl and shoved it into my hand. The Ute girl grabbed two tin cups from a table and held them still as Mary Billy took a pitcher of water and filled each cup to the top.

  There were sixteen long tables of a faded green color flanked by benches of the uncertain shade of gray.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  The breakfast bell rings.

  Then with all the swiftness I can gather, I look for a narrow space on the crowded benches. I squeeze in the middle of the third table. Learned weeks ago, not to sit upon the end of the bench where you can be shoved to the floor. The young one watches me and silently seats herself beside me.

  The child stares at me with wise eyes. “Thanks-you,” she whispers.

  Clutching her spoon in her tight little fist, she shovels lump after lump of cereal into her mouth.

  I take a bite of the cold cereal and tell my insides it is food. I wash it down with a sip of water. It is better than yesterday’s breakfast I tell myself as I stare into the gray mound. The rice had something the teachers called wheebles and the raisins also had small pieces of dirt. This meal was only cold and without taste.

  I glanced down at the young one and choked down another bite. I took pleasure in knowing the child would not go hungry today.

  Great Spirit—I want no blood upon my land to stain the grass.

  I want it all clean and pure, and I wish it so, that all who go through among my people

  may find it peaceful when they come, and leave peacefully when they go.

  --Ten Bears

  Yamparika Comanche

  Chapter 5

  “Anna Thunder, you will pay dearly for your disobedience!” Sister Enid slapped the flat of her palm against the desk top. “When I tell a student to recite, everyone is to participate.”

  “I stiffened against the wooden back of my chair and held my breath. Sullen silence from the Comanche girl was a daily ritual. Never before had she challenged the teacher in front of so many students. Hatred twisted Sister Enid’s prune face in fury. “I demand an apology.”

  Anna Thunder remained silent.

  With her back arched and her scrawny neck stretched its full length, Sister Enid marched to the back of the room. Her heavy shoes sounding like horse’s hooves on the brightly polished wooden floor. Grabbing Anna Thunder by the arm, the teacher yanked the girl from the chair. Dragging her toward the hallway, she said, “Two days in the attic for you. No food. Only water. Afterwards, I’ll wager, you’ll remember your manners.”

  During the days which followed, all the students spoke in whispers about Anna Thunder. All wondered what had happened to her. None dared to ask Sister Enid. Some said she was being starved and beaten. Others said she had died and the Sisters had buried her beneath the church floor.

  On the morning of the third day, while the other girls were marching in the exercise yard, Sister Sarah ordered me to remain inside.

  “You, girl,” Sister Sarah said, “Move to the bed next to the wall. Take your belongings with you.”

  I kept my gaze lowered though I felt her harsh voice scrape along my nerves. Hate, strong and hot, surged in the teacher’s blood. She was looking for a reason to punish me. I held my tongue. Sister Sarah’s hate for me, and my own hate for her and Sister Enid, made it difficult to remain silent.

  I had learned over my many months at the school not to show my hatred for the whites. Hatred got me nowhere. Hatred got Anna Thunder two days in the attic. I saw no reason to join her.

  I, like all Nde, fought many battles to survive. When I stood my ground in this white world. It would be of my time and my choosing.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, forcing the words through the ball of emotion in my throat. Each bed had a small trunk for storage strapped underneath. Pulling out my belongings, I carried them to the other bed. This bed was against the wall, below a window. I could feel a draft from the thin glass and shivered. It would be cold here. I glanced up at Sister Sarah and saw her smile.

  “Be quick about it,” she said, tapping her foot. “I have more important matters to attend to.”

  I looked upon my belongings and felt anger wash over me. Among my own people I would be shamed by such lack of property. When I was in my grandfather’s lodge I had fine buckskin clothing and grandmother sewed bright dresses for me from trade cloth. In this school I had a black skirt and white blouse. My undergarments were gray with many washings, and I had one pair of cotton stockings for winter. These things I placed inside the trunk, and added one comb, one brush, one sewing needle and a hank of black thread.

  I had nothing else, nothing that really belonged to me. I was without my home, my family, my band. Not even the bed I slept in all these long months was mine. What else did these white people plan to take from me?

  “Anna Thunder will sleep in your old bed, girl.”

  My spine stiffened. Hot rage loosened my tongue. I stood tall and glared at Sister Sarah.

  “No. Anna Thunder, Comanche. I will not sleep beside my enemy!”

  “Oh, yes, girl, you will sleep beside Anna Thunder. You will eat beside her. You will work beside her. You will do what I say, without complaint. If you do not, I will take you to Sister Enid and have you beaten. Do you understand me, girl?”

  Fury, such as I had not known since the day the Uniforms attacked camp, pounded through my veins. I stood still and silent. Anna Thunder was my enemy.

  Sister Sarah moved beside me and grabbed a handful of my hair. Yanking it, she pulled my head back until my gaze locked with hers. Tears stung my eyes from the pain and my back ached from the pressure. Still, I refused to speak.

  “You defy me?” Her grip tightened and she jerked my head back another inch. Suddenly it was hard for me to breathe and my vision blurred.

  I saw the hatred on her face and knew she would not stop until she brought me to my knees.

  I would die before I would let Sister Sarah make a slave of me.

  She seemed to sense this and loosened her grip. “Do you understand me, now?”

  “Yes,” I replied bitterly. “I understand.”

  “Good. Finish your task and then report to the kitchen. Sister Enid wishes to speak with you.”

  Releasing her hold on me, Sister Sarah turned on her heel and left the dormitory. I stumbled over to the bed and sat down.

  The cold crept up my spine spreading its icy fingers around my throat. I needed all my strength and courage when I faced Sister Enid. For now, I would fight my enemies alone.

  Grandfather once told me: “We, Nde, are not like dogs that can be trained. Dogs can be beaten an
d keep on wagging their tails., licking the hand that whipped them. The Nde are like cats. Little cats, big cats, wildcats, bobcats, mountain lions. It does not matter what kind, but cats who are not tamed, who scratch if you step on their tails.”

  I tried to gain courage from the memory of his words, but it was so hard.

  “But I am only a kitten, Grandfather,” I whispered, my voice thick with tears. “My claws are still very small.”

  With renewed spirit, I went to face the head mistress.

  ***

  An uneasiness filled my mind when Sister Kathleen greeted me later that morning.

  “Sister Enid has been called away on business,” she said. “She will be gone for several days.”

  I glanced at her. Sister Kathleen was different from the other teachers. Her sky-colored eyes were gentle and her hair the color of winter fire. Her voice was always soft, respectful, and a smile often curved her lips. In many ways, she reminded me of my friend, Yellow-Bird. I wished my friend was with me now.

  Sister Kathleen tried to understand the students. She did not call us dirty savages or heathens.

  Still, I wondered why I was given this new job. Others worked in the laundry room for many school terms.

  “Why? Why this kitchen? I asked.

  Sister Kathleen frowned. “I don’t know. Usually Sister Enid has the older, more experienced girls work here.”

  “Like Mary Billy.”

  “Yes, like Mary. Mary has lived here for six years. She speaks and understands English and . . .she understands Sister Enid.”

  “Tay only moons. . .months. Little English.”

  “Yes, Tay. I know.”

  Sister Kathleen called me Tay instead of girl. She used the white name the school had given to me. I did not like this new name. Sister Kathleen tried to be a friend to all the students, so I did not mind her calling me Tay. I found myself watchful around her, but I did not fear her, not like I feared Sister Enid.

  “How many days will I stay here?”

  “If Sister Enid is happy with your work you’ll remain here like Mary Billy. If you displease her—”

  “I go back.”

  “Yes. Sister Enid expects the staff’s meals to be perfect. Remember she makes no allowances for mistakes.”

  I held my hands at my sides and did not allow her to see my discomfort. I was not certain I wished to work in this kitchen. It was hot. The smells from one of the pots made my stomach sick.

  I hated working in the laundry also. I did not wish to go back there.

  I learned fast. I would watch the others and listen. If I was careful, Sister Enid would not say I made mistakes. She would not send me back to the laundry room.

  “You will help prepare the meals. Mary Billy will teach you.”

  I glanced around the room. Mary Billy cooked beef over an open flame in the fireplace at the far back corner of the room. Two Cheyenne girls, Amy Strongbull and Wilma Owen, sat on the back-porch cleaning greens and slicing potatoes into a large bowls.

  Sister Kathleen smiled. “Do not worry so, Tay. Things have a way of working out for the best.”

  I watched her grab a cloth and pull open the oven door. She pulled out a metal pan filled with small breads and set it on the table.

  The aroma filled the room and my stomach rumbled. It reminded me of the tortillas my aunt cooked beneath the ash of the campfire. Sadness whispered across my heart and I wished I was back home in Apacheria. Blinking back tears, I glanced at Sister Kathleen.

  She seemed to know my thoughts.

  “Poor, Tay,” she said, touching my cheek. “I know this is difficult for you. Try to understand. This is your home, now.”

  I did not expect her touch and I stepped back. In this school a slap was the only touch I knew.

  “School no my home, Sister. Someday I go home.”

  “Perhaps you shall, Tay. Here, take this apron and tie it over your dress.”

  I did this task quickly. The teacher motioned me to follow her.

  “Tay, you will assist Mary Billy in serving lunch from now on. Anna Thunder will help in the preparation and the cleaning up afterwards.

  A heavy clumping of footsteps claimed Sister Kathleen’s attention.

  “Anna, I’m glad you decided to come and help.”

  Anna Thunder stood, her thin arms folded in front of her chest. Her dark gaze snapped on Sister Kathleen.

  I stiffened and narrowed my gaze. When Anna Thunder turned, my eyes were steady upon hers. I would not look away first.

  “Tay. This is Anna. The two of you will be spending a lot of time together. It will be in the best interest of all concerned that you two become friends.”

  “Friends,” Anna spat. “I no friend to Apache!”

  I glared at Anna Thunder. I would not answer to Apache. Apache was a name our enemies call us. I refused to honor her by speaking.

  “Tay,” Sister Kathleen said, nudging my shoulder. “Tell Anna Thunder she is welcome here.”

  I shot an angry look at Sister Kathleen. The Nde and the Comanche were enemies. I would not welcome Anna Thunder.

  “No. She not welcome here.”

  “Ladies, the two of you will work together. If not, you will answer to Sister Enid.

  “I am Comanche. I not scared of white woman.

  “Perhaps not, Anna. However, Sister Enid will send you back to the attic if you cause trouble.”

  “I no cause trouble. Apache cause trouble.”

  “Liar!”

  “Apache liar. Apache thief.”

  “I no thief,” I retorted. “The Nde do not steal from Comanche. Comanche steal our land, kill my people.”

  “Apache steal our women, steal our horses!”

  “You take our land.

  “Apache, liar.”

  “You take our dogs.”

  “Liar.”

  “Sister Kathleen you must watch Anna Thunder,” I said, turning to the teacher. “First she steals your knives. Then she takes your dogs. Take you pots.”

  “Dog? Pots? Tay, what on earth are you talking about?”

  “Comanche like dogs. Comanche say dog meat good to eat.”

  White man’s pictures all fade, but the Indian’s memories last forever.

  -- An Indian Guide to Tom Wilson, historian- 1882

  Chapter 6

  “Stop this instant!” Sister Kathleen shouted, stepping between us.

  Anna Thunder was swift, reaching past the teacher to grab my sleeve. The sound of tearing fabric filled the kitchen.

  I glanced at the large hole in the cotton fabric which zig-zagged from my elbow to my wrist. A howl of outrage left my throat and I lunged at the Comanche. I would not permit such an insult.

  Sister Kathleen was very strong. Yanking on the waistband of my skirt, she held me fast.

  “Anna Thunder sit at the counter and start peeling the potatoes. Tay, you help Mary Billy, now! There will not be a repeat of this behavior. Do you both understand? If I have to reprimand either of you again today, I will personally escort you both to the attic.”

  My pride sang out for retaliation. My gaze locked with Sister Kathleen’s eyes, now the color of dark storm clouds, demanded I obey her.

  I nodded and moved toward Mary Billy. Remaining in this kitchen was going to be more difficult than I had realized. I felt a frown of concentration crease my forehead. I followed Mary Billy to the fireplace.

  “Tay, the beef must be turned every few minutes,” Mary Billy told me.

  Wrapping a heavy cloth around the metal rod which reached from one side of the fire place to the other, she grasped the end and slowly turned the roast.

  “Sister Enid wants the beef evenly browned, Tay. Remember to baste the roast so it will not dry out.”

  I nodded and watched her ladle a cup of liquid from a bowl and drizzle it over the meat. Fat dripped into the fire. My empty stomach growled in hunger and pains shot through me.

  “You will get used to it, the hunger,” she said, moving to lean agai
nst the wall. “Now you try.”

  I wasn’t accustomed to preparing food and then not being allowed to partake in the meal.

  As I started to speak, I noticed Mary Billy’s eyes were overly bright and her cheeks too red.

  “Mary Billy sick?” I asked, taking the ladle from her grasp. The Navajo girl looked very ill. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her breathing shallow, like a sparrow which had flown a very long distance.

  “I am only tired, Tay. Do not worry so. Turn the meat again. Good. . .place the ladle back in the bowl. It’s time to make the apple pie filling.”

  All morning long, while I worked, I felt the Comanche’s gaze upon me. Like a predatory hawk, Anna Thunder watched and waited for me to make a mistake. Although I did not let her see my uncertainty, I knew there would be no second chance for me.

  I followed Sister Kathleen’s instructions and learned well.

  Eventually, the morning became calm. It was not wise to anger a teacher twice in one day. I had no desire to see the inside of the attic.

  I helped roast the beef and learned to carve using the large knife. Anna Thunder did not speak to me again. She stayed upon her task, under the sharply watchful eye of Sister Kathleen. After we cleaned the kitchen and dining room we were each given a bowl of rice with beef gravy and one slice of bread.

  Sister Kathleen said it was a reward for our hard work. I had missed breakfast and ate quickly. Afterwards, I felt sick from the unaccustomed richness of the food.

  Anna Thunder ate slowly, watching us, daring me to try and take her food away. When Sister Kathleen’s back was turned, the Comanche slid her bread into the pocket of her skirt, her gaze narrowed upon me.

  Later that afternoon, when classes were over for the day, Sister Louisa allowed us to go outside for free time. This was only allowed for one hour, one afternoon each week, and we were strictly supervised.

  The boys and girls were each lodged in separate buildings but the common yard was divided by a wooden fence.