A Ghost Story
It was a bright sunny afternoon when she slipped into another dimension. She didn't know that this is what had happened. All she knew was that she had left her husband Michael in the park with their son Daniel with the idea of quickly popping up to the video store up the street to drop off last night's movie. She noticed a sign at the seniors recreation center that a native art work auction was being held as a fundraiser. On a whim really, Emma thought she should go in and check it out. She didn't have any extra money to buy anything, but lately she had been thinking about getting into native crafts and she thought she might find something inspiring.
As she approached the center she noticed a girl smoking out front. Emma had recently quit
smoking. It didn't bother her to see somebody smoking -- she hadn't reach that stage of becoming a non-smoker yet. In fact, as she approached the door, getting close to the second-hand smoke she actually made an effort to take a deep breath in. She missed the soothing comfort of sacred tobacco. She was determined to not return to abusing it -- but at the same time, walking through the cloud of smoke, breathing it in -- smelling it she gave a quick nod to the Creator... a small thank you -- for being reminded of the medicine that had
been given to The Peoples and for which she had used and unfortunately abused for years.
Emma had come to realize that Tobacco for her was like a bad relationship that she had
been involved in since she was 14 years old. So while she had kicked the habit for over
a month without any desire to buy a cigarette or return to it -- breathing in that smoke was
like saying hello to an old friend... just a quick hello before moving on.
Emma had been told that Tobacco is one of the medicines that helps to keep bad spirits
away. She had been taught how to smudge with tobacco, kinnickinick, sage, cedar, sweetgrass and guchmein. Until that day, she had never actually had a spiritual experience with tobacco. She had smudged, because she had been told that this was something that should be done.. but until that day, she had always considered that the ritual of smudging was something that was akin to a psychological palette cleanser. She assumed that the discipline involved in spending a little time each day to purposefully chase away negative feelings and welcome good ones was probably what people meant when they talked about the spiritual efficacy of smudging.
Each of these sacred plants had their own gifts and properties, as she had been taught. Every part of the ritual had a purpose. The abalone shell which held the sage symbolized the
depths of the oceans. She had been taught that we come from eight directions. North, South,
East, West - Sky Nation - Up, The Depths of the Oceans Down, Within and Without. To hold
the shell means to recognize the love of the creator that comes from the very bottom of the
deepest oceans. The sage burns and it cleanses and purifies she had been told. Negative feelings.. bad work, sadness, bad spirits... Sage acts to chase these things away. Of course... different Indigenous people use different plants. Coast Salish people from Emma's Tribe didn't use sage to clean the air and spirit -- they used guchmein... a plant with tiny seeds that smell like white people's licorice Candy. Emma had wondered at times about the debates between the different people she had been taught by regarding the use of these plants. Some traditionalist people insisted that there was something wrong with using a ritual from other people. Other people insisted that it was fine to do so. Emma wasn't sure who to believe exactly about that.
The one thing that did impress her though was that unlike the Christianity that she had been
taught growing up, native spiritual practices are never about insisting to another person
how something should be done. Native spiritual practices as far as she could understand it
from talking to Big House, Mask Dance, Ghost Dancers, Sun-Dancers, and medicine people
was about the individual's own journey towards understanding and peace with the world -- never about imposing rules, regulations and practices upon others. So while some of her elders might make the choice for themselves to not use sage, or smudge -- they would never tell somebody else that something is forbidden along those lines so long as the spiritual work you were attempting to do was always good.
There is a saying amongst Emma's people about "picking up other people's work" - which
will be explained a little later. But for now -- it's enough to know that on that autumn day --
a few weeks before the Big House season was about to begin... despite Emma's long standing relationship with Tobacco, she had never once in the years of either smoking or smudging experienced anything remotely out of ordinary. It wasn't for many weeks after the events of that afternoon took place that she even thought about that brief moment outside the
door to the seniors center where she had lingered just a moment to take in the smoke.
Tobacco or Kinickinick are used in both formal and informal ceremony in Emma's culture.
Amongst her relations of the very traditional type -- if somebody offers you a cigarette,
or even more poignantly offers to share a cigarette with you it is bad manners to refuse to
take at least one puff. Again -- Emma had never considered the implications of this small
ritual of courtesy. She had been told that this is how it's done and she had always taken
a proffered cigarette, and mixed breath with the person who had asked for the exchange.
She had some vague understanding about how this ceremonial "sharing of breath" was
about "making better relations" with another. She had never questioned the whys of it all.
In any event, as she passed through the cloud of light and entered the seniors center she
saw a table with a sign on it. The table declared that there was a fee for the supper that
was being served for those who wanted to bid at the artwork auction. Nobody was at the
table, and nobody was collecting any money. Emma didn't have any money anyways and
it wasn't her intent to even bid on the auction items. She just wanted to take a look and
see what was there... maybe be inspired. Emma walked passed the table down the hall
and rounded a corner, slowly peeking around. She saw many tables in the hall and lots of
native people at the tables eating. She felt a sense of discomfort in her stomach -- as if
she had made a big mistake by intruding past the table with the sign.
She quickly glanced around to see where the artwork might be and then was shocked
and surprised when a woman she did not recognize started waving at her urgently. "Hi!
How Are You! Come on in!!!!
Emma didn't know what to do... She felt embarrassed and extremely awkward. It seemed
like it was one of those very awkward moments she had experienced over and over again
since she had re-patriated to her community. There were so many hundreds of people whom
she had met, been introduced to over the years... people who were her close relatives that
she had been deprived of knowing while growing up in her foster-home in a non-native family.
Coast Salish culture is all about the protocals. It's very very important to NOT offend people.
And one of the worst insults you can indulge in within the Coast Salish world is to not
acknowledge your relatives. One of the worst insults to levy about a person is to say "So and So acts like he has no relations". It had been drummed into Emma by her grandparents...
"You always must nod and acknowledge your relatives". This put Emma in a quandry
at times because she sometimes did not know who her relatives were, even if she
had met them once or twice. On more than one occasion Emma had been scolded, especially when she had first come home because she had walked by a relative on the street without saying hello, or even seeing them or even recognizing them. This was not so much a
problem in her community... but Emma wasn't living in her community. She was in
the big city. In her own community Emma simply went out of her way to smile, nod
and wave and acknowledge everybody who looked even remotely native.
And so this was her dilemna. A group of people were at the table in this hall, smiling
waving and beckoning to her to come in. They all seemed to know her. And Emma was
completely flumoxxed because she didn't recognize a single face. What could she do?
She decided to try and bluff her way through it. She came over to the table to the lady
who had first spotted her. They embraced twice... once for each shoulder. In Coast Salish
tradition it's believed that if you don't embrace over each shoulder that it will make you
unbalanced. Emma noticed that there was a slight hesitation on the part of the woman
who embraced her so warmly to do the second hug over her right shoulder. But she
let it pass, without comment. Emma thought maybe this woman just didn't know.
At the urging of the woman who had greeted her and called her over -- and the rest of
the table, Emma sat down. The woman was very large and she spoke very loudly...
Again -- an unusual thing for coast salish custom. The woman turned to Emma and
said "How are you? How are you? It's been forever since I've seen you."
Emma just smiled and nodded. The woman then turned to the rest of the table and
said "Let's get her something to eat". Emma's heart was racing at this point, because
the experience was surreal. She did not recognize any of these people at the table...
and yet they all were acting as if she was a close relative. By way of explanation
Emma stuttered that she had just come in off the street hoping to look at the
art work that was up for auction. She was hoping that she could explain that she
didn't have a whole lot of time and had just popped in for a moment. She really
just wanted to escape. The whole thing was frightfully embarrassing.
Emma began to notice that the other people at the table were acting in a somewhat
strange way. One of the young men who sat across from her never said a word...
but kept smiling and waving his hands in front of his face rapidly. Emma wondered
briefly if he was autistic as it seemed like he had no control over this fanning motion.
It was comical in a way... the exagerated motions... He looked very much like
a soap opera star waving his hands as if to dry fake tears off his face. The
woman beside Emma now began to ask Emma questions which seemed to be
very very subtle attempts to get Emma to say what her name was.
Coast Salish people are masters of having subtextual conversations. There's the
surface conversation, and then below it sometimes several other things are constantly
being communicated. Emma was trying desperately as she answered questions
about her recent studies and activities to figure out who this woman was,
and where she knew her from. She kept the conversation going because she
hoped that at some point the woman would offer a clue as to her identity.
But after awhile of exchanging banal pleasantries... it became clear to Emma
that there was a very odd subtext going on. Whomever this woman was... she
did not actually know Emma's name. In a more sinister sense, it became clear
that this woman who was pretending to be her long lost relative desperately
wanted to know her name.
Emma panicked as that sunk in. There was very little rational reason for her
to not reveal what her name was. But some deep and very strong instinct within
her strongly felt that it would be pure folly to let this woman have that information.
The feeling of panic must have shown on Emma's face. Emma strongly got the sense
that this woman was actually getting a kick out of Emma's growing sense of dread
and alarm. Emma and the women kept talking and smiling at each other -- acting
as if neither had a care in the world -- but Emma was increasingly getting more
and more wary and frightened. In the months that followed these events -- Emma
reflected upon the spiritual nature of masks within the Coast Salish culture. As
she sat there grimly trying to smile and bluff her way through the talk... not let
on that she was sensing anything untoward... she got the distinct impression that
the more she was able to project confidence and push down the unreasoning fear..
the more irritated her "long lost relative" was getting.
The woman waved over the servers and said "You've got to bring some dinner here" --
And at this Emma saw her opportunity to escape. It was clear from the sign on
the empty desk when she had walked into the hall that guests of this dinner were
supposed to pay $15.00 for the meal. Because Emma had not paid the fee, she
protested that she wouldn't feel right having anything to eat. Everybody at the table
then protested that this was utter nonsense. Of course their relative had to be fed.
Emma said "I couldn't possibly... I wouldn't feel right"
To understand this part of the ordeal, you would have to understand that in Coast
Salish culture... an offering of food is very much like an offer of tobacco, for exactly
the same reasons. Emma had always chalked up the quaint custom of always feeding
a guest that came to your house (as the very first act of hospitality of a decent host)
as being one of pride. She had been told by her elders that if you are offered food --
you always have to take some. Even just a bite. To not do so was to imply that
your host could not afford to feed you. Similarly to not offer food was to suggest that
this person who had come to your house wasn't worthy of your hospitality or that
of your family's respect. Emma was confused by everything that had happened.
Coast Salish people are taught from the start of their lives that generosity is one of
the highest virtues. At the same time however... they are also taught that every action taken
should have an opposite reaction to balance it out. This is the system of "debt-obligation" that
became the elaborate ritual known as PotLatch. It's simply understood in the Salish
world that when you receive you are expected to give back more. Along with acting
like one has no relatives...acting stingy is considered very very bad form.
So Emma silently pondered the situation and considered... She had this vague sense
of deep deep unease... She wanted to bolt. But at the same time... her non-Indian
and utterly rational mind kept telling her that her anxieties and fears and gut instinct
were silly. She desperately wanted to cling to this aspect of herself. In part - that's why
she continued to sit and smile and nod and make polite conversation. Even though
she felt overwhelmed with dread she clutched desperately at the idea that nothing
was wrong and if she could just stay another few minutes, she might hear something
from the people at the table that might explain why they were all acting like they knew
her. She was certain that once her memory had been jarred and she remembered
where she had met any of them -- that it would all work out. She was conscious of
the fact that she was slipping into a kind of madness or paranoia. She stayed at that
table to prove to herself that her deep feelings about the situation were ridiculous.
Meanwhile the servers brought food to the table. Emma protested again that she
could not possibly eat. She hadn't paid. She remembered the potlatch debt-obligation
issue. She had never considered the potlatch debt-obligation system as a spiritual
sort of thing, more of an economic one. All she did know was that she did not
want to owe anything to these people. She did not want to take their food and
put it in her mouth. She did not want to "make a relationship" with them wherein she
would be beholden. But the table of guests refused to hear it. The food -- a strong
smelling fish stew was placed in front of her.
"Of course you have to eat" said the woman beside Emma.
"But the sign?" said Emma - gesturing towards the entrance.
And they all laughed... loudly... "That doesn't apply to relatives" they said as
if somebody had told some marvelous joke.
Emma was trapped.
"I really should be going" She said... "My....Statlus(mate)" is waiting for me.. and
I should be getting back to him"
"Where is he?" One asked...
"You got married?" another asked... "What's his name?" said a third.
Emma was conscious as she talked about her spouse that not only did she not want
them to know her name at this point, but that she did not want them to know his name either...
She pretended to not have heard all the questions that had all been shouted at once.
And that's when she put a word to the behavior of these people at this table...
They were hungry -- Desperately, terribly ravenously hungry people.
She looked around the table and watched as they slurped and chewed and
smacked their lips over the salmon stew.
Emma looked down at her stew....
Beside her the woman who had been trying to get Emma to spit out her name leaned
over... patted Emma on the back, and said confidentially... "You have to try this soup...You
have to eat this Salmon soup... This Salmon soup is simply to die for".
And it was at that moment that Emma lost all courage. She had had enough. She didn't
care about anything else except getting out of the room... as quickly as possible. Emma
had the very strong feeling that she had to leave, without telling them her name, and more
importantly without revealing that whomever they were... and whatever they wanted from her..
and whyever they were pretending to all know her... it would be a big mistake for her
to let on that she was afraid... more afraid perhaps than she had ever been in her life.
She quickly said a prayer for courage. She breathed in deeply and then steeled herself...She
remembered the words of her grandfather about how vitally important it was to "Keep a strong mind".
She looked around desperately.. and again noticed the young man who was waving his hands
in front of his face..The young man had not said a word for the entire time. He just smiled
and nodded and kept waving his hands in front of his face. She locked eyes with him and
in those brief few seconds and it was as if for a split second he was trying to communicate
something to her. He wasn't eating either. His bowl of stew lay untouched as all the rest of the table noisily ate and drank. He nodded at Emma and with his eyes (in a way that only Coast Salish people do) gestured to his hands by looking at them fiercely and then back into her eyes. He did it again...
Emma could not get what he was trying to explain. She knew he was trying to tell her something important... but that he couldn't say it out loud. He was different from all the others at the table.
While they looked hungry... his eyes were kind. Suddenly it dawned on her... "Dry your tears"
The elaborate and strange gestures he was making -- waving his hands over his face back
and forth..."This is to dry your tears"
In the Coast Salish culture -- after a funeral, there is what's called "business". As part of the
potlatch debt-obligation system...every time a family loses a loved one, it's a time for debts
to be incurred and paid back. In every case... unless otherwise specified.. if you give at
a funeral, naming, adoption, dance... it's understood that it's kept track of by the receiver
of the money or gift -- and in due course it must be and will be paid back. What's more...
the amount is supposed to increase...when the debt is payed back. In this way -- people
increase their wealth by giving to others. In this way -- "relationships" are made over time
spanning back generations. The exception to this rule is if, upon giving money at a funeral...
the giver tells the speaker to tell the family recieving it "This is to dry your tears" -- when
that happens... no debt-obligation has been incurred.
"SALVATION" Emma thought to herself. She beamed at the young man and nodded.
She recognized that because she had not paid the fee to come and sit at the table...
she was under no obligation to receive the food or eat, or "create a relationship" with
this table of strange hungry hungry people. So long as she did not eat or drink and
she simply walked away..everything would be ok. She was also not under any obligation
to explain herself to these people. She drew into herself for a few seconds...
She breathed deep. looking down at the "Salmon Stew" that was "To die for" -- and
then she put on her protocol mask. She drew herself up and she said to the people
at the table "I'm sorry... I'm really suddenly not feeling very well".
The table of hungry people stopped slurping and chewing and were suddenly all
solicitude and concern. Emma caught the eye of the young man who had given
her the exit strategy and she smiled at him, noticing that he had stopped his frantic
hand waving in front of his eyes and face. They locked eyes for just a second...and
she nodded as imperceptibly as possible a small thank you. She did not want to
draw attention to him. She had the sense that he had his own reasons for being
at that table... with those hungry people. She didn't know what it was. She didn't
want to know. She just knew that he had helped her with his odd pantomime.
Emma rubbed her stomach and said "I'm so sorry... I really have to go now...
I really need some fresh air."
The woman beside her grabbed her hand and said "I'll come with you...."
Emma had to fight very hard not to recoil from the touch.
"no... no" She said. "You stay here... I don't want to ruin your dinner... I'll be fine."
The woman was getting irritated at being rebuffed and clearly wanted to follow Emma....
"Do you live nearby?" she asked... "I could walk you home"
"Not bloody likely!" Emma said inside.
Emma had managed to compose herself. She apologized again for not being able to stay
and share a meal.. but she insisted that her husband was close by, that she just needed
to get some air and that she would be fine... and to please not trouble anybody....She played
it dumb. Not for one second did she acknowledge with expression or word that the idea
of spending another minute in these hungry and strange people's company was bound to make her scream unceasingly.
She carefully went around the table hugging each person goodbye. She said "goodbye" as she hugged them each once. You don't do that in Coast Salish culture. You never say goodbye to somebody. It's very very rude. It implies that you are never going to see them again. You only say "goodbye" when somebody is dying. She didn't say anything to the young man.
The last person that she embraced goodbye was the woman who had invited her into this strange little party in the first place.
Very quietly... as they embraced, the woman whispered in her left ear "See you real soon"
Emma's heart turned cold but she forced herself to laugh loudly and said "Bye"
The woman didn't like the laughter. She visibly flinched at the sound.
But when they drew back to observe each other before Emma departed... the woman nodded
at her. The contest was over. While the woman was obviously irritated at not
having gotten her way... she recognized that Emma knew enough about the rules
of engagement that tangling further would be problematic for her.
Emma left the table and walked back out down the hallway. She passed the table with
the sign and out into the bright sunlight. The smoker at the door was gone now. There was
no comforting cigarette smoke. For the first time since she had quit smoking - Emma
desperately wanted a cigarette.
She carefully and very unobtrusively made sure to casually turn around three times over
the next couple of blocks while she walked back to the park where her husband and son
were. She didn't know what had happened exactly. Her rational and non-Indian mind was
kicking back into full force... and as she got further and further away from the senior center
she began to feel better and better... and sillier and sillier about the whole experience.
She did have some residual paranoid about walking directly home from the park... She convinced her husband to take a round-about way... asking him to please just trust her, that even if it seemed totally irrational, she didn't feel safe going home just at the moment.
As days passed she began to feel more and more like the whole experience was just some
weird kind of anxiety attack... that she had let her imagination get carried away with her...
Slowly and carefully she tried to tell her husband (a non-native) about what had happened.
She still felt very very weird about the fact that there was this table full of native people who
all seemed to know and recognize her and yet she couldn't remember ever having met
any of them before.
Just out of curiosity however a few weeks after the incident, when Emma still could not
be convinced that nothing odd or weird had happened...her husband went to the seniors
center on a lark one day. What he found was more than a little hard to explain... On the
afternoon in question, there had not been any event scheduled in the senior center at all.
The hall had been closed to the public all that afternoon.