Homecoming - Christie Golden [71]
It was a full lodge today. James was well loved and many had been more than happy to attend, to lend their voices to the singing and chanting that would help heal their fellow tribe member and respected elder. The Sioux believed that facing up to the intense heat and darkness of the lodge would purge all those who attended, especially the sick one in whose name the sweat lodge had been called.
There was a hissing sound as Gray Bear poured [211] another dipperful of water on the stones. The steam rose, twining about them, ready to begin purifying both body and spirit. The women were on one side, clad in pure cotton clothing, their arms and legs modestly covered. The men sat on the other side, their bodies bare to the waist. There was no jewelry on anyone present—the spirits disliked jewelry, and besides, metal would become hot enough to burn mere human skin in the lodge.
Gray Bear’s apprentice poked his head into the circular opening. Gray Bear nodded. The apprentice closed the deerskin flap and proceeded to seal it tight. There were a few pinpricks of light, but those were quickly covered up. Utter blackness descended. Blackness, and moisture, and healing, almost unbearable, heat.
During the nearly four hours of the ritual, no one would be permitted to leave. It would weaken the medicine. There would be four “doors” in today’s ceremony, four times when the flap would be lifted and cool air and bright light would waft in to revive those who huddled in the darkness. But all were expected to remain inside the lodge for the duration of the ceremony.
Gray Bear began to chant, a call-and-response chant in his native tongue. The answers were firm and clear. Then there was silence for a time. He sat erect and tall in the darkness, feeling the sweat pour off his body like rainwater sluicing down his skin. Now and then, he would reach for the dipper and pour more water on the hot coals. Their red, pulsating glow was the only thing visible in the entire lodge.
He heard the sounds of people shifting, moving their bodies and faces down toward the cool earth. Some [212] pressed their noses to the place where tent met soil, breathing the cool air. There was no shame in this. One participated as much as one could, and some could withstand the excruciating, stifling heat better than others.
Time passed in that timeless place. Deep silence descended.
And then there was the scream.
It took Gray Bear a few precious seconds to realize that the sound came from the throat of James Red Feather, and by then other screams had joined it. The tent remained closed; the apprentice knew that sometimes participants had visions, and would not open the flap unless explicitly told to do so.
“Be calm!” Gray Bear called out. “The spirits are with us!” Even as he spoke, he knew it was a lie. There had never been a spirit visitation that had afflicted so many, and Gray Bear’s sharp ears detected the subtle differences between the cries of ecstatic delight and fear and those of pain and real, present terror.
He made his decision. “Open the flap!” he cried. “Open it, open it!”
The flap was opened. Daylight poured into the lodge and there was a mad scramble for the door. Gray Bear stared in horror at James Red Feather. He was writhing and screaming, tearing at his own flesh. The sunlight glinted on metal sprouting from his body as if it was growing there, and even as James tried to pull it out, his hands blistered as they touched it. He turned to look at Gray Bear, and his eyes were dead and cold.
[213] Suddenly James stiffened. He turned swiftly and, with two thin tubes that had erupted from his flesh, jabbed a woman frantically trying to escape.
“Resistance is futile,” said James in Sioux. He swiveled his head and impaled Gray Bear with his evil gaze, and then methodically approached, his arm with its awful tubes extended.
And then it was the medicine man’s