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WABLENICA
Tale of a Lakotah Orphan

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by Mary Kay Thill

Mitakuye Oyasin
(All of Creation is One)

CHAPTER ONE

My mom joined my dad in heaven. The ignorant doctor explained it to me in that way, as if Mom was on a vacation or something. I remember glaring at his tiny head, wishing it would pop off. He’d obviously never lost anyone he loved.

On a cold, windy, Chicago day in March, I teetered next to the preacher at my mother’s grave. I couldn’t make out a word he was saying. His lips moved, but nothing registered. Gray melting snow covered the earth and dripped from the naked trees. Cold air kicked through my numbing body. Why wasn’t I with them? I wished I was dead, but the warm breath fogging my glasses told me I was still alive; and an orphan. An eleven-year-old without a family or a home.

A bright red cardinal flew past me. Mom always said cardinals were the opera singers of the bird kingdom. All winter long she’d keep her feeders brimming with sunflower seeds just for them. Who would feed them now?

My tears overflowed like the water in Buckingham Fountain...water that disappeared down an unseen drain. Why couldn’t I disappear like that? Would anyone here even notice?

Or care?

Before Mom died she told me I’d have to live with Dad’s Aunt Gloria in Iowa; the one Dad used to call the ‘zoo keeper.’ I’d never asked why. Did she keep chickens and cows? Would I have to feed her stinky animals at four am?

Iowa. Real farm country. Aunt Gloria looked the role, tall as a corn stalk and wider than a haystack. My stomach roared, as if preparing for the zoo that surely awaited me. Aunt Gloria took my hand and coaxed me to drop dirt on Mom’s coffin. Grown-ups are weird...throwing dirt on graves! The dirt trickled on top of the coffin, reminding me of the downfall of pebbles in my rain stick. On her deathbed Mom had promised to leave me part of my Lakotah heritage. I wondered what she meant.

I shook the remaining dirt from my hands, thinking I should be fair to Aunt Gloria. It was a big responsibility for a woman who’d never married. Would she know how to be a mother?

I’d been awarded to the state, like some kind of prize. I didn’t know which was worse, being called an orphan or a foster child. It was like asking what I liked more spinach or broccoli. Why haven’t they come up with a name we orphans could live with, like flower child? That sounded much nicer to me.

“It’s time to go back to your house, dear.” Aunt Gloria squeezed my shoulder a little harder than I liked.

“I’m not leaving!” I broke free. “I want to watch them bury her.”

Her face hardened as she stepped back, leaving me alone to touch the cold pine box that was Mom’s final home. I couldn’t help wondering if she would be cold, buried so far down in the ground. Mom had explained that only her body would die, that her spirit would travel the ghost trail (Wanagi Tacanku), but I didn’t understand. Why did it hurt so much? Watching them lower the coffin I leaned over wanting to jump in.

Aunt Gloria grabbed me as I swayed back and forth like a drunk and pulled me toward her. “It’s time to go.”

I sobbed and held on to her, not able to reach my arms around her wide waist. After a few minutes, I broke free of her hug. Who is this stranger hugging me? I glanced from the grave to Aunt Gloria.

In the howl of the wind, I could hear Mom reminding me, “Be strong my little Rose. You’re a Lakotah and proud.”

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