Pahnu: Thursday Note 2

Thursday

Note 2

Wisps of vapor burned off of the low vegetation along the edge of the road as the early morning sun warmed the cold asphalt. Will drank coffee from his Thermos cup while seated next to Hank. Hank drove the narrow road at 70 miles per hour in his old pickup truck.

Hank mumbled, "I guess Old Wolf is teaching Angela and Leah things."

Will sat quietly waiting for Hank to continue. Hank stared out the windshield at the road as he drove, but didn't say anything more. After a brief silence, Will ventured, "What sort of things there, Hank?"

"What?" Hank was startled.

"What sort of things is Old Wolf teaching Angela and Leah?"

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah, you did."

Hank looked away embarrassed.

"What do you mean? What is Old Wolf teaching them?" pressed Will.

"All kinds of stuff, really. Angela seems to know a lot about some stuff. She talks to me about things like I should know what she's talking about. Sometimes, I don't." Hank often pulled subjects seemingly out of thin air. But he spoke continuations of his thoughts. "She asked me about Osiahapahnu--said she thinks he has something to do with Tap Neh Apahnu, and could I fill in the blanks for her. She said Dad told her that stuff."

"Tap Neh A-who?" Will's question was asked with restrained mirth. He sometimes make fun of things that he didn't understand. His sarcasm was never outright mean because he employed a sense of subtle dry humor. He had long battled with himself over this problem, especially when it hurt the ones he loved. But it would often creep out before he was able to stop himself. So now, looking at Hank with an affected solemn expression, he spoke. "Yeah, she talks to me about that stuff sometimes, too. Says I contracted Pahnu." He gritted his teeth. He had just done it again.

Hank remained composed, not willing to fall prey to his friend's setup. A look of thoughtful deliberation spread across his face as he weighed the consequences of sparring with Will.  He took the bait. "Contracted? You mean, like a disease or something?"

"Yeah, I guess so, something like that. I'm thinking it's an Indian thing. Some sorta Indian spiritual stuff, right?"

"You're not making any sense, Will."

"Well whatever. I got it I guess. Angela says so," answered Will defensively. He waited, hoping Hank would engage him on the subject. When the silence undid his timing, he again pressed. "What is it?"

"What is what?"

"Pahnu, or what ever, what is it?"

"Thought you said Angela told you."

"She said I had it, didn't say what it was." Will reached for Hank's Thermos bottle and poured coffee into the cup, and then topped off his own. He nudged his friend's arm.

Hank looked down and took the cup. "Thanks."

"Well?" said Will after another brief silence.

"I said thanks."

"Not that, Pocahontas, Pahnu. What is it?"

"Oh, the coffee was a bribe?" asked Hank. "Might not be enough, what else you got?"

"I suppose I could give you a little kiss, maybe. But that would make me sort of a whore, wouldn't it?" The situation was becoming more comfortable for Will, now that Hank was teasing back.

Hank glared at him. "You don't want to do that, Will," He squinted, "you wouldn't like it." He sipped his coffee, and then continued. "Pahnu?"

"That's right, Pahnu," said Will, exaggerating the words.

"Well, it would seem that Angela thinks that you have a guardian guide or spiritual power sent from Tap Neh Apahnu. that's Pahnu. Tap Neh Apahnu is . . ." English definition was failing Hank, " . . . God, I guess. But not in the same sense that white people think of God. He's not some old man with a white beard and a big stick, waiting to whack you when you're bad. He's Spirit. Tap Neh Apahnu is not mad at us like the Christian God is." Hank hadn't tried to explain Tap Neh Apahnu to anyone for many years. He never spoke on the subject except to his Father, Old Wolf, and to certain older members of the tribe. He lapsed into his childhood tongue, "Da 'bai makua." He relaxed his shoulders and breathed deeply, calming himself. He tried to think of a better way of explaining to Will.

Will was aware of his friends difficulty and sat patiently quiet. After a few minutes, he spoke gently, "Don't really know what that is either, Hank. Don't quite know what you just said there."

"OK, Will. It's like this . . ." Hank sat up straight and cleared his throat, " . . . a long time ago--no body really knows how long ago--three young men of the tribe went off by themselves. The tribe didn't send them, they just left. When they returned, they told stories about seeing some strange things."

"What kind of things, Hank?"

Will's question lacked sarcasm and Hank discerned that he was truly interested. He smiled a hint of satisfaction and continued, "Some stuff they said made certain important ones angry. These young men claimed to have experienced a collective Puha. They experienced a vision of a big bear, but there were men accompanying the bear. No one had ever seen people in their Puha, so this story made the elders angry. they banished these men with their women and anyone who wanted to go with them. These men moved up onto Marble Mountain so they could watch the trail against attackers. they had enough water from the lake and they lived up there for many generations, actually starting their own tribe of people.
"Dad says they never left for the southern hunting grounds in winter. He says their strong Puha brought them game.
"Sometimes people would climb up to them to learn about the things they had seen, but always in secret, never wanting no one to know they had gone up there."

"Is that who wrote that stuff up there on them rocks?" asked Will.

"Dad thinks so, yes. Some of the old ones have kept the stories alive. The stories are about two medicines that are struggling for control of people. It is why my dad has worked so hard all of his life to buy that land around Marble Lake. He wants to keep it safe. It's sacred. The tribe don't care a lick about it. It's not even reservation land."

"Hank, what's Puha?"

"Oh, that's something accepted by everyone. You see, when a boy is to become a man, there is a great ceremony and he his driven out of the camp. He goes far off on his own without food or water. As he lives alone for a number of days, he has a vision. In this vision he sees an animal. It might be a bear, a wolf or a bird. What ever comes to him in this vision is his Puha and it remains with him for life. He returns to the tribe as a man. You never hunt your Puha for food, but your Puha helps you hunt and brings game to your family."

"And what about you, Hank? You got Puha?"

"That's none of your business, Will."

"Sorry."

"It's OK. It's just a personal thing." Hank sipped more coffee and continued, "These men that went off by themselves, they said they saw a big bear. But there were men standing with the bear. these men warned them of others who were coming. They said these others would try to fool them and that my people should not listen.
"Later, when white men came, preaching Christianity, it sounded a lot like what these men had been saying. When my people listened to the white men and learned of this Christianity, where the God is angry and will harm us, we almost ceased to be." Hank lowered his voice to a loud whisper, "Knowledge comes from old men. We understand when they teach us and when we first hear it, it is like we have always known. The old ones teach and it is like we already knew. Old Wold, my father, is the last of the old ones who knows these stories. I know some, but most are lost now. When I ask Old Wolf to tell them to me, he only smiles and says, 'most of the stories are useless now. There are only a few things remaining.' It's funny in a way. He tells these stories to Little Leah. She knows more than any of us. Angels hears them too, but I doubt she understands so well.
"Daiboo'," said Hank with an indignant tone. "All are gone now, Tsuqupe' deesua-." Again he fell silent. He looked at Will as if Will should know what he had just said and would be in agreement.

Will shrugged, a confused expression spreading across his face.

Hank didn't wait for him to ask, "Tsuqupe' deesua--old men. White men don't have teachers. You have old men, but no one listens to them. But it doesn't matter anyway, because your old men don't know anything. Now we are becoming like you. our old men and old women still teach, but no one listens. We have become like you." Hank relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. He realized how angry and tense the subject had made him as he had explained things to Will.
"OK Will. I'll sum it all up for you: Tap Neh Apahnu watches us all. People don't mind because they don't give Him any thought. So they don't find Him and His wisdom. No one looks and no one asks. Tap Neh Apahnu grants wisdom, power and protection to those who search for it. One can never search for these things unless they feel the need. Most people are just fine the way they are and they feel no need.
"So you see, you probably do not have Pahnu. Angela was being nice to you I think. But don't feel bad, no one really believes in any of this any more anyway."

"Except your tribe, right?" offered Will.

"No, Will. No one believes in it. Mostly no one has ever heard of it, except a few of the remaining old people, and they say it is bad and wrong. No one talks about it anymore."

Hanks truck radio was turned on but it wasn't tuned to a station. It emitted a low level white noise that was all but drowned out by the whine of the tires on the pavement and the breeze whistling steadily through the truck's worn window seals. After several minutes of deep deliberation, trying to get his mind around the things that Hank had told him, Will sighed and then spoke, "Leah was talking about protectors the other day."

"Protectors?" said Hank.

"Yeah, she said that Old Wolf told her that she had protectors. I was thinking of it as maybe being guardian angels Indian style."

"Will, this is what I've been telling you. this is Pahnu. Old Wolf believes Angela when she tells him about Osiahapahnu coming to her in her dreams. He believes Osiahapahnu is real. You see, Will, the animal we see in vision quest is our Puha, and the people who come talk with us are Pahnu. But only to a few of us. Got it?"

"I think so. But Hank, how does she call her protector? Is there a dance? Do you shake rattles or something?" Will again kicked himself for again being cynical when he really wanted an answer to his question. He was afraid he had insulted Hank.

He had, but Hank let it fall off of him. Instead of being angry, he answered Will's question with a suggestion, "It's simple enough, Will. Even Little Leah understands how. Why don't you ask her? Maybe you can understand if she tells you, maybe if she talks real slow." With this, Hank threw his head back and laughed hard.

                                                                                 .


Will chuckled and shook his head. It seemed to him that only days had passed, instead of decades, since he and his best friend had had this conversation that morning on their way to work in Marion.

"What's so funny, old man?" said Angela, "It's a good thing we live up here in the trees. The way you're always talking and giggling to yourself, most folks'd have put you away a long time ago." She closed her eyes and spoke softly. "You'd better be good to me. You just never know when I'll come to my senses about you."

Will answered quietly, "Oh it's nothing really, Anj. I was just thinking about the first time that Hank told me about Tap Neh Apahnu."

Angela opened her eyes and looked up at her husband. "That was a long time ago, Will." She was silent for half a minute, then she gently probed, "It took you a long time to believe those stories. Do you still speak with Him?"

"Hank? yeah sure, of course I . . ."

"Tap Neh Apahnu."

Will raised his eyebrows as a touch of red came to his cheeks. This was the only subject that made him shy around his wife. It was deeply personal. He deflected, "Do you, Anj?"

"Yes," she whispered with a smile, "and Osiahapahnu still comes to me when I dream."

Will smiled back at her and nodded approvingly.

The gas lamp on the kitchen wall of the Banner cabin burned dimly. Long shadows mixed with soft yellow light danced in the living area of the open main floor. When the light flickered, the shadows contracted. Then, just as suddenly, they stretched to exaggerated length. In the corner of the room, behind smokey glass, fire crackled in a wood stove, providing accompaniment to the shadow dance. A thin haze hung in the upper atmosphere of the high room's log structure. The bedroom loft extended halfway into the vaulted area, directly above the position of Angela's daybed on the main floor. Snaps of pitch  exploded in the stove sending fragrant pine perfume out into the room.

Full daylight would reveal a complete view of Marble Lake from the kitchen's east window. The west wall, consisting mostly of modestly draperied glass, held a door of two center panels which egressed to a large pine deck. Beyond the deck was a meadow of tall grass. To the north of this meadow, forest, and beyond the deck to the west of the cabin, the terrain dotted with boulders and patches of sage. The ground sloped up from this point and formed the ridge that semi-circled the lake valley.

Will Banner smiled at his wife Angela, stroking her hair as she lay on the daybed in the great room of their cabin. He sat next to her on a stool. "Doc Sally would have you feeling fit in no time, Anj, if you'd just let me take you to town."

Angela reaffirmed her intention to wait out her illness, free of medical assistance. "I do not want to go into Big Knife, Will. If you take me down there and put me in St. Michael's, they'll never let me out. I'll die there. that's what old people do in hospitals--die. Do you really believe they would let you bring me back up home? They'd probably stick me in that god-forsaken old folks' center they've got down there." She narrowed her eyes, boring into her husband's. "Are you wantin' rid of me?"

Will's attention had drifted. He stared at the large family portrait that hung on the south wall of the great room in a rough pine frame. the photo, taken twenty-three years earlier, presented a dark haired version of himself sporting gray temples. He was leaning forward to lessen his height as he smiled for the camera from over his wife's right shoulder. Angela, posed sitting slightly sideways, her head turned toward the photographer, smiled her closed-lip smile. And seventeen year old Leah sat directly in front of and below her mother, beaming. The photo was taken the last year that she had lived at home on the lake.

"Hey. Where'd you go? Are you listening to me?" demanded Angela.

Will trembled a single subtle jerk. He looked down at Angela, as if just discovering her lying there. His eyes refocused and he was back. "Huh?"

"What did I just say?"

"You said you think you might be pregnant."

"Will!" she said, looking away with feigned exasperation.

"No Doctor? How about a medicine man?" Will became animated. "I know the best in all of Big Knife Valley. I could send up some smoke signals from the stove there." Will nodded to the corner of the room where the stove burned warmly. "I could signal Hank. Hank, the Medicine Man." Will's face expressed pride, staring into the distance, he enunciated the last words deliberately, his left eyebrow raised.

"You'd probably get it wrong and send up 'spank the medicine man' and I'd have to explain to Hank that you aren't stupid really, just no good at spelling with smoke." Angela's mouth turned up at the right corner, her tired eyes sparkled as she spoke softly.

"Yes, that's true," said Will, his gaze again fixed on something distant, his face frozen in a pleased expression.

Angela laughed out loud. "What are you talking about?" Pain shot through her and she moaned, closing her eyes as her playful expression soured to a scowl. "Will honey, my eyes are so hot and tired. I wonder if Medicine Man Hank has something for dry eyes."

PAHNU: Thursday Note 1

Pahnu

Thursday
Note 1

Cletus shivered as he sat on his horse Ruby. She stood quietly on a dark trail that wound its way west of Big Knife Valley, along a deep ravine and up the treacherous face of a dark, silent giant. Its uppermost jagged outline, heavy with snow and ice, stood proudly against the night sky. Known as Biawihi to the natives and as Thompson Peak officially, after the explorer who had discovered it, this peak was the highest elevation in the entire range.

Cletus spat brown juice onto a rock by Ruby's front hoof. He pulled his old brown cowboy hat tighter to his forehead and shivered again. His tattered denim jacket was not heavy enough to keep away the May morning chill. Immediate action had been called for on his part, without benefit of adequate planning. The jacket held a pack of cigarettes in one breast pocket and a pouch of chewing tobacco in the other.

Faint but increasing light appeared in the sky across the valley, behind the eastern range known as Marble, erasing stars as it grew. Marble Mountain's height, being many hundreds of feet lower than that of Biawihi, allowed early light from the not yet risen sun to throw an eerie incandescence on Biawihi's eastern face. No sound--no breeze or bird song--could be heard.

City folks ears are used to the whine of electrical power lines and tires roaring on pavement, horns, sirens and accelerating motors. They can't handle absolute silence like this. It's overwhelming to them. Cletus smirked and grunted, "Huh." But for me . . . He widened his eyes and stared at the ground. Lately, his thoughts had been battling against him. It was as though someone else had slipped in to argue using logic that Cletus himself did not posses. It troubled him greatly and Cletus Jensen wondered if he was losing his mind . . . To my way of thinking. To my way? He questioned himself, jumbled drunken rage--thoughts of revenge . . . what I am doing is horribly wrong. Again, the thought was not his own. He winced and shook it off.

Light flashed suddenly, before full dawn, at Biawihi's peak, quickly moving downward like melting ice washing the eastern face of the mountain clean, as if the mountain was refusing to be accessory to impure deeds performed in the night.

Cletus had waited attentively for this morning miracle. "Alpenglo," he whispered, looking up at the mountain over his left shoulder. The word arranged his face into an expression of assured superiority, as though he had spoken secret code that only the locals would use or understand.

His lack of interest in things academic had stunted his intellectual development. Prideful arrogant ignorance filled the void, causing him to view the world from a position of victim-hood and entitlement. But he prided himself on his appreciation of natural beauty and the occasional descriptive word or phrase, repeated in his presence often enough for him to assume.

Cletus Jensen fancied himself a mountain man, misplaced by time. It was completely lost on him that these cultural icons of yester-century were men of incalculable stamina who, while lonely in spirit, were willing to sacrifice the comforts of polite society for the questionable benefits of freedom, adventure and solitude. Cletus longed for solitude as well, but only, it would seem, when fences needed mending or
cattle feeding on his parent's small ranch in the valley below, two miles north of the Marion town limits.

Although he loathed it, he worked, as a construction laborer for his brother-in-law, Gary Erickson. This was something he needed to do in order to sustain his off-hours activities of drinking and gambling--the very activities his father refused to finance. Cletus hated his father, but found it impossible to sever the strings which allowed him to play out his fantasy of autonomy.

The horse sidestepped. The crisp clap of hooves on loose stone smashed the silence. Ruby quivered a ripple of traveling muscle under the red blanket-wrapped bundle that lay across her saddle horn. "Easy Rube," said Cletus, as he pulled his hunting knife from the sheath attached to his belt. Its razor-sharp edge easily sliced through the orange bailing twine that he had used to secure the body of Frank Hendrickson for the ride up Biawihi. Cletus kneed the bundle and it slid off the horses neck. Ruby sidestepped again and Frank Hendrickson rolled and bounced down the fifty foot drop from the trail to the floor of the ravine.

Loose rocks and a sprig of sage accompanied the body as it slide through the stone and dirt, coming to an abrupt halt against a downed tree trunk. Dust hung in the air. the grinding flow of the rock slide repeated itself in echoes reverberating eerily from farther up the ravine. Cletus heard it as accompaniment to the clicking of a tardy, dollar-sized piece of aggregate bouncing down to meet its companions.

Daylight had increased to a point that would allow Cletus to observe the bundle's descent. He saluted casually with the index and middle fingers of his right hand, his wild eyes staring through the settling dust. The smirk on his face again indicated his satisfaction. Sound waned.

The few broken sage branches bled fragrance into the air, and the disturbed terrain sent up a rush of earthy seasoning, blending with that sage. Cletus sniffed it in, then pulled the right rein and Ruby twisted an about-face on the narrow trail. She took a few steps but he pulled her up to a halt. Furrowing his brow in thought, Cletus twisted in the saddle to look back up the trail. He pulled his horse another one-eighty to the uphill direction once again and they lunged forward with a tap of his boot heels to her flank.

A thousand feet farther up the path; the rider leaned out to survey the ravine floor, this, dotted with boulders and scrub pines. He continued on until he caught sight of a torn gray blanket far below. Cletus nodded approvingly. This package, deposited on an earlier occasion, had been ripped open. Coyotes, he mused. The atmosphere was too cold for flies to swarm, and no unpleasant odor rose to meet Cletus's nostrils.

Five people had gone missing from either Big Knife or Marion within the past year. Two had been found; one on the banks of the Marble River, downstream from the highway bridge. That victim had been shot. Another was discovered dead in a sleeping bag at the campground on North Pass, his head caved in. These were bar folk--night people who had crossed Cletus and had gotten the better of him in some way--in the case of Hendrickson the previous night, poker--angering him to the point of murder.

Cletus dug a finger into his lower lip and cleared the saliva-soaked tobacco gob from his mouth, flinging it to the weeds by the path. A pint bottle of whiskey was drawn from a small, weathered, leather saddlebag and its cap unscrewed. He rested back in the saddle and drank. The whiskey filled him with a sensation of warmth and his cheeks crimsoned. Light and color were rapidly shifting in the sky, yet the sun still hid behind Marble Mountain across the valley. It was growing clearer and colder. Odd, thought Cletus, it's always coldest at daybreak. It was time to get on down and catch a couple hours' sleep before driving into Big Knife for work. He again reversed Ruby's direction and lowered the reins, giving the horse her head. She knew the way.

Cletus drew more golden liquid from his bottle, swallowed, spun the cap tight and slipped it back into the saddlebag. He pulled his collar up and shrank into his shirt like a retiring turtle. Hugging his arms around himself, he leaned slightly forward and dozed. Ruby plodded down the trail. An explosion sounded from across the flat land, near the base of the eastern range. Ruby twitched at the sound but continued on her way. Cletus looked up sleepily, but then allowed his chin to again drop to his chest as he drifted into sleep.

Unseen entities of another realm, Muha and Pahnu, struggled with each other while clinging to the atmosphere surrounding the quiescent murderer. White-hot sunlight pierced the top of Marble Mountain to the east just then; the instant sunrise causing its tip to temporarily disappear with the flash. The struggling intelligences parted as Pahnu withdrew, offering no more resistance to the sinister presence accompanying the slayer.

Cletus began to snore as heat from the sun touched his left cheek.

Across the valley, nearly three quarters of the way up Marble Mountain, on a rock outcropping, jutting free of the snow field that ringed the southern boarder of Marble Glacier, the air glowed. Dim at first but growing brighter, the light took the shape of a sitting man with long, wavy white hair. He faced west, sitting at the end of a winding trail that led up from Marble Lake on the eastern side of the mountain.

This trail was a natural animal path that gave anyone, who wished to exert themselves, access to an ancient native burial site along the way. This was reached from a much narrower offshoot path, which dropped from the main trail, leading the hiker down onto individually forested shelves. Smooth basalt walls enclosed these steps on two sides, bearing white markings--ancient graffiti. No one in recent time had been able to decipher these symbols, and no one knew of any records which preserved their meaning.

A faint breeze ruffled waves through the white, tightly-woven garment that the man wore as he remained perfectly still on the rock, his attention focused on the tiny dot that was Cletus and Ruby moving down the winding trail, across the valley on the face of Biawihi.

"Extelned," the man whispered, frowning. His eyes rose as he watched a streak of lightning shoot up and away from the horse and its rider. "Pahnu has relented. I could have helped."

The valley below was awakening. Smoke rose from a few chimneys in both of the small communities that occupied opposite ends of the basin. Marion, the smaller town in the north of the valley, was a thousand feet higher in elevation than the county seat, the southern town of Big Knife. A two lane highway climbed the grade between the two towns and was only half visible from the man's vantage point on Marble Mountain before disappearing in the trees as it wound its way north, up a cleft in the rim known as North Pass.

"No Osiahapahnu, you could not have helped. That one has made his decision, as have so many others. I tried to reason with him but he pushed me away. The Model is wearing out. Its population is as great today as all previous generations combined. Ripe fullness will be reached. Their number will reach seven billion soon." The ice wall behind Osiahapahnu gave resonance to the voice of Tap Neh Apahnu. Osiahapahnu, in physical form, heard the voice, but when whispered as an inner influence, the words of Tap Neh Apahnu were irresistibly peaceful, sparking strong desire in the Pahnu and those of the Model who had chosen to hear.

"I can see that clearly, Tap Neh Apahnu. The Muha are strengthening." Osiahapahnu gestured across the valley with his outstretched hand. "That is the Muha of Extelned."

Tap Neh Apahnu spoke of a different subject. "Your charge feels her weakness. This brings you nearer to receiving the strength that she will call for. Hold on, Osiahapahnu, you will not be defeated. The champion of the Muha refused to relent in the last Circle of Discussion, even though it is clear that he will not prevail, his growing strength being a delusion. But we knew that was coming, didn't we? He still mistakenly believes that greater numbers translates to victory."

Osiahapahnu lowered his hand and nodded his head. Another explosion popped from below his position on the mountain. It echoed against Biawihi and rang down the valley.

"We must go through with everything to the end. It must be made clear that he was given every opportunity. As for you, Osiahapahnu, the Muha number six against you now. Extelned will appear stronger than ever. His champion is well aware of you."

Startled, Osiahapahnu jerked his head, as if he had heard someone call to him. He scanned Big Knife, then above and beyond, to the south. Something--someone--called him from a much greater distance.

"Go."

"But Tap Neh Apahnu, I do not understand. I have aided Altapahnu and have watched over her at her mother's request, but this one isn't truly mine. I belong to her mother.

"She is now. It will be the daughter, not the mother."

"But Altapahnu . . ."

" . . . is grateful for your help, but she is now yours." Tap Neh Apahnu began speaking as the inner voice and Osiahapahnu smiled. It was determined in the Circle of Discussion, much to the champion's discomfort, that Pahnu would now be allowed to speak personally with those of the Model. Full explanation is now allowed to be spoken directly through dreams and visions. While the champion objected strongly, we reminded him that Pahnu has often communicated with individuals who had placed themselves in a position to hear. We will now be just as direct but with more people than we have communicated with up to now. We also assured the Muha that no one would ever be forced to receive what we offer.
The champion became silent as we pointed out that Muha has been communicating directly with those of the Model for the entire time that the experiment has been in effact.

Lifting his face to the sky, Osiahapahnu closed his eyes and vanished into a streak of vertical lightning, shooting straight up into the sky. A few seconds later he was nearly eight hundred miles from Big Knife Valley.