Ani-Yunwiya: The Real People
“Our stories aren’t meant for everyone. Hearing them is a privilege, and we should always ask ourselves this before we share, ‘Who has earned the right to hear my story?’” - Brene Brown
The famous Smoky Mountain fog had increased and thickened as the sun rose and was now burning off in waves of humidity. The first time I saw fog like this was on one of D’s field trips to Great Smoky Mountain National Park. We’d parked at Cataract Falls and were taking photos when I remarked that the blue-gray haze reminded me of The Fog, a 1980’s film about a coastal town that’s overwhelmed by an eerie fog. Hearing this, D laughed. “It’s nothing supernatural, Maddy” he said. “The fog is caused by plants breathing. They release oxygen and VOCs into the air.” More than I wanted to know, as usual.
The smoky vapor was particularly thick in the forested areas this morning, so when Evan appeared walking through the trees he seemed to be wading through clouds. When he saw me sitting on the porch, he waved and held up a string bag full of fruit and what looked like a loaf of bread. “Breakfast,” he called. Bare chested and barefoot, he was wearing only tattered jeans and a baseball cap turned backwards. As he strode through the watery light, I realized this was the first time I’d seen him look happy and relaxed.
“What are you doing sitting out here all alone?” he asked as he approached the porch.
“I’m not alone,” I said, pointing to Plutarch and Gracie.
“Without human company then,” he amended, setting the bag down beside the other chair and folding himself into it. It was a small chair and he was a big man so his limbs seemed to stick out every which way like one of those jointed wooden mannequins artists use.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” I said.
“I’m used to it,” he said. “So what’s up? You look a little solemn. And where are our two campers?”
“I haven’t seen Nigel or Casey yet this morning,” I replied. “But I’ve been up since dawn listening to the tape.”
“Ahhh yes, the tape,” Evan nodded. “Anything new to report?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said. “I’d like you to listen to something.” I offered him the Walkman and headset.
“Okay,” he said, sitting up and taking the tape player.
“Just press play and listen to the first part.”
“When should I stop?”
“You’ll know,” I replied. “ There’s a long pause after the bit about the squirrel.”
“Got it,” he said, putting the headset on. He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and hit play.
While he listened I had my first real chance to study his tattoos up close. All but one - a jagged red and black line around his left wrist - were the work of a gifted artist. Whoever had done the work clearly understood the craft as well as human anatomy. They’d taken the time to study how the tattoos would move over the contours of Evan’s body.
Across his chest, with its ears nestled beneath his collar bones and its broad, bony forehead stretched across his pectoral muscles was the countenance of a bear. Its partly opened mouth with hints of teeth showing plunged down across his breast bone and ended in a wet, black nose with flared nostrils above his navel. There was nothing overtly menacing about the image but I had the feeling its pecan brown eyes were watching me intently.
“Seen enough?” Evan asked. He was done listening to the tape and had been watching me.
Feeling my face flush, I looked up. “Not really,” I said, determined not to apologize. “I was just admiring the tattoo of the bear. It’s extraordinary.”
“Yes, Naomi is very good,” he agreed.
“And from what I can tell,” I continued, “the rest are just as impressive.”
“Better,” he agreed, his voice flat and non-committal. If I’d hoped he would show me others or at least comment on the bear, I was wrong. A long uncomfortable silence stretched between us. “Was there something else you wanted me to listen to?” he asked.
“No, yes, well I’m not sure,” I said. “I’d like you to do something for me.”
“And that would be?”
“Tell me about Richard.”
Evan blinked and seemed to visibly shrink into himself. Deep lines appeared on his forehead and beside his mouth. “What do you mean? What do you want to know?”
“You heard what D said about me being like Richard.”
“Yes.”
“I want to understand what he meant. Richard taught him so much about belonging - about belonging to a place - this place. And now it belongs to me. Why?”
“A lot of people are wondering the same thing,” Evan said.
“What do you mean? What people?”
“Richard’s people, my people, the Cherokee,” he said. “We all knew and liked D, but it was Richard we trusted and loved.”
“I can understand that,” I said.
“I don’t think you do, Maddy. What do you want me to say?”
“I’m not asking you to compare us, Evan. But you knew Richard. It would help me a lot if I knew more about him - what he was like, what brought him here.”
Evan looked away, his attention focused on the skyline, his body tense and still. He sat that way for what felt like a very long time before abruptly getting to his feet and looking down at me. “If I’m gonna tell this story, I’ll need some coffee,” he said. “Would you like some?”
“Sure,” I said, holding up my cup. “A little cream, no sugar please.”
When he returned with the coffee, Evan’s face had softened. He sat back down in the chair next to mine and Plutarch immediately came and flopped down across his left foot. “So, how much do you know about the Cherokee?” Evan asked as he scratched the top of Plutarch’s head.
“Not a lot,” I confessed. “Only what D told me about his family’s history with the land and what I’ve learned from doing research.”
“I’m willing to bet that most of what you’ve read was written by white Europeans who didn’t have a clue about how the Cherokee see the world.”
“Probably,” I said, “though I have read James Mooney's books.”
“Mooney did good work,” Evan said. “He helped preserve important parts of our culture. But Richard’s life was…” here Evan paused. “…was more than unusual. It was extraordinary.”
“That much I knew from talking to D,” I said. “I’m listening.”
“Okay, then,” Evan said with a nod. But when he didn’t say anything else, I turned my attention to the fog that was beginning to burn off the lake. “Be patient,” I told myself. “Trust can’t be rushed.” If I’d learned anything about Evan it was that he did things in his own time and his own way.
“I guess the first thing you need to know is that Richard’s mother almost died giving birth to him,” Evan finally began. “And the reason had nothing to do with physical problems. His mother was healthy, strong, and prepared. She was attended by the best midwives of her clan.”
“So what happened?”
“Richard didn’t want to be born.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “How do you know that?”
“Because Richard told me,” Evan smiled, clearly enjoying my surprise. “He could remember everything about his birth and everything before it.”
“Before it?”
“In spirit,” Evan said. “What the Cherokee call the ‘upper world.’ We believe there are three interconnected worlds - upper, middle, and lower.”
“Yes, I read about that,” I said. “The upper is where benevolent spirits live. They protect and help those in physical reality, right?”
“Right,” Evan said. “The lower world is also inhabited by spirits, but they’re troublemakers who thrive on conflict. But it’s important to remember that the middle world isn’t separate from spirit. Everything - the mountains, rivers, trees, plants, and animals - have intelligence and spiritual powers. The job of humans is to mediate between the worlds and maintain balance in our daily lives.”
“Okay, I’m following so far,” I said. “Go on.”
“The plan was for Richard to be born into the Ani-Tsiskawa or Eagle clan. Of the seven clans, the Ani-Tsiskawa has one of the most important jobs. They act as intermediaries, interpreting dreams, visions, and signs. The goal was for Richard to help heal the imbalances caused by the relocation.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” I said. The stories I’d read of the brutal removal of the Cherokee from their land were both tragic and devastating.
“Neither did Richard. The moment he felt the contractions of birth closing in around him, he panicked and began to resist.”
“That’s not good.”
“Luckily, Richard’s mother was not only Ani-Tsiskawa but a Ghigau (beloved woman) as well. Unetlanvhi (the Great Spirit) was known to speak with and through her, so when her labor stalled she arranged for a conference call between herself, Richard, and Unetlanvhi. Richard was persuaded to honor his promise and he entered the world shortly thereafter.”
“A three-way conference call with the Creator,” I chuckled. “I like it. Was Richard okay after he was born?”
“Well, the Ani-Tsiskawa called him ‘half-born’ and claimed they had a hard time keeping him in his body,” Evan said. “He was small and weak at first, and had a habit of leaving his body at night to visit others in their dreams. He also detested any and all physical contact and refused to learn how to hunt or fish or trap any living thing.”
“Sensitive,” I said.
“Yes, but it was more than that,” Evan said, searching for words. “Not to get all airy fairy on you or anything, but I think he saw something almost sacred - some element of the Creator - in everything. He talked to animals the way you and I are talking and they always responded. I once found him sitting beside the garbage cans outside the school cafeteria talking to a family of rats. He said they were great gossips and knew everything about what was going on in the school.”
“I love that,” I said, “and I get it. I’ve never talked to a rat but I much prefer the company of animals to that of people. Present company excepted, of course,”
“No offense taken,” Evan laughed. “Richard was the same way. He tolerated me because I was his brother but he was never really interested in what I liked to do.”
“So finish the story,” I interjected. “Didn’t you say Richard was your half brother?”
“Yes, Richard’s mother never fully recovered from his birth. She died when Richard was three from scarlet fever, though it wasn’t called that. The Cherokee believe that disease is a result of being out of balance and so her death was attributed to spirit’s failure to protect her.”
“Well there were certainly imbalances caused by all the diseases the Europeans brought,” I said. “But I can’t imagine how it was her fault.”
Richard shrugged. “I’m just reporting on what Richard told me. Our father remarried almost immediately and I was born a year later.”
“Wow, that was fast,” I said.
“Yes, he married the sister of Richard’s mother.”
“No pre-birth agreements or instructions for you?” I asked, half teasing.
“Not that I can remember,” Evan replied, taking the question seriously. “But even though Richard was older, I always felt it was my job to look after him. By the time we were sent away to boarding school I was as tall as and heavier than he was. I always wished I could’ve done a better job of protecting him.”
“Oh Evan,” I said. “Surely you don’t blame yourself for what happened at that school?”
Evan was saved from replying by the sound of Bentley barking in the distance. “Hear that?” he said, looking relieved as he got to his feet. “The boys must be up and on their way over. They’ll be wanting breakfast.”
“Maybe we can talk again later?” I asked.
“Sure, but remember I’m taking everyone back to the trailhead and I have some errands to run in town. Are you planning to stay?”
“I thought I would,” I replied, “as long as you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Evan laughed. “This is your place now, Maddy. You can do whatever you want.”
“Yes, I realize that, but you’re the one who’s been running the place. You feed the animals and do the repairs. I don’t even know how many animals there are. Didn’t you say there are horses?”
“Yes I did and yes there are,” Evan said. “I see your point, but we’ll have to talk about how to move forward. I can’t do everything by myself, and I’m not sure you want me to try.“
“Agreed,” I said. “So let’s talk again when you get back.”
After breakfast I pulled Nigel aside and told him about my plan to stay for a few extra days. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I need a few more days to see the rest of the property and get a handle on how things are run. But I want you to do some things for me if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said, accepting the list I handed him. “The most important thing is to give me a call every day. The number is there at the top. If ever you can’t reach me, summon the posse and get back here as fast as you can.”
“Got it,” Nigel said.
“And see what you and Anna can find out about the easement on the property. I know my neighbors are Cherokee but how have relations been over the years? Manuel might be able to help. He knew Richard pretty well. Also, he might know what the arrangement has been with Evan. Does Evan have a contract? What was he being paid? That sort of thing.”
“Okay, is that all?” Nigel asked.
“Well the most important thing is to check on Zelda, of course.”
“Of course,” Nigel grinned. “But you know Anna’s been spoiling her rotten.”
“I’m absolutely sure of it,” I agreed. “And she probably hasn’t missed me at all, but I’m feeling cat deprived. I need an update.”
“You got it,” Nigel said, squeezing my arm. “I’ll call just as soon as I get home.”
Later, down at the dock, I helped Casey and Nigel load their gear into the boat and hugged them both good-bye. “See you soon,” I said as Evan pushed the boat from the pier and slipped the oars into the oarlocks. He’d be rowing back the way we’d come, but against the current this time. It was going to take more time and a lot more effort to reach the entrance.
As the boat rounded the first bend and began to disappear behind some trees at the water’s edge, Nigel pantomimed holding a phone to his ear and blew me a kiss. “Why do I feel like crying?” I said to Bentley who was leaning against my leg.
Copyright 2024 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
Resources
Volatile Organic Compounds: https://www.epa.gov/indoor-air-quality-iaq/what-are-volatile-organic-compounds-vocs
History, Myths, and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokee: https://www.amazon.com/Mooneys-History-Sacred-Formulas-Cherokees/dp/0914875191
“Kill the Indian, Save the Man: Indian boarding schools: https://www.ou.edu/gaylord/exiled-to-indian-country/content/remembering-the-stories-of-indian-boarding-schools
Links to Previous Chapters
Links to the 8 previous chapters
Copyright 2024 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
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I copied it and pasted it into our exchange in “The Rewind” on April 8th. It’s there for you to read. Please be honest but kind. 🙂
No, but I believe that Maury County in MTN is my navel of the universe. My paternal relatives have lived and died there for eight generations. I have a series I’ve worked at over this past year. I’ll see if I can post it on my substack. “Eorthcraeft 1”