A PART OF ME

OIARRA C. LALIO

I remember looking into your eyes, so full of joy to fi- nally have you in my arms. In that moment, I felt it. I felt it come out of me in a place stored away deep within my heart. I haven’t spoken Zuni in years, but in that exact moment, looking at you it came out from deep within. “Hi, Akstiki1” my voice cracking a bit, almost as if I was scared to speak Zuni. They say that once you have a child, a newborn is a part of the K'yabinaho'i until he grows and his soft spot on his skull becomes full cartilage. Your baby knows things already coming into the world from our ancestors, is why they say that an infant knows and understands Zuni once he is born. With that being taught in our culture you would greet a Zuni baby with our Zuni language, the way you would greet an elder. As I was holding you, I felt myself crying. It was all so emotional. Nothing else mattered in that moment, all I knew was that I was going to do it for you. You’re the reason for my being now. It was up to me to show you the ways of life, the ways of our culture, our heritage, what it meant to be Zuni. It was all so scary though, knowing I haven’t spoken my language in years or embraced my culture like I should have been doing. I knew that you were going to be my little Zuni boy. I was going to make sure you will know our culture and our lan- guage. It was my time to show you that I know these things as well. It would only be right for me to be the one to teach you our culture. I had a million things running through my mind after you were born and being able to finally hold you and feel your skin on mine. “Hi ak’tsi’ki” I repeated. “Kesh do e’kya?” I say softly,

to you.

You open your eyes to look at me, and that was your answer, you were saying yes. I couldn’t help but feel like my mother who had passed was right there along our side, sharing this moment with us. She after all is now a part of the kyabinaho’i. This connection that I felt with you, my son, was something I have never experienced in my life before. It was enough for me to change all my old ways of life, even before you were born. Looking back in time, I remember saying “I will never have kids” only because I was too busy with the life I was living then which consisted of the selfish ways of living, drinking, and doing as I pleased without a worry in the world. In that part of my life, I didn’t worry about my cultural ways. I never spoke my language and I never had any intentions to. I was culturally disconnected during this time and I felt all my beliefs fade. I sometimes questioned myself about traditional practices which I now regret. I cannot help but think of a time when I really let down my father and the things that he did to pray for us, his family.

“Dosh da ak’shi deshkwi’kyanna?” My dad asked with a concerned look on his face almost like he was ready to be disappointed. “No” I replied, calmly. He asked in an angry tone “Kop’ladi?” “I have work and I need to spend money for gas, I just don’t think it will work out this year” I replied feeling annoyed, knowing I was in for a lecture from him. “Your boss is a Zuni! She should understand and know what is going on, I don’t see why you just don’t talk to her about it!” I could feel the disappointment and anger in his voice. “I already tried,” I said walking away knowing I was

lying.

I am very disappointed in myself for letting that happen. Culture is our identity. Why did I choose not to believe anything about who I was? I think about it too often, and it comes back to haunt me, knowing I did wrong by my father and his prayers to keep us all safe and healthy. I really had my life mixed up at this time and I can’t help but feel sorry for who I was a few years ago. But I am lucky and glad that all that has changed. That life is not one that I would never want my son to see. I want him to be proud of his mother, to be able to tell his friends “That’s my mom!” with so much excitement and joy. I mean when they’re teenagers I know that will eventually fade but I’m sure you get my point. I want my son to be able to be proud of where he comes from. Be proud of his people and what we pray and fast for as Zuni people. I wish that my son never loses touch with his culture like I did.

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‘A PART OF ME’ CONTINUED >

I truly believe that it is the way that I was brought up that plays a part in my cultural disconnection. I remember growing up in a village full of people who would be a part of all the traditional ceremonies in our village, except for my family; my mother, stepfather, and me. We were only part of the major ceremonies like Shalako, which was the big day where our ancestors would come back and spend the day and night with us. Shalako is also known to us as the Zuni New Year, because it is when we send our kachinas back home to the Zuni heavens. It is the day that Zunis wait for, to be able spend time with our ancestors. Our ancestors who come to visit us on this day before we send all the kachinas back home with them. Other than that day I remember begging my mother when I was eight years old to stay home in Zuni to go watch traditional dances with my grandma. “Can I please go to hot’da’s I wanna go dema’ya!”

I cried.

“No, she’s busy. Everyone is there. No one is going to watch you,” my mom said referring to my cousins visiting from the city. “Well I wanna go over. Can we go visit them? Please!” I begged my mother who refused to pay me any mind.

“Please Mom!” I begged hoping to get an answer. That was the way our conversations always ended. It seemed as if she would just tune me out until I stopped asking her. I hardly got a chance to see our traditional dances even though we lived in the middle village where all the ceremonies happened. Looking back on it now I never could imagine how I knew nothing when it was happening right outside. I was never really tied to my traditions like I would expect coming from a traditional family. My father and my mother had different goals for me in life. The exact opposite of what I or anyone else would expect. They wanted me to “See the world, make something of myself” but thinking about it now, that is a ridiculous phrase. Why would I want to do that? I come from a family rich with traditions, and they wanted to push me away and forget Zuni. I remember my father telling me after I took part in traditional obligations. I now must commit myself to these annual duties four days before Shalako where we would put cornmeal, to bring out the kachina for the ceremony. This obligation is a huge thing for our people and not everyone in Zuni does it, only a few people who are selected to do this can take part. Well my mother was a part of this ceremony before I chose to take part. She was chosen by her Wowo to take part. Although sometimes she made it seem like a burden, it was something that she couldn’t stop taking part in. She decided to ask me if I wanted to go because I was basically inherited into this ceremony I could choose if I wanted to take part. At this moment I felt excited. I was always held back from things that I wanted to see or be a part of and once I chose to take part in the ceremony my father was furious! “I never wanted you to be tied to home!” he reminds me every now and again, to this day! Being a mother now, I would never want my son to NOT be a part of these traditional ceremonies. Although speaking on another note, I want him to be able to make his own decisions about these obligations when he is old enough to make his own choices. I do not want to be the one to decide whether he would want to be apart of these big obligations that I chose to take on myself just because I do it.

I want my son to grow up differently than I did. I never want to withhold his culture from him just because I want him to see the world. I would rather want him to understand that here in Zuni our culture, our traditions are one of a kind. He should embrace this side of him. I want him to be able to learn from his elders and our people what it is like to truly believe in our blessing and our prayers. I want him to hear my story and say “I would never do that! Kwa ho’ lesna deyak’naman e’ha. That would really make proud as a mother to be able to hear my son say that he doesn’t want to be like me. Those choices that I made were bad. I really gave up on my culture and he helped me find myself again. That is truly a blessing in disguise. Who would have known I would speak Zuni again? Who would have known that I would be the one teaching my son these things that I would have never talked about if I never had a child of my own? This cultural disconnection has really made me realize a lot of things when I had my son.

I truly mean it when I say that I believe that my son is a blessing from my mother. She helped my me find myself again, my identity, my culture. She helped me by giving me my son, a little boy who holds many keys to many doors. A boy in our culture holds many traditional obligations. Obligations that only a man can be taught. Zuni males can see and be a part of a culture that women cannot, and that is why I am blessed. My son will learn things that even I do not know. I know that my father, being the traditional man that he is, will teach my son these things that he could not teach me. I couldn’t be more grateful to see that he, like me, is rich with cultural traditions. The only difference between me and my son is that I didn’t realize the traditional value that my culture holds until later in life. I want to make sure that he learns that while he is still young and make certain that he never forgets that.