Boarding School on a Winter Night

Boarding School on a Winter Night
It is snowing outside, it reminds me of a night long ago. It was this
time of year….

The Indian Club used to meet in the boarding school dining room. The
girl's dorm was on the west side and the boy's dorm was to the North.
Flag Bordertown dorm, these buildings were light blue green in color
and stood in the forest, the tall pine trees hanging their shaggy limbs
and the crystal snow falling in clumps to the ground, showering those
who walked between the buildings with wind blown snow that would make
you catch your breath from the cold.

It is evening, and the lights are on and but the whole scene is blue
and there is no night, but reflected light of white of the snow. In
the midst of this quietness there is a sound coming from the dining
room, the chairs and tables moved out of the way and in the window. I
find myself walking from my wing where I stay on the boy's side down to
the dining room. The air is clean, fresh and I can feel it as I
breathe. I find myself on the walkway going down the hill to the dining
room, I can hear the sound of a drum beating and the sound of one of
the dorm attendants, who heads the Indian club.

In the large windows I can see the movement of Navajo boys and girls
swaying back and forth dancing to his voice. They are dressed in fine
clothes, satins, velvet, silver and moccasins. As I step into the room,
I see the other kids standing on the edges of the room watching those
ten or so that are out there dancing. They are getting ready for the
annual Christmas program and are making their final run before their
performance tomorrow. I see them, those with names like Keems, Sloan,
Acothley, Whitehat, Tom, Benally, Hoskie from places like Gray
Mountain, Skeleton Mesa, the Gap, Leupp, Selba Delkai, Coppermine,
Kaibeto and Shonto. As they move about they shine in a way that is far
removed from these four walls, from this school on the edge of town.
They are lifted from here to the mesas, flat lands and cedars of home.

In time, they have learned at the hands of this man who is singing and
they move about with grace and unity. Their steps together moving
satin dresses rustling in gold, green, blue and red, with velveteen
shirts and a shawl. The young men are dressed in white pants with red
velveteen shirts and they are all adorned with concho belts, turquoise
beads and silver. The light catches their movement and they float on
the words of a song. I find myself standing just inside the door, and
the room is quiet, as those of us far from home in boarding school see
how these our friends dance. I miss home and think about my parents and
the old folks and long summer days where I stood with the sheep and
quietly I find myself at peace. These kids, are all like me, so far
from home, and as I watch them dance I find some happiness in the song
and movement. As I look about the room there are many here and we seem
to be thinking all the same thing. It feels good to be here, to know
that this is a part of me, that I am Navajo and these words come and
take me home. It is good to be who I am and as I watch this song come
to an end. Sometimes boarding school was not so good but other times I
remember that some things we shared were good and helped us remember
who we are and this was one of those times....it was just Indian Club
on a boarding school on a cold winter night. rustywire