Illustration by Sophie Sheppard
Ye'ja (Medicine Song)
by Darryl Babe Wilson/Sul'mae'ejote
During Get'uy (spring) sun and moon listened and Talok'te'me'ye chah'mek (North Star) continued weaving her sparkling basket. It was decided that Yawass (head singer) should sing to allis (salmon)—so the spirit of allis returning to the river from their journey to outer-ocean would know it was the proper time to enter the huge bay and fight the surging rivers and rapid streams seeking their ah'lo (the spiritual umbilical cord connecting their life with its origin). It was also decided that Yawass teach the song to those among the young warriors who longed to learn.Allis fed the eagle and osprey, the ant and the badger, the bear, wolverine and people. When mighty allis entered the homeland all of the elements within nature migrated toward It-Ajuma (Pit River) to fish and feed. There was a happiness in the spirit of the land when allis returned.
Ye'ja (the song), a gift gleaned from the silence of the surrounding beauty, was given to the winds rushing along the river and down the canyons towards outer-ocean. The melody lingering in the surge of the rapids, welcomed allis and they came to spawn at the place of their origin—there to perish completing their life cycle. In this way allis knew that its existence would be forever.
And so it was, for all of the seasons earth turned around the sun, and allis returned to the river, accepting the welcome of ye'ja.
Young warriors learned ye'ja that brought allis to the people — that delicate and meaningful thought caught upon the silver whisper of the slipping river and in the murmur of the purple ripples at dusk. Ye'ja moved ever towards the vast and powerful ocean where allis dwelled in abundance.
When allis heard ye'ja from young singers — a new but ancient tinkle in the many sounds of the tumbling river and heaving ocean, they knew it was time to return to the place of their birth. To the surging moments in the river where their parents gave them life. Allis was born in a bed of thousands of bright-orange roe.
Female allis prepared the bed laying flat on the bottom, head hard against the rushing waters, flipping her tail, defying the current, throwing the rocks up and away to flutter down the river. After much labor there was a perfect mixture of pea-sized gravel and sand where her tender yet resilient eggs were laid under the rush. The male insured their fertilization with a strong and glue-like spraying of sperm over the entire bed. Sperm-coated roe lay beneath the ripples and pebbles and under the hissing waters dreaming.
Young warriors gathered and listened while the ancient person sang, and as he sang, they sang, too. Softly. Uncertainly. Often the warriors hesitated and stumbled, but then they tried again and again.
Grandfather took two stones the size of his fist. His tinihowis (spirit helpers) were Talok'te'me'ye chah'mek, the code of the rocks clicking together beneath the rushing waters and ye'ja. He held the stones up into the evening above the dancing fire and to the stars so they, too, could see his intentions.
Yawass whispered to the sparkling vastness as it glittered above and danced upon the streaking waters. He spoke with the seasons. He took council with the spirits living in the water. He sang softly, laying the song gently upon the river — the messages to be delivered to ocean power. When the whole earth was listening he held the rocks under water, singing. As he sang he tapped the rocks softly together in a melody the allis people knew — an ancient message — his song yet a whisper.
Young warriors revealed their stones to the universe, wondering of their capacity. They sang, holding the stones under water. They tapped them softly. They sang softly. Allis listened and accepted the welcome song.
When the ceremony ended, grandfather led the young singers through the round river rocks and silent forest and from under the stars into the womb of the ceremonial house, embers glowing in the shadows.
Late. Moon longed for sleep. Grandfather gave warriors a drink of mint tea. Mint grew in the secret canyon near the always-warm-water-of-spirit-cleansing. Speaking to the gathering Yawass said,
"It is said in our way that the singer to allis has a duty equally to call allis and teach ye'ja to warriors. That duty is now fulfilled."
Looking upon the warriors he said,
"From this moment forward, much of the duty is yours. This tea will bring you dreams tonight. As you know, your dreams are as real as are your thoughts, your arrows, your wishes, and the morning. Ye'ja, like water upon earth that brings the acorn and the willow alive, is our most precious knowledge. It would be good if we knew more, but we do not. Now it is time for rest — but only for a moment. Soon you will hear allis in the river. Then you must rush to awaken all the people. There will be a great happiness."
In their excitement some of the young warriors could not sleep. But as they studied the resting countenance of grandfather in his slumber, they accepted the judgment that there was no hurry to the wonder of life. And they entered the land of dreams.
Ye'ja was offered three times each year. During the spring the song was sung to coax silver allis up river to feed the people surviving a harsh winter — grandmothers, grandfathers, orphans; the true, the strong, the brave. Allis always knew their destination and ye'ja told them that earth being needed them, that all of nature was prepared to receive them — that they must come soon.
Also in the summer when it was a nice time to cease hunting and gathering and to lay in the shade dreaming, allis came up the river in abundance. And while the frosts of autumn announced the approach of winter, allis came so the people could dry the flesh and the roe, in preparation for the long cold.
Always there was a feasting. Always the singers were fed last — the seat of honor. To eat first, to be served first was the place reserved for the feeble and those worn by seasons and tested by emotional strife. It is said Wehelu (Captain) eats last after all the people are satisfied. Jamol elam'ji (Coyote spirit) sneaks in trying to eat first, it is said — without singing or without gathering wood for the fire.
SPLASH!
In the morning darkness river rippled and swirled with allis. Often they catapulted out of the water splashing back with a "smack!" They gathered. They labored. They loved. They spawned.
The clean sound shook the silence within the round house. Alert, the young singers moved throughout the village waking the people. Warriors grabbed their spears and nets. Children screamed with joy. Warrior singers celebrated. Sparks flew within the round house as the women dropped wood upon the slumbering embers. Then every portion of life in the world was focused upon the ancient churning, the allis river ballet, as if a giant unseen hand stirred the river with love.
Wadakjosi (Warner Mountains) to the east was a silhouette. Morning Star was just struggling over the horizon. Chool (Moon Man) raced in the early darkness, running away, it is said, from the sun. North Star forever weaved the glittering basket and the sparkling mystery. Darkness was all around. But, the excitement of the returning salmon and the dancing fires was such a completeness that the tribal people rushed in a soft panic. The families of the young singers cried quietly with pride, others dreamed a deeper dream.
Always the people stood amazed upon the banks of the river. They saw the ripples, the swirl of the mighty river caused by the power of allis. There were flips and splashes. There were splashes echoing from down river. Otter swam nearby. From the tree tops eagles feathered the wind, smelling the life and sensing the freshness in the river.
Men rushed to gather allis. Women rushed to prepare camp. Others rushed to gather materials to begin the delicate session of smoking and preserving allis. Children raced with their dogs barking. Soon there would be no hunger. Fresh roe would be cooked on a flat, hot rock. Dripping, fat slices of allis would cook against a friendly fire. The people were ready to feast. And the people and allis obeyed the instruction of an earth made good in its original design.
My great grandmother hugged her mother and father in her small arms. The little family whispered a prayer to the power that turns the earth around the sun and sun around the wonder that is greater than wisdom and knowledge.
Old Man Coyote yodeled from a distant range. The wolf pack, yellow eyes flashing, studied the world and were thankful for ye'ja. Deer twitched their tails and melted into the forest. Bear tossed their huge heads, smelled the life in the river and ambled with confidence to their favorite fishing place. Mountain Lion slipped through the trees like a whisper of yesterday.
The whole world was alive and it seemed that there would be goodness forever.
Then! He entered the homeland from the west, the great valley. His saddle squeaked like mice. His rifle was ready. There was strange odor with him. It was the smell of death.
Ye'ja hesitated, then stopped.