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    Black Sheep, White Crow and Other Windmill Tales: Stories from Navajo Country
    Black Sheep, White Crow and Other Windmill Tales: Stories from Navajo Country
    Black Sheep, White Crow and Other Windmill Tales: Stories from Navajo Country
    Ebook120 pages1 hour

    Black Sheep, White Crow and Other Windmill Tales: Stories from Navajo Country

    By Jim Kristofic and Nolan Karras James

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    About this ebook

    When Kameron moves to his grandma’s sheep camp on the Navajo Reservation, he leaves behind his cell phone reception and his friends. The young boy’s world becomes even stranger when Kameron takes the sheep out to the local windmill and meets an old storyteller. As the seasons turn, the old man weaves eight tales that teach the deeper story of the Diné country and the Diné people.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherUniversity of New Mexico Press
    Release dateAug 15, 2017
    ISBN9780826358202
    Black Sheep, White Crow and Other Windmill Tales: Stories from Navajo Country
    Author

    Jim Kristofic

    Jim Kristofic grew up on the Navajo Reservation in northeastern Arizona. He has written for The Navajo Times, Arizona Highways, Native Peoples Magazine, High Country News, and Parabola. He is the author of Medicine Women: The Story of the First Native American Nursing School and Navajos Wear Nikes: A Reservation Life and the coauthor of Send a Runner: A Navajo Honors the Long Walk (all from UNM Press). He lives in Taos, New Mexico.

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      Book preview

      Black Sheep, White Crow and Other Windmill Tales - Jim Kristofic

      Preface

      The roots for these tales grew from the area around Ganado, Arizona, on the Navajo Reservation in northeastern Arizona. This is where the Navajo tribe lives today. They call themselves Diné—the People. I wrote all of these tales during a summer that I spent working at the oldest trading post on the Navajo Nation.

      But I didn’t write them alone.

      Some stories were told to me while I was growing up on the Rez. Some stories are blends of my own imagination with the traditional ideas of the Animal People and the lessons they can teach. In these stories even the smallest animals can make a difference, and even the most foolish animals can teach us wisdom.

      The Navajo Reservation is a beautiful place during the day, but an equally frightening place at night. The dark thickets of juniper and the sloping plains of sagebrush all seem to be hiding something after the sun sets. But this deep darkness also allows you to see some of the clearest stars in the night sky. Some of the scarier stories were told around campfires during camp-outs around Ganado. Some were composed from traditional concepts that people still follow on the Reservation today.

      I am grateful for all of them.

      I can only thank the people I’ve met on the Navajo Reservation who put the thoughts into me that helped me write these stories. Much of what I’ve learned from living on the Reservation, listening to traditional ways, and listening to Navajo people emerged in these stories. I hope you, Good Reader, enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them. J. R. K.

      SHĮĮGO—SUMMER

      At the end of that school year, Kameron Nez had to move away from every friend he had. He and his mother, father, and sister had been living in Farmington, on the edge of the Navajo Reservation, while his dad worked as a welder at the local power plant. But now that his dad was laid off and had to travel to Texas to find work, his mom decided they’d move to their grandma’s house on the Rez.

      Kameron didn’t want to leave. But no one had asked him how he felt about it.

      So they squeezed into their pickup truck, with all of their belongings stuffed into the back. As his mom drove, she said, No more concrete sidewalks and roaring traffic. No more bright streetlights blocking out the stars. Just wait till you see those stars.

      Yeah, said Kameron. And just wait until you see how many friends I’m going to have there. I’m sure there are TONS of kids running around out there in the boonies.

      His mom gave him a tired look. I know Grandma lives far away from the road. But you and your sister will just have to learn to get along better than you do.

      Be friends with Blaire? Kameron said, grinning. I’ll take my chances with the sheep and the goats.

      He patted the top of her head. No offense, little sister.

      Blaire rolled her eyes.

      Just kidding, Kameron said. I’m pretty sure we won’t strangle each other. At least not right away.

      They drove most of the day with their boxes and crates bumping around in the pickup bed. As the truck climbed up into the mountains, Kameron smelled the sagebrush and the juniper. He heard the wind in the pine trees and watched the tall grass rush past the open window. He breathed deep. It was a good smell. But it was a long drive. Everything on the Rez was so far from everything else. And there was no shopping mall, no video game store, no skate park or movie theater. And none of his friends.

      He lifted his cell phone. No signal either. He leaned his head against the window.

      When they finally parked, Kameron and Blaire hopped out of the truck. Grandma stood in front of the hoghan to greet them. Gray wisps of her hair drifted out from the red handkerchief tied over her head. Her white sneakers peeked from under her long green skirt. To the left was Grandma’s melon field, and to the right the sheep corral. A tall cedar tree cast cool shade on them, and Kameron thought that there was a kind of peacefulness here. Even if it was a boring kind of peacefulness.

      Blaire ran up to Grandma. Kameron walked. The old woman was holding a long butcher knife that clanged against one of her silver bracelets as she embraced his sister.

      Probably using the knife to cut potatoes or something, Kameron thought.

      But he looked to the corral and remembered how people would usually butcher a sheep whenever relatives would visit.

      When Kameron stepped forward to hug the old woman, she said, "That thing won’t work up here. She pointed her knife at his cell phone. He’d forgotten he still had it in his hand. Things work different here."

      Before Kameron could say that he actually thought the Reservation was sort of beautiful in its own way, she said, Go herd the sheep out to the windmill. She picked up a cedar walking stick from beside the door of the hoghan and handed it to him. Make sure they get water, let them graze, and then bring them back. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you up here. Let’s see if you still remember how to do the kind of real work your dad used to do.

      But I just got here, he said. And you shouldn’t just order me around.

      Kameron, his mom said in a warning voice.

      Maybe that’s your problem, Grandma said. If people ordered you around more, you might be a better worker, like your dad.

      Before Kameron could think of anything to say, his grandmother led his sister and his mother inside the hoghan.

      Kameron gripped the stick hard in his hand and decided it would be easier to just do what the old woman asked and not stress out his mom. She already had enough to deal with. And his dad had asked Kameron to help his grandma when he got to the hoghan. He was going to try.

      His footsteps fell heavy on the worn path as thoughts about having to start new classes and meet new kids at school filled his mind. Summer was nearly over, and his new school on the Rez would start next week. As if he didn’t already have enough to deal with. No Dad. Grandma already on his case. And now he was probably going to spend the next month finding out how bad the bullies at school could be.

      Before he knew it, he had herded the sheep all the way out to the windmill.

      The sheep drank from the long concrete trough, just like they always did whenever he’d visited Grandma in the past. As he looked at the windmill, Kameron tried to imagine that nothing in his life had ever changed. That this was just another quick visit, and he’d be back in town in a few days.

      But something was different.

      On a juniper stump, next to the trough, sat an old man. The chéí wore a cotton shirt and a red bandana around his neck to protect him from the sun.

      "Yá’áát’ééh, shaye’, Chéí said. Come over here and sit. It’s a good day to feel the sun and smell the air."

      Yeah, I guess, Kameron said,

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