I will tell you something about stories,
[he said]
They aren't just for entertainment.
Don't be fooled
They are all we have, you see,
all we have to fight off illness and death.
You don't have anything
if you don't have the stories.
Their evil is mighty
but it can't stand up to our stories.
So they try to destroy the stories
let the stories be confused or forgotten
They would like that
They would be happy
Because we would be defenseless then.(1)
The above passage is from Laguna Pueblo author Leslie Marmon Silko's acclaimed 1977 novel Ceremony. The excerpt emphasizes the essential role that storytelling plays within the Pueblo culture. It also sums up the repeated attempts of colonial invaders to erase Pueblo culture by destroying its ceremonies. Despite these attempts, which began in 1540 and continued until the 1930s, the core elements of Pueblo myth and ritual have survived. However, as Silko reveals in Ceremony, the years from World War II to the present have brought new threats to the Pueblos, which, although more subtle than the early Spanish conquests, are even more insidious, and must be confronted if the Pueblo culture is to survive.
In Ceremony, Silko portrays the endangered state of the Laguna reservation following World War II. The land has been damaged by runoff from the uranium mining, and a generation of young Pueblo men has been devastated by the war. Ceremony tells the story of Tayo, a wounded returning World War II veteran of mixed Laguna-white ancestry following a short stint at a Los Angeles VA hospital. He is returning to the poverty-stricken Laguna reservation, continuing to suffer from battle fatigue, and is haunted by memories of his cousin Rocky who died in the conflict during the Bataan Death March of 1942. His initial escape from pain leads him to alcoholism, but his Old Grandma and mixed-blood Navajo medicine man Betonie help him through Native ceremonies to develop a greater understanding of the world and his place as a Laguna man.
In his search for healing, Tayo seeks a cure from Ku'oosh, the old medicine man. Ku'oosh realizes that he cannot heal Tayo because, "Some things we can't cure like we used to...not since the white people came." While the return to the old ways helps Tayo, something else is needed to complete his healing ceremony. This is where Betonie, a new kind of healer, comes in. Betonie still wears the traditional clothes of a medicine man and uses the traditional paraphernalia, such as prayer sticks, gourd rattles and sacred herbs. But Betonie also uses contemporary items as healing tools, such as coke bottles, phone books and old gas station calendars with pictures of Indians on them, all common objects on the reservation. When Tayo questions the use of such non-traditional items for his ceremonies, Betonie responds, "In the old days it was simple. A medicine person could get by without all these things. But nowadays..."
Betonie provides Tayo with the blend of tools and faith Tayo needs in order to undertake the completion of the ceremony, which can cure both himself and his people. The key to survival of Pueblo culture, as Silko demonstrates in Ceremony, may be found in allowing traditional Pueblo ceremonies to change to meet the present-day realities of reservation life. It's in this fusion of old and new that the Pueblos may find the healing they so desperately need after suffering nearly 500 years of colonialism.
Ceremony gained immediate acceptance when returning Vietnam war veterans took to the novel's theme of coping, healing and reconciliation between races and people that share the trauma of military actions. It was largely on the strength of this work that literary critic Alan R. Velie named Silko one of his Four Native American Literary Masters, along with N. Scott Momaday, Gerald Vizenor and James Welch. Her publications include Laguna Woman: Poems (1974), Ceremony (1977), Storyteller (1981), Almanac of the Dead (1991), Gardens in the Dunes (1999) and The Turquoise Ledge: A Memoir (2010).
1. Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony (Viking Press, 1977), p. 2.
Great Book!
ReplyDeleteYes Patrick, I agree. The novel itself is a ceremony of healing!
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