powwow

I walked into the arena not it regalia yet. Getting odd looks as I work my way thought the sweaty crowd. The look on their faces read, “What is a young girl wearing moccasins and a feather in her hair doing here? Doesn’t she know this is a powwow?” I knew what I was doing. I had a master plan. Well not a master plan but a plan none the less.
     My plan, was to win tonight. If not win then show what I am made of. As a don my jingle dress I get looks of awe. Yes my dress was well made but the belt was what put it all together. The belt simple but an eye catcher, was leather, about 4 fingers tall, with mirrors set into it with plastic rind stones between the mirrors. It synched my waist nice and tight for effect. The dress was of the lightest blues with the green of seaweed. Butterflies dances with the coins I tacked onto my shoulders.
     I was ready and grand entry was about to begin! The drum group starts and the beating of the drum matches the pace of my heart. The dancers around me pulse with excitement waiting to get moving and enjoy themselves. The feeling of standing with them all is overwhelming and empowering. The feeling of no longer being alone in all this is a feeling that I could live off of. The singing starts off low and slow, it’s growing with the anticipation. We all begin to move as one being.
     Moving feels amazing after standing next to all the tall and sweaty people. As we move we begin to cool off in a slow circle slowly spiraling into its self only to stop when we are all in the little gym. When grand entry is over we all go to the bleachers to sit and wait for the booming voice of the announcer to say what will come next. Intertribal is the word I hope for, and it’s exactly what I hear. I grab my fan made from feathers, the deepest of blues on one side and bright sun yellow on the other, of a Hadeda ibis and head to the floor.
     The dance floor was crowded and hot. The fancy dancers would swirl in graceful circles around and around until you think they would fall over. Traditional dancers slowly bobbing with the drum beat. The men whooping and hollering as they dance around the woman as tradition. At times I felt like I would be thrown over a shoulder and taken as a wife, although I knew it would never happen.
     The singing began to fill my head as I danced with the others. The words that I knew so well began to fall off my tongue on their own accord. Slowly I turn in a circle with my fan raised high above my head along with the other woman around me. We dance as a collective group moving with one another breathing the same breath. Other woman sing the songs along with me and smile when they see that I now the older songs.
     As the song comes to an end we all breathe a sigh wishing that the song would have lasted longer than it did. We all know what song is next and get excited. Men’s grass is an exciting one to watch and everyone knows it. The dancer all get in tuned into the music they forget where they are. Ducking and turning gliding around the floor like they never touch it. Graceful and thoughtful in every move they never miss a step never miss a beat.
     Never missing a beat is what the judges look for. They look to see if you look at them and make eye contact with them. They stand on the outside of the circle moving like vultures. Circling around us dissecting us, our every move noted. The positioning of our feet when the drum stops, how we hold our heads up high proud that we have stayed strong though the song. Looking into the col hard eyes of one of the judges I realize I didn’t know who they were.
     Who were they? These people were knew to me. They smirk at my lack of knowledge like I missed out on the big punch line. The other dancers faces are covered in sweat and their hands are shaking from the effort they put out. They knew who these judges were, and I danced but not my hardest like they did. The judges have made their decision they were going to announce who won the junior jingle dance first place winner. The place goes silent, even the little cricket that hid in a deep dark corner. They call my name and I cry. I didn’t give my best yet I still won.
     Winning gave me a reason to get better. My grandmother with a smile so big it brightened the room. Her gently aged face standing out of the crowd. Her long black hair splattered at the temples with grey, her eyes soft and kind. Just looking at her tanned loving face made me want to dance all over again. I gave her my trophy and told her that I would never have don’t it without her. She showed me that I could do anything I put my mind to.
     That’s what I did from that day out.  I put my heart and soul into everything I did. My art, poems, writing and the passing of what I know to others. I try to make everything that I do have meaning and a purpose. Like that day I may not have put everything I had into it but I still try my hardest at that time. Even if I didn’t win I would still have walked away a winner that day.