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Reveal or Conceal?
As I approached, Gloria smiled and reached for my hand. We stood
together, not speaking but making contact and listening to the talk all
around us. One of the eldest aunties standing in the group next to us
passed her granddaughter into my arms. This was no common infant
but the Sundance child, who had been born the previous year, follow-
ing the ceremony. I stood stunned, closely cradling and looking at the
sickly baby. Though I knew relatively little about her condition, the
rumor was that there had been “bad” dancers the previous year who
were, perhaps, “on drugs” and who had caused the child to be born
“sickly.” In fact, she had been born prematurely and had never taken
well to breastfeeding because of some form of stomach malformation
that required she be bottle fed a mere two ounces of milk, at two-hour
intervals. I also knew the family was planning a naming ceremony im-
mediately following the Sundance. While it had not been said out-
right, I had been left with the impression the child might not survive.
The parents were thus anxious to conduct the ceremony.
All at once, Gloria, Edna, and I became aware that an excited whis-
per had begun to make its way through the crowd. We sought its
source, as did the others. We noted people pointing animatedly to-
ward the sky. We looked up and, flying above our heads, making a
pass directly across the circle from the eastern to the western gates,
wasPi’ita, a golden eagle! The crowd erupted in unrestrained excite-
ment, waving their arms in the air, trying to catch the eye of a friend
or a dancer to share their exhilaration. “A blessing,” someone whis-
pered; a “great power,” another said. I glanced at Gloria and Edna,
who had tears streaming down their faces, and realized that I, too,
had begun to cry. It was all the more remarkable as the eagle did not
simply make a pass and continue on its way. Rather, as I stood, cra-
dling the Sundance child in my arms, it circled over our heads (some
said four times—though I was too distracted to notice). While others
ran about the circle tracing its path, Gloria, Edna, and I stood rooted
in place—literally awestruck. I could feel the heart of the Sundance
child blending with the beating of my own. As I gazed at the child
who lay so quietly oblivious in my arms, I experienced the most pow-
erful and compelling impression of warmth and completion that can,
I think, only be described as sheer joy.
