Dinetah

I held him in my arms, knowing that it could very well be the last time.

“Don’t go,” I begged.

“I have to, Kai,” he replied softly, nuzzling my neck as he hugged me.

Why did Sani have to be so ... responsible all the time? Ever since he took over leadership of the tribe’s youth, he had been different; always thinking about what was best for the tribe, about being an example for the other young men to follow. Maybe it was selfish, but Sani’s leadership position meant less time for the two of us and – like today – dangers that threatened to tear us apart forever.

“It will be okay,” he reassured, cupping my face in his hands and pulling my gaze away from my feet and toward his own. The uncertainty I found there didn’t help, and he let go, allowing me to look back down at my feet.

“I don’t have a choice,” he mumbled. “The tribe is depending on me. If we don’t do this, everything really will be lost.”

“We can go somewhere else,” I insisted. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to find a new home.”

“No more running,” he said firmly. “This is our dinetah now ... our homeland. We’re not going to keep moving every time the white man comes in and decides that he wants our land. What does that say about our integrity, our honor? What will it say to our children, and their children, if we have no place for them to call home because we’re always running from the fight?”

The words sounded good when he was inspiring the other young men to follow him on a raid of the Spanish fort along that was being built on the bank of the Rio Grande River, but not so good now that we were facing his departure on what many considered to be a suicide mission.

“We can do this,” he had told the other tribesmen. “If we wait for them to complete the fort, they will have all the weapons and fortifications they need to repel our attacks and solidify their presence in the area. We must attack now, while their defenses are weak and we have a fighting chance.”

A fighting chance meant taking all of our fishing boats and crossing the river under the cover of night, sneaking into the fort while everyone slept and setting fire to the place. Sani promised they would be respectful of human life, even for the Spanish soldiers who didn’t share the same sentiment when they were slaughtering our Navajo brothers and sisters. If they set the fire in the kitchen, it would give the Spaniards enough time to evacuate before the flames reached the munitions storehouse and destroyed the base.

I had told Sani that I would support his decision. Men were not required to seek permission from the women in the tribe, but Sani was different than most; he valued my opinion as his wife and sought my support in all decisions. Knowing this, I had encouraged him and told him that I believed attacking the fort was a necessary risk.

That was before I found out I was pregnant.

Now I found myself weighing the value of having a permanent home for our tribe and family against the possibility that I could be raising a child without a father. Sani and the others seemed to think the attack on the fort would be fast and simple. But having already lost a brother, a father, and an uncle to the Spaniards, I knew we couldn’t afford to underestimate them. All of these worries and conflicts I kept to myself as Sani held me in his arms, assuring me that everything would be okay.

I wanted to believe him.

I needed to believe him.

I wanted to tell him about our child, about the family we would have together, but I knew nothing could distract him from his purpose tonight. The tribe had already made the decision to attack the fort, and telling him now would only cause him to lose focus on the task at hand. No, he would go tonight. They would succeed. And he would return to me, and our baby.


They prepared the boats at dusk, once it was too dark to see across the river. The lights from the fort shone on the placid water of the slow-moving water. Still under construction, the looming walls of the fort were only partially completed, with just a few lamps in the section containing the living quarters. The men would wait until those lights went out, then stealthily paddle across the river and approach from the docks that were being built into the water. From the docks, it was a straight path through the yet-to-be-completed outer wall into the main courtyard. They would sneak across that courtyard into the kitchen, where they would set the fire.

As the men loaded into the boats, I stole one last kiss from Sani, trying to quiet the fears that were gnawing at my insides.

“I need you to do something for me, Kai.”

“Anything, my love,” I responded instantly.

“If something happens tonight, I need to know that you’ll be all right.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“It’s foolish not to expect the unexpected.”

He held me close and I melted into his warm embrace, savoring the feel of taut, sinewy muscles under his smooth skin.

“If we don’t return tonight,” he said, pushing. “I want you to lead the rest of the tribe back to our old settlement in the North.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I said. “You’ll be back by morning.”

“If I’m not,” he insisted, “The Spaniards will be looking for vengeance. I won’t take the chance that my wife and our child will be endangered.”

I was shocked. He knew? But how?

He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Please,” he chuckled, as if reading my mind. “How could I not know? The radiance of an expectant mother speaks more than any words could. Now promise me that you will keep our child safe, no matter what happens.”

“I promise,” I mumbled, choking on the words at the thought of having this child without him.

We held each other as long as we possibly could, until the other men came and told Sani they couldn’t wait any longer. The last of the lights at the fort had been extinguished an hour ago.

It was time.

I watched the boats until they disappeared into the dark river waters. The quiet lapping of their paddles soon faded away as well, leaving no trace of the eight boats and the two dozen tribesmen they carried.

As much as the rest of the tribe and I tried to pretend that we were okay going about our daily lives, we were all thinking about the men that, by now, were on the other side of the river.

Hours later, or at least what seemed like hours, we heard the first sounds of fighting coming from the fort. Things had not gone according to plan and the men were now battling with the small contingent of Spanish soldiers that lived at the fort during its construction. Sani hadn’t been a fool; he had made sure they brought spears and bows and arrows just in case the soldiers were roused, but he had hoped they wouldn’t have to use them. It now appeared that they did.

The sounds of battle were as short as they were fierce. The clanging of weapons and the shouting of men subsided and the night was once again thrown into early-morning silence. Pre-dawn light was peeking over the horizon, and it wouldn’t be long before the men returned.

An hour later, the boats appeared in the river, headed back toward the village. We all gathered on the bank of the river, anxious for the sight of our loved ones.

Instead, we were greeted with sheer horror. At first the boats appeared to be empty, listlessly floating back to the village. We were only half right. The boats only seemed empty because the corpses of our tribesmen had been tossed carelessly inside and had settled into the bottom of the boats.

Several of the other women screamed as they identified their husbands and brothers. They had been massacred.

I looked frantically around for Sani, but he wasn’t there. Twenty-four men had left last night, and only twenty-three had returned. Sani was missing! I didn’t know what that meant; whether he had somehow escaped the slaughter, or if he was being held prisoner at the fort for some reason. The only thing I did know was that the plan hadn’t worked, and with the sun rising, there were bound to be some angry Spaniards looking for retribution against what they thought were a peaceful and pushover group of “Indians” across the river.

My promise to Sani echoed in my head, and as hard as it was to focus on anything other than anguish over my missing beloved, I had to help the tribe avoid further tragedy. The Spanish would come, maybe even as soon as a few hours from now, and we had to think about preserving our tribe.


Two hours later, we had packed up everything we could carry, built a makeshift gravesite for the men we had lost, and were preparing to move north again, back where we had migrated more than three generations ago.

My mind never departed from thoughts of Sani as we prepared to leave, hoping against hope that Sani had somehow found a way to escape the fate that had awaited so many of our other tribesmen. It was the only thing that kept me going; that gave me the strength to inspire and motivate the rest of the people in our village to do what was necessary.

I imagined Sani finding another way across the Rio Grande River, and following our tracks as we moved north. The Spanish would eventually give up the chase as we ventured farther away from “their territory” along the river, and Sani would continue to make his way back to me so that, one day, we would be a family again.

With a heavy but hopeful heart, I headed north with my fellow tribesmen.



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