Vignette Assignment 2

Vignette Assignment 2



          Majag climbs into the ambulance with Yancy. He looked so tiny on the stretcher. The paramedics worked on the lifeless child. His clothes were cut from his body, he was wrapped in wet blankets. A needle with a bag of liquid was inserted into his arm. (This was a new sight for Majag) The men placed a mask that forced air into young Yancy's lungs.



         Yancy opens he eyes. “Momma?” Majag tries to hold back the tears as he knows that soon he would have to break the news to his nephew. He would have to tell a weak child that he no longer has a mother? That his uncle Majag and Bidziil are all the family that he has left. 



          Bidziil was on the second floor. He was one floor below the Burn Unit where Yancy was made to sleep with pain medication. Bidziil was mobile now. He would have to be cared for around the clock. There had to a caretaker to change the bandages and treat the burns many times a day. Majag was praying by Yancy's bed when the nurse came to get him. “Ms. Clare Simpson needs to meet with you.” The nurse whispers. She sent an aide to watch over Yancy while his uncle left the room.



         “Hello, Majag.” Clare greeted him with a hand shake. They new each other from town, but he wondered how a social worker would be able to help him. “I wanted to talk to you about Bidziil.” They walked toward the stairs. Step by step the two talked. “Bidziil, has to have a lot of care. The hospital says that his time here has ended, and you have to stay to care for Yancy. We do not know when he will be able to go home.”



         Majag knew that the hospital would not allow Bidziil to stay until Yancy was able to go home, but what was Clare getting to. Was she suggesting that he send the child to one of those camps for children that no longer have parents or runaways. Bidziil would not survive that type of captivity. He was always climbing trees, and he loved to snare rabbits for dinner. He would not fair well in an orphanage.



         “He is a fighter.” Majag said while he remembered the fight that his nephew had shown throughout his short life. “We will be home soon.”



         “I have someone that I would like you to meet.” Clare continued as they walked into sleeping Bidziil's room. Bidziil was covered with bandages. He barely had any hair. You could only see a few patches of scorched black strands between some of the dressing on his head. One hand was wrapped, but even with it wrapped one could see that the child only had a thumb and ring finger. The rest of the child was covered with a damp sheet.



         Clare motions for a couple to come from the room to the hall.  She was chubby. She looked as if she were in her mid-forties. She had the skin and hair of the Indian, but the blue eyes of the white-man. Her husband stood tall. He looked strong. His eyes were coal black. His hair was nearly as dark as his eyes. He had his long hair pulled back in a braid with one single feather at the top. Both wore beaded necklaces. He recognized the craft as that of the Cherokee people. His people used to make beautiful bead work such as this.



         “Hello,” The lady greets us. “This is Shawna Ridge.” The lady holds out her hand in greeting. “Shawna, meet Majag Kingfisher.” The two shake hands. Majag always judged a person by the way they shook his hand. The woman had a hand shake of a person who had nothing to hide. He believed that if you were not a good person you hand shake would be weak and cold without any eye contact.



         Clare turns to the gentleman who seemed to be Shawna's husband, “ This is Job Ridge.” Majag shakes the hand of the tall man. Job name was a good for this man. He shook his hand like a noble Indian Prince warrior. He stood proud and keep his eyes trying to read those of Majag's.



         “Mr. and Mrs. Ridge live on a reservation in North Carolina.” She looks at Shawna with a kind expression. “The couple were moved there years ago, and found that they were never to be parents.”



         “We have no son to teach our customs to.” He interrupts. “We were not blessed by the Great Spirit with a  child.”  He walks back into the room where Bidziil was beginning to move.



         “Majag,” Clare regains his attention. “Yancy needs you, and you can not be in two places. You are unable to care for both boys, and Bidziil is so young. He will need a mother during the time he heals. Chenoa's childhood friend Light Hawk came to us last week. He told us of the child. When we got here, I knew that the Great Spirit gave me a son differently than other woman. I could feel that I was his mother, too.”



         Majag walks into the room where Job was stroking the child's hair. It seemed odd for a big strong Indian Brave to show such sympathy for a child that he did not know. Job turned a way to hide his “womanly” face form Majag.



         He bend to kiss Bidzill on the forehead. “Come,” He motions to the door. The four adults walk back into the hall. “The boy is strong. He will make you a fine son.”  He writes his name on the papers, “Please, tell him of his family. He can seek his brother by this address.”



         Job and Majag shake hands while Shawna got to care for her son. They new that the child needed to be with his own people. The white-man was not exceptive of their parents, and it would be safer for him with the Ridge family.