Kim Heil is a freshman at Boston College majoring in Elementary Education adn Studio Art. Kim enjoys swimming, hanging out with friends and working with children. During High School she went on many service trips one of which inspired her to write this piece. Her current goals include going skydiving and completeing a triathalon!
He splashed water onto the blistering rocks, and as each droplet hit, it quickly leapt off and hissed as it turned into steam. I sat up slightly and felt my sweaty skin peel away from the damp wall behind me. I tried to breathe easily, but each breath was a struggle; I felt as if I was breathing over a pot of boiling water, the air heavy and wet. My arms and knees stuck to the skin of the people next to me. The shirt I had brought to dry my face was now as full of sweat as I was. As he dipped his hand into the water, ready to splash it onto the fire, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander back to how I got here.
The air was warm and sultry as I sat on my floor, clothes sprawled out around me. It was the first week of summer and in a few days I was to leave for Tohatchi, New Mexico. The 16 of us that were going were all ready to immerse ourselves into the new cultures and traditions that we would experience living on a Navajo reservation for a week. After travelling many hours across paved roads and dirt roads and through the air, we arrived. We moved our suitcases into the Hogan we were staying in and relaxed not yet able to grasp what was waiting for us. The first days were spent working at various tasks on the reservation. We cleaned the daycare center which had just flooded due to a pipe leak, we chopped wood so that the elderly could heat their Hogans during the freezing cold winters, we delivered food to those who couldn’t get food for themselves, and we learned. We learned a little bit about what it’s like to live on the reservation. We learned about the daily lives of some of the Navajo, and we learned about their history and their memories.
After five days it was Thursday. Thursday we did not work; Thursday we drank. Water. More water than most of us drank in 3 days. Thursday night we would be participating in a traditional Navajo sweat, and we were preparing for what would be an arduous night.
The veins of the rocks glowed red, burning from being in the fire all day. Every half hour, more rocks were brought in, the pit began to fill up, the heat began to singe my feet, and I pulled them back and tucked them under me. He is praying now in Navajo. I cannot understand what he is saying, but my body can feel it. I can hear the meaning in his voice. The sweat dripping down my face is now mixed with tears. I breathe in and out trying to calm my body, but my emotions are starting to let loose. The sweat has washed away all the barriers and left raw emotions exposed. My mind races bouncing from thought to thought, relationships and past experiences, worries and dreams. He is praying in English now, for the sick. For the homeless. For those who have died. I turn my head to the left and see my friend, tears sliding down her cheeks much more rapidly then mine. Tears that have been held back for years now, suddenly breaking free. I forget my current state of sweat and disgust and I grab her and pull her close. I comfort her the only way I now how, by crying with her, by holding her as tight as I can and creating a space for her to let go. I close my eyes, and my mind drifts back.
It happened on a Thursday. He had been sick for a long time now, in and out of hospitals, but no one expected this, and no one was ready. There was hardly time to say goodbye before he was gone forever. The loss hit hard on everyone, because everyone loved him and the lack of his presence could be felt in every room. But she stayed strong. She’d lost a father, but she had two young sisters she had to worry about, and her mom, and her older siblings. So she was upset, and at the funeral she cried, but not much, and after awhile everything was inside, and no one could see it on the outside. Sometimes you could see it in her eyes. I could read her by now; I had known her since we were little, since before this had all happened. I think that something this traumatic you cannot bounce back from. You can try to hide it, try to pretend that it’s not affecting you, but in reality it lives in you, and you can feel it with every step you take.
His voice is singing Amazing Grace, “Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far and Grace will lead me home.” Each word seems to describe the moment at hand, and at that realization we start to cry harder. Control of breathing has been entirely lost, and I take short, choppy, uneven gulps of air. Now he is going around the circle, blessing each one of us. When he gets to me I feel as if my emotions are being ripped out of me, just when I thought I could not cry any harder suddenly tears are deluging down my face. Then he passes me, his praying done, and my tears slow down. I feel her chest slowing down, and it comforts me. We breathe together. The slowing pace of her breaths calms me, and the even pace of mine slows her tears. The sweat keeps flowing though, and as more rocks are brought in I feel trapped inside my steaming body. I feel like a child with a fever desperately searching relief from the uncomfortable heat. Yet the sweat seems to be washing away all the fears and inhibitions and sadness. It is cleaning me from the inside out. I feel weak, yet alive. I am trapped where I need to be, and I stop trying to escape.
Shiny streaks of sweat can be seen all down his chest; he seems to be fighting for each breath, and my eyes are mesmerized by him. After a long silence, a time in which we can collect ourselves and process what just happened, he chants some final words in Navajo. He prays the closing prayer in English then, and as we exit we give each other person a hug. Our bodies, if only for a second, feel connected and the touch of the other people with whom I just shared such an intense emotional experience feels forcefully intimate and raw. As I crawl out the low door I am hit with a cool breeze, and I shudder. It is dark outside by now, and the change of light causes me to realize how long we were in the sweat lodge. The sweat on me is quickly drying, and my tears have dried leaving a slight salty residue on my cheeks. My breathing is slow and consistent. We start walking back towards the shower; I am anxious to feel clean, and to wash off the sweat, yet I want to stay in this moment for longer. I want to feel the way I am feeling for just a few more minutes. I start to hum. I can see clearly now the rain is gone, I can see all obstacles in my way, gone are the dark clouds that had me blind its gonna be a bright, bright sun-shiny day. I open my eyes and look up at the stars suddenly aware of where I am in the world, and in myself. She walks up next to me then, and gently touches me, as if to make sure I am okay. I nod and we start to walk together side by side, innately aware that what just happened may never happen again in our lifetime. We silently contemplate what we’ll walk away with, and what tomorrow will hold. How we leaned on each other, how we were brought even closer together.
I step into the shower and turn it on. The fresh water flows over my body and washes away everything, but at the same time it seems to be shutting part of me off. A part of me that opened up and let go, now is shutting back down. I take a deep breath as I put my face towards the faucet and exhale into the water.
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Mon, 12/28/2009 - 21:12
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