Gia’s Song
Thung joo Kwa yaa na povi sah
Thung joo Kwa yaa na povi sah
Tsay ohi taa geh wo gi wa naa povi sah
pin povi
pin povi do mu u da kun
ka nee na nun dun naa da si tah.
On top of Black Mesa there are flowers
On top of Black Mesa there are flowers
dew on yellow flowers
mountain flowers I see
so far away that it makes me cry.
She opened her eyes slowly,
as if to awaken from a trance
cast by a song,
transporting her to childhood,
Back to the flowers
growing atop Black Mesa,
so far and yet
clearly brilliant.
Awake from the song,
Gia focused on her daughter,
anxiously awaiting
to be taught a new song.
The old woman chose to take her time,
she had learned from experience,
attention is better paid by children,
when there is a little pause,
and mystery
in storytelling.
Soon enough Gia spoke . . .
“When I was a young girl,
my family would camp
below Kwheng sa po,
during the farming months.
We spent most of our days
following my grandmother
through rows of corn
and playing in the streams below.
One day white men came in a wagon,
telling us about a school for Indians,
run by the government.
We were told this school would educate
and prepare us for jobs in the white man’s world.
None of us knew what any of it meant,
but these men spoke sweetly
offering grandmother a roll of baling wire
for each child that went to school.
Before we knew what was happening,
we were sitting in the back of their wagon,
on our way to government school,
away from our families,
to another man’s world.
Often we would cry,
out of loneliness,
but this song helped us
to remember our home.”
Get thoughtfully straightened
the pleats on her skirt,
swallowing the last of her coffee.
Smiling, she continued . . .
“The government school taught sewing,
I learned on an electric machine.
By the time I returned to the village I could
sew, but few of the people had heard of sewing machines,
or even electricity.
The machine I learned to operate as my trade
could not be carried here and there,
but this song you are learning,
will always be carried in your heart,
here and there.”
Copyright Credit: Nora Naranjo-Morse, "Gia’s Song" from Mud Woman. Copyright © 1992 by Nora Naranjo-Morse. Reprinted by permission of University of Arizona Press.
Source: Mud Woman (University of Arizona Press, 1992)