Native American Short Stories

Machapunga Tribe (Part 1)

Liss fanned the dust from her eyes, waving a hand in front of her face; unaware of her own actions, the young woman continued lacing and weaving one hickory strip after the other. Reaching into the container of water-soaked strips, she nodded only half-way when one of the other women made a comment about what she planned to serve for the evening meal in her home.

More concerned with the boys a few feet away, Liss glanced at them once again, wishing they would take their game to some other area.

Boys, especially young boys, pay little attention to where they make their games, though,and it did not take very long before their voices became as spears poking the insides of her head until she could no longer bear the children's repetitive screeching or the kicking up of dirt and small stones. Feeling herself scooting away from the distraction - at least ten times already -Liss winced visibly as the thought of that grass stain she just knew she had been grinding into the edge of her tunic. It gnawed at the back of her mind .

But she would stay silent, respectful of other the women's children. She would smile and at least try to concentrate on the half-woven basket nestled awkwardly in her lap, a gift of gratitude for one of the elderly women who recently offered her assistance in a womanly manner.

Liss shifted her head,averting her line of vision in one last attempt to ignore the little boys.

That was just about the moment a stray play sphere, stitched hide stuffed with parched grains, flew into the circle of weavers, whooshing only a few spaces the size of a pine cone from one of their ears.

"Stop doing that,"the woman called out, only glancing away from her work for a quick moment as she finished wrapping the bark. Tucking the end into  , a hand grasped the thick, beaded necklace hanging from under her braids as she stood to scold them further. "You," she pointed directly at her own nephew and raised one eyebrow, "should know better. Apologize and take the game elsewhere."

Carrying a measure of authority, her voice made the point although her eyes spoke softly,scanning briefly over the little dirt-smudged faces grinning back at her.

A dark-skinned boy stepped forward, apparently accepting the commission to speak in behalf of all the offenders.

"It slipped from my fingers," he shrugged. "Sometimes I am too short," he confirmed between a firm nod and puckered-up lips. His furrowed brow only emphasized his disgust, but he stepped forward once again to gain the toy back from his aunt's hands. "We will play over there," he nodded toward his home. "Until Mother yells at us for playing too close to her drying meats." Rolling his large walnut-shaded eyes,he added, "That is the reason we came here to play."

Liss couldn't help but let out a giggle, sympathetic with their plight.

"You could always run over to that tree over there," she held one hand up to shield the sunlight as the other hand pointed to which tree she spoke of. "There is one crooked branch sticking out – you could take turns to see which one of you can toss the toy over the branch."

Her suggestion fell on listening ears, as the group almost did not wait for the last words to tumble from her face.

"You will be a wonderful mother one day, Liss." Her older friend grasped her beads again as she began to squat back into place on one of the skins sprawled out on the grass. "Perhaps you have a prospect in mind as we speak?"

Wanting nothing to do with any conversation linking her to a mate, the young woman shook her head.

"No. I do not wish to marry or become a mother. I am content with life in my parent's home and reporting to no man; God has not purposed for me to find a mate."She raised one hand and leaned her head to the side, already pushing the objections aside. "Yes, I know what our Jewish neighbors say about families and children, but I do not share in the belief that I must bear the worries of being a wife and mother."