Jimmy Lee Beason II
In a time of great famine and social hardship, a young Osage mother was struggling to feed her two boys in the eastern, rural backcountry of Indian country aka Oklahoma. Their dad was seeking money for food “out west” hoping to send it back to his family on a prayer and some hope. It was a longshot considering not any job was looking to hire a Native man. White folks assumed they were all drunks and wouldn’t last the end of the week. But he had to take chance.
The morning was golden, and the air weighed heavy when he gave his children and wife a goodbye kiss, then trekked down the road until he was engulfed by the dust. That was a few new moons ago and the pantries were now empty.
The older brother recently turned 8 years old, watched as his mother wept wondering when idatsi might return. Then the question of when turned to a matter of if. If he returns. This was a time of transition from horse to automobile. From telegraph to telephone. If you were lucky enough to have electricity the radio was your only entertainment. Otherwise, it was the incessant symphony of cicada love songs among an audience of blackjack oak.
The oldest son was having a hard time understanding what was going on.
“When will idatsi return?”
“He will return when he is ready for us to go with him.” She was not sure how to answer the question and didn’t want to scare him. It was a precarious situation.
“I’m hungry.”
His mom just nodded and rubbed his head. He watched as his one-and-a-half-year-old baby brother screamed and cried. He was not getting enough food it seemed and there was nothing they could do about it. He worried and thought he should do something, as he is now the “man” of the house.
He wondered around outside among the dust, brush and fields of emptiness hoping food would magically appear. Instead, he brought back sticks, leaves and various bits of green leaves. They were no good and couldn’t be eaten.
“No, we can’t eat that wizhinke.” His ina patted him on the head.
With his baby brother crying non-stop, he had to get away and still searched. One day he walked further than he had ever gone and happened upon a small, lush green oasis. Of course, he never noticed it before and wondered how it could be so green amidst the dust and decay.
He noticed near the bank of the small pond a small pile of eggs. He couldn’t believe it as he rubbed his eyes and tried to contain his excitement, but the joy of his discovery made him grin. Perhaps the first time he actually cast a smile in a very long time. Not sure how to carry them all back, he placed only three in the front pocket of his overalls. Then turned and ran home.
He leapt onto the back porch and opened the door yelling.
“Ina! Ina!”
She was asleep in the back room and his baby brother was laying in the crib looking pale and detached. He thought he could cook, as he had seen his ina do it plenty of times. Careful not to be too loud as not to work her, he rummaged around and found the pan. Placed some tinder and wood inside like mom did. Lit a match and waited until the flames were large and place the pan on top. Proud of being able to perform this act, he relished the moment as he cracked the eggs over the pan and watched as they sizzled and popped. They smelled different from what he remembered when his mom would make them back when they had food. Or perhaps it was all a distant false memory, and they always carried this aroma. It didn’t matter as he was about to save his baby brother. His mother would wake and be proud of him.
He grabbed the spatula and shoved it underneath them and scooped them onto the cracked porcelain plate. They were runny and half cooked. Although he didn’t know what it was supposed to look like exactly, only that they should look kind of solid. He carried the plate of eggs over to his baby brother, stood over him and placed little bits of them into his mouth. For the first time in a while, the baby perked up and his little front teeth nibbled and mashed on the bits of eggs. Surprisingly, he ate them all. Satisfied, the boy placed the blanket over his baby brother and fell asleep next to the crib.
The boy jolted awake. It was his mothers screams. He never heard her scream like this before. He was scared, shaking and his heart thumped loudly in his chest.
“Oh my god! Oh my god!” His ina repeated over and over.
When he stood up and finally looked to see what she was screaming about, he looked down to see a huge snake where his baby brother should have been. His heart raced and he almost passed out when he noticed the snake had the tiny face of his brother!
“Momma! It’s my fault, I fed him!”
“What do you mean?”
“I fed him the eggs from over there, where the pond is…”
“…where it is very green and had lots of plants?”
He couldn’t understand how she knew, but she did. She closed her eyes and wept as she wrapped up the snake with his brothers face. He followed her as he she walked out of the house and immediately to the area where he found the eggs. But it was gone. Only a small muddy pond, was there, but no lush garden. His mother wept as she solemnly placed the snake in the water and they both watched as he slithered off, sinking further into the murky water.
No words were exchanged. Only the look of grim acceptance. Until this day, men who go fishing need to be careful if they see this snake with the face of a human, as he may pull them underneath the water to see if they are his father finally returning to come and see him.
