from Chieftains of the Oayapok!

The Arrival

Chieftains of the Oayapok, fathers of my father and sons of my grandmother’s brother! I ask you to lend me your ears, now that you are certain it is I, one of your own, child of the Oayampi who has returned into your midst.

Too long have I dwelt in faraway lands. So long you could not easily recognize me. This I understand.

Who can count the many times the mora has blossomed without my being here?

More oft than the fingers on both these hands together with those of one foot. It has been that long. You could have only thought I had gone to the Land of the Dead whence no man returns. But lo, I am here again. And when one among you cried: “Malisi” it was then I knew you had recognized and discovered that the little boy whom the white missionary took with him long ago, now stands before you, a full grown man.

Now that you have recognized me and as is our custom, have bewailed the long way I had to go before reaching you, it is fitting that I in turn relate to you about where I departed from, what befell me in the meantime and on my way here, and why I have stayed away from you for so long.

As you can see, though a mere child when the Padre took me with him, I still have not forgot the manners becoming a guest. And so I will tell you all, but forgive me if I do not always use the right words. Because in the land of the Whites where I have spent many days and nights, it was as if I had been living among the Oayama with their broken tongue or among the unintelligible Guarani, all of which has made my mouth disobedient. But he shall recover soon enough, I promise you.

The words I heard as a child in your presence when you sat together in council, I now use as a man to address you. And so it may please you to listen with consideration to what I have to say. I know only too well that words are sacred and that when we speak all our ancestors are listening. That is why, wondrous as it may sound, you will believe what I tell you.

Long have I had to search before finding you here so far on the upper reaches of our river.

I had lost nearly all track of you and when there was still no trace when we reached the banks of the Yarupi I almost told the paddlers to turn back and I thought: maybe they will show me the way to proceed. And, indeed, it was just up ahead, further upstream that I spied a tame parrot, strolling along the water. Then I found you and the paddlers cried: “Yes, that is the new camp they call Taliapo. We have arrived.”

Oh, joy in my heart! Here you all are and still alive. I am with you, fathers of my father and sisters of my mother, and I speak to you like a stammering child, for otherwise my heart would burst from the many words it sends thrusting upward to my tongue.

When I was taken from your midst and you had relinquished me to the white Padre, since he was a good man and promised to take care of me, my mother and father had already died and as fate would have it, I was the sole survivor of twins. That could have meant a curse and so it was better that I disappear. But I have returned to prove to you that the curse has turned into a blessing; let no doubt about this grow among you, but first listen to all that has since befallen me.

With feet that were much too light I departed behind the Padre, leaving you without realizing how much more difficult the way leading back can be than the way from home. Because, how shall I put it?—because sometimes our feet weigh...