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122 8 Singing to Turtles, Singing for Divine Fire efrain was sitting alone in the shade of a medium-height cottonwood tree. He and the tree shared the space at the edge of Victor Masayesva’s farm on the Hopi reservation in northern Arizona. Except for the handful of cottonwood and peach trees, the rustcolored land here was washed in the midday sun. Efrain seemed very content to be in the shade on the warm Colorado Plateau day. The others had moved near Victor’s house to look at baskets and some of the seeds being saved by the Masayesvas. Efrain was part of a small group of Seri Indians visiting the Hopi reservation as part of a cultural exchange. Heat and stark landscapes are nothing new to the Seri. The Seri homeland is located along the eastern shore of the Sea of Cortez on the Sonoran coast of Mexico. The title of one of my favorite books about the Seri, Where the Desert Meets the Sea (by David Yetman), describes succinctly the nature of their homeland. On the way to join the crowd near the house, I caught in the corner of my squinting view Efrain by himself and decided to offer a little company. On my way over, I wondered how he had ended up under the tree. He must have asked someone to help him find a chair and place it and him in the shade. Efrain is blind. As I got closer, I noticed that, despite his blindness, he was squinting in the midday sun. He adjusted his view toward my direction and smiled as I neared. I stood before him and greeted him in Spanish. He returned the greeting and widened his smile, showing a full set Singing to Turtles, Singing for Devine Fire 123 of teeth that stood in contrast to his very dark skin. Efrain must have been in his late seventies, but still displayed signs of vigor despite his lack of sight. Efrain gestured in my direction and stated more than asked in Spanish, “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?” I said yes, and before I could say the name of my tribal affiliation, he said, “You’re Tarahumara.” Again, I said yes, and then he said in a very knowing and sage-like manner, “I have been waiting for you.” I followed the chill climbing from the base of my spine as it made its way up to my shoulders, across my neck, and ended at the crown of my head. The last time I had felt a similar chill was when Figure 8.1 Seri Elder in Desemboque, Sonora, Mexico. 124 eating the landscape the Hopi elder at Moenkopi told me that my students and I were fulfilling Hopi prophecy. It was a good thing that Efrain could not see because I am certain that my eyes widened upon the surprised expression on my face. Efrain explained that he had fasted for this trip. He knew somehow that, for him, the trip would be more than a cultural exchange. As a result of his fast, he learned also that he would encounter a Native person in the United States, but that the person would be indigenous to Mexico. It was to this person, he explained, that he would impart some songs. It turned out, however , that I had to learn the songs in Seri country. I didn’t agree immediately to learn new songs. I was still in shock that I was appearing in this elder’s visions. He shifted the conversation to the stars. He asked what my people knew about the constellations and whether we had songs about them. I told him what little I knew, and he seemed very pleased that something was there. The others were motioning for us to join them near the house, but before I helped Efrain slowly walk over there, he made me promise that I would visit him in Seri country. I agreed. What else could I do? Later that day, I told my friend, Laurie Monti, about the exchange I had had with Efrain. She and her husband, Gary Nabhan, were the US escorts for the Seri group. Both of them have been living among and learning ethnoecology, ethnoherpetology, and ethnobotany from the Seri since the 1970s. No American research team has been more intimate with the Seri, yet even Laurie and Gary always suggest that they still understand very little about these unique and amazing people. After telling...

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