Dance Of The Guided Shaman

The bartender was a Yaqui Indian Shaman. This young Californian worked at San Diego’s Old Town Café, and served most of the young tourists and local patrons tequila, though he, seldom drank, and never at work amongst paying customers. However, on rare occasions, he would take mescal and chew the worm. The fact the young man was alive today bespeaks of his survivalist culture. His name was Miguel.

His wife was the daughter of an Apache Chief in Arizona. She was an Indian Princess. The two met at a Pow-Wow on the Barona Reservation. She was charmed by and attracted to Miguel’s prowess in performing the Yaqui Deer Dance and immediately knew this brave to be a prospective father. Her heart fluttered for him as his body animated into a deer, led by a rumen spirit. She admitted her desires to her father, who dismissed her to fry bread. Straight away he opened channels with Miguel’s uncle. He happened to be present at the Pow-Wow. Uncle was the brother of Miguel’s mother. Uncle contacted both of Miguel’s parents in Southern Sonora at the Chief’s behest and an approval was arranged. The princess was called Tara. Her uncle was a great Medicine Man. Tara introduced her Shaman to peyote. Miguel led his princess in the mysteries of wild, magic mushrooms.

The ceremony was spoken over by Tara’s uncle the day after the last day of the Pow-Wow. They rented a two bedroom on the Viejas Reservation from a Shoshoni man, who was a tribal member. There, Miguel took his virgin, princess bride.

Miguel was born in San Diego. His parents are legal permanent residents. But as a retired city custodian, Miguel’s father along with Miguel’s mother, live their winter in Mexico. They reside with their married daughter over summer in San Ysidro. Through them Miguel enjoyed dual citizenship. But he was most proud to be a shaman. It was his calling and he was not called to be diablero. He believed himself to be a contemporary shaman steeped in the south-western tradition.  Miguel aspired to use his abilities for the better. He knew his meditations were meant for the mediations of all peoples.

Miguel’s closest friend was Chetan. They graduated from San Ysidro High School in the South Bay together. While Miguel went on two more years and got his A.A. in Liberal Arts at South Western, Chetan went straight to work with his older brother Chuey in the large salvage and auto wrecking yards of Otay Mesa. Since high school they both kept in practice contacting their spirit guides together. Chetan was led by a black raven and Miguel was befriended and guided by a white-tailed buck. Chetan communed with the raven. The buck first appeared to Miguel as a boy while he learned the dance. Miguel fully believed he would someday transform and appear as his guide did.

When he got home Tara told Miguel, the community elders had been talking about the sightings yesterday.

“Just east of Otay”, she told him. “They say a large Jaguar has come up from Mexico. They saw him east of where the army jump from planes. It is a big male”.

“What else did they say?” Miguel asked.

“They became afraid of him. The Jaguar began to stalk them back to their car.”

“I knew it”, Miguel said. “I’m calling Chetan.”

“Why?”

“It is foolish not to use help if you can. These elders are not our elders.”

“Miguel”, she was shocked. “We are guests here.”

“We are renters here. Here the elders are old men that sneak away to drink whiskey and smoke loco weed. They laugh and lie to each other. They drain the aquifer and sell the water to golf courses while raping the tribe, only caring about business deals.”

“But why do you speak this way?” she asked, “And what can you do?”

“The white-tailed buck has told me to be ready very soon. I’m to be tested and not have fear. You know the Jaguar cannot stay here. The illegals bring their children through there. It will feed off one or the ranchers will shoot it.”

“Miguel”, she pleaded. “This is a large and wild animal”.

“And you are the daughter of a chief and wife of a shaman”, he reminded her. “Please have my food ready when I return.”

He went out the door with his iPhone and put his mountain bike in the bed of the used Toyota pick-up. He phoned Chetan but forgot his wallet in the house. Tara phoned her father.

Miguel called Chetan as the Toyota peeled down the dirt path to Willows Rd. “Have your zero ready. I’ll pick you up in twenty. We go east of no-man’s land.”

Chetan was enjoying his enchilada. Chuey’s wife, Juanita made them well. He quickly scarfed it down and thanked her. Leaving the house, Chuey asked his little brother where he was going.

“Indio stuff”, said Chetan. He went to the garage and unplugged the charger. His Zero MX Electric Dirt Bike was quiet enough not to alarm the border patrol or scare animals until they saw it.

Miguel arrived and they secured the Zero on board. The two friends in the cab took HWY 5 south to exit east on the 905. They went past Brown Field, east of the toll road, beyond the port of entry into no-man’s land.

Miguel explained the presence of the big cat. He told Chetan how sure he was this is all connected to his visions. They must turn the animal back south now. If the cat stays here it will likely feed on human but surely will be shot regardless. At first, Chetan was excited but began to wonder how his raven would go up against a real jaguar.

They took a fire road above the correctional facility where the fruit stand use to be and continued east. The 905 had turned south to Mexico.

Miguel parked alongside a berm. They mounted their bikes and followed the trail east a bit, then a sharp turn south till they came to a stand of Bay Laurels that encircled a large Coastal Live Oak. They parked their bikes there and went under the canopy. Beneath the oak was a little clearing. Miguel asked Chetan to help him gather some stones and flat rocks. The built what looked like a miniature teepee/pagoda. Miguel wanted protection from the wind. He placed a small candle Tara helped him fashion in the little structure.

Just then a curdling, wild wail screeched across the grassland. Chetan looked up at Miguel startled.

“We must not be afraid”, Miguel told him.

“One candle against Jaguar? This could get serious, Miguel”, exclaimed Chetan!

“It is enough. We have stronger magic.” The sun sat.

Miguel pulled a tied bundle of wild white sage from his backpack. He lit the candle then got the sage to smolder and swept the air with the herbal smoke. “We need to start now.”

The two young men commenced their rhythmic song chant.

Without his drum, Chetan began to slap his rib cage markedly. They let the song carry their bodies.

Young Billy Canfield was suddenly awakened when he heard the wild animal’s cry. “What the hell was that!” Billy never heard anything like it in Maine before. Why, not even when Mr. Calhoun would get his drunk on. It wasn’t human. It must be inhuman. Why was he here? Billy grew up on his parent’s potato farm, 200 miles west of Bangor, Maine. He wanted to be away from his father’s controlling ways, potatoes and moose. He heard San Diego was always warm, had great beaches and pretty girls. He applied and was admitted into Homeland’s Border Patrol Academy to wear the mean, green uniform.

Billy’s supervisor told him to stay in the truck and watch. He was looking for people attempting to skirt the port and enter the United States without inspection. “Call for Back-up”, his super told him many times.

The guides had appeared to both Miguel and Chetan and visions were coming. The animal spirits were drawing from the young men as much as they were giving. It was as if through the believing humans, the guides became more empowered. The Jaguar resisted the compelling to return south. The buck guide forced the issue and appeared to the jaguar. The big cat watched it lower it’s head and shake it’s antlers, then come up on it’s hinds and the fore legs would spar the air. It acted as much a stallion as a deer. But the cat went for the leg muscle. Just then a bird the color of night grabbed the cat’s tail causing it to spin around. The buck stomped cat’s paws and bird attacked again. Jaguar would have no more and turned to run back south, bawling holy hell across the Tijuana River into Mexico.

The two young friends sensed the guides engaged and heard the cat. They ran from the grove south.

Billy heard too much. He left the SUV with his flashlight and Berretta Brigadier.

He came next to a scrub oak. Billy heard two runners approach him from the north. He grabbed Miguel as he went by. Chetan made a stand. “No”, said Miguel in English. “Go check.” Chetan did.

“You speak pretty good American”, said Billy.

“I was born here”, Miguel told him. “Where’re you from, Canada?”

“What are you doing, running around here?”

“Tracking that Jaguar, you heard it.” Miguel stated.

“Show me your Identification.”

“I might have my wallet in the truck”, replied Miguel.

Billy threw him to the ground and cuffed Miguel’s hands behind him. “We’ll see if your story’s true.”

Billy got on the radio. “I got one of two prospective animal poachers attempting to enter Mexico illegally.

“Mr. Canfield, it’s Friday night and we’re staring to get busy. We usually leave cattle rustlers to the Earp Brothers. Did you say there trying to go to Mexico?”

“Illegally.”

“What do you mean?”

“He don’t have no I.D.”

“I’m dispatching a unit to you. If you’ve got nothing it’s going to be lobster pot detail and if you come up for air, it’s to clean the horse stalls and canine cages.”

The call was over before Billy could say, "Yes, Sir". The super was pissed, the dispatcher was laughing and all the other guys that heard the radio too. Billy looked down and the guy was gone. With his cuffs! “Shit”, Billy said aloud.

He made his way back to the SUV and got in. This sucked. The backup was in route and all he could say was he lost his cuffs. He was not getting back on the radio. All the other agents would start laughing enough to give away their positions and they’d blame him for that too.

“Chetan, please help me. Can you see in moonlight?”

“I can see Miguel. Set your cuffs over this broad rock.”

Chetan picked up a spike shaped stone and began to wield it on the metal.

Billy had kept talking to himself. He remembered Linda Davis. She told her father Billy made her pregnant. Why’d she have to do that. That’s why I’m here, thought Billy. There were no blood tests done. And with her there should have been a blood test. He talked himself to sleep.

Chetan had broken off the hand cuffs, and using pocket twine to attach them to a rock, he hurled them through the agent’s windshield. Billy woke frightened and pulling his Barretta from the holster, shot his radio. Whatever the supervisor had to say he couldn’t hear it now.

White lights came on as the other SUV approached. Canfield turned his head to scan the southeast. That’s when he saw it. A young six-pointer raised its head. A raven landed on it’s antlers. Who would believe that from Billy now? Then, just as quick, they’d gone to underbrush and darkness.

“Canfield, are you alright? What’s happened here?” Supervisor Ojeida wanted to know.

Copyright 2010