Monday, August 8, 2016

A Rabbit Shooting the Sun With an Arrow – and PTSD


What on earth does the first have to do with the last?

Well, they come from either a fertile – or twisted – mind. Mine at that.

I have absolutely no idea how I came up with writing a story about a modern day warrior and stories from American warriors of the past. And putting the modern warrior from the Eastern Band of the Cherokee (Tsalagi as they call themselves) from eastern Tennessee together with a Vietnam Era warrior from the Tohono O'odham of the Sonora Desert.

Looking back over the years I guess is was a combination of things. The first was most likely my wife's firm belief in herbal medicines for the healing of a huge variety of ills. She brought with her from Mexico a stick of a plant she called copalquin or Birch. It is claimed that it is used for skin infections and different types of fungus. Also used as an antibiotic tonic for scalp conditions. I had a problem with my legs and she shaved of slivers and boiled them in a pot of water, then applying it to my skin. It worked!

But, that is still a far stretch from the story. I am, of course, retired from the Army and have throughout my life, encountered traumatic situations. I think the worst was the death of my mother in an airplane crash. It took me more than twenty years to deal with it. I have also served with those who went through events far more trying than anything I ever did. Some gained strength from their trials while others sank into the bottle or drugs, many ending their own lives.

I've always been deeply interested in American Indians, especially since my uncle told me he had been told by my birth mother that she and my birth father came from Ohio and Tennessee and had Cherokee blood.

And how on earth did I get to southern Arizona and the Sonora Desert? Again, I don't know. Another mental twist? Or something that drew me to it? Growing up, I spent time in the Mojave Desert of southern California moving bee hives and hunting for interesting rocks and semi-precious gems. There were no Indians there that I ever ran into so I had to find a place with them. Thus the Sonora and a tribe the Spaniards called Papago. (Yes, the story tells how they got that name.)

So now, I guess it's only fair that I relate the story within the story of the Rabbit and Sun. It is a Hope legend.



It was the height of summer, the time of year called Hadotso, the Great Heat. All day long, from a blue and cloudless sky, the blazing sun beat down upon the earth. No rain fell for many days and not the slightest breath of wind cooled the stifling air. Everything was hot and dry. Even the rose-red cliffs of the canyons and mesas seemed to take on a more brilliant color.

The animals drooped with misery. They were parched and hungry, for it was too hot to hunt for food and, panting heavily, they sought what shade they could under the rocks and bushes.

Rabbit was the unhappiest of all. Twice that day, the shimmering heat had tempted him to cross the baked earth towards visions of water and cool, shady trees. He had exhausted himself in his desperate attempts to reach them, only to find the mirages dissolving before him, receding further and further into the distance.

Now tired and wretched, Rabbit dragged himself into the shadow of an overhanging rock and listlessly crouched there. The red dust of the desert caked his soft fur. His head swam and his eyes ached from the sun's glare.” Why does it have to be so hot?” he groaned.” What have we done to deserve such torment?” He squinted up at Sun and shouted furiously,” Go away! You are making everything too hot!”

Sun took no notice and continued to pour down his fiery beams, forcing Rabbit to retreat once more into the shade of the rock.

Sun needs to be taught a lesson,” grumbled Rabbit. “I have a good mind to go and fight him. If he refuses to stop shining. “I will kill him!”

Rabbit's determination to punish Sun made him forget his weariness and, in spite of the oppressive heat, he set off at a run towards the eastern edge of the world where the Sun came up each morning.

Rabbit practiced with his bow and arrows as he ran and, to make himself brave and strong, fought with everything that crossed his path. He fought with the gophers and the lizards. He hurled his throwing stick at beetles, ants, and dragonflies. He shot at the yucca and the giant cactus.

He became a very fierce rabbit indeed.

By the time he reached the edge of the world, Sun had left the sky and was nowhere to be seen.

The coward!” sneered Rabbit, “He is afraid to fight but he will not escape me so easily.”

So Rabbit settled in to wait behind a clump of bushes.

In those days, Sun didn't appear slowly as he does now. Instead, he rushed up over the horizon and into the heavens with one mighty bound. Rabbit knew that he would have to act quickly in order to ambush him and he fixed his eyes intently on the spot where the Sun usually appeared.

Sun, however, had heard all Rabbit's threats and watched him practicing to fight. He knew that he lay in wait among the bushes. He didn't at all fear this puny creature and he thought that he might have some fun at his expense.

Sun rolled some distance away from his usual place and swept up into the sky before Rabbit knew what happened. By the time Rabbit gathered his startled wits and released his bowstring, Sun was already high above him and out of range.

Rabbit stamped and shouted with rage and vexation.

Sun laughed and laughed and shone even more fiercely than before.

Although almost dead from heat, Rabbit would not give up. Next morning he tried again but, this time, Sun came up in a different place and evaded him once more.

Day after day, the same thing happened. Sometimes Sun sprang up on Rabbit's right, sometimes on his left and sometimes straight in front of him but always where Rabbit least expected him.

One morning, however, Sun grew careless. He rose more leisurely than usual and, this time, Rabbit was ready. He swiftly drew his bow. His arrow whizzed through the air and buried itself deep in Sun's side.

Rabbit was jubilant! At last, he had shot his enemy! Wild with joy, he leaped up and down. He rolled on the ground, hugging himself. He turned somersaults. He looked at Sun again – and stopped short.

Rabbit's arrow pierced Sun, making a gaping wound and, from that wound, there gushed a stream of liquid fire. Suddenly, it seemed as if the whole world had been set ablaze. Flames shot up and rushed towards Rabbit, crackling and roaring.

Rabbit took to his heels in panic and ran as fast as he could away from the fire. He spied a lone cottonwood tree and scuttled towards it.

Everything is burning!” he cried. “Will you shelter me?”

The cottonwood shook its slender branches mournfully. “What am I to do?” he asked. “I will be burned to the ground.”

Rabbit ran on. Behind him, the flames came closer. He could feel their breath on his back. A greasewood tree lay in his path.

Hide me! Hide me!” Rabbit gasped. “The fire is coming.”

I cannot help you,” answered the greasewood tree. “I will be burned up, roots and branches.”

Terrified and almost out of breath, Rabbit continued to run. However, his strength was failing. He could feel the fire licking at his heels and his fur was beginning to singe.

Suddenly, a voice called to him. “Quickly, come under me! The fire will pass over me so swiftly that it will only scorch my top.”

It was the voice of a small green bush with flowers like bunches of cotton capping its thin branches.

Gratefully, Rabbit dived below it and lay there quivering with his eyes tightly shut, his ears flat against his body.

With a thunderous roar, the sheet of flame leaped overhead. The little bush crackled and sizzled. Then, gradually, the noise receded and everything grew quiet once more.

Rabbit raised his head cautiously and looked around. Everywhere the earth lay black and smoking but the fire had passed on. He was safe!

The little bush which had sheltered him was no longer green. Burned and scorched by the fire, it had turned a golden yellow.

People now call it the desert yellow brush, for, although it first grows green, it always turns yellow when it feels the heat of the sun.

Rabbit never recovered from his fright. To this day, he bears brown spots where the fire scorched the back of his neck. He is no longer fierce and quarrelsome but runs and hides at the slightest noise.

As for Sun, he too has never quite been the same. He now makes himself so bright that no one can look at him long enough to sight an arrow and he always peers very warily over the horizon before he brings his full body into view.

I hope you enjoy this. Maybe another story soon.