POW WOW

The wind is fierce. It’s only October 3 and the chill goes thru my clothes, digs into my bones. Maple leaves haven’t yet begun to turn gold, red. They flutter, whirl like dervishes, drop in corners and die. Who has stolen Indian Summer? My suspicions fall on the new housing condos on the outskirts of Savannah. Two of the buildings have become home to the Muscogees and Hitachi. These were major, important tribes during the Confederacy. The Chief, Mico, made the village decisions, all against the North.

On the way to work I often see large groups standing in double circles. What are they doing I wonder. They are dressed neatly, American style, no moccasins, no beads, no buffalo skin robes. Yet, on lovely spring days, with my car windows open, I swear I hear chanting.

They are loners, mingle rarely, I am told, with the mixed residents in our other two buildings. None have offered to be on the Boards, committees of any kind. As far as is known they don’t even gamble.It’s no skin off my back. I don’t care what they do or don’t do as long as they cause no trouble. At this point, I have begun to wonder.

The red bougainvillea at the entrance to #2 Condo, the one where Maggie and I have a lovely 3 bedroom apartment overlooking the 6th hole of our 18 hole championship golf course, has suddenly, unexplainably, turned brown, drooped and died. The Building Captain in #1 has asked to have it replaced, but funds are not available at the moment. The replacement will have to wait for spring. No complaints, requests come from #3 or #4. Their grass seems greener than ours and their bougainvillea is radiant, climbing to the sky.

Charlie Gluck, Board Pres of 1 & 2 has invited 3 & 4 to attend our Halloween dance that is now only one week away. Not one Muscogee has replied. We are not ostracizers. They are all welcome to use our large pool, club house, golf course but no, like Garbo, they want to be alone.

#1 and #2 occasionally, have a delinquent resident, which requires a fine. The Muscogees not only pay maintenance fees on time, they are early. Two large manilla envelopes holding alphabetically arranged checks are on management’s desk, entered, deposited while #1 & #2 are still waiting for the slow one’s to cough up. The wind continues to blow hard. All of the pool furniture was put in storage after Labor Day but the water has not been drained yet. During my usual early morning walk towards the picturesque golf course, I have to pass the pool. It looks like algae is forming. Moving closer, I see not the algae but a small child bouncing up and down on the end of the low diving board. My heart starts to pound, almost jumps out of my mouth. I stifle my shout and run towards her. One mis-step and goodbye Kid. No one else is near. Slowly, quietly, I approach. Whoosh, she slips and is in. The water has to be cold and well over her head. No thought, I’m in, reaching for her. The little girl starts to cry, then laughs, ‘Gen, Gen.’ I assume she wants to do it again

The Club House is the closest building and that is where I go. The heat is on and feels somewhat comforting. There is a stack of pool towels near the door waiting to go in storage. I rip it open, undress the child and am astounded. The she is a he. The long, black, wet hair had me fooled. Once he is dry and wrapped up like a mummy, I tend to my own discomfort. The little boy’s name is Muhikoo. I call the Captain of building 4 to tell him to locate Mihikoo’s parents. I will stay with the child and wait. Within 10 minutes the Club House is packed with noisy, grateful Muscogees. Muhikoo’s parents are eternally grateful to me.The father removes his jacket and puts it around me. ‘Keep it, he says.’

In two languages the ‘thanks’ cover me and I appreciate them but am still cold and must go home. I am surrounded. The tribe has formed two circles around me. They chant. With shuffling, soft steps they go round and round me. Every face has a smile.

They are still there as I open the door, hunch my shoulders, head into the strong wind. Maggie has left our door unlocked. She has dry, warm clothes for me laid out on our bed. We don’t talk about what happened until I have had a short nap and realize what might have happened had I not noticed the child where I never dreamed a child would be. The near tragedy had been averted.....

and at our next Board meeting, five Muscogees attended.