I attended one powwow in my life.
A white woman took me to the event.
Her stated goal was to get me to try fry bread.
It was tasty. All high-carb, salt & fat combinations are tasty.
I spent most of my time in the grand stands watching.
Dancers performed symbolisms I did not understand.
The woman was away from me most of the time
busy making musical connections.
Her day job was with a music company
that specialized in New Age and Native music.
Her company wanted wooden flutes and drums.
Not Joy Harjo and her saxophone.
So I did not see Joy Harjo as I hoped
when I agreed to go to the powwow.
Harjo was not on the list of headliners
so my hope fooled me into saying yes to going.
It could be the desire to get laid by this white woman
lied to the hope part of my brain.
An Ojibwa woman sat and talked with me for a while.
Her goal was for me to buy her some fry bread.
She spent all her money getting to the powwow
and she had not sold any of the cornhusk dolls she made.
She sized me up as the kind of guy
who would not spring for a green chili cheese burger
sweet potato fries and a coke.
I bought both of us green chili cheese burgers, fries and cokes.
She went back to her booth with her food.
I went back to my place high up in the stands.
I would tell you more but information overload
from all the powwow sights and sounds
has not yet been translated into a linear story
with a beginning middle and end.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney