Places Left Unfinished

April 15, 2016

Randy Sanda

The Hunter

I am the hunter. My stride is true and swift. The forest my home. I know every fallen log, every broken branch. I know where the river begins, and I know where it ends. I step carefully through the silent forest, fingering the arrow ready on my bow. I know this forest. I have hunted these woods many times, caught many prey. I see my prey. I stand, silently gauging the distance.

As quiet as the forest surrounding me, I draw the arrow to my cheek. I am in the moment. Nothing before me, nor behind me, matters. My arrow is straight, my aim true. The kill zone is in my sight. I release my arrow, send it speeding with deadly accuracy towards its final resting place. The arrow speeds forth, straight, narrow, death on its tip. Suddenly the wind picks up, causes my arrow to waiver. Slightly at first, but then more forceful. It misses the target. I missed. I never miss.

I was the hunter, I am now the arrow. I knew my path, and I knew my world. However, the world I knew was straight, narrow. There was nothing around my pretty little world. It was me and those immediately around me. There was little wrong in my world. I knew where I stood, and I knew where others stood. I knew of the evils, but I knew they were getting better, changing. Things were nowhere near as bad as they were. Peace was close at hand. People everywhere were happy. I was the arrow. I knew of nothing but what lay ahead, of where I was aimed. Then the winds of change approached, caused my path to waiver. Suddenly my path was gone, unclear. My world had changed. I was lost in the brush, my target disappeared.

Ancestry

As a child, I always felt I knew who my family was. I had my parents, of course, mom and dad. I had my sister, and I had my grandfather. I also had cousins, aunts and uncles that I had seen on occasion. That was my family. It was a small group of people that I knew very well. No more, no less. It was a simple life, a child’s life. I loved them dearly, and they meant the world to me. I can remember the holidays with them, how happy we all were. One Christmas in particular where we sat together, on Christmas Eve, with all of my cousins, aunts, and uncles gathered around a huge table, sharing food and telling stories. I remember learning how to play chess (my cousin was a genius of the game) and I remember the happiness and the laughter. What I didn’t remember were the people I did not know who were not there.

First there was my grandmother. She passed when I was still in diapers. I did not know her very well, or at least I can’t remember from those early years. I know she enjoyed cooking, and that she was a very sweet lady. But she was gone, passed on. I did not see my grandfather’s brothers and sisters there, either. They were still around, but this was a family gathering, and I didn’t even think of them as my family. Not yet, at least.

I have attended many family reunions on my mother’s side. Most of them were spent playing with my sister off in the distance, avoiding the weird people my parents called family that I rarely met. They were strangers to me. I didn’t know them, and I didn’t want to talk to those weird people. I did not know the value they had in my life, did not care about the stories they had to share. I was a child who just wanted to play, to have fun and to go off and be my own person!

This thought carried strongly throughout my life. Sadly, it reached into my late twenties. In fact, I dare say I had no intention of truly getting to know them. A class using Ethnoautobiography (by Kremer and Jackson-Paton) opened my eyes. Students had to bring in an object from their family’s history. I enjoy working hard on projects. I enjoy working hard on projects, especially when they are unique. I dove into this project as best I could, finding first something of my grandfather’s, a softball where he pitched a perfect game. That gave the history and family I knew. I loved it, but it was my great grandfather’s glasses that really awakened my mind. I learned of my great grandfather, who came to the United States under less than ideal circumstances (having burned down his uncle’s log cabin). I learned of his wives, his children, and the struggles he faced during his years in the United States. The stories were amazing! However, the truly amazing part of this project was the journey towards the answers.

In order to learn of this family history, I had to reach out to relatives I had never before spoken to. One was my great aunt. She was my grandfather’s sister, nearing her 93rd birthday. She had so many stories to tell! I had planned on only spending about 15 minutes talking to her, getting the information I needed and then carrying on with my day. An hour later, I found myself craving more! After she told all she could for the time, we spoke about what was going on in our current lives. She apparently knew me well, and I knew her not at all. We ended our phone call with promises to meet and talk more. The next family reunion will be different!

Ethnoautobiography (EA) and multicultural studies has changed me with this one simple activity. I now find myself craving for more history about my family. I am realizing that my family extends far past those I know. It reaches to my great grandparents, their parents and so on. I have never had such a longing to know about my family’s history, or to meet and actually get to know my extended family members. Now, I cannot wait to sit and converse with them, to really get to know them like I do my parents, my cousins. I want to know my whole family.

The Hunter

I search through the brush for my lost arrow. Where could it have gone? It went deep into the tall grass, into the part of the forest I have seen but never explored. I am searching for my arrow, searching for myself, in areas I have never tread before. I find my arrow, after much deep searching. It has changed. It is more colorful, more vibrant. It is stronger. I am stronger. I am changed. I like the feeling of this change.

As I turn back to re-enter the forest, I notice more changes surrounding me. The forest has changed. It seems louder. I could hear something now, the silence was dissipating. I could hear birds and the squirrels. I could hear the trees whispering to each other in the wind. I could smell new things too. I could smell the stream, flowing nearby. The tree’s perfume filled the air with a cluster of scents. Suddenly I didn’t know where I was, even though I was in a spot I have been numerous times before.

Connecting Nature, Self, and History

One of the activities I was excited to try in my EA course was “Going to a Place in Nature.” I love being out in the woods. Several of my great childhood memories are spending time in the woods with my family. My father used to take me hiking with him. We would camp, we would walk through the woods, and we would follow streams for hours. They were great walks. I always loved being out in nature, seeing the sights, watching the water flow. It was always peaceful to me. This project was right up my alley, and I couldn’t wait to try it out!

The one difference with this project was that I had to sit for at least 30 minutes, and go back to the history of the area I was in. After a few minutes of sitting silently, the forest around me seemed to come alive. I could hear things I hadn’t noticed before. There were smells I have never noticed before. The forest was the same, but different at the same time. I was able to see and experience more than I have before.

This was a new experience, and after a few more minutes of enjoying the immediate sounds, I reached out to the further surrounding area. The peaceful serenity the forest offered was soon tainted. I could hear cars zooming, people yelling, guns shooting… I could hear people. That was something I never thought of before. I am a person. I live with people. People were my life, they were life. That was no longer completely accurate. Here in the trees, I found new life. People were simply a part of life (and sadly in my area, they were removing the other varying lives of the forest). I could hear the construction of yet another house in the area. At this time I projected back, trying to see what this area was like before. This was a new, and difficult experience, but it brought peace, and turmoil.

In reaching back, I saw the woods expand, and life of the forest flourished. The roads disappeared, the sounds of people were gone. The forest was truly alive! I could not tell if people lived in the area (and by people I mean indigenous cultures). Even then, I did not think of that fact, but now, I can see how immense a detail that was. I could not see, hear, or feel any people of any type in the area. It is not because there were no people. It was because the people who lived here, before the colonization, lived WITH the forest, WITH the land. They lived in peace with everything, and that kept peace and balance with the Earth, and beauty was bountiful!

I wanted to experience this myself. I look around me and see woods, but in between the trees I see cars, houses, cleared areas for farming. There were parks around I could try and visit, however you can still hear and see cars and signs of colonization. I had to think very hard on where to go to see undisturbed nature. Sadly, I would have to travel far into northern Michigan for that. There are small areas where people can go to experience nature. Almost like the Native Americans, nature itself was given special reservations. There are small areas dedicated to nature, but everywhere else nature is simply destroyed to ease our living.

The Hunter

The sound of the forest was beautiful, alive. I could see, hear, and smell life everywhere! The forest was completely changed and yet it was the same forest I had entered. Everything was alive. I stepped carefully now. Avoiding the flowers as I searched for the prey that got away. I now gently moved a tree branch, instead of just smacking it out of the way. I felt as if the trees were watching me. Not in a menacing way, but simply curious. I can almost hear them ask, “Who is this person, walking through our home?” The trees are nice to me. The sun was hot, and the trees were kind enough to provide me shade. I found myself thanking them for the break in the heat. The river and the animals provided music while I walked. It was a new sensation, a brilliant sensation.

Morality, Faith, Spirituality, Skepticism

There were many difficult aspects of this class. I grew up learning right from wrong. I learned how to be a good Catholic, followed by how to be a good Christian. I knew how to behave, and I knew the proper way to act. However, throughout this course, I felt as if I was incorrect, or that I have slighted so many other people. There is a vast amount of people I have never truly thought of, until now.

I have always sympathized with others. If they are hurt, or in trouble, I want to help, or at least do something to help them heal, be it medically, emotionally or spiritually. Most of those people were close friends, family or some people I shared a class with. I didn’t see, or even think about the struggles others outside of this circle are facing. I have never thought about the continual pain other cultures, such as the Native Americans, experience daily because of the effects of colonization. Nor have I thought about the continual threat of racism within even my own society.

In church I was always taught to help others, but I was never encouraged to help people in the ways THEY actually needed. Instead, I was taught to pray for them, to extend the word of Jesus Christ to them so that they may find happiness in my religion. My religion itself ignored what people needed. It ignored their OWN religion, their own beliefs and views. In fact, my religion said they were wrong. They were sinners, and they were going to hell.

I can’t possibly believe this to be true anymore. I believe in God, of course. I believe He loves us, but I do not believe He wants us to hate others for their color, their nature, or their beliefs. I do not believe that He would forsake all other creatures, from animals to plants, just to make our (Catholic/Christian human) lives easier. No, that seems wrong. EA has solidified in me thoughts I have suppressed, because they were considered “wrong.” People have their own religions and their own cultures. They have their own beliefs, and through those they gain strength. Colonization has seen to end those beliefs and traditions, to eliminate those cultures in turn for a more modernized simple living. The rituals of these cultures are beautiful, though. So full of life.

In just sharing our food on the final day of class, I have learned so much more. There are so many different cultures, and they can all intermingle with each other peacefully and happily. They can also share stories and beliefs, build upon each other and support one another. We shared our stories, our foods, and our cultures, and we have all become stronger for it. I no longer wish to heal through my own methods, but instead wish to learn the traditions of others. I want to hear their stories and learn how I can help them to heal using a method that best suits them.

The Hunter

After walking for what felt like hours, listening to the music of the forest, I find my prey. The deer is drinking from the stream, unable to hear me above the sound of trickling water. Its side was open to me, perfect for the killing shot. I draw my arrow to my cheek, line up my shot. At this distance, there is no way I can miss. The deer does not move, offering me a still, perfect target. I would get my kill. My prey’s life was about to end. I feel the moment, that one split second where everything comes to focus. I know this feeling through instinct. It is the feeling I get when I know I have already made my shot. I already know exactly where the arrow will go. I could close my eyes, and when I open them, I already know the arrow will be where I send it. There is no chance now I can miss. This is a guaranteed kill!

Seconds go by, then minutes. I am still holding the arrow to my cheek, the deer is still drinking from the stream. I have yet to shoot, to end the deer’s life. This is different to me. Every time I have had that feeling, I simply released my arrow. Never have I frozen, nor missed. Yet now I could not bring myself to shoot. I slowly lowered my bow, withdrew the arrow. Why was I here? To kill the deer? What would that do for me? I know I wouldn’t eat all of its meat, and I know nothing about the uses of its other body parts. Why was I about to take this animal’s life, in a most useless and greedy way?

I put my arrow away, and instead find a fallen tree to watch the deer. It was beautiful. After a few more minutes, the deer finished drinking and loped off into the forest. I found myself happier because I was able to experience this moment, to share it with the deer, with the forest. It was something I have never done before. I have changed.

Places Left Unfinished

I am the hunter, and I am the arrow. I am myself. I had a pretty little view of the world before this class. That world has shattered, and below I see the pieces of not just my world, but others’ worlds as well. I see the world of the Native Americans, turned upside down by colonization. I see the racism others face daily, and the way others just take these events as commonalities in today’s world.

But mostly I see how naïve I was, and how I took the world around me for granted. I ignored my extended family because I didn’t see them often or speak with them. I now maintain contact with them more regularly, and enjoy hearing the stories they tell. I see how I had my way of doing things, the ‘American’ way, and how I thought others in my country should all behave that way. I see now that other people, other cultures, have beauty to them. They have meaning I have never seen before, and their traditions are both beautiful and meaningful.

I am a changed man. I am learning about the world around me, learning that it is different than I have believed. I am also learning that I myself, am different than I previously thought. There is much in this world left to learn, much to experience. There are so many cultures and traditions to learn about, including my own family’s.

I am now learning how to dance the polka (as my grandfather was Polish). It is a first step into learning about my ancestors, my family culture and my family’s traditions. I am learning that I have not even broken the surface of my family’s history. I am excited to learn more about myself, and to learn more about others. My world has changed, and it is beautiful.