1999-English 1102
First Place
Marlin's Memories on Reading Louise Erdrich's "Indian Boarding School: The Runaways"
By Marlin L. Rodriguez
"Home's the place we head for in our sleep." Secretly we got our clothes ready before going to bed and tried to remember how the sky looked that evening. These were just a couple of things we thought about before our journey North.
We waited for the dormitory counselor's light to go out in the room that over-looked the large, open bay where our beds sat two high in four rows of fifteen. Then Roger, my older brother, initiated the plan. He crawled to each of our beds and checked to see if we had everything we were supposed to have collected throughout the day. Fruit and raw vegetables from the dining facility, warm clothes and an extra pair of socks, and most importantly, a book of matches stolen from the alter boys' room in the large Catholic church. We spent a lot of time there and knew when it was safe to go scrounging. When we hit the fire escape, the three of us made a pact and headed down one flight of stairs to the ground door. Roger said, "In two days we will be home, nothing to worry about."
We moved under the shadows toward a place we frequently visited on the weekends, the Chalk Hills, which ran parallel to the Missouri River. Saint Joseph's Indian School was at least twenty miles down river from the Big Bend Dam, where we would cross for home. It was cold that first night and most of the wood we found was wet from rain the night before. We moved to stay warm. Although it was spring, the nights still got cool, especially after it rained for a couple of days. I never really got used to all the sounds the night made, but was reassured by my brother that there were three of us and no animal in his right mind would attack three tough guys like us. By morning we were exhausted and had no idea how far we had come. It seemed like a hundred miles, but it was more like ten or so. As long as we stayed close to the river we would eventually hit the Crow Creek Indian Reservation and then the Big Bend Dam. Our reservation sat on the west side of the river and the boarding school sat on the east side further South. It was daytime and my brother warned us about being out in the open too much, for we would be seen by the people searching for us.
I imagined both places as we walked on through the small pine and shrubbery, in and out of draws. I was always thinking what we would tell Mom when we reached home and how she would hug us and tell us we never had to go back. Then I would imagine all the other boys in the school who woke and found us gone. The counselor would account for everyone else, then call the authorities. The rest of the Indian boys would talk about us like great heroes from our past like Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull and Red Cloud. They would wish they were chosen to go North, to go home. During the chaos each of the young Indian boys would be interrogated for information that pertained to our escape and threatened with the same number of straps we would receive if they did not answer. Those few who knew the route held out; as for the ones who did not know the route, they told everything to avoid the strapping.
We knew we would have to make it across the dam without getting caught by the authorities. There was still one more night before we were there. Tired of walking, hungrier than any bear that wanted to eat us, we stopped to get some rest and ate what was left in our pockets of the fruits and vegetables, which was not much. I still complained of hunger and Bobby, a loyal friend of my brother, complained of the nasty wind that could cut through you like a knife. Roger kept our courage up by picking some choke cherries along the way and by finding dry wood. With a warm fire and half-full stomachs we settled in for the night. Bobby decided to take his shoes and socks off to dry them out by the fire. Roger kept a close eye out for anyone who might notice the smoke from the river or the highway which also ran parallel to the Chalk Hills. As for myself , I dreamt of Mom and the warmth of home.
It was morning again and I was awakened by Bobby complaining to Roger. He left his shoes and socks too close to the fire and they had burnt up. We had a problem; Bobby would not be able to finish the journey North, the journey home. I quickly thought of the pact we had made to one another: we made it home together or returned together. Roger was disappointed, I could tell by the expression on his face. He knew the route to the highway and decided we would thumb it from there and take our chances of being caught. And as luck would have it, we were picked up by the sheriff and escorted back to the Indian school.
Fear shot through me. I wondered what they would do to us. Roger said "we will try again in a week."
Bobby whispered in reply, "I will bring two pair of shoes next time."
Did they not know what happens to runaways? They put you in front of the whole dormitory, lined-up with the other boys who did not talk, pulled your pants down with your underwear and started strapping you until you dropped crying. Then you knelt and prayed to their God every free moment of your time, until they thought you would not attempt to run away again.
Scared, I turned to my brother, but before I could say anything, he said "Marlin start crying after the second strapping, then drop to your knees and start praying for forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" I asked,
"Yes," he said. "Wakantanka (Great Spirit) will again forgive them for beating us."
WORKS CITED
Erdrich, Louise. "Indian Boarding School: The Runaways." Literature: Reading Fiction, Poetry, Drama and the Essay. 4th Edition. Robert DiYanni, New York: McGraw Hill, 1998. 812.
(Marlin L. Rodriguez was born in South Dakota on March 31, 1968 and was raised on the Lower Brule Sioux Indian Reservation by his mother, Mrs. Geraldine Estes. Marlin attended the Saint Joseph's Indian Boarding School in Chamberlin, SD. Marlin graduated from the Lower Brule High School in 1986 and joined the United States Army. Marlin received an Associates of General Studies from Pikes Peak Community College in 1995. In 1996, after completing 10 years in the service, Marlin decided to leave the military in pursuit of his dream of becoming a teacher. In 1998, Marlin married the former Christina Mangano of North Andover, MA. He is currently working for Lear Services at Fort Stewart, Georgia where his wife is stationed. He is studying at Armstrong Atlantic State University for his Bachelor of Arts degree in education. Marlin hopes to return to his reservation some day and use his education to make his home a better place for his people.)