
Last May, my husband and I heard about Ernie through an internet search and ended up spending 5 hours with him on his Hopi reservation in Arizona. He shared a book's worth of history, a flute demonstration, a cleansing ceremony, endless personal stories and opinions and some piki bread.
The most surprising thing Ernie shared was being in a photo.




The most unusal thing we were given was piki bread. Elder women in the village had spent days making these delicate sheets of blue corn powder and juniper ash. After baking on hot stone they were rolled into scroll-like shapes and given to Ernie as a gift for his flute playing at a recent ceremony. We took the bread with us and sampled it later. It reminded me of my first communion as a child. I let the paper like flakes melt in my mouth, while waiting for some kind of mysterious wonderful awareness to wash over me. Maybe I was too distracted by the strange flavor and texture for a profound experience.

As we drove away from the mesas that afternoon, I scribbled down as much as I could remember. We had learned so many things about the culture and history, but I couldn't stop thinking about the personal stories. I kept picturing Ernie as a Hopi child, capturing a baby eagle, planting the harvest and dancing in the festivals. I imagined what it must have been like to be a child taken from the home to be educated in Indian boarding schools...and the culture shock of the outside world. There were good things that Ernie experienced in the world outside the Hopi mesas. He had an opportunity to meet Walt Disney, he dabbled in films for a while and he gained recognition for his flute playing. But his mother's illness called him back home, where he has been since.
Thanks, Ernie.
I'm glad you went back home so you could use your talents to share about your culture. Since meeting you, I've tried to share your stories and thoughts with others. Just yesterday I brought a recording of your flute music to a group I gather with each week. I wish you could have seen the faces of these sweet folks with Alzheimer's as they smiled and listened and nodded...then joined your music, beating softly on drums.