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| The following piece is part two of a two-part story. Read
carefully, then respond to the questions that follow. As you read, take time to make notes in the
right-hand column of any thoughts, comments, or conclusions you have. (All written notes will help us
score your paper by showing us how you think while you read.) The story so far: John Kaahteney, a modern Apache, is on an archaeological dig with his parents in Mexico where they are seeking evidence of Geronimo's hideouts of a hundred years ago. John finds a cave and picks up an object he sees inside. Upon hearing strange noises he rushes out, hits his head, and comes to in the presence of a group of Apaches. He is taken back into the cave, now filled with people, and introduced to a man calling himself Geronimo.
John did not move or speak. The man called Geronimo motioned for him to sit, and yielding to the pressure of his arm by the woman, they both sat down. "Do you understand me?" asked the man in Apache. John nodded his head. Although John did not speak it often, his grandfather often talked to him in his native language. "I am told you also speak in the tongues of our enemies." He nodded towards the woman. "Tah-das-te can speak English. She will help us understand one another." John glanced at the woman. In the torchlight he was once again struck by her resemblance to someone he knew. Geronimo spoke again. John found he needed only a little help from Tah-das-te as he listened and answered questions. "Your name is Kaahteney. It is an Apache name and your face is an Apache face, yet you are different from us. Why did you come here? How did you find us?" John spoke slowly in the unaccustomed language. "I am not sure I know the answers. May I ask a question? Perhaps it will help me answer yours." Geronimo nodded his head. "Are you the leader of the Chiricahua Apaches who fought the Mexican and American armies? Or are you a descendant of the same name?" "You ask a strange question," the man replied, "but the answer is simple. I am Geronimo. There is no other." John's thoughts whirled as he tried to understand what had happened to him. "It is very hard to explain," he began. "I belong to a different time." Geronimo nodded. "I too belong to a different time. A time before our lands were taken and our game killed. A time when the Apache did not hide in caves. But you do not look like you belong in that time. You have a look I do not recognize. What is your time?" John answered, "My time is long after this. A time when many changes have come to your land and people." "You are a prophet then. You have been sent to advise me." "Oh no!" John was aghast at the thought of Geronimo's depending on his advice. "I--it's only an accident that I am here." Geronimo gestured to the hand which still clutched the polished bones. "You hold the bones from the medicine bag of Cochise. No man has touched them since his death many moons ago. But now," he pointed toward the ledge, "the bag is empty, and you hold his medicine." The bones seemed to grow warm in John's hand, but he still held them tightly. Geronimo saw his confusion. "You are very young. You perhaps, as well as I, do not understand your mission." John started to speak, but Geronimo held up his hand. "I see you are getting weaker. Please allow me a few more questions, then you may rest." "In your time are the Apaches still at war?" "No," replied John. "The white man and the red do not always agree, but the wars are ended. We go to school and learn to live in the white man's world." "Ah ... and do you forget the Apache ways in this white man's world?" "No. We learn from our elders also. We listen to the stories and sing the songs." "It is well then," said Geronimo. "and what of my people here? If I surrender to General Miles as he demands, will we be killed, or will we be sent back to our reservation?" John hesitated before answering. "You and your people will not be killed." A ray of hope sprang into the fierce face of the leader. "Then we will be allowed to go back to the reservation which was our home?" John's eyes could not meet those of Geronimo. "No--you will be sent to other reservations, far away." Geronimo could see in the boy's expression that he was to live out his days in exile. "Will my people ever again have land on which to farm and hunt?" John once again answered with sadness. "Yes, some of the people here with you now will finally have homes of their own, but not for many years." Geronimo sighed. "You have brought me sad news, but it helps me in the decision I must soon make. I do not understand the purpose of our suffering, but if the Apache shall one day live in peace and on land of their own, I must be satisfied. Now rest. Perhaps we will talk more later." Tah-das-te led John to a pile of straw covered by a cow hide. As he lay down she pressed something into his hand. It was a soft doeskin pouch decorated with beads. "You should have a bag for your medicine. I made this one for my young son who had to stay at the reservation. He was ill when we left and could not come. You take it. Your words make me fear that I'll never see him again." He slipped the bones inside and squeezed her hand gratefully. Closing his eyes, he suddenly knew whose face matched hers. "John! John! Look, Michael, he's waking up." John opened his eyes and gazed up at his mother who knelt beside him. His father was behind her. "What...? Where...?" he began. "Shh--don't try to speak. You're in a cave. You must have hit your head. We never would have found you if your flashlight hadn't been lying outside," said his mother. "And what a cave you've found!" exclaimed Mr. Kaahteney. "You just may have discovered Geronimo's headquarters. It's filled with Apache artifacts. We'll start cataloging everything as soon as you're feeling better." "Everything but this," thought John, slipping a beaded bag into his pocket. "This is a gift for Grandfather--from his grandmother." Historical note: Geronimo and his followers fled their reservations in Arizona and New Mexico several times and hid in Mexico. The last time they surrendered was in 1886 when they were taken to reservations in Florida and later to Alabama and Oklahoma where Geronimo died in 1909 at the age of 80. In 1913 the captive Apaches were given land on a reservation in New Mexico where some of the descendants still live. |
Reading Level: 8 Benchmark 3
Notes on my thoughts, |
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©1998 Written by Rebecca Hickox. All rights reserved.
Permission granted for use by OPEN and Oregon Reading Assessment purposes.