Breakfast. Coffee. A quick plunge into the bathroom to clean out our mess. A last minute dive into the crevice between my bed and the wall to grab my phone charger. And then it was over.
I've found that, when you spend enough time with the Lakotas, time becomes extraneous and irrelevant. 8pm is no longer the signal for nighttime - the setting of the sun is. You don't HAVE to leave at 10:30pm - you leave when Uncle Floyd's story is finished or Aunt Natalie is tired. This haphazard way of perceiving time stuck with me even as I had to get up at 9:00am and do the aforementioned things. It was still slow yet productive; calm yet efficient. In the end, I enjoyed my overly-sweetened coffee and left the bathroom utterly spotless by the time 10:00am rolled around.
The car ride back to Denver went by faster than I thought it would. Maybe that's because I wasn't paying attention to time. It could also be due to the fact that we hit the interstate and kept to the strangely fast 70mph that seemed so foreign to us now.
A hotel - the same Super 8 we stayed at when we first arrived. An hour of time to ourselves - something we hadn't had in a while. Then came a trip to downtown Denver for some dinner at a Thai restaurant (though I can't recall the name, I'm always going to remember how delicious that Thai baked chicken was). The climax of the day came when we arrived at the Denver Coliseum for the 38th annual pow wow. The colors of the ceremonial costumes, the jingling of the bells, and the beating drums were mighty catalysts in a massive sensory overload as we watched Indians from several tribes dance in the great pit of the arena. The outer circle of the coliseum were a vibrant patchwork of shops and stalls representing different tribes and independent artists wanting to sell their wares. Jewelry, pottery, clothing, and all manner of other trinkets were sold (at incredibly awesome prices, too).
We left at 10:30pm. When we had to wake up at 4:00am to catch our flight, though, the rush of European American society finally returned in full force. Rush through security! Dash to the terminal! Okay, we're all in the plane...relax...Quick, get off and run twenty terminals down! Okay, we have ten minutes to grab food...Wait, where's Justin?
At the very end of it all, however, we finally made it back to a crisp, sunny 70-degree day in North Carolina. Our sudden lunge back into American lifestyle stopped as we pulled into the North entrance of Warren Wilson College and stepped out to stretch and reflect on our journey.
I, for one, was exhausted beyond all belief after coming home. As I lazily dragged my roller-bag up the soft hill to my dorm and up the stairs to the third floor, I half-collapsed into my partner's waiting arms. Some of us relaxed - some of us plunged straight into running or some other activity to keep our minds up and awake. But I can say with relative certainty that we all shared the same effect inside: the echoes of words from our elders ringing into the chasms of our hearts, pushing us to speak those words to another someday. If there is one thing that the citizens of Pine Ridge could ever want from us, it would be that...another voice to speak against their oppression and speak up for the longevity of their beautiful culture.
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