Juniper sat near the edge of a mesa in the village of Oraibi, on the Hopi Reservation, staring at the white puffball clouds drifting by at eye level and wishing she could fly away and leave her troubles behind.
Oraibi, home to a few hundred hearty souls, was the oldest continuously inhabited town in the United States, dating back at least 800 years. It consisted of densely packed, brown, stone and earth dwellings with flat roofs, sitting atop a battleship mesa in Arizona, about 100 miles south of the Grand Canyon. It looked like some ancient biblical village straight out of the Old Testament.
The sun was setting, turning the western sky a scarlet pink that Monet would have envied, and Juniper was chatting with her old mentor, Hopi Sun Chief Albert Tuvengwa. He was her only friend and more than sixty years her senior.
Albert was sitting in a rickety old wooden chair. He looked like a Hopi Yoda. Old but vibrant, calm but electric, he possessed a mischievous smile that was always trying to get out. His still-black hair was tied in a bun that fell in a whorl around his head like the ears of a bear, with a wide red headband holding it all in place. He wore a white-ribbed dress shirt open at the collar and hanging around his neck was a marvelous necklace of silver overlay adorned with mother of pearl, turquoise, red coral, and petrified wood. His pants were black, Kmart denim, rolled up at the ankles. Around his waist with its end stretching past his right knee was a sash of white Hopi cotton fringed in green and embroidered with bright geometric designs. On his feet, he wore scuffed brown, lace-up Timberland boots. Albert’s skin was weathered like his boots with deep creases running down his cheeks like tears, and his color resembled black coffee. Like most Hopi, he was short and round, about five feet tall with a little pot belly. Though small in stature, Albert Tuvengwa stood out wherever he roamed.
Which wasn’t far after he’d fought with the U.S. Army in the Korean War. He returned home and never left, taking only the occasional shopping trip with his family to Flagstaff, Winslow, or Page. He had married twice and fathered a son and daughter by each. But they had all died many years before and nowadays his extended family was scattered. A couple of cousins fixed cars in Tuba City, and there was a niece named Mary who worked as a dispatcher for the Hopi Roads Department. Mary delivered his groceries at the end of every month after cashing his Social Security check.
Attrition didn’t make Albert a forgotten loner. As the Hopi Sun Chief, he was a respected member of his clan, his village, and his tribe. He played a significant role in the Hopi ceremonial calendar and was always busy.
The Hopi believed the Sun God controlled all life. In December, on the Winter Solstice, the Sun Chief and the members of his society performed the Soyal Ceremony. Because the fate of the Hopi hung in the balance, all of the clan chiefs joined in this ceremony. The Hopi believed this solstice marked the time when the Sun God was supposed to leave his southern house and begin his journey north, bringing warmth and the change of seasons. The Sun Chief and the Soyal Fraternity performed a simple ceremony on the Summer Solstice, sending the Sun God back south. In essence, as Sun Chief, Albert was responsible for breathing seasonal life into the Hopi world.
For the past two years, as age slowed him down, he had taken to mentoring Juniper. He found her both a mystery and a source of great importance. He was not sure why he thought she was chosen to play a critical role in Hopi destiny, but he knew it was true from when he first met the gangly, red-haired eight-year-old Juniper who reminded him of a flowering ocotillo bush, bending this way and that and crowned in red. But he was worried that she rode herself too hard.
“You seem troubled, young one,” Albert said. “And very unhappy. How can one so lovely and with so much to live for, be so lost in grief?”
Juniper tossed a small pebble over the edge of the mesa.
“Well, let’s see. I got arrested the other day at a protest against that resort on the Little Colorado. They threw me in the Navajo jail in Window Rock. When I finally called my father, he was too busy to return it. He’s in LA on business, and I have no idea when he might come back home. He pretty much ignores me all the time because he is focused on his important business deals.
“I haven’t seen my mother Jenny since I was five. She took my twin sister Pinyon with her when she left, but she abandoned me, and I don’t know why. I haven’t received so much as a card from her in over fifteen years. I don’t know if she’s even alive.
“And Pinyon might as well be on the moon. I have no friends on this earth other than an old man who has taken me on as a curious charity case. I have no boyfriend. And let’s not forget the Hopi who have never accepted me and have always treated me as an outsider and a threat—a wonderful combination.”
“The Hopi don’t dislike you,” replied Albert.
“Oh, please, grandfather,” said Juniper as she angrily launched another stone into the abyss. “I’m a half-breed, which means I will never be accepted by the people. Sure, my father was once the Tribal Chairman, but those days are long gone. Even worse, I am also a twin—a twin of a white mother and a Hopi father. That means I have magical powers and I’m dangerous. I have gone through my entire life in a place where everyone is afraid to even look at me. My teachers, my schoolmates, the neighbors—the whole world—they all steer clear of the crazy witch.”
Albert chuckled. “Let’s not forget you are also born to the Antelope Clan. That’s even worse.”
Juniper looked at Albert like she might explode in anger. “Oh, sure. Go ahead and joke. I’m glad you think it’s all so funny.”
“Life is funny,” answered Albert without a smile. “We are born into our particular circumstances. That is out of our control. The gods decide our fate. And you have been given a rare gift. You are both Antelope Clan and a twin. The Anglo in you may be the key ingredient. I don’t know. But I have never seen that combination before. It opens up a world of possibilities.”
“Yeah, lucky me,” replied Juniper as she launched another stone.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” answered Albert. “But I know the gods made you with something special in mind.”
Juniper turned to look at the old Hopi medicine man. “Special? What’s special about being utterly alone in the world, other than the company of an old coot who speaks in riddles.”
“You could do worse,” snickered Albert.
“You are the only person I can talk to,” said Juniper. “Do you have any idea how that feels?”
“Especially lucky?” winked Albert.
“Go ahead and joke,” said Juniper, close to tears.
“Oh, my poor little niece,” replied Albert with sadness. “Who has filled your young head with so many monsters?”
“Well, that would be you,” answered Juniper.
Albert shook his head. “Then let me try to make things better for you. Yes, the Hopi see you as different. Because you are. You are not entirely Hopi or Anglo. You are a blend of beautiful colors, making you something unlike anyone else. The Hopi do not hate you for that difference, but they don’t really know what to make of you. So they hold you at arm’s length. How does the white world treat you?”
“Like I don’t belong,” spit Juniper. “In the Army, they called me ‘mule’ and made he-haw calls when they wanted me to come.”
“All humans can be cruel,” said Albert.
“But that doesn’t make me any less alone. And being a twin makes it even worse.”
“Yes, twins are unique in Hopi culture. I don’t know why, but there aren’t that many. Traditionally they spelled death, for they often died at birth or shortly after. Sometimes the mother died bringing them into the world. And feeding two mouths put a greater strain on the family. But they weren’t considered evil or threatening. True, some people associate them with the Two Hearts. But the Hopi believe that almost everyone could be a Two Heart. At every funeral, the family wonders if someone in their own clan killed their loved one so they could live forever. Superstition runs deep.”
Juniper shook her head as she watched a raven fly silently by. “I feel better already.”
Albert pushed on. “And being Antelope Clan does make you very special. Like twins, their numbers are small. But the Antelope Clan are our Tewa warriors. It’s in your father’s name. They have protected us from harm in all four worlds. They are fearless and are always willing to fight for the people, no matter the cost. For a peaceful people like the Hopi, a people who avoid conflict whenever they can, a warrior is marked for life as one who is to be feared. That is true. But they are also respected.”
Juniper stood and looked over the rim at the brown and yellow scrub farmland hundreds of feet below. “Look, Albert, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I really do. I mean, you’re the only person I can talk to, or who cares about me at all. And for that, I love you more than anyone else in the world.
“But I am not Hopi—I’ll never be Hopi—and your words can’t fix me. Why do you think I took my mother’s last name, Hatch, just as soon as I could? The truth is that I’m afraid that I will die never knowing what happened to my mother or my sister. That scares me to death.”
Albert pointed a bony finger at the young woman. “You are obsessed with death, and that is not good. If I didn’t know you better, I would think that you were a Two Heart.”
Juniper smiled at the old Hopi’s biting words, realizing that Albert was teasing her.
“I have been doing some research lately about immortality and death. A lot of reputable scientists and scholars think that we humans may one day live forever.”
Albert giggled like a small child at the crazy notion.
“Go ahead, old man, and laugh. But some botanists have just discovered a powerful antioxidant in plants, animals, fungi, and bacteria. It’s called glutathione and it protects cells and their mitochondria, which provide energy to the human body. It has shown an amazing ability to beat back diabetes, cystic fibrosis, cancer, neurodegenerative diseases, and even aging. Some of the super-rich elite in Hollywood and Silicon Valley call it “the God molecule.”
Albert chuckled, “God exists in everything, no secret there.”
It was getting dark, and Juniper needed to go home and feed her dog Chuka. She told Albert that she would visit him the next day, or as soon as she could break free, and they could continue their conversation about life and death.
As she left, Juniper looked back over her shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry, old man. Antelope Girl will protect you from the scary Two Hearts.”