The New World

 “Kiara, what kind of name is that? It’s too fancy for the rez,” Cheii (Maternal Grandfather) said when he first held me as a baby. I think Mama took his words to heart because I wouldn’t see him again until I was three years old. Cheii talks about the day the winds came and how the night before his leg ached with anticipation until Mom cast a shadow over his tomatoes as he tended to the onions. “I remember like it was yesterday, you wore an ugly bright highlighter-yellow shirt and had néʼéshtił (snot) dried on your upper lip.” Grandpa talks of that day as if the winds delivered me and not that Mama abandoned me.

“So, you ready for the best birthday party? It’s going to be lit as soon as I get this party bot working,” Cheii says as he holds a screwdriver to a small android designed to shine light in the room and play music. Cheii has always been a “tinker” everyone says, so naturally he repairs everyone’s robot. It gives him time to be with the plants and me. Everyone comes to my Cheii not only for repairs but also because he’s the only elder who remembers the old ways of plant medicine.

The world keeps me awake most nights with its heavy noises. I think of Kiara mainly and how her life must be living with that crazy old man. Shizhé’é (Father) raised me on his own after Shimá (Mother) died during the climate conflicts. Her love for Nahasdzáán (Mother Earth) killed her in the end and I often wonder why she loved her so much anyways. Who loves a dying planet? But Má (Mother) always said, “We are her caregivers, so we must fight for her.” I still remember her wearing a bright yellow floral scarf around her hair and a megaphone strapped to her chest right before the bombings. The world has twisted into something so ugly that Má would probably cry every day.

My love for Nahasdzáán is nonexistent because as far as I’m concerned, she killed Má and any chance of being normal. Kiara deserves better than my deepest despair, which is also why I left Shizhé’é alone all these years. Leaving at seventeen meant the sadness wouldn’t swallow him whole anymore. His plants started dying and robot parts lay in heaps all over the hogan (home). When Kiara was born, I presented her as a gift and his face lit up the way it did when he got one of his old metal buckets to work. I made myself a promise to bring her back to heal him. Motherhood didn’t rush over me like my friends said it would. In fact, I felt the darkest cloud over my head months after her birth.

Now I must break my promise and leave this forsaken planet with Kiara, as I’m close to earning the second ticket to New Earth. Shizhé’é, although he doesn’t outright say it, would never leave this dying plant. He, like Má, is a crackpot traditionalist with his silly plants and wild onions that he swears cures bad breath. Leaving Kiara with him meant time to earn a new future to a place where the ground isn’t caked with yellow sludge and the skies don’t rain black ash.

“You ready to party pretty lady? I might be old, but I still got a few moves left in me.” Birthdays are my favorite, as Cheii puts up all the Christmas lights and brings out the robots while making his special blue corn mush. He stores some corn away just so I can have it on my birthday. My heart feels ready to burst as Cheii moves around the room to “If I wanted you girl would you want me too”.

“Hey Dad,” emerges from the darkness as Marlene pushes the blanket door aside.

“Oh Marlene, welcome home she’awéé‘ (my baby),” Cheii says as he holds mama in his arms while crying softly. In my head, I think why is she here ruining my party? I guess my disappointment shows on my face as mama says, “I’m sorry to come barging in here, but I have some good news for you Kiara”.

The next morning it feels as if I swallowed a rock leaving a lump in my chest. Mama talking of leaving this world for the new one made me want to vomit on her when it is supposed to be my special thirteenth birthday. Cheii and her whispered all night while I pretended to sleep. Early morning light shines in through the smoke hole as I hope my hardest no one wakes soon.

The massive bright white ship means no more Cheii, robots, or blue corn mush. Mama tightly holds my hand as she knows I’m a flight risk. I give up most of my fight while tears stream down my face and I scream Cheii’s name. It means nothing to her as she drags me away. I watch all that I know fade in the distance and now I’m here standing in front of my new shiny prison.

The weight on my heart feels heavier the closer we get to the ticket window. My life is over here and now, I declare while remaining obedient. Finally, we arrive in front of the man in blue as Mama hands over several stacks of paperwork. Stamping them all and returning our tickets, Mama returns a small smile then steps forward to get scanned. I must go back to him; I don’t belong here with her or any of these people. I want my old life back, the one where Cheii dances horribly, the robots play rummy, the rough but smooth blue corn mush sits on my tongue. My heart skips a beat as I burst into a sprint away from my prison, drowning out the yelling of my name.

“Sorry miss, you cannot go back through once you’re scanned unless you want to forfeit your ticket.”

“But my baby…”