Issue 3 • Fall 2002 • Featured Writer • Drama
Nicola Harwood
III
Continents Like Bodies
Alice paddles in.
ALICE
There has always been a West. For the Greeks there was Sicily, Carthage was the western outpost of Tyre; and young Roman patricians conquered Gaul. But the West we are entering upon today is the Last West, the last unoccupied frontier under a white man's sky.
Lily.
LILY
June 21st, 1793. Alexander MacKenzie, one dog, six Frenchmen, one hundred and twenty two pounds of pemmican and thirteen gallons of rum come flying around the bend of the Fraser River in a birch bark canoe and damn near give my ancestors a heart attack. Since then. Beat. Ten generations my family been giving white people directions. I got this job from my cousin, Tommy, eh. He died when he drove off the road out by Billy's place couple winters ago. Anyway -- he wasn't so good a guide. Had a lousy sense of direction. I been tryin' to get outta the business. I don't get the same job satisfaction I used to. Now I know where I'm takin' 'em. Where we'll all end up. But they keep knockin' on my door. Night after night. I get woke up and they're standing out there in the dark. Them blue eyes. Like winter got in there and covered the earth with snow. Left only a cold blue sky.
ALICE
21st of June, 1908. I observe an emersion of Jupiter's second satellite by which I find our longitude to be one hundred and twenty-two degrees west from Greenwich. Latitude: Fifty-two degrees, forty-seven minutes due north. Local Indians tell us that further south along the river are rapids tall as a tree. Cliffs of sheer stone. But if we seek the "big water" there is a route overland, commonly referred to as "The Grease Trail."
Lily smells her stew.
LILY
I like to have a pot of stew on for all these late night visitors. Clams from Bella Coola. (Lily picks up a Camas lily.) Nodding Onion. Picked it myself. Course you gotta be sure you're not mixing it up with Poison Onion. Look a lot alike those two. Only one of 'em's tasty like a regular onion. Sweeter, though. The other. Well. Not so good for the digestion.
She throws it in the pot.
ALICE
It is at this juncture that we must make the most important decision of our life. To trust the Indians or not to trust the Indians.
Lily picks up another leaf.
LILY
And for that real authentic Indian flavor: Indian Hellbore. Picked it south of Bonaparte Lake. On Poison Hill.
She grins. Throws it in the pot. Alice turn to Lily. Lily, stirring her stew, spies her.
ALICE
Ahoy!
LILY
What the hell are you?
ALICE
Alice Campbell. Explorer! Following in the footsteps of the intrepid Alexander McKenzie -- you may have heard of him.
LILY
I heard of him.
ALICE
You may also have heard of me --
LILY
I don't think so.
ALICE
First white woman to travel the entire length of the McKenzie River? Now engaged in paddling McKenzie's route to the Pacific Ocean. And just as he did many years ago -- I seek your wise advice.
LILY
Go home.
ALICE
Too late for that, I'm afraid! Now according to MacKenzie's journals, he left the river at 52 degrees north and heading west, traveled overland, along a well-known Indian trail.
LILY
Ain't no trail around here.
ALICE
But according to my calculations...
LILY
McKenzie never left the river. He floated all the way to the coast. Go ahead. It's smooth sailing all the way. Flat as a pancake.
ALICE
But I have it on expert authority that not much further south I should meet a series of trepidatious rapids and be dashed to pieces on the rocks!
LILY
Whose expert authority?
ALICE (confused -- refers to her notes -- looks about her -- looks at Lily)
Well...local Native authority...
LILY
Stew?
ALICE
Stew?
LILY
All local Native ingredients.
ALICE
I am famished. A steady diet of pemmican and rum's enough to turn even a Frenchman's stomach! (aside) It should be noted that the kindness of the local Indian peoples is seldom surpassed in civilized circles!
Indeed! I should be very happy to eat some of your stew!
Lily lowers a bowl down to Alice who digs in enthusiastically. Lily watches her for signs of poisoning.
ALICE
Me: never much of a cook. Schoolteacher. In fact in 1903 I became the first female principal of this province. But that's all behind me now. Now I am an adventurer! And this. The open road, or river, or trail! Living la vida solo! Such as it is. This is living. Hmm. Remarkable flavor. Fish is it?
LILY
Clams. From Bella Coola.
ALICE
Delicious!
LILY
You don't feel nothin'? Like a wind blowing through you?
ALICE
I feel that all the time now.
LILY
Twisting in your gut like a knife, like a spear?
ALICE
Oh no. I'm quite well armed. Thank you. And with the most modern of weapons. My very own shotgun. Just in case.
LILY
Nothin'?
ALICE
It's not nothing. Let me tell you. I shot my own moose on the McKenzie River. Well. Again. Thank you for the stew. A most peculiar and unique flavour. Now...
Lily smelling her own stew.
LILY
Nothin'.
ALICE
...if you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of said trail -- I should hastily disembark my trusty canoe and set about on foot!
LILY
I told you, ain't no trail.
ALICE
Then I shall have to camp right here!
Alice drops her pack.
LILY
Oh, that trail.
Lily motions to Alice to come close. Uses hand gestures as though imparting an important "Indian" secret. Each image has a gesture.
LILY
Follow the cow shit 'til you hit the creek. Follow the creek till you hit the mountains. Follow the mountains till ya hit the sea.
ALICE
Cow shit, creek, creek, mountains. Mountains, sea. Straightforward, good enough then. And thank you so much for the delicious stew!
Alice pulls her pack on her back and sets off, paddle in hand. Lily pulls the bowl back up and smells it.
LILY
Can't even kill a goddamn ghost.
Martha and Hanna. Martha checking off equipment list.
MARTHA
Whiskbroom, dustpan, hand trowel. Shovel. Small paintbrushes, tape measure and ruler. Dental picks, grapefruit knives, kitchen spoons, and wooden tongue depressors. To think I left being a housewife to study archeology.
HANNA
At night I dream I am flying. Low over brown muddy water. Down the river -- surrounded by cliffs of blue and yellow clay.
MARTHA
Tomorrow a site datum will be established and triangulated to property pins.
HANNA
Crows and ravens. There's one raven, lands on the table, cocks its head and peers into your eyes looking for something.
MARTHA
Appropriate extensions will be made for exposing and recovering specific artifacts.
Several good-sized arrowheads and two cobble choppers have already been discovered.
HANNA
Food, I guess. Or something else.
MARTHA
We're having some problems with the equipment. Going missing.
HANNA
I found an arrowhead near our tent. Just lying there. On the surface.
MARTHA
Two survey rods, a camera, and a box of Dentyne gum gone this morning.
HANNA
In the twilight -- bats like black snow.
MARTHA
Every evening an Indian man stops at the top of the path and stares down at us.
HANNA
The nights here are thick with stars.
MARTHA
Coyotes sound like children. Beckoning. They're small, much smaller than I imagined.
HANNA
Mom?
MARTHA
Yes?
HANNA
Do you ever wish you were an animal?
MARTHA
Sometimes.
HANNA
Which one?
MARTHA
When I was a kid I used to wish I was a horse.
HANNA
Did it ever happen?
Martha smiles. Looks at herself.
MARTHA
Guess not.
HANNA
I wish I was a bird. A big black bird.
MARTHA
You look more like a mouse. A curious little mouse.
Martha kisses her head and exits.
Hanna stands with her eyes closed and her arms extended. Frances enters. Watches her. Watches her some more.
FRANCES
What are you doin'?
Hanna jumps.
HANNA
Nothin'
FRANCES
Tryin' to be Superwoman or somethin'?
Beat. They stare at each other.
HANNA
Do you have a horse?
FRANCES
No. You got a car?
HANNA
No.
FRANCES
Well, then. Guess we're stuck here.
HANNA
What do you call this place?
FRANCES
Alkali Lake.
HANNA
Alkali. Turns litmus blue.
FRANCES
That white mud.
HANNA
Corrosive. Alkali.
FRANCES
That's not our word for it.
HANNA
What's your word for it?
FRANCES
I don't know.
Pause.
FRANCES
There's a dance Saturday.
HANNA
A dance?
FRANCES
You comin'? You and your Mom. All these hippies you're camping with.
HANNA
The survey team.
FRANCES
Yeah.
HANNA
I don't know.
FRANCES
We got a band. Slow Riders from Edmonton.
HANNA
Are you gonna go?
FRANCES
Everybody goes.
Beat.
HANNA
Then I guess we'll go.
Pause. They can't think if anything else to say. They exit in opposite directions. Martha makes a note.
MARTHA
June 21st, 1970. Nine fourteen PM sunset. Hanna seems content again. It always works on her. The wild. The work. I have called the RCMP to report the stolen items. And the man, standing up on the road.
We hear hollering and loud country music. Martha hears it but as an echo. It disturbs her. Music rises. Frances enters, masculine and spiffed. She lights a cigarette. Hanna enters. She wears a summer dress, strings of brightly colored glass beads around her neck. They stare at each other for a second.
FRANCES
Where's your mom?
Martha looking for Hanna.
MARTHA
Hanna?
Hanna looks behind her.
HANNA
She decided not to come.
Pause. Awkward. Hanna folds her arms about her as though cold. Frances whips off her red plaid jacket and hands it to Hanna.
FRANCES
You want this?
HANNA
No.
FRANCES
I got. I mean. I'm not cold.
Hanna takes the coat.
FRANCES
Drink?
HANNA
Of what?
Frances produces a bottle of cheap red wine. Opens it and hands it to Hanna.
FRANCES
Colona Royal Red!
Hanna smells it. Drinks. Makes a face.
FRANCES
You like it?
HANNA
Tastes like fruit juice.
Frances grins. Drinks out of the bottle.
FRANCES
Fruit juice with a kick!
We hear a loud whooping yell from inside. Hanna looks toward the yell.
FRANCES
Let's go in.
HANNA
I don't really know how to dance.
FRANCES
Nobody does! Come on.
They exit.
Martha -- disturbed from sleep.
MARTHA
Footsteps. Circling. Someone, something, big. Circling the tent. Right next to my head. So loud. And it's dark. Black. So dark I can't see my hand in front of my face. I reach for Hanna. Not there. Gone. "Hanna?" Suddenly: an explosion, running, crashing into the bush. And he's gone. It. Is gone. Whatever it was. Gone.
Lily.
LILY
Alexander McKenzie was the first white guy to come through here, eh? The people thought he was a ghost. So they took him on a trail far away from the river. They thought if they took a ghost too close to the river it would scare the salmon away.
Me. I'm not scared of no ghosts. I wouldn't have no family if I didn't talk to ghosts. Sometimes I get arguing with the ancestors in the Safeway parking lot, eh? My grandmother and her sister want to go sit outside the Ranch Hotel and visit with their relatives from Sugarcane. I tell her Grandma -- they all dead like you -- I'll just be sitting there talking to the air. Or my sister Helen, since she died in that house fire at Soda Creek. Interfering all the time. I tol' her to keep her dead hands off my business -- I guess she got nothing to do over there where she's dead but come and follow me around over here where we alive.
When it gets to be too much I pick a basket of snowberries -- they're Saskatoon berries over there in the Land of the Dead. I put 'em out on the porch and the next morning. All gone. I guess they get hungry, you know. Ghosts.
My husband. Alex Jack. Disappeared last year. Stampede weekend. The RCMP they didn't do nothin'. But he isn't dead. Cuz we never found his body. You know. When someone disappears --
Sometimes I put snowberries out special for him -- but they always there in the morning. Sometimes I think I hear someone walkin' around the house at night. Sometimes I think he gonna pull me over there with him -- into that place between dyin' and living. And then. That's when I get scared.
Loud country music, men yelling, sound of smashing glass. Frances and Hanna enter, they are laughing, stumbling. They are almost finished their wine. Frances is trying to light a cigarette.
HANNA (looking up)
Stars.
FRANCES
Damn.
HANNA
Planets.
FRANCES
Ouch. Shit.
HANNA
Mars.
Frances succeeds in lighting her cigarette.
HANNA
There. Red.
Frances drinks from the bottle. Passes it to Hanna. Hanna drinks.
FRANCES
My father was a chief, you know. He used to be chief a' all this land. From here over to the Rocky Mountains. We own it. And seeing as he's dead. Now I own it.
HANNA
You.
FRANCES
That makes me a Indian princess.
HANNA
You don't look like a princess.
FRANCES
What do you know about it?
HANNA
I seen pictures and stuff.
FRANCES
Walt Disney?
HANNA
You look like a boy.
FRANCES
What about it?
HANNA
Indian princesses don't look like boys.
FRANCES
What are you, some expert?
HANNA
No.
FRANCES
I didn't think so.
Silence.
HANNA
Last night I flew out of the tent and I flew around here. All around these hills.
FRANCES
Flew?!
HANNA
At night when I'm dreaming. Sometimes I can fly.
FRANCES
You a witch?
HANNA
You can see how it really looks. From above. The lay of the land.
FRANCES
You weren't flyin'.
HANNA
When I can't get off the ground I flap my arms.
FRANCES
Flap your arms?! What kinda witch is that? A chicken witch?
HANNA
Or hold them up like this.
Hanna lifts her arms toward the sky. More yelling, glass breaking.
HANNA
And I lift off.
FRANCES
You're nuts.
HANNA
Try it.
FRANCES
Nah.
HANNA
Try lifting your arms -- right now -- see what happens.
FRANCES
Nah.
HANNA
Come on. Try it. Try it.
Frances puts the bottle down, puts her cigarette in her lips and stands next to Hanna and lifts her arms. They stand together with their arms raised. Pause. Yelling.
FRANCES
This it?
HANNA
Close your eyes.
Hanna closes her eyes. Frances lowers her arms. Takes her cigarette out of her lips and drags on it. Watches Hanna. Frances turns away, picks up bottle and drinks.
FRANCES
There was this girl -- Shuswap girl. Got kidnapped from Soda Creek. Long time ago. Maybe it was Cree stole her or some other Indians -- took her as a slave -- far away. She was pregnant, eh? She had her baby over there with these other people and it was a boy so those people threw it in the river. They had to kill it so he wouldn't grow up and kill them. One night she escaped. She escaped and walked all the way back home to Soda Creek. All the way. She walked. By herself. Beat. You're like that girl. Come all the way back here.
Hanna opens her eyes and looks at Frances.
HANNA
I've never been here before in my life.
Frances reaches for Hanna and kisses her.
Alice enters bushwhacking with a large machete.
ALICE
As a girl I was given free reign to pursue my tomboyish pleasures in the acres of woods surrounding our Victoria home. Many pleasant hours were spent building forts and performing surgical operations on my small friends. Then I grew breasts. Suddenly my mother began making strange and unusual demands upon my time. More skirts, less pants. More charitable work. Less invasion and plunder. In the dawning of my seventeenth year she brought home a young man for me to "meet." I was forced to take evasive action. Teaching. That or become a nun. And for a woman of my physical and intellectual vigor the nunnery lacked a certain... -- though, mind you, I could well understand the appeal of living among a community of women!
She hacks her way off.
The following morning. Martha enters -- about to work. Hanna enters.
MARTHA
Where have you been?
HANNA
There was a dance.
MARTHA
Where?
HANNA
I was with that girl.
MARTHA
That Indian girl.
HANNA
Frances.
MARTHA
You don't even know her.
HANNA
We were dancing.
MARTHA
Until dawn?
HANNA
I was with people --
MARTHA
What the hell were you thinking --
HANNA
-- not artifacts.
MARTHA
-- that'd I'd sleep right through? That I wouldn't notice when you didn't come home?
HANNA
I'm here, aren't I?
MARTHA
Well, maybe it would be better if you weren't.
Hanna looks at her mother, turns and runs. Beat. Martha exits.
Next Page: A Land Bridge
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