Finders Keepers by Andrea Spalding

from it. His head whirled and he had to turn away.
    â€œHoly Comoly,” he gasped.
    There they were… just as if they’d been ’called’ by the Holy Woman… just exactly as he’d imagined them…. A magnificent group of buffalo poised on the edge of the reconstructed jump, buckling at the knees and frozen in time as they were about to topple over to their deaths.
    â€œWOW!” Danny went closer and looked at the brown muscular beasts whose shoulders towered above him. “You’re massive.”
    Even stuffed and on display the buffalo emanated power and strength. Danny leaned over the barrier to stroke the rough hairy hide.
    â€œDon’t touch the exhibits!” A brisk looking woman in a red jump suit called out sharply as she walked through the gallery. Danny blushed and moved back quickly but still stared at the animals.
    â€œThe buffalo were our strength.” Behind Danny, the old man appeared again and spoke quietly. “That is why we honour them. We wasted nothing that the buffalo gave us. Without them…?” the old man’s voice died away.
    Danny grappled to understand the undercurrents he could sense behind the old man’s speech. “But YOU didn’t die out, only the buffalo. You still have tipis and language and ceremonies. Even the Sundance.” He gulped as he remembering it was a forbidden subject. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, embarrassed. “I just… it always fascinated me… in the Fort Macleod museum.”
    â€œAh yes. The photograph on display. Joshua told me.” The old man moved over to a seat and motioned for Danny to join him.
    â€œIn all cultures there are differences, and in First Nations cultures there are some things that white people find hard to understand.” The old man spoke seriously but without anger. “We believe that some things should not be shown or explained. This includes the sacred ritual of the Sundance. We do not talk about it. The sites are sacred sites… hidden from eyes that don’t understand. The ritual is secret and holy. It should have never been photographed. In your society you have anthropologists, people who try and discover our rituals and explain them. But we are people, not interesting animals to be studied and explained. We are a people. We have sacred beliefs we choose not to share.”
    Danny sat quietly, trying to marshall his muddled thoughts to explain his point of view to the old man. “See… see… it’s hard not to be nosey,” Danny stammered earnestly. “Like… I’m real interested. I want to know everything and see everything. And the sacred stuff’s the most interesting.” Danny paused, grappling for words.
    The old man waited patiently.
    â€œI guess it’s hard to understand because in our culture we don’t have anything that holy,” Danny said slowly.
    â€œSome of you do,” said the old man gently. “Do you go to church Danny, to Mass?”
    Danny shuffled uncomfortably. “Mom does, but Dad and I don’t go very often,” he admitted. “Actually, just once or twice a year, like Christmas,” he added honestly.
    â€œWhat about the wafers and wine?” questioned the OldMan. “Could they be taken and displayed in a museum?”
    â€œOh no,” said Danny definitely, “They’re holy… they’re consecrated.” He stopped suddenly, realizing the impact of his statement. “You mean that’s kinda like the Sundance?”
    The old man eased himself out of the seat, nodded at Danny and left. Danny stared after him.
    Joshua appeared around the corner.
    â€œI think I’ve offended your grandfather,” said Danny unhappily, and he explained what had happened.
    â€œIt’s OK,” Joshua reassured him. “The elders like to leave you to work things out for yourself.”
    â€œSheesh…” Danny’s breath