One little, two little, three little Indians…four little, five little, six little…The beat of the drums rings in my ears. My ancestors are calling to me, but I do not answer. It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I can’t. I yell, I scream, but nothing. I am here, please come to me I cry, the quiet response is deafening.
“and then Nanabush turned…” said Ashley. The children’s laughter was a relief to her. Did they understand her? Did they know what it all meant because she barely did?