Many years ago, when a time of warring between the native people and the newly built missions of California took place. Many years ago, when California’s bare grass skin had begun to cover up and oppression began. Many years ago, little did we know, that a hero was being made.

Toypurina was a young shaman, a fish swimming upriver in a matter of speech. She lived in the tribe village of the Kizh: an ever bustling and lively place by a river. Their village had no roads; just the dust, dirt, and grass upon the earth’s floor, but for the people who lived there, that was all they needed. Before the Spaniard men had arrived on the sacred land of her ancestors, some twenty-five odd years prior, ruining the lands, the people were happy with the ways and practices and trading that unified them all with themselves and with the other tribes. Back in this time, Toypurina herself was yet to be born when the invading Padres and their soldiers first came. Back then, Toypurina’s mother and father had just been married and were settling into their home. Home, where they were happy—at least until the Padres and soldiers started their building. They built strange structures, like nothing her parents had seen before. All of them big and square—unlike the homes her people had, which were domed and small.

The Kizh people deeply resented the soldiers; the soldiers disrespected the women and killed the men who tried to save them, including Toypurina’s father. Toypurina never met her father because of the soldier who took his life. Instead, the memory of her father depended on the stories Toypurina’s mother told her. Toypurina and her brother Temejavaguichi spent the majority of their childhood by her mother’s side. Always at the ready to run in their family’s hut in case there was ever word of a soldier, or soldiers and Padres coming to “recruit” people from her tribe. Their recruits rarely ever went away by choice.

When Toypurina was six, she had a close friend: Dohasan. Dohasan was two years older than Toypurina, but that never stopped them from having fun and sharing stories. They would laugh, and sing, and go on as many adventures as their hearts desired; they lived without a single care for their struggles so long as the other was there. Their friendship lasted for six long years until Dohasan was fourteen. When Dohasan was fourteen, he was “recruited” by the Padres. Toypurina hadn’t seen him since. Toypurina’s mother took the event as a sign to keep her further under her watchful eyes; telling her that not all was in vain. For the next eleven years, Toypurina’s mother trained her to become the village’s next shaman. Despite the boredom and challenges little Toypurina faced, she did pick up other valuable lessons from her mother. Such as how to get people to listen to your words, how to earn the respect of chiefs, and how to stand by your beliefs.

Now Toypurina was twenty-five and had successfully taken over her mother’s place as Shaman for her eighth year. Her brother Temejavaguichi had taken his place as chief thirteen years prior. They were both loved and well respected by her people and other tribes that came to trade with them. Toypurina especially.

“Toypurina, there is someone here who wishes to see you,” Chief Temejavaguichi said, peaking his head through the sheet of woven grass Toypurina had draped over the entrance of her hut.

“Do we know this someone? Are they perhaps here for healing herbs?” Toypurina nodded for her brother to enter, still working on a medicinal herb mix.

“Um, I’m not sure. The man claims to know you, says he wishes to speak with you on urgent matters. He is just outside the entrance.” Chief Temejavaguichi’s tall figure slipped in through the entrance regally.

“And he doesn’t wish to speak with you on these urgent matters?” Toypurina didn’t look up from her task.

“No, which confuses me. If he mentions anything that would concern me or the tribe,” he sighed a sigh that made him seem older in years. As if he was an elder himself, though, in fact, he was very young. Only ten years older than that of Toypurina. Toypurina finished with her herb concoction, turned to the chief, making eye contact as Chief Temejavaguichi finished, “I would appreciate the information.”

“Thank you, brother, I’ll see him in.” Toypurina followed Chief Temejavaguichi out, nodded thanks, and turned to her immediate right to face a man in mission clothing.

The man must have been a neophyte because despite his black Spaniard short hair he had a Tongva complexion, specifically like the complexions the Kizh people had. His stance was familiar as well; he stood proud and erect, like a great oak. His eyes were silver. A kind of silver that reminded Toypurina of the tiny fish that swim the river bed near the edge of the village.

The man in mission clothing spoke, “Ah, so this is what you have been getting into nowadays. You have grown a mighty lot; I take it you are no longer following your mom around everywhere.” The man chuckled, Toypurina was confused. She didn’t recognize this man and yet he talked to her like they had known each other since they were little. The man smiled at Toypurina’s baffled expression. Animatedly he said, “You don’t remember me?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t,” Toypurina confessed.

“Ah, I see, but do you remember the name Dohasan?” he inquired.

Toypurina paused a moment, mulling over the deepest parts of her soul for the name. She remembered. Her eyes and her mind lit up with happiness although she kept it hidden for the most part. Toypurina turned to re-enter her hut and gestured for Dohasan to join her.

Toypurina and Dohasan conversed for the next hour, catching up on what the other had missed before they covered the real reason for their meeting.

“Before I go on any further, Doha—I mean Nicholas José; my apologies, I keep forgetting you have a new name.”

“It’s fine, and please, Toy. Call me José,”

“So tell me, José, why did you wish to see me?”

“Can’t an old friend stop by and say hello?”

“Of course, but considering the travel, it would be impractical. I know you too well to waste such time.”

“Very true. The truth is I came here to discuss the San Gabriel Mission. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“If you’re here just to convert me, then you can leave. I am needed here amongst the tribe. And you know what those soldiers did to my father. That I cannot forgive.”

“Actually your bitterness towards the mission is exactly why I need you,” he paused to grab Toypurina’s attention. “I among other neophytes have been displeased—you may say—at how the mission is being run. We believe that the Spaniards have usurped these sacred lands.” Toypurina listened as closely as she could to his conspiring. “I wish for your aid in recruiting the other tribes and their chiefs. It won’t be pretty, but our plan is to use your powers to kill off the Padres, one by one, leaving the soldiers to fight. Are you in?”

Toypurina nodded her head, accepting the call.

That day, Jose joined her in the trek to the other tribe territories. They visited five of them, three of which accepted their requests and sent a small group of representatives to hear the plan. That night, a date was set. October 25th, in three nights they would attack. Nothing could go wrong.

* * *

The night of the 25th was a clear night from above the Kizh village, but gray clouds would be rolling in soon. The winds were sleeping and the animals continued their nightly activities as usual. The chiefs and their bravest men were among the group gathered around Toypurina’s hut under the stars. Chief Temejavaguichi was there as well. Though he had his negative emotions toward joining the attack, he did it for Toypurina’s sake. Bows were strung, quivers were filled, and throwing sticks were sharpened to a point. The army of Tongva people made their way to their target: San Gabriel.

The travel was long. It was well past midnight by the time they arrived at San Gabriel. The winds had aroused from their slumber. It blew against them. It blew in such a way that it would remind someone of how the California tide would change its plans and head back out to sea. It would remind someone of stepping into a stream of fish and watching how they would scatter and change direction.

“Okay, Toy, go scout ahead,” said José from behind the same foliage the rest of the army took cover in.

Toypurina slipped into an opening of one of the outdoor hallways. Cautious, she lurked around while keeping an eye out for any Padres or soldiers. Good, she thought, they must all be in their beds fast asleep. Toypurina stuck her head out from where she had entered the hallway. She gave a nod, signaling that the coast was clear and José led the army to the entrance. Toypurina followed. The grass rustled and Toypurina suddenly became aware of how strong the wind was.

“Huh, I did not expect Soldier Garciade to be correct about this attack. Well done.” A Padre stepped out from behind a front pillar. The Tongva army stiffened, readying their weapons. A massive group of soldiers surrounded everyone, including Toypurina. “Well, well, this just is no good now, is it? Conspiring against the Spanish government,” he paused thoughtfully, a malicious grin spread across his pudgy face, “I won’t lie though, this will make quite the interesting trial hearing.”

The Tongva army dropped their weapons and a soldier confiscated them. The Padre noticed that one of the Tongva people struggled with the soldier, still gripped onto his throwing stick. Dangerously soft, he giggled.

“How precious is this!” He exclaimed, “If it isn’t little Nicholas José. I would say I’m shocked, but you never really did fit in, now did you?” José scowled toward the Padre’s remark.

The soldiers escorted Toypurina and the defeated Tongva army to the mission’s basement cellar. While Toypurina and the others awaited trial, they remained locked in and guarded by soldiers day and night for the next week, receiving minimal meals of bread and water three times a day.

By the day of the third trial, the Padres had scoped out the head people of José’s plan. That day, soldiers roughly took Toypurina, José, Chief Temejavaguichi, and the two other chiefs that had joined the attack, to the mission “court room.” The room was organized to something similar to what Toypurina had experienced in trials held by her own tribe, but there were still a lot of foreign elements as well. The mission room had many wooden benches in many rows. The Padre from before sat behind a large wooden table. He had on a white powdered wig which looked strange to Toypurina.

The group of head Tongva and José sat at a long table. There were hostile looks from all around. The Padre hit the table with a loud sounding hammer. Everyone rose, including José, so Toypurina, and the three chiefs, not sure what was going on copied.

The Padre spoke, “Thank you, you all may be seated. Seeing that we do not have a proper judge with us yet I shall take over the place as a holy man. I will start by calling to the stand each of the chiefs.” The Padre held an index finger to his chin in quick thought. He pointed to the Chief to Toypurina’s far right of the table opposite her. “You there, please come and testify yourself.”

The Chief walked forward and took his place beside the Padre’s great big table. From what the Chief was saying he would most likely get off, easily pardoned. Though his testimony did not help Toypurina’s case at all. One of the things the Chief had said in specific jostled her. He said, “it’s not my fault, you see it was Toypurina’s sweet words and hidden threats that clouded my mind. I have no quarrel with San Gabriel. My own son was baptized here. And you must believe me, now that her words have no more control over me anymore, I have no greater desire than to get my hands around her throat and still her serpent’s tongue.”

The second Chief gave similar testimony. The only real help to her were the testimonies of José and her brother; José admitted to planning the attack, and his hatred toward the Padres because of their ban of allowing him to do tribal dances and ceremonies. And Toypurina’s brother: Chief Temejavaguichi claimed to have come on his own free accord. Toypurina herself claimed that she had asked Temejavaguichi to persuade the Christians into trusting them, and not the Padres. She also claimed that she wanted the Padres and the soldiers to leave their lands. By the end of the trial, most of the blame was pointed towards Toypurina. The mission jury came to a conclusion.

The Padre spoke, “With the new light shed onto this case, these three chiefs shall go with impunity and José shall go with six years of hard labor at San Diego presido for punishment. And as for Toypurina, I can see that she was the brains behind this act. She is too dangerous to be left to her own device. So with you, I sentence you to banishment. You shall be banished for life to Mission San Carlos Berromeo. You will go without struggle. You shall go and marry a soldier that the mission picks for you. And you shall go without goodbyes. Trial concluded.”

Toypurina felt like she had just been struck in the chest with a log. She fell onto her knees unaware of the world around her. Unaware of her brother fighting against soldiers to get to her. Unaware of the celebrating enemy. Unaware of the soldiers that grabbed her roughly by the arms, dragging her away for good.

The wash basin was once white, I know it was. I can remember scrubbing it faithfully every Saturday morning along with the toilet and the shower when water was still flowing from every faucet, when my muscles still understood my commands. Once friendly, the hazy mirror over the sink does not answer my sideway glance, so I keep my eyes cast down upon the rust and grime competing with the clustered strands of hair falling one after another from my head. If I were to walk into the kitchen and take a knife from the counter and slice myself open, would I choose a wrist or would I be brave enough to reach for an ear, connecting the dots all the way to its twin? These walls can no longer keep me safe as they once did, from the cold, from the enemy, from intelligence; so I may as well live outside with the remaining feral. Don't tell me the wounded deer does not know when it is time to lay down and die; surely he does, closing his eyes gracefully, so suddenly as if he had just opened them for the first time. So what about me? Why am I still searching for sustenance in the cold darkness of hell when I know damn well there is nothing left for me to pick up with two fingers from the ash; hand to mouth is gone like the wind so is my desperate attempt to lick the murky ground with my tongue down on my knees like a dog, expecting a result that will keep me alive for the next day, the next hour, the next minute, another second; for what?

My father once took me hunting in the dead of winter many years ago before the blast when I was too young to see what I can't unsee. He said, "Humans have to eat. The animals understand about dominion." Do they? Or are they just smarter than us in their understanding of the rhythm of nature in a way that humans will never understand, since if we did, would I still be clinging to life?

Before being placed where I am right now, I just walked past the streets and saw people protesting, fighting for the possible rights they failed to attain. I walked past an alley just to see a group of teens beating another kid and I can say that they are just high schoolers, and I said to myself that there must be something to be done here. Now, I'm sitting in this place trying to accomplish everything I said to myself earlier which must all be done. The worst I've witnessed here is receiving an envelope with cash, handed to me by a man in a suit who formally demanded me to do him a favor, and I felt very uncomfortable seeing this man who was smiling at me as if he was expecting me to agree. Oh well then, I tossed the envelope back at him and crossed my legs on the tabletop. I know that this is not the way a president must act but who cares? There's an alligator in front of me anyway. "I, am very sorry to disappoint you. But it's against my will to do you this favor. My service is for my people and not for you alone.", I said to him as I stood up from my seat and faced the mirror to fix my tie. "I must not make those people wait any much longer. I'm going to give them what they exactly deserved. I must do everything that must be done, and 36 hours is not enough. But at least in those hours, I have already done something.", Those were the words that I uttered to myself before walking outside to face the protesting citizens, my citizens. For 36 hours.

Loneliness,

lethal loveliness,

love-lit lilies and

lavish lovers

lingering in a

little labyrinth.

Opal offerings,

obscure outlines,

obsolete obligations and

ominous, overcompensating organisms

offering outdated opinions,

obscenely obtuse.

Venom,

virulent vexes,

vehement voices, and

vain, valiant volunteers

vanquishing veneers of vulnerability and virtue, veering to

vermillion vindictiveness.

Euphoric evenings,

earthly enthusiasm,

earnest enrapture and

effusive, elated evenings

eluding ego-centric, enervating examples,

effortlessly elated.