The Roar of the Falls: My Journey with Kaya

I wipe most of the dirt from my arms and follow Kaya down the riverbank, still a little unsteady on my feet. I dust off the dirt clinging to my dress, too. As we near the camps, I see horses pulling heavy travois (Kaya tells me that word) and shelters built from poles lashed tightly together. They’re as tall as houses! The shelters are lined with rows of fish that have been cleaned and neatly cut, their pink flesh glistening wetly in the sun. The smell is overpowering, smoky and briny all at once, and it clings to the back of my throat.

But Kaya is grinning ear to ear. She is proud of all the salmon that have given themselves to the camp this year. I watch the women artfully cut the fish and scrape off the scales, their hands moving quickly and surely, as if they’ve done this a thousand times before.

Everyone is working so hard, and nobody is slacking off. Kaya explains that everybody helps out in some way. The men and boys work hard at fishing, while the women and girls prepare the fish they catch. The fresh fish is a welcome gift after a long winter of dried foods. Some of it will be among the things they eat tonight at the festivities. Kaya explains that the festivities will include feasting, drumming, and dancing.

I remember the Wallowa pow-wow I went to with my parents last summer, the drums and dancers and bright colors. They had elaborate feathered headdresses and metal cones that jingled as they moved. One of the tribes was the Nez Perce, the same as Kaya’s tribe! They wore shells in their hair, just like Kaya. I’m not sure what to expect at the festivities tonight, but curiosity makes me hurry to keep up with Kaya, who has started back up the path ahead of me.