“Walk down the trail, then veer off into forest, leaving no tracks.” This was my father’s counsel when I told him that I would be telling my story to you. I knew what he meant. That my ancestors would be watching. That there are stories that must remain hidden, secrets that must be guarded. Across the centuries, my people learned not to trust you. That’s how we stayed alive, unconquered: by leaving no tracks. For us, stories are living beings. They breathe life into our homes, into our forests. They pulse in our blood, in our dreams. They stalk us like jaguars, clack like peccary, sail like
...more
