This is a poem that I always feel obligated to-- then cook
for people.
I really like to think about and discover the meanings of Navajo
words and just take different sections and look at what
each one what each vowel means or where it came from.
So the poem that I want to read now is called Náneeskaadí
and you'll see what it means.
"When the weather is nice, we sit under the trees
with covered bowls of warm dough and make bread
on grill set over glowing ashes more often
we sit in my mother's kitchen and take
turns plus placing flattened circles of dough
on the hot griddle the stack of bread
ultimately grows then shrinks, depending
on how many people are around
these days I drive home in the darkened evening to a quiet
a house, the cats greet me with a glance and a yawn,
they look repeatedly at their food bowls,
they want canned food 'it seems like everyone wants something
from me,' I complain while filling their bowls Dexter
Dudley begay purrs in response
[LAUGHTER]
I wish for beans or warm stew but then I just wash my hands
and line up ingredients as I learned to do in home economics
years ago, 'never start cooking without everything being
in order' Mrs. Bowman preach I mix the dough and cover it
and then let it set a while I change clothes,
turn on lights and fix a glass of ice water then I search
the refrigerator for something to accompany the Náneeskaadí
'it goes with everything and anything' my inner Martha
Stewart reassures me [LAUGHTER]
the process is simple, take a few handfuls
of flour preferably, Bluebird or Navajo Pride,
toss with a bit of salt and a palmful of baking powder,
mix well, ponder the next ingredient a while
but then go ahead and add two fingertips of lard
not too much, just enough to help the texture mix very well
then pour in one and 1/2 cups of very hot water,
as hot as you can stand, and mix quickly
mix until the dough forms a softball and the remaining
flour lifts away from the sides of the bowl,
rub olive oil on a griddle and heat until very warm then
take a ball of dough and pat it into a disk,
stretch it gently while slapping it from side
to side after a few minutes, a rhythm emerges
from the soft muffled slapping, combined with the pauses
to lay the dough on the griddle flip it
over its removal from the hot grill and its hot replacement
soon the kitchen warms and the warm scent of Náneeskaadí
drifts through the house the cats are now sleeping circles
of fur, the door opens, my husband comes in smiling he is
savoring Náneeskaadí and melting butter."
And this is what the word brings,
part of what some meanings of what Náneeskaadí means.
Na'.
Here as in Na' k'ad yiłwoł.
Now, go run along' we tell the children when they're hanging
out waiting for bread Ná for you,
the Díí na'iishłaa I made this for you Ná,
díí ná iishłaa here, I made this for you Ná 'ahéésh kad.
I slapped this dough into shape for you,
Díí náníínsííł kaad this warm circle of dough is spread out
for you K'ad la'. there, Łikanish?
is it good?"