Then Mamook resumed, the room illuminated only by the candles dancing flames, combined with the aroma and smoke of the burning leaves and the gentle raindrops hitting against the windows. The small dining room gave the aura of St. Peters Cathedral on Jackson Street. Picking up the shaman drum he performed a slow and steady beat. Softly as if in prayer, he chanted a native verse in Chinookan Jargon.
“Ka’nowē sun naika kelai’, (I cry always) Saia ē’li naika mitlait alta, (far away is my country now)”, as the proud gathering bowed their heads in solemn silence and great respect. All in attendance were in full understanding of its meaning. The shaman continued speaking, slowly and reverently,
“The Earth was formless and empty. The Great Chief Above, drifted over the waters. He reached down from the sky and scooped handfuls of mud from the shallow places and made the land. . . Some was piled high to make mountains, and some of it he made into rocks. . . On the land He made trees and roots and berries grow, and finally from a ball of mud, He made man. . .He taught the man to hunt and fish the animals He provided. . . and when the man became lonely the Great Chief Above made woman. . . He taught her how to gather and prepare berries, and cook the salmon and game that the man brought to her. . . He blew his loving breath upon her and made her skilled in these things so that she could teach her daughters and granddaughters.”
Kloe closed her eyes and smiled. With each spoken word she was transformed and envisioned the beautiful story of Creation that Mamook was describing. He continued,
“We are Tsinúk, . . . we are Chinook. And we are all brothers with the coastal Clatsop peoples. For over four thousand years we lived and flourished on the land given to us by the Great Chief Above and our tribes prospered. Hundreds of years ago we migrated from the western coastal river banks and landed here, creating our village among the people of the inside, the Duwamish.”