a First Nations Haida Myth
version by Eugene Marckx
It was a time of darkness everywhere. People didn't know what to do. They held tight to their excuses. There was no choice. Things had always been done this way, the same as far back as anyone knew. But people got so tired of it. They wanted change, but no one wanted to change. As much as they wanted it, they were afraid of it. What would happen to their excuses? Better not to think about it. Better to be kept in the dark.
That was when Raven was born the first time. He lay inside his egg in the nest with a couple of other eggs. He could hear his mates struggling to break through their shells. And then? And then? He heard a yelp, and a crunch, crunch. He heard another yelp, and a crunch, crunch. After that he heard swallowing, and after that the wind, only the wind. But even inside his egg he could smell blood. He knew the smell of blood. He was Raven.
He broke a little hole in his shell, and he looked around. Two big eyes, and a big beak, clack, clack, sharp as scissors. What's that over there? Nothing but shells and feathers where his two mates had been. Raven knew. He knew what was next.
He cried out. "Don't eat me!"
"Don't eat you?" said his mother. "You are my food. You don't want me to starve, do you? I've been brooding on you for weeks now, and I am hungry."
"Don't eat me! I can help you."
"You? Help me? There is only one way you can help me."
"Don't! There is another way. There must be better food somewhere."
"Well, little one, it's dark. Those who wander off in the dark never come back. Anyway, all mothers eat their young. It has always been this way. I'm sorry. We must survive."
"But what makes everything so dark?"
"It has always."
"Yes, yes, Mother, but what? What?"
"Well, I did hear once of an old man who keeps the light in a box inside his house. But it's just a story. Nobody even knows what light is."
"But, Mother, what if we can eat it? What if it's really good?"
"Well, you might have something there."
"Where does he live?"
"But it's just a story."
"Where? Where?"
"I don't remember that part. Out west, maybe. Yes. West."
"I'm going to try out my wings, and see if I can fly. Maybe I'll be back."
"I doubt it, but if you do then bring me food. I'm starving. Oh, why did I let you go?"
Raven flew above the trees. Did he go west? No! He flew the opposite of west. He flew east. That was the way the wind was blowing. He flew over land, over water, but how could he tell? It was pitch dark. After a long time he saw something ahead, something dim, a big shadow. He flew in to get a closer look.
It was a house, but he had no notion of what a house was. There was a glow coming out the seams. And he could hear voices inside, a big voice and a small voice. He wanted in. He tried to find a way in. He walked around and around those walls. He could not find a way in.
Then Raven heard one of them coming out the other side. He ran around but, as much as he pried and sniffed, he couldn't get in. This happened more than a few times. No matter who came and went, he couldn't get inside. But what was causing the house to glow along its seams? Light? That looked like something good.
So he flew upriver and waited on a branch of a hemlock fir. Yes, he could see in the dark the river bending on its course. And he could see his own feathers as he sat waiting. They were white and almost silver in the glow from the house. Every day someone came out of the house to fill a basket with water and carry it back from the river. Who? Ah, she was pretty good-looking.
Raven had an idea to get in the house. He was ready for change. So he got very small, very, very small, right there on the branch of that hemlock fir. He became a thin little hemlock needle, and that fir needle fell - at just the right time - into the river. She bent down to sip a little water from the river, the way she always did, and she sipped that thin little hemlock needle right down. Oh, he was inside her! What now?
Raven was ready for change. He liked the way she looked. He wanted to look just like that. But it didn't work. He was no girl. He was a boy raven. She gave birth to a boy. That was the second time Raven was born.
The old man was quite pleased to have a grandchild. But that boy got into everything. And if he didn't get what he wanted, Raven boy cried and bawled and howled until he did get it. Raven boy went looking through the whole house that way searching for the light. Finally there was only one thing the old man kept from him, but Raven boy wouldn't let up. He cried and bawled and howled until the old man brought down his box from the rafters and set it on the ground. Raven boy giggled and hopped around and around. He lifted the lid. Wow!
Then the old man clamped it shut. Raven boy cried and bawled and howled, but the old man kept it shut. And they all suffered and suffered as Raven boy cried and cried himself to sleep. As soon as he did so the old man and his daughter fell asleep too. They were worn out.
But Raven boy's curiosity wouldn't let him sleep long. He woke first and lifted the lid-and he saw the light! He was ready for change. He changed back into himself, with all of his beautiful feathers, and he tried to eat the light. When he clamped it in his beak it was HOT!
He flew up with it between the rafters and out the smoke hole in the roof. It was HOT! As soon as he rose above the trees it was so HOT that he bit off the biggest part of it. It fell away to the east and rolled out over the edge of the waters. Then he bit the rest of it, and a million pieces of light scattered across the night sky. One piece lit up in a kind of smile overhead.
And then everything became a lot clearer. Light in the east rose out of the waters into the blue sky and made everything, everything beautiful. And there were clams and fish and crabs and all kinds of wonderful smells.
But did anyone thank Raven? No. They had excuses for this. He wasn't any kind of bird they knew. And that was a problem. He'd worn such beautiful feathers before he brought light into the world, but its heat had charred him black, down to his tail. So he was born a third time, out of the ashes. And he's been born quite a few times since then, but he still remains the black Raven we all know, yet to this day he cannot let go how beautiful he used to be.