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TRIPPING AT THE CASTLE
by
Lenette Brown

My trip to the Castle Museum, located in downtown Saginaw, is one I will never forget because it was exciting and informative. The museum is handicap-accessible, complete with a wooden ramp. The castle building itself is beige with burgundy double doors and shuttered windows.

As our English class toured the museum, I encountered an American Indian exhibit
that was so detailed and lifelike that I became lost in the exhibit. I could almost smell the meat cooking on the open fire, and I could actually feel the heat from the roaring flames. I heard the river rushing along. The tall pine trees surrounding this peaceful village were spreading their sweet smell of pine through the air. An Indian woman with waist-length braids and a multi-colored beaded dress motioned for me to follow her into one of the wigwams. It was a funny looking shelter with no doors or windows; there were several of these lined in a perfect circle around the smoking camp fires. To my surprise, when I entered the wigwam there was no furniture or silverware, only clay pots bubbling on open fires like bottles of sparkling champagne. Dirt was where the floor should have been, and there was a bow and arrow and many kinds of animal skins lying around with everywhere. Some looked like rabbit or maybe even squirrel skins. I did not know for sure.

The Indian woman began speaking in a language I did not understand, but body language kicked in like a mule kicking a can. I soon realized she was offering me something to eat. I accepted a piece of meat on a small wooden smooth surface that looked like a small tray. The meat had a sweet-sour taste. I had no idea what I was eating, but it was good. The water was offered in a small object that resembled a squash with a handle.

I felt a breath of fresh air on my face and I looked up into the blue sky and passing clouds overhead. There was no roof, only a small opening for the smoke to escape from the wigwam. Birds flying overhead were making small cooing sounds.

Drums started beating like a baby’s heartbeat on an ultrasound. I rushed outside to see an Indian man approaching with a more colorful outfit than anyone else's. He had a long crooked line painted on his face, reminding me if an old country road. He spoke: "Who be you?" he questioned in broken English. "I be me," I replied. I was unaware that I had spoken in the same broken English as the Indian until I heard it come out of my mouth. "Uh" he said. I just stood there dumbfound as he strode into the wigwam where the Indian woman was.

Standing there with my mouth agape, I saw the sun slowly sinking behind a tall snow-capped mountain. The rust colored sky with the flowing white clouds looked like big fluffy pillows reminding me of an art gallery painting. This beautiful sight was breathtaking.

"Class, it's time to go." I blinked and the noise and smell of the Indian village was gone. I then realized it was my professor telling my class our field trip to the Castle Museum was over.
I was once again in front of the glass-encased exhibit at the Castle Museum, not in the Indian village. As I was leaving I could have sworn I saw the Indian woman wave goodbye to me. I guess I was really "tripping" at the Castle Museum.