Indian

The Indian is a child of the boundless, therefore he doesn’t understand the concept of borders. He not only fails to understand the physical ones, but he doesn’t live with borders in his mind, soul, or genres. At the same time, the Indian doesn’t wander aimlessly; he goes where he has business, and if he has business somewhere, he goes there – regardless of what others think about it or what borders he has to cross.

The Indian is a native, so he assumes everyone else is too.

He doesn’t understand outsiders, nor can he, because according to the Indian, everyone is somewhere. He has no concept of ‘anywhere’, which is why the outsiders living ‘anywhere’ look down on him. The outsiders living ‘anywhere’ believe that the Indian is tied to the land, when in fact the Indian simply stands with both feet on the ground.

The Indian is not overly educated aesthetically; he doesn’t like fruitless debates. He doesn’t tend to ponder whether black and white are colors; on his better days, he finds it amusing when someone explains to him that black is the absence of colors, white is the sum of all colors. The Indian only knows that the world is colorful, and that every shade of color should be as it is; the Indian doesn’t want to correct the perceived mistakes of the Creator.

The Indian really believes that the image captures the soul; besides him, only the creators of images and discerning recipients of the creations think this way.

The Indian knows more about the power of words than all the professors of countless departments put together, which is why he doesn’t chatter unnecessarily. The Indian also knows the value of silence. Therefore, his language is suitable for sending coded messages; in the noise of war, only those who have ears to hear understand the silence.

The Indian is brave. As a test of courage, he remains himself even when everyone else pretends to be someone else.

The Indian is an extremely good tracker; for him, even a cigarette butt can tell a story.

The Indian doesn’t have a mirror, even if he carves one. Not because there’s smoke in his eyes, but because he’s not curious about himself. And if he happens to catch a glimpse of himself, say, in the water, he wouldn’t look at himself, but try to see beneath the surface. The Indian knows that the essence hides beneath the surface.

The Indian can be alone, but never lonely. He always thinks of himself as the member of a tribe, and if the tribe casts him out, he goes from somewhere to somewhere as a non-member of that specific tribe. The Indian’s dance is a tribal dance, his song is a tribal song, and he dances and sings it even when the other members of the tribe are already watching shadow play on a pub wall, intoxicated by firewater.

Because the Indian knows something very important: anyone can be an American, but you have to be born an Indian.

Note:

“Outsiders living ‘anywhere’”: This phrase (kintszülöttek) is a play on words in Hungarian. “Bennszülött” means native or indigenous, while “kintszülött” (literally “born outside”) is a made-up word to contrast it, emphasizing the idea of rootlessness.