Circle of Life in Packrat

From the day we arrive on the planet And blinking, step into the sun There's more to see than can ever be seen More to do than can ever be done There's far too much to take in here More to find than can ever be found But the sun rolling high Through the sapphire sky Keeps great and small on the endless round

It's the Circle of Life And it moves us all Through despair and hope Through faith and love Till we find our place On the path unwinding In the Circle The Circle of Life

It's the Circle of Life And it moves us all Through despair and hope Through faith and love Till we find our place On the path unwinding In the Circle The Circle of Life

• music by Elton John, lyrics by Tim Rice

A day in mid-June. A fire burns inside a wooden building, black pots hanging over it, their contents boiling, the food and fire tended by men who are the leaders of their respective clans. People sit on either side of the fire. The men will feed those on one side of the fire and address those who sit, fasting, on the other.

The people fasting belong to the host clan and are gathered to welcome a tiny new person into the clan by giving her her "Indian name". She will carry this name for the rest of her life, and when her life is done the name will return to the clan to rest and then be used again. While she carries the name, she is supported by all those who ever had it before her, and her life will give strength to it. A name reflects the life of whoever had it, and for that names have to be chosen carefully. Was this person a good person? Sickly?

Other things factor in. The name can't belong to someone living. The name has to belong to the clan of the baby's father.

In this case, the baby's father is the clan chief, so he had the honor of naming his own daughter. His grandfather had named him and his sister at the very same ground nearly half a century ago.

Voices trembled as the other clan chiefs spoke. All echoed the prayer of her father, that the little girl will be a strong woman, "will always know who she is, that she's Thaki."

She wore her own little "Indian dress" and moccasins for the occasion, her family around her all in new tribal dress in her honor. The material of her dress and her father's ribbon shirt were the same.

While her name was given and repeated by all there, she slept soundly in her grandmother's arms, her father on one side and her aunt on the other. Once the name is given, the baby is handed to each clan member, who repeats the name to her. It's our responsibility that she knows what her name is and what it means.

Her father held her high and stated her name. She went to the arms of everyone present, awake, aware, and quietly, until the ceremony was all but done; once back in her grandmother's arms, she started to wail, hungry - her aunt said she understood completely and was ready to do the same thing herself.

The ceremonies go back countless years and keep us who we are. They bind us to our ancestors, to the very ones who carried the names before.

And only a few feet away from the site of these ancient rites stood the clan leader's house with a huge satellite dish in the yard and a paved road only a mile off a major highway. After the ceremony everyone dressed in shorts and t-shirts, and dinner afterward featured hamburgers and hot dogs, potato salad, a cake honoring Baby.

My niece has her name. Next weekend, my granddaughter gets hers, and I'm upset that I can't be there; I'll be out of state. I thought when I chose the date that all ceremonies would be done, but this year we have had so many unexpected ones.

One of the factors that went into the selection of her name was something that came from me directly; my brother acknowledged this in the ceremony, bringing tears to my eyes - I am her aunt; she is of my blood, my child because she is my brother's, and in her naming we share an even greater bond. I know babies are born every day, and I know I never wanted one of my own, but I never knew the heart could hold SO MUCH love.