The wi’yuǥwa̱mala!

Every spring I am eager to hear the xwak̕wala, the song of the frog. When the wa̱ḵ̓es has woken he rejoices and celebrates the new season with his clan, sharing their joy and gratitude with all the song of the spring, it is a beautiful sound and I am made ixḵ̓a̱sa̱la whenever I am so fortunate to be gifted with this treasure.

The wa̱ḵ̓es sing with such happiness because spring is the happiest time for them, not only because they are awake again but also because soon their wi’yuǥwa̱mala will soon be born, and join them strong and proud in song.


These wi’yuǥwa̱mala’s I found last evening, I was surprised they were there, wa̱ḵ̓es is normally a good parent but their nursery was so very small just a puddle of rain water, however their energy was very high, they wiggled happily, working their little bodies, eager to grow and take their place with their families. The nursery was in the territory of ǥwa’wina, and he was there too, but he did not harm these wi’yuǥwa̱mala and I had to wonder why he did not partake in such an easy meal. I spent some time with ǥwa’wina and saw him fly off to his bed without harming even one of the wi’yuǥwa̱mala.


Today it grew hot and I remembered the wi’yuǥwa̱mala, it crossed my mind that their nursery could evaporate in the hot sun so I took myself down to see how they were fairing. Strangely their nursery, had grown, which it should not have being it was but a puddle of rain water, and no rain had fallen over the night or through the day. The little wi’yuǥwa̱mala’s however were not as I had left them, their wiggles were silenced, their bodies had sunk to the lowest levels of the puddle, they were now all dead.


It made little sense, first for the wa̱ḵ̓es to be so careless in choosing a nursery, for ǥwa’wina to ignore them, and for the puddle to be so much larger when no rain had fallen.


It did not take long however to find the source of the problem, it was my ears that led me to where it lay hidden in the brush nearby.


Whatever was coming from those pipes was gushing heavily into the ground, from where I have not yet discovered but then again there is very little point, genocide is their way, massacre of other being lives to aid them with their avarice, destruction of other people’s and creatures land and water, they are as predictable and unalterable as they are callous.


Not far from this site I found where wa̱ḵ̓es should have left her young, beautiful, quiet and well protected, but the waters were empty, already contaminated from whatever it was that was oozing down the hillside into the glassy waters.


Water is a precious gift the Mother gives us to sustain our lives, money cannot replace it, and we cannot survive without it, but I doubt anyone else will care about the untimely death of the wi’yuǥwa̱mala, in fact I know they don’t. And they will continue to care for nothing else except themselves and their own comfort, and the toxins they put into our waters, because they do not drink water, and if the water is bad, they don’t even like water, they prefer to drink beer, they will only care when their beer is affected, but by then it will be too late.


Now wa̱ḵ̓es children will not grow to sing with their parents, their lives were short and pointless, it is the greatest shame to kill for no purpose and disregard the victim or be unaware or disinterested in the affects of your actions. Soon the xwak̕wala will come no more, and after that will there be anything left alive to sing?



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