The Scream and Run

I had a special guest presentation in my writing class today, and the guests spoke about Native American games. It was interesting to find that the games were not so concerned with competition and victory as our games today, but they were about social roles, memory, coordination, cooperation, mental acuity, visual recognition, and fitness. These speakers hinted at Native American mythology, and the role of games in their stories, but they unfortunately did not elaborate too much. One thing they mentioned was a race between man and buffalo to see who would populate the world. They did not name the winner, but it seems that it was a race of endurance, and man evidently won. In regard to endurance, they had us perform a game called the scream and run. This game involves screaming and running simultaneously while carrying a stick, and if either one activity stops, the game is over. It is used to develop stamina and lung capacity.

They suggest someone from class volunteer to do it across campus. Classes are just getting out, so a crowd of students flood the area in which we are convened. No volunteers. "See, this is why I said earlier that psychology is involved," the male guest speakers says. "We present this game to kids and they are all about it, but you college students are a little too cool, a little more reserved." A challenge. An initiation. I accept, grabbing the sharpened wooden stick and setting down my backpack. I start my sprint, screaming at the top of my lungs, running through groups of people turning their heads in amazement and disdain. They don't know what I'm doing. They don't know about the psychological barriers I'm deconstructing. After about 50 yards, my lungs give out, and I bring my run to a halt. I start back through the crowd, and hear someone say, "Yeah, you look like a faggot." It's a female voice. No chance to put the verbal assailant in her place. There would be no gain in the action anyway. These people who think and act like this are not my peers. Their opinions are of little consequence. It's unfortunate we live in this world in which ego is more important than initiation, though. I'm happy to have damaged my ego in participating in this initiation. I will be better because of it.

I get closer to my class congregation and I'm greeted by clapping and hollering. I feel a sense of pride, satisfaction, and unity. These are my peers.