Ben Benally Character Analysis

“No test is completely valid,” she said. “Some are more valid than others.”

But Milly believed in tests, questions and answers, words on paper. She was a lot like Ben. She believed in Honor, Industry, the Second Chance, the Brotherhood of Man, the American Dream, and him––Abel; she believed in him. After a while he began to suspect as much […].

We went up there on the hill, him and me, with Tosamah and Cruz. There were a lot of Indians up there, and we really got going after a while. […] Somebody built a fire, and we heated the drums until they were good and you could really hear them. Mercedes Tenorio had some turtle shells and she started doing a stomp dance.

You can forget about everything up there. […] We could see one whole side of the city, all the way to the water, but we couldn’t hear anything down there. All we could hear was the drums and the singing.

He was a longhair, like Tosamah said. You know, you have to change. That’s the only way you can live in a place like this. You have to forget about the way it was, how you grew up and all. Sometimes it’s hard, but you have to do it. Well, he didn’t want to change, I guess, or he didn’t know how. […] He was going to get us all in trouble, Tosamah said. Tosamah sizes him up right away and warned me about him. But, you know, Tosamah doesn’t understand either. He talks pretty big all the time, and he’s educated, but he doesn’t understand.

“They gave him every advantage. […] But was he grateful? Hell, no, man, he was too dumb to be civilized. So what happened? They let him alone at last. They thought he was harmless. […] But it didn’t turn out that way. He turned out to be a real primitive sonuvabitch, and the first time he got hold of a knife he killed a man. That must have embarrassed the hell out of them.

“[…] They put that cat away, man. They had to. It’s part of the Jesus scheme. They, man. They put all of us renegades, us diehards, away sooner or later.”

[Tosamah] doesn’t know how it is when you grow up out there someplace. […] You grow up in the night, and there are a lot of funny things going on, things you don’t know how to talk about. A baby dies, or a good horse. You get sick, or the corn dries up for no good reason. Then you remember something that happened the week before, something that wasn’t right. You heard an owl, maybe, or you saw a funny kind of whirlwind […]. And then you know. You just know. Maybe your aunt or your grandmother was a witch. Maybe you knew she was […]. You just know, and you can’t help being scared.

He was going home, and I wanted to pray. Look out for me, I said; look out each day and listen for me. And we were going together on horses to the hills. We were going to ride out in the first light to the hills. We were going to see how it was, and always was, how the sun came up with a little wind and the light ran out on the land. We were going to get drunk, I said. We were going to be all alone, and we were going to get drunk and sing. We were going to sing about the way it always was. And it was going to be right and beautiful. It was going to be the last time. And he was going home.

“No test is completely valid,” she said. “Some are more valid than others.”

But Milly believed in tests, questions and answers, words on paper. She was a lot like Ben. She believed in Honor, Industry, the Second Chance, the Brotherhood of Man, the American Dream, and him––Abel; she believed in him. After a while he began to suspect as much […].

We went up there on the hill, him and me, with Tosamah and Cruz. There were a lot of Indians up there, and we really got going after a while. […] Somebody built a fire, and we heated the drums until they were good and you could really hear them. Mercedes Tenorio had some turtle shells and she started doing a stomp dance.

You can forget about everything up there. […] We could see one whole side of the city, all the way to the water, but we couldn’t hear anything down there. All we could hear was the drums and the singing.

He was a longhair, like Tosamah said. You know, you have to change. That’s the only way you can live in a place like this. You have to forget about the way it was, how you grew up and all. Sometimes it’s hard, but you have to do it. Well, he didn’t want to change, I guess, or he didn’t know how. […] He was going to get us all in trouble, Tosamah said. Tosamah sizes him up right away and warned me about him. But, you know, Tosamah doesn’t understand either. He talks pretty big all the time, and he’s educated, but he doesn’t understand.

“They gave him every advantage. […] But was he grateful? Hell, no, man, he was too dumb to be civilized. So what happened? They let him alone at last. They thought he was harmless. […] But it didn’t turn out that way. He turned out to be a real primitive sonuvabitch, and the first time he got hold of a knife he killed a man. That must have embarrassed the hell out of them.

“[…] They put that cat away, man. They had to. It’s part of the Jesus scheme. They, man. They put all of us renegades, us diehards, away sooner or later.”

[Tosamah] doesn’t know how it is when you grow up out there someplace. […] You grow up in the night, and there are a lot of funny things going on, things you don’t know how to talk about. A baby dies, or a good horse. You get sick, or the corn dries up for no good reason. Then you remember something that happened the week before, something that wasn’t right. You heard an owl, maybe, or you saw a funny kind of whirlwind […]. And then you know. You just know. Maybe your aunt or your grandmother was a witch. Maybe you knew she was […]. You just know, and you can’t help being scared.

He was going home, and I wanted to pray. Look out for me, I said; look out each day and listen for me. And we were going together on horses to the hills. We were going to ride out in the first light to the hills. We were going to see how it was, and always was, how the sun came up with a little wind and the light ran out on the land. We were going to get drunk, I said. We were going to be all alone, and we were going to get drunk and sing. We were going to sing about the way it always was. And it was going to be right and beautiful. It was going to be the last time. And he was going home.