As the driver moved away from his truck, I could see him clearly. He had the high cheekbones, dusky skin, and arched nose of a traditional, and was dressed, like the farmers, in baggy white clothing. He seemed to be walking in the eye of the storm. Perched on his head, completely unaffected by the wind, was a straw cowboy hat with a brown and white feather shoved into a dusty red bandanna that was tied around the crown of the hat. His arms were flung out wide, fingers fluttering like the wing feathers of a bird. He sang his chant in a melodic tenor voice, shuffling his feet in a rhythmic dance and stamping the earth. Then he threw back his head and let out a shrill, high-pitched cry that sounded like the scream of an eagle.