Big Indian

Intermarriages between white people and red ones in this country were not uncommon in the days when our ancestors led as rude a life as the natives, and several places in the Catskills commemorate this fact. Mount Utsayantha, for example, is named for an Indian woman whose life, with that of her baby and her white husband, was lost there. For the white men early found friends among these mountains. As far back as 1663 they spared Catherine Dubois and her three children, after some rash spirits had abducted them and carried them to a place on the upper Walkill, to do them to death; for the captives raised a Huguenot hymn and the hearts of their captors were softened.
In Esopus Valley lived Winnisook, whose height was seven feet, and who was known among the white settlers as "the big Indian." He loved a white girl of the neighborhood, one Gertrude Molyneux, and had asked for her hand; but while she was willing, the objections of her family were too strong to be overcome, and she was teased into marriage with Joseph Bundy, of her own race, instead. She liked the Indian all the better after that, however, because Bundy proved to be a bad fellow, and believing that she could be happier among barbarians than among a people that approved such marriages, she eloped with Winnisook. For a long time all trace of the runaway couple was lost, but one day the man having gone down to the plain to steal cattle, it was alleged, was discovered by some farmers who knew him, and who gave hot chase, coming up with him at the place now called Big Indian.
Foremost in the chase was Bundy. As he came near to the enemy of his peace he exclaimed, "I think the best way to civilize that yellow serpent is to let daylight into his heart," and, drawing his rifle to his shoulder, he fired. Mortally wounded, yet instinctively seeking refuge, the giant staggered into the hollow of a pine-tree, where the farmers lost sight of him. There, however, he was found by Gertrude, bolt upright, yet dead. The unwedded widow brought her dusky children to the place and spent the remainder of her days near his grave. Until a few years ago the tree was still pointed out, but a railroad company has now covered it with an embankment. - by Charles M. Skinner, Myths and Legends of Our Own Land

Banking in America

Once I was in Victoria, and saw a very large house. They told me it was a bank, and that the white men place their money there to be taken care of, and that by and by they got it back, with interest.

We are Indians, and we have no such bank; but when we have plenty of money or blankets, we give them away to other chiefs and people, and by and by they return them, with interest, and our hearts feel good. Our way of giving is our bank.

Maquinna - Nootka Chief

Biker Food

Hey biker mates just a quick note to share with you a wealth of 2-wheeled info that been in my outhouse library since 1989. The "Winding Road - Motorcycle Times" has been on my shortlist for years and worth sharing. It usually gets the petrol stirring in my biker veins and provides much relief from boredom on rainy days and during winter months. Pick a copy up at your local dealer for free. There are some very articulate writers on its pages awaiting your eyes...Winding Road - Motorcycle Times

Desecration

On this land there is a great deal of timber, pine and oak, that are much use to the white man. They send it to foreign countries, and it brings them a great deal of money.

On the land there is much grass for cattle and horses, and much food for the hogs.

On this land there is a great deal of tobacco raised, which likewise brings much money. Even the streams are valuable to the white man, to grind the wheat and corn that grows on this land. The pine trees that are dead are valuable for tar.

All these things are lasting benefits. But if the Indians are given just a few goods for their lands, in one or two seasons those goods are all rotted and gone for nothing.

We are told that our lands are of no service to us, but still, if we hold our lands, there will always be a turkey, or a deer, or a fish in the streams for those young who will come after us.

We are afraid if we part with any more of our lands the white people will not let us keep as much as will be sufficient to bury our dead.

Doublehead - Creek Chief

Good Words

Good words do not last long unless they amount to something. Words do not pay for my dead people. They do not pay for my country, now overrun by white men. They do not protect my father's grave. They do not pay for all my horses and cattle.

Good words will not give back my children. Good words will not make good the promise of your War Chief. Good words will not give my people good health and stop them from dying. Good words will not get my people a home where they can live in peace and take care of themselves.

I am tired of talk that comes to nothing. It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and all the broken promises. There has been too much talking by men who had no right to talk.

Chief Joseph - Nez Perce

Confinement

If the white man wants to live in peace with the Indian, he can live in peace. Treat all men alike. Give them all the same law. Give them all an even chance to live and grow.

All men were made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers. The Earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have equal rights upon it. You might as well expect the rivers to run backward as that any man who was born a free man should be contented when penned up and denied liberty to go where he pleases.

If you tie a horse to a stake, do you expect he will grow fat ? If you pen an Indian up on a small spot of earth, and compel him to stay there, he will not be contented, nor will he grow and prosper.

Chief Joseph - Nez Perce

End of the Trail

When it comes time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

Chief Aupumut - Mohican

Fraudulent Treaties

Here, for the first time, I have touched the goose quill to the treaty - not knowing, however, that by that act I consented to give away my village! Had that been explained to me, I should have opposed it, and never would have signed their treaty, as my recent conduct has clearly proven.
What do we know of this manner of the laws and customs of the white people? They might buy our bodies for dissection, and we would touch the goose quill to confirm it, without knowing what we were doing. This was the case with myself and my people touching the goose quill for the first time. We can only judge what is proper and right by our standard of right and wrong, which differs widely from the whites, if I have been correctly informed. The whites, if I have been correctly informed. The whites may do bad for all their lives, and then, if they are sorry for it when they are about to die, all is well!
But with us it is different : We must continue throughout our lives to do what we conceive to be good. If we have corn and meat, and know of a family that has none, we divide with them. If we have more blankets than are sufficient, and others have not enough, we must give to them that want.
Black Hawk - Sauk

Worship

Whenever, in the course of the daily hunt, the hunter comes upon a scene that is strikingly beautiful, or sublime - a black thundercloud with the rainbow's glowing arch above the mountain, a white waterfall in the heart of a green gorge, a vast prairie tinged with the blood-red of the sunset - he pauses for an instant in the attitude of worship.

He sees no need for a setting apart one day in seven as a holy day, because to him all days are God's days.

Charles Alexander Eastman (Ohiyesa)

Friendship

Friendship is held to be the severest test of character. It is easy, we think, to be loyal to family and clan, whose blood is our own veins. Love between man and woman is founded on the mating instinct and is not free from desire and self-seeking. But to have a friend, and to be true under any and all trials, is the mark of a man!

Charles Alexander Eastman (Ohiyesa)

The Kainerehkowa Is Not The Great Law of Peace

Somewhere in our history it became common-place to refer to the Kainerehkowa as the "Great Law of Peace". It sounds benign enough but the fact is that it is wrong. Some expressions just don't translate well especially when a culture-specific concept is involved. The best literal translation would be; "a great good way". Doesn't sound quite as impressive as a "Great Law of Peace" now does it? The concept of a "law" and any variation of the word for "peace" is no where in the word. Our concept of a "good way" or a "good path" is tied to the image of a path worn through our lands by those that came before us. A path that served our people well and even if we strayed from that path, we could find our way back to it to right ourselves again. The differences between the concept of a law that must be followed and a path that has been constructed to make life easier is significant and should not be ignored. Dekanawida and Hiawentha did not make up or create the Kaianerehkowa from thin air. It came from those that came before them. They led us back to the path and made it clear to us that this Great Good Way should be maintained and used to ensure our peace and survival. It was never im-plied that certain areas of our Mother were forbidden to be traveled on; just that a path had been laid down by the feet of all our relatives that have come before us, should we ever find ourselves lost or troubled. The problem is not that we stray from the path but that we for-get our way back to it. This Kaianerehkowa is represented by the Hiawentha Wampum Belt and the words that were spoken into those wampums. They were to be repeated and discussed often enough so that we would always know how to get back on the right path.
Perhaps it was the best way to explain our ways to the white man that got us calling the Kaianerehkowa the Great Law of Peace. We have referred to it as our Constitution, our government and the greatest democracy the world has ever known. But it is much more and much less. The Kaianerehkowa did not dictate our lives. It was not law or set of laws to follow. It was not a standard to judge the lawful from the unlawful. The Kaianerehkowa uses nature and metaphors to create a timeless path or process to solve problems and address the issues of life. It is neither a bible nor is it all that defines us. It does not create governmental authority over the consent of the governed but rather establishes a natural process for people to govern themselves. It is more than a good path; it is a Great Good Way. - John Kane, Karhiio, Making A Visible Impact

The Long and Winding Trail

Because cigarettes have such a deservedly
unsympathetic role in modern society, it's no
wonder there is little support for any cigarette
retailers. Questions of fairness and free
enterprise fly out the window due to the simple
fact that cigarettes kill people. Even still,
Chief Harry Wallace is incredulous at the attack on the
Native American smoke trade for reasons
beyond the economic peril it places them in.
“They're the ones that turned a Native
American sacrament into a carcinogen,” he
says in disgust.
When America declared itself free,
indigenous people were herded like animals
onto isolated areas of the burgeoning nation.
Stretches of remote desert lands and parcels
nestled in the secluded woodland areas
became homesteads for Native Americans.
Their numbers were decimated and the
survivors were humiliated. Yet, in the
beginning, there was still food to eat and some
freedom to move about. But the influx just
kept coming.
Says Robert Odawi Porter: “Personally I don‟t think it
sunk in with our people that the usage of our
land was so severely restricted. We weren't
used to lines being drawn on a map.”
Over time, a sea of white faces pushed
deeper and deeper into the country—slowly at
first, then like a dam bursting, they rushed
through the forests and across the plains.
Pretty soon they were everywhere. They
brought machines and ushered in the Industrial
Revolution. Gradually, the skies turned
gray, the waters turned brown and the earth
lay fallow.
This part of the story took 400 years. The
next part took much less time.
Native Americans became like prison
inmates adapting to life on the “inside.” By
the mid-20th century the Native American
population living on reservation land was
among the poorest on Earth. The game was
long gone and the earth and seas were
poisoned. Fast food, low-wage jobs and
hustling were part of the daily routine. If you
stayed, you hustled. And you probably drank.
If you were a woman, there was a one-in-three
chance of being raped in your lifetime.
JC Seneca
This was life on “the res” and for many
tribes, it still is.
For the most part, reservations are rural ghettos,
forgotten wastelands with few opportunities
to get ahead. This concept of “getting
ahead” in America usually starts very simply.
Find a job. Buy a home. Take out a home equity
loan to start your business. As the business
grows, you have the option of paying off
that loan and securing business financing. But
this is precisely where the Indian economic
dream ends.
Because reservation land cannot be owned
by anyone, the land and any structure on it
cannot be leveraged. Put simply, if it cannot
be repossessed, you can't take out a loan on it.
Therefore, even the most industrious Indian
entrepreneur has been unable to tap into the
source of financing that is behind nearly every
great American story of growth and industry.
by Jed Morey, published in mavimag.com

Nurture Mother's Creatures

With tears running, O Great Spirit, my Grandfather-with tears running I must say now that the tree has never bloomed. Here at the center of the world where you took me when I was young and showed the goodness and the beauty and the strangeness of the greening earth, you have said that I should make the tree to bloom. It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds. Hear me not for myself but for my people; I am old. Hear me that they may once more go back into the sacred hoop and find the good red road, the shielding tree!

Black Elk - Oglala Sioux

Respect for Today

This is the beginning of a new day.
The Creator has given me this day to use as I will.
I can waste it - or use it for good,
but what I do today is important,
because I am exchanging a day of my life for it.
When tomorrow comes,
this day will be gone forever,
leaving in its place something that I have traded for it.
I want it to be gain, not loss;
good and not evil;
success, and not failure;
in order that I shall not regret the price others have paid for it.

- Unknown

Deskaheh at the League of Nations in Switzerland 1924

"I do hereby in his Majesty's name, authorize and permit the said Mohawk nation and such other of the Six Nations Indians as wish to settle in that quarter to take possession of and settle upon the banks of the river commonly called Ouse or Grand River...which them and their posterity are to enjoy forever."

Then he recited the tale of the broken pledge, the raid of the Royal Mounted Police, the rummaging of his own house, the building of the police barracks, the seizure of the sacred wampum. The story would be incredible without evidence, he said. but he had foreseen this and had the proofs with him. Then he lifted the lid of the suitcase and with care and reverence drew from within the old headed wampum on which might be read the sworn agreements of' white governments with his people. Speaking with deep feeling, translating these documents slowly and impressively, stopping now and then to make clear the meanings of the bead colors and of the representations of the symbols, he made his entranced listeners feel that this was not the narration of the grievances of a small racial unit, but the story of all minority peoples - the tragedy of every small nation that is a neighbor to a larger one. When he finished, there was a moment of silence - then a roar of a tremendous ovation. Thousands rose to their feet to cheer him and the great hall echoed and re-echoed with their applause. Straight, unsmiling, impassive, he waited until after many minutes the sound began to wane. Then, still expressionless he left the platform.

Before the end of 1924, the Speaker of the Six Nations Council had returned to the United States, a disillusioned and discouraged man. An exile from Canada and from the nation he thought he had failed, he found refuge with Clinton Rickard in the house of the benign old chief. There, by the Niagara River, which marks the Canadian boundary, he found that the people for whom he had fought did not think him a failure. From their northern homes in Grand River Land, they journeyed here to see him and assure him of their loyalty. Though his disheartening experience had weakened him physically, his spirit took fire from their words and with never-ending courage, he kept up his battle.

Now is the Time for Change

 

Native Americans and the US Government

The Great Binding Law of the Iroquois was the single most important model for the 1754 Albany Plan of Union, and later the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution. It was the prime example of a successful noncoercive society with equal political, economic, social, and civil rights for all its people. Their model significantly influenced the formation of the US constitution and also (to some degree) the models of Marx and communism. American history books usually place the creative intellect for our constitution with Jefferson, Franklin, Madison etc, when in fact many of their ideas were actually taken from the Great Binding Law. It wasn't an advanced western society influencing the Indians, rather the other way around. The US constitution enacted a representative form of democracy rather than the participatory one and over the course of several centuries, these representatives diverted most of the remaining Native American lands out of the hands of its original stewards. Many issues surrounding the now age old promises made to Native American's remain in bureaucratic quagmires to this day. Certainly an argument for how a centralized system of democratic government has the potential to be subverted by money and corporate influence. That influence is hyperactive today in the government's heavy involvement in institutions such as The World Bank, IMF and the GATT agreements; which sacrifice cultures & ecosystems around the globe for the enrichment of a small number of multinational corporations and individuals.
There is both wisdom and heart in many of the ways and philosophies of the original native american cultures (attributes in short supply in our material society). Not all are applicable in today's world, but many are and could be used to make changes to better this little planet.

For Mom

"Over The Rainbow / What A Wonderful World"

Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
And the dreams that you dream of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly
And the dreams that you dream of, dreams really do come true
Someday I'll wish upon a star, wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly
And the dreams that you dare to, oh why, oh why can't I?
Well I see trees of green and red roses too,
I'll watch them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

Well I see skies of blue and clouds of white and the brightness of day
I like the dark and I think to myself, what a wonderful world
The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky are also on the faces of people passing by
I see friends shaking hands saying,
How do you do?
They're really saying, I a..." I love you
I hear babies cry and I watch them grow,
They'll learn much more than we'll know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

Someday I'll wish upon a star, wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
And the dreams that you dare to, oh why, oh why can't I?

- EV Harburg/Harold Arlen

Natural Bridge Virginia

Though several natural bridges are known in this country, there is but one that is famous the world over, and that is the one which spans Clear Creek, Virginia—the remnant of a cave-roof, all the rest of the cavern having collapsed. It is two hundred and fifteen feet above the water, and is a solid mass of rock forty feet thick, one hundred feet wide, and ninety feet in span. Thomas Jefferson owned it; George Washington scaled its side and carved his name on the rock a foot higher than any one else. Here, too, came the youth who wanted to cut his name above Washington's, and who found, to his horror, when half-way up, that he must keep on, for he had left no resting-places for his feet at safe and reachable distances—who, therefore, climbed on and on, cutting handhold and foothold in the limestone until he reached the top, in a fainting state, his knife-blade worn to a stump. Here, too, in another tunnel of the cavern, flows Lost River, that all must return to, at some time, if they drink of it. Here, beneath the arch, is the dark stain, so like a flying eagle that the French officer who saw it during the Revolution augured from it a success for the united arms of the nations that used the eagle as their symbol.


The Mohegans knew this wonder of natural masonry, for to this point they were pursued by a hostile tribe, and on reaching the gulf found themselves on the edge of a precipice that was too steep at that point to descend. Behind them was the foe; before them, the chasm. At the suggestion of one of their medicine-men they joined in a prayer to the Great Spirit for deliverance, and when again they looked about them, there stood the bridge. Their women were hurried over; then, like so many Horatii, they formed across this dizzy highway and gave battle. Encouraged by the knowledge that they had a safe retreat in case of being overmastered, they fought with such heart that the enemy was defeated, and the grateful Mohegans named the place the Bridge of God.  - Charles M. Skinner, Myths and Legends of Our Own Land

Land

The Seventh Fire Prophecy

During the time of the seventh fire, A new people will emerge to retrace the footsteps of their ancestors in search of new ways to live in harmony with one another.

During this time of rebirth, humanity will find itself at a crossroads and will be given an opportunity to live a spiritual life rather than continue to be distracted by technologies.

It is believed we are now living in the time of the seventh fire, and few would deny that we are indeed at a crossroads.

To make it possible to light the eighth and final fire of peace and harmony.

The time to act is now.

The responsibility is ours.

Great Americans

The great Chief Joseph died broken-spirited and broken-hearted. He did not hate the whites, for there was nothing small about him, and when he laid down his weapons he would not fight on with his mind. But he was profoundly disappointed in the claims of a Christian civilization. I call him great because he was simple and honest. Without education or special training he demonstrated his ability to lead and to fight when justice demanded. He outgeneraled the best and most experienced commanders in the army of the United States, although their troops were well provisioned, well armed, and above all unencumbered. He was great finally, because he never boasted of his remarkable feat. I am proud of him, because he was a true American.
- Charles A Eastman on Chief Joseph