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Post by yellowhair1850 on May 15, 2014 12:54:15 GMT -5
Thank you LouieG for your help. It helps a lot!
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Post by yellowhair1850 on May 11, 2014 16:22:10 GMT -5
Can someone name the thirteen Dakota moons for me? I'm missing two.
Moon of Frost in the Tipis (Jan.) Moon of Dark Red Calves (Feb.) Moon of the Snow Blind (March) Moon of Red Grass Growing (April) Moon When the Ponies Shed (May) Moon of Making Fat (June) Moon When Cherries are Ripe (July) Moon of Black Cherries (Aug.) Moon When Calves Grow Hair (Sept.) Moon of the Changing Season (Oct.) Moon of Falling Leaves (Nov.)
The corresponding months are approximations. I know there are 28 days to a moon.
Thank you.
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Mar 16, 2014 13:45:33 GMT -5
On a cold December morning in 1890 with snow on the ground, three hundred and fifty unarmed Lakota Indians (120 men and 230 women and children) were massacred at Wounded Knee Creek by soldiers of the 7th Cavalry, Custer’s old outfit. The Congressional Medal of Honor was awarded to twenty-three men of the Seventh. This is the story of one of those brave men. • • • • • • Just then a shot rang out. At first no one made a move, all was quiet. Then the Hotchkiss guns, which could fire forty-three rounds per minute, started to rake the tipis, going through their skins as though they were not there. The people inside the tipis, those that were not killed instantly, ran out in panic. The Lakota men who had given up their guns ran towards the pile in an effort to retrieve them, but most were cut down by the fire from the Hotchkiss guns. Running for his life the Indian known as Yellow Hair jumped over the lip of the ravine and almost landed on a dead woman sprawled on the incline. Next to her sat an infant, still alive, that was oblivious to the horror going on around him. As he passed, Yellow Hair plucked the child up and made for the bushes at the bottom. When he made it to where there was cover, he found a woman and a small girl hiding there. The girl was crying and the woman was shaking from head to foot. Yellow Hair handed the infant to the woman and said, “Do not worry mother, neither you nor your child will die this day.” He then made sure that his gun was fully loaded and prepared to shoot the first soldier that stuck his head over the rim of the ravine. They were the only ones in that area, but about one hundred yards to the north, men, women and children were huddled at the bottom while soldiers stood above and shot down at them. And every once in a while he could hear someone shout, “Remember the Little Bighorn!” The Seventh was getting some of its own back. While that was going on at the ravine, the men behind the Hotchkiss guns continued to fire at anything that moved. Unfortunately for some of the soldiers before their guns that meant them as well. In the frenzy, soldiers were killing soldiers as well as Indians. Not all the Lakota ran to the ravine. Some ran to the open prairie in an effort to escape death. None of them had weapons; they were just running for their lives. Some of the soldiers made for their horses, mounted and ran down the fleeing people as if they, the soldiers, were on a buffalo hunt. As they approached the people, mostly women and children, they would thingy their guns and fire. If they missed they would turn their horse for another try. One trooper was heard to exclaim, “Great fun, I betcha I get more than you!” When the carnage was over some Lakota bodies were found as far away as five miles, which led some to speculate that the soldiers toyed with the Indians to prolong the hunt. Back at the ravine, when targets became scarce, one of the soldiers on the rim started to make his way in Yellow Hair’s direction. His name was John Dinneen, a private in the Seventh. So far that morning he had killed fifteen unarmed people, ten of whom were women and children. And now he was looking for more turkeys. That is how he thought of the cowering Indians. At one point he yelled to his compatriots, “Come on boys, it’s just like an old fashion turkey shoot and I’m a gonna win me a prize!” As Dinneen made his way toward Yellow Hair, he scoured the bush looking for Indians. He walked slowly and purposefully, he did not want to miss any turkeys. Because of his slow progress, the tension built within the woman and girl. Finally it became unbearable and the girl bolted from their hiding place. When Dinneen saw her, he smiled to himself, and under his breath he said, “I outta git two points for this one. Them small ones is hard to hit when they’re movin’ so fast.” As he raised the rifle to his shoulder to take aim, Yellow Hair stood. It was his intention to draw Dinneen’s fire, but Dinneen was so intent on sighting the girl he did not see him. Yellow Hair yelled to get Dinneen’s attention, but with all the gunfire, he did not think he could be heard. So, Yellow Hair did the only thing left to do, he sighted Dinneen and fired. The bullet, though he aimed for the man’s heart, if he had one, plowed into his left shoulder before he could fire at the girl. With a shout of pain, Dinneen dropped his gun and then he saw Yellow Hair. The look of astonishment on Dinneen’s face made Yellow Hair smile. He cocked his gun for another try at the man’s heart, but Dinneen turned and ran before he could sight him. Yellow Hair looked for the girl, but she was nowhere to be seen. Looking down at the woman he said, “Do not worry, she got away, she is safe.” He did not know if it was true, but it was all he could say. One last point on Private Dinneen: His wound was not life threatening, though because of nerve damage he did lose the use of his left arm. But other than that he lived a long, if not particularly fruitful, life. He, along with twenty-two other brave men of the Seventh, was given the Congressional Medal of Honor for his bravery at Wounded Knee. His citation read in full: “For conspicuous bravery in action against Indians concealed in a ravine.” It seems as though Private Dinneen did indeed receive his prize for the turkey shoot.
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Mar 5, 2014 16:12:46 GMT -5
(This is for lgarcia)
"In the beginning, before the creation of the Earth, the gods resided in the sky, and humans lived in darkness. Chief among the gods is Takuskanskan, the Sun, who is married to the Moon; he has one daughter, Wohpe. Old Man and Old Woman, whose daughter, Ite is wife to Wind, to who she gave four sons, the Four Winds.
“Of the other spirits, the most important is Inktomi, the devious trickster. Inktomi conspired with Old Man and Old Woman to increase their daughter's status by arranging an affair between the Sun and Ite. His wife’s discovery of the affair lead Takuskanskan, to give the Moon her own domain, and by separating her from himself, created time.
“Old Man, Old Woman and Ite – who was separated from Wind, her husband – were banished to Earth. Ite, along with her children, the Four Winds and a fifth wind, the child of Ite, but not of Wind, established space. The daughter of the Sun and the Moon, Wohpe, also fell to earth and later resided with the South Wind. The two adopted the fifth wind, called Wamniomni.
“Alone on the newly formed Earth, some of the gods became bored. Ite prevailed upon Inktomi to find her people, the Buffalo Nation. In the form of a wolf, Inktomi went beneath the earth and discovered a village of humans. Inktomi told them about the wonders of the Earth and convinced one man, Tokahe, to accompany him to the surface. Tokahe did so, and upon reaching the surface through a cave, saw the green grass and blue sky. Inktomi and Ite introduced Tokahe to buffalo meat and showed him tipis, clothing, hunting clubs, and bows and arrows. Tokahe returned to the underworld village and appealed to six other men and their families to go with him to the Earth's surface.
“When they arrived, they discovered that Inktomi has deceived them. The buffalo were scarce; the weather had turned bad, and they found themselves starving. Unable to return to their home, but armed with a new knowledge about the world, they survived to become the founders of the Seven Council Fires."
amzn.to/18HFkQg
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Mar 5, 2014 15:33:04 GMT -5
Thank you Louis ... I reckon I've been told the wrong version ... I'll try to do better in the future.
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Mar 2, 2014 19:54:09 GMT -5
Before the celebration commenced the pipe was smoked. When the pipe had gone around the fire and came back to us, Tom asked White Dog about the feathers and the work on the bowl. As the others at our fire talked among themselves, White Dog told Tom and me of the sacred pipe and White Buffalo Woman. “Before we were Lakota, before we were The People, there was a time we were hungry. Then one day, two scouts were hunting the buffalo when they came to the top of a small hill. A long way off, they saw the figure of a woman. As she approached, they saw that she was beautiful. She was young and wore a white buckskin dress, and carried a wakin. One of the scouts had lustful thoughts and told the other. His friend told him that she was sacred and told him not to have such thoughts. “As the woman came up to them, she said to the one with the lustful thoughts, ‘Come forward.’ The brave moved to touch her and a white cloud covered them from sight. “The woman stepped from the cloud and it blew away. There on the ground, at the beautiful woman’s feet, lay a pile of bones with worms crawling in and among them. “The woman said to the other scout, ‘Good things I am bringing, something holy to your nation. Go to your village and tell your people that I am coming and for them to build a medicine lodge large enough to hold all the chiefs of the nation. “The people heard the scout’s story and constructed the lodge. When the woman came to the village, out of the wakin she withdrew a pipe. On one side of the pipe was carved a bison calf. ‘The bison represents the earth, which will house and feed you,’ said White Buffalo Woman. “From the wooden stem of the pipe hung twelve eagle feathers. The chiefs were told: ‘The feathers represent the sky and the twelve moons. On one side of the bowl are carved seven circles. They represent Ocheti Shakowin, the seven sacred campfires of the Lakota nation. With this pipe, you shall prosper. With this pipe, you shall commune with Wakan Tan’ka. With this pipe, you shall become The People. You shall be bound with the Earth, for She is your mother, She is sacred. “She filled the pipe with bark of the red willow, lit it and told the People that the rising smoke was the living breath of Wakan Tan’ka. Having given the pipe to the People, and having said what she had to say, she turned and walked four paces from the lodge and sat down. When she stood, she was a black buffalo calf. She walked on, lay down and came up as a brown buffalo calf. Walking still farther, she turned into a red buffalo and finally she stood upon a hill as a white buffalo calf. She turned, bowed in the four directions of the four winds and then she vanished. “Because of White Buffalo Woman we honor our mother the Earth; we honor our parents and grandparents. We honor the birds of the sky; we honor the beast of the earth. We know that Wakan Tan’ka resides in all animals, in all trees and plants and rocks and stones. Wakan Tan’ka is in all. We know that Wakan Tan’ka lives in each of us. Because of White Buffalo Woman we have become Lakota.” amzn.to/18HFkQg
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Aug 11, 2011 18:44:32 GMT -5
Please excuse my French ... but this post is fuckin' amazing ... I've got questions for you ... but will wait until I finish my own research ...
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jul 15, 2011 20:39:26 GMT -5
Thank you ...
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jul 13, 2011 5:52:58 GMT -5
Anyone know how to say "Little-White-Dove" in Lakota ... the best I came up with is Ská wakínyela ... which means White Dove ... little is èik ayela or another way of saying little is la èonala ...
Thank you ...
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jul 8, 2011 13:10:52 GMT -5
“Hey-a-a-hey! Hey-a-a-hey! Hey-a-a-hey! Grandfather, Great Spirit, once more behold me on earth and lean to hear my feeble voice. You lived first, and you are older than all need, older than all prayer. All things belong to you, the two-legged, the four-legged, the wings of the air and all green things that live. You have set the powers of the four quarters to cross each other. The good road and the road of difficulties you have made to cross; and where they cross, the place is holy. Day in and day out, forever, you are the life of all things. “You have said to me, when I was still young and could hope that in difficulty I should send a voice four times, once for each quarter of the earth.
“Today I send a voice for a people in despair. From the west, you have given me the cup of living water and the sacred bow, the power to make live and to destroy. You have given me a sacred wind and the herb from where the white giant lives--the cleansing power and the healing. The daybreak star and the pipe, you have given from the east; and from the south, the nations' sacred hoop and the tree that was to bloom. To the center of the world you have taken me and showed the goodness and beauty and the strangeness of the greening earth, the only mother--and there the spirit shapes of things, as they should be, you have shown to me and I have seen. At the center of this sacred hoop you have said that I should make the tree to bloom. With tears running, O Great Spirit, Great Spirit, my Grandfather--with running tears I must say that the tree has never bloomed. A pitiful old man, you see me here, and I have fallen away and have done nothing. Here at the center of the world, where you took me when I was young and taught; here, old, I stand, and the tree is withered, Grandfather, my Grandfather!
“Again, and maybe the last time on this earth, I recall the great vision you sent me. 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! In sorrow I am sending a feeble voice, O Six Powers of the World. Hear me in my sorrow, for I may never call again. O make my people live!”
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jul 7, 2011 13:08:37 GMT -5
I got the name of the book from here ... it must be nice to run down your family like this ... when you get more please post it ... thank you ... it's very interesting ...
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jun 30, 2011 21:49:05 GMT -5
In the beginning, the world was covered with darkness. There was no sun, no day. The perpetual night had no moon or stars.
There were, however, all manner of beasts and birds. Among the beasts were many hideous, nameless monsters, as well as dragons, lions, tigers, wolves, foxes, beavers, rabbits, squirrels, rats, mice, and all manner of creeping things such as lizards and serpents. Mankind could not prosper under such conditions, for the beasts and serpents destroyed all human offspring.
All creatures had the power of speech and were gifted with reason.
There were two tribes of creatures: the birds or the feathered tribe and the beasts. The former were organized wider, their chief, the eagle.
These tribes often held councils, and the birds wanted light admitted. This the beasts repeatedly refused to do. Finally, the birds made war against the beasts.
The beasts were armed with clubs, but the eagle had taught his tribe to use bows and arrows. The serpents were so wise that they could not all be killed. One took refuge in a perpendicular cliff of a mountain in Arizona, and his eyes may be see in that rock to this day. The bears, when killed, would each be changed into several other bears, so that the more bears the feathered tribe killed, the more there were. The dragon could not be killed, either, for he was covered with four coats of horny scales, and the arrows would not penetrate these. One of the most hideous, vile monsters was proof against arrows, so the eagle flew high up in the air with a round, white stone, and let it fall on this monster's head, killing him instantly. This was such a good service that the stone was called sacred. They fought for many days, but at last, the birds won the victory.
After this war was over, although some evil beasts remained, the birds were able to control the councils, and light was admitted, then mankind could live and prosper. The eagle was chief in this good fight: therefore, his feathers were worn by man as emblems of wisdom, justice, and power.
Among the few human beings that were yet alive was a woman who had been blessed with many children, but these had always been destroyed by the beasts. If by any means she succeeded in eluding the others, the dragon, who was very wise and very evil, would come himself and eat her babes.
After many years, a son of the rainstorm was born to her and she dug for him a deep cave. The entrance to this cave she closed and over the spot built a campfire. This concealed the babe's hiding place and kept him warm. Every day she would remove the fire and descend into the cave, where the child's bed was, to nurse him; then she would return and rebuild the campfire.
Frequently the dragon would come and question her, but she would say, I have no more children; you have eaten all of them.
When the child was larger, he would not always stay in the cave, for he sometimes wanted to run and play. Once the dragon saw his tracks. Now this perplexed and enraged the old dragon, for he could not find the hiding place of the boy; but he said that he would destroy the mother if she did not reveal the child's hiding place. The poor mother was very much troubled; she could not give up her child, but she knew the power and cunning of the dragon, therefore she lived in constant fear.
Soon after this, the boy said that he wished to go hunting. The mother would not give her consent. She told him of the dragon, the wolves, and serpents; but he said, tomorrow I go.
At the boy's request, his uncle, who was the only man then living, made a little bow and some arrows for him, and the two went hunting the next day. They trailed the deer far up the mountain and finally the boy killed a buck. His uncle showed him how to dress the deer and broil the meat. They broiled two hindquarters, one for the child, and one for his uncle. When the meat was done, they placed it on some bushes to cool. Just then the huge form of the dragon appeared. The child was not afraid, but his uncle was so dumb with fright that he did not speak or move.
The dragon took the boy's parcel of meat and went aside with it. He placed the meat on another bush and seated himself beside it. Then he said, This is the child I have been seeking. Boy, you are nice and fat, so when I have eaten this venison I shall eat you. The boy said, No, you shall not eat me, and you shall not eat that meat. So he walked over to where the dragon sat and took the meat back to his own seat. The dragon said, I like your courage, but you are foolish; what do you think you could do? Well, said the boy, I can do enough to protect myself, as you may find out. Then the dragon took the meat again, and then the boy retook it. Four times in all the dragon took the meat, and after the fourth time the boy replaced the meat he said, Dragon, will you fight me? The dragon said, Yes, in whatever way you like. The boy said, I will stand one hundred paces distant from you and you may have four shots at me with your bow and arrows, provided that you will then exchange places with me and give me four shots. Good, said the dragon. Stand up.
Then the dragon took his bow, which was made of a large pine tree. He took four arrows from his quiver; they were made of young pine tree saplings, and each arrow was twenty feet in length. He took deliberate aim, but just as the arrow left the bow the boy made a peculiar sound and leaped into the air.
Immediately the arrow was shivered into a thousand splinters, and the boy was seen standing on the top of a bright rainbow over the spot where the dragon's aim had been directed. Soon the rainbow was gone and the boy was standing on the ground again. Four times this was repeated, then the boy said, Dragon, stand here: it is my time to shoot. The dragon said, All right, your little arrows cannot pierce my first coat of horn, and I have three other coats, shoot away. The boy shot an arrow, striking the dragon just over the heart, and one coat of the great horny scales fell to the ground. The next shot another coat, and then another, and the dragon's heart was exposed. Then the dragon trembled, but could not move. Before the fourth arrow was shot the boy said, Uncle, you are dumb with fear; you have not moved; come here or the dragon will fall on you. His uncle ran toward him. Then he sped the fourth arrow with true aim, and it pierced the dragon's heart. With a tremendous roar the dragon rolled down the mountainside, down four precipices into a canyon below.
Immediately storm clouds swept the mountains, lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and the rain poured. When the rainstorm had passed, far down in the canyon below, they could see fragments of the huge body of the dragon lying among the rocks, and the bones of this dragon may still be found there.
This boy's name was Ndéén. Usen taught him how to prepare herbs for medicine, how to hunt, and how to fight. He was the first chief of the Indians and wore the eagle's feathers as the sign of justice, wisdom, and power. To him and to his people, as they were created, Usen gave homes in the land of the West.
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jun 27, 2011 19:01:33 GMT -5
I was born in Nodoyohn Canyon, Arizona, June 1829.
In that country which lies around the head waters of the Gila River, I was reared. This range was our fatherland; among these mountains our wigwams were hidden; the scattered valleys contained our fields; the boundless prairies, stretching away on every side, were our pastures; the rocky caverns were our burying places.
I was fourth in a family of eight children, four boys and four girls. Of that family, only myself, my brother, Porico, and my sister, Nahdaste , are yet alive. We are held as prisoners of war in this Military Reservation.
As a babe I rolled on the dirt floor of my father's tepee, hung in my tsoch at my mother's back, or suspended from the bough of a tree. I was warmed by the sun, rocked by the winds, and sheltered by the trees as other Indian babes.
When a child, my mother taught me the legends of our people; taught me of the sun and sky, the moon and stars, the clouds and storms. She also taught me to kneel and pray to Usen for strength, health, wisdom, and protection. We never prayed against any person, but if we had aught against any individual we ourselves took vengeance. We were taught that Usen does not care for the petty quarrels of men.
My father had often told me of the brave deeds of our warriors, of the pleasures of the chase, and the glories of the warpath.
With my brothers and sisters I played about my father's home. Sometimes we played at hide-and-seek among the rocks and pines; sometimes we loitered in the shade of the cottonwood trees or sought the shudock while our parents worked in the field. Sometimes we played that we were warriors. We would practice stealing upon some object that represented an enemy, and in our childish imitation often perform the feats of war. Sometimes we would hide away from our mother to see if she could find us, and often when thus concealed, go to sleep and perhaps remain hidden for many hours.
When we were old enough to be of real service, we went to the field with our parents: not to play, but to toil. When the crops were to be planted we broke the ground with wooden hoes. We planted the corn in straight rows, the beans among the corn, and the melons and pumpkins in irregular order over the field. We cultivated these crops as there was need.
Our field usually contained about two acres of ground. The fields were never fenced. It was common for many families to cultivate land in the same valley and share the burden of protecting the growing crops from destruction by the ponies of the tribe, or by deer and other wild animals.
Melons were gathered as they were consumed. In the autumn pumpkins and beans were gathered and placed in bags or baskets; ears of corn were tied together by the husks, and then the harvest was carried on the backs of ponies up to our homes. Here the corn was shelled, and all the harvest stored away in caves or other secluded places to be used in winter.
We never fed corn to our ponies, but if we kept them up in the wintertime we gave them fodder to eat. We had no cattle or other domestic animals except our dogs and ponies.
We did not cultivate tobacco, but found it growing wild. This we cut and cured in autumn, but if the supply ran out, the leaves from the stalks left standing served our purpose. All Indians smoked, men and women. No boy was allowed to smoke until he had hunted alone and killed large game, wolves and bears. Unmarried women were not prohibited from smoking, but were considered immodest if they did so. Nearly all matrons smoked.
Besides grinding the corn for bread, we sometimes crushed it and soaked it, and after it had fermented, made from this juice a tiswin, which had the power of intoxication, and was very highly prized by the Indians. This work was done by the squaws and children. When berries or nuts were to be gathered the small children and the squaws would go in parties to hunt them, and sometimes stay all day. When they went any great distance from camp they took ponies to carry the baskets.
I frequently went with these parties, and upon one of these excursions a woman named Chokole got lost from the party and was riding her pony through a thicket in search of her friends. Her little dog was following as she slowly made her way through the thick underbrush and pine trees. All at once a grizzly bear rose in her path and attacked the pony. She jumped off, and her pony escaped, but the bear attacked her, so she fought him the best she could with her knife. Her little dog, by snapping at the bear's heels and distracting his attention from the woman, enabled her for some time to keep pretty well out of his reach. Finally the grizzly struck her over the head, tearing off almost her whole scalp. She fell, but did not lose consciousness, and while prostrate struck him four good licks with her knife, and he retreated. After he had gone she replaced her torn scalp and bound it up as best she could, then she turned deathly sick and had to lie down. That night her pony came into camp with his load of nuts and berries, but no rider. The Indians hunted for her, but did not find her until the second day. They carried her home, and under the treatment of their Medicine Men all her wounds were healed.
The Indians knew what herbs to use for Medicine, how to prepare them, and how to give the Medicine. This they had been taught by Usen in the beginning, and each succeeding generation had men who were skilled in the art of healing.
In gathering the herbs, in preparing them, and in administering the Medicine, as much faith was held in prayer as in the actual effect of the Medicine. Usually about eight persons worked together in make Medicine, and there were forms of prayer and incantations to attend each stage of the process. Four attended to the incantations, and four to the preparation of the herbs.
Some of the Indians were skilled in cutting out bullets, arrowheads, and other missiles with which warriors were wounded. I myself have done much of this, using a common dirk or butcher knife.
Small children wore very little clothing in winter and none in the summer. Women usually wore a primitive skirt, which consisted of a piece of cotton cloth fastened about the waist, and extending to the knees. Men wore breechcloths and moccasins. In winter they had shirts and legging in addition.
Frequently when the tribe was in camp a number of boys and girls, by agreement, would steal away and meet at a place several miles distant, where they could play all day free from tasks. They were never punished for these frolics; but if their hiding places were discovered they were ridiculed.
To celebrate each noted event, a feast and dance would be given. Perhaps only our own people, perhaps neighboring tribes would be invited. These festivities usually lasted for about four days. By day we feasted, by night under the direction of some chief we danced. The music for our dance was singing led by the warriors, and accompanied by beating the esadadedné. No words were sung only the tones. When the feasting and dancing were over we would have horse races, foot races, wrestling, jumping, and all sorts of games.
Among these games the most noted was the tribal game of Kah. It is played as follows: Four moccasins are placed about four feet apart in holes in the ground, dug in a row on one side of the camp, and on the opposite side a similar parallel row. At night a campfire is started between these two rows of moccasins, and the players are arranged on sides, one or any number on each side. The score is kept by a bundle of sticks, from which each side takes a stick for every point won. First one side takes the bone, puts up blankets between the four moccasins and the fire so that the opposing team cannot observe their movements, and then begin to sing the legends of creation. The side having the bone represents the feathered tribe, the opposite side represents the beasts. The players representing the birds do all the singing, and while singing hide the bone in one of the moccasins, then the blankets are thrown down. They continue to sing, but as soon as the blankets are thrown down, the chosen player from the opposing team, armed with a war club, comes to their side of the campfire and with his club strikes the moccasin in which he thinks the bone is hidden. If he strikes the right moccasin, his side gets the bone, and in turn represents the birds, while the opposing team must keep quiet and guess in turn. There are only four plays; three that lose and one that wins. When all the sticks are gone from the bundle the side having the largest number of sticks is counted winner.
This game is seldom played except as a gambling game, but for the purpose it is the most popular game known to the tribe. Usually the game lasts four or five hours. It is never played in daytime.
After the games are all finished the visitors say, We are satisfied, and the camp is broken up. I was always glad when the dances and feasts were announced. So were all the other young people.
Our life also had a religious side. We had no churches, no religious organizations, no Sabbath day, no holidays, and yet we worshiped. Sometimes the whole tribe would assemble to sing and pray; sometimes a smaller number, perhaps only two or three. The songs had a few words, but were not formal. The singer would occasionally put in such words as he wished instead of the usual tone sound. Sometimes we prayed in silence; sometimes each one prayed aloud; sometimes an aged person prayed for all of us. At other times one would rise and speak to us of our duties to each other and to Usen. Our services were short.
When disease or pestilence abounded we were assembled and questioned by our leaders to ascertain what evil we had done, and how Usen could be satisfied. Sometimes sacrifice was deemed necessary. Sometimes the offending one was punished.
If any one off the Denéé had allowed his aged parents to suffer for food or shelter, if he had neglected or abused the sick, if he had profaned our religion, or had been unfaithful, he might be banished from the tribe.
The Denéé had no prisons as white men have. Instead of sending their criminals into prison they sent them out of their tribe. These faithless, cruel, lazy, or cowardly members of the tribe were excluded in such a manner that they could not join any other tribe. Neither could they have any protection from our unwritten tribal laws. Frequently these outlaw Indians banded together and committed depredations which were charged against the regular tribe. However, the life of an outlaw Indian was a hard lot, and their bands never became very large; besides, these bands frequently provoked the wrath of the tribe and secured their own destruction.
When I was about eight or ten years old I began to follow the chase, and to me this was never work.
Out on the prairies, which ran up to our mountain homes, wandered herds of deer, antelope, elk, and buffalo, to be slaughtered when we needed them.
Usually we hunted buffalo on horseback, killing them with arrows and spears. Their skins were used to make tepees and bedding; their flesh, to eat.
It required more skill to hunt the deer than any other animal. We never tried to approach a deer except against the wind. Frequently we would spend hours in stealing upon grazing deer. If they were in the open we would crawl long distances on the ground, keeping a weed or brush before us, so that our approach would not be noticed. Often we could kill several out of one herd before the others would run away. Their flesh was dried and packed in vessels, and would keep in this condition for many months. The hide of the deer soaked in water and ashes and the hair removed, and then the process of tanning continued until the buckskin was soft and pliable. Perhaps no other animal was more valuable to us than the deer.
In the forests and along the streams were many wild turkeys. These we would drive to the plains, then slowly ride up toward them until they were almost tired out. When they began to drop and hide we would ride in upon them and, by swinging from the side of our horses, catch them. If one started to fly we would ride swiftly under him and kill him with a short stick, or hunting club. In this way we could usually get as many wild turkeys as we could carry home on a horse.
There were many rabbits in our range, and we also hunted them on horseback. Our horses were trained to follow the rabbit at full speed, and as they approached them we would swing from one side of the horse and strike the rabbit with our hunting club. If he was too far away we would throw the stick and kill him. This was great sport when we were boys, but as warriors we seldom hunted small game.
There were many fish in the streams, but as we did not eat them, we did not try to catch or kill them. Small boys sometimes threw stones at them or shot at them for practice with their bows and arrows. Usen did not intend snakes, frogs, or fishes to be eaten. I have never eaten of them.
There were many eagles in the mountains. These we hunted for their feathers. It required great skill to steal upon an eagle, for besides having sharp eyes, he is wise and never stops at any place where he does not have a good view of the surrounding country.
I have killed many bears with a spear, but was never injured in a fight with one. I have killed several mountain lions with arrows, and one with a spear. Both bears and mountain lions are good for food and valuable for their skin. When we killed them we carried them home on our horses. We often made quivers for our arrows from the skin of the mountain lion. These were very pretty and very durable.
During my minority we had never seen a missionary or a priest. We had never seen a white man. Thus quietly lived the Bedonkohe.
In the summer of 1858, being at peace with the Mexican towns as well as with all the neighboring Indian tribes, we went south into Old Mexico to trade. Our whole tribe went through Sonora toward Casa Grande, our destination, but just before reaching that place we stopped at another Mexican town called by the Indians Kaskiyeh. Here we stayed for several days, camping outside the city. Every day we would go into town to trade, leaving our camp under the protection of a small guard so that our arms, supplies, and women and children would not be disturbed during our absence.
Late one afternoon when returning from town we were met by a few women and children who told us that Mexican troops from some other town had attacked our camp, killed all the warriors of the guard, captured all our ponies, secured our arms, destroyed our supplies, and killed many of our women and children. Quickly we separated, concealing ourselves as best we could until nightfall, when we assembled at our appointed place of rendezvous, a thicket by the river. Silently we stole in one by one: sentinels were placed, and, when all were counted, I found that my aged mother, my young wife, and my three small children were among the slain. There were no lights in camp, so without being noticed I silently turned away and stood by the river. How long I stood there I do not know, but when I saw the warriors arranging for a council I took my place.
That night I did not give my vote for or against any measure; but it was decided that as there were only eighty warriors left, and as we were without arms or supplies, and were furthermore surrounded by the Mexicans far inside their own territory, we could not hope to fight successfully. So our chief, Mangus-Colorado, gave the order to start at once in perfect silence for our homes in Arizona, leaving the dead upon the field.
I stood until all had passed, hardly knowing what I would do. I had no weapon, nor did I hardly wish to fight, neither did I contemplate recovering the bodies of my loved ones, for that was forbidden. I did not pray, nor did I resolve to do anything in particular, for I had no purpose left. I finally followed the tribe silently, keeping just within hearing distance of the soft noise of the feet of the retreating Denéé.
The next morning some of the Indians killed a small amount of game and we halted long enough for the tribe to cook and eat, when the march was resumed. I had killed no game, and did not eat. During the first march as well as while we were camped at this place I spoke to no one and no one spoke to me, there was nothing to say.
For two days and three nights we were on forced marches, stopping only for meals, then we made a camp near the Mexican border, where we rested two days. Here I took some food and talked with the other Indians who had lost in the massacre, but none had lost as I had, for I had lost all.
Within a few days we arrived at our own settlement. There were the decorations that Alope had made, and there were the playthings of our little ones. I burned them all, even our tepee. I also burned my mother's tepee and destroyed all her property.
I was never again contented in our quiet home. True, I could visit my father's grave, but I had vowed vengeance upon the Mexican troopers who had wronged me, and whenever I came near his grave, or saw anything to remind me of former happy days my heart would ache for revenge upon Mexico.
As soon as we had again collected some arms and supplies Mangus-Colorado, our chief, called a council and found that all our warriors were willing to take the warpath against Mexico. I was appointed to solicit the aid of other tribes in this war.
When I went to the Chokonen, Cochise, their chief, called a council at early dawn. Silently the warriors assembled at an open place in a mountain dell and took their seats on the ground, arranged in rows according to their ranks. Silently they sat smoking. At a signal from the chief I arose and presented my cause as follows:
"Kinsman, you have heard what the Mexicans have recently done without cause. You are my relatives, uncles, cousins, brothers. We are men the same as the Mexicans are, we can do to them what they have done to us. Let us go forward and trail them, I will lead you to their city; we will attack them in their homes. I will fight in the front of the battle. I only ask you to follow me to avenge this wrong done by these Mexicans, will you come? It is well, you will all come.
Remember the rule in war, men may return or they may be killed. If any of these young men are killed I want no blame from their kinsmen, for they themselves have chosen to go. If I am killed no one need mourn for me. My people have all been killed in that country, and I, too, will die if need be."
I returned to my own settlement, reported this success to my chieftain, and immediately departed to the southward into the land of the Nedni. Their chief, Whoa, heard me without comment, but he immediately issued orders for a council, and when all were ready gave a sign that I might speak. I addressed them as I had addressed the Chokonen tribe, and they also promised to help us.
It was in the summer of 1859, almost a year from the date of the massacre of Kaskiyeh, that these three tribes were assembled on the Mexican border to go upon the warpath. Their faces were painted, the war bands fastened upon their brows their long scalp-locks ready for the hand and knife of the warrior who would overcome them. Their families had been hidden away in a mountain rendezvous near the Mexican border. With these families a guard was posted, and a number of places of rendezvous designated in case the camp should be disturbed.
When all were ready the chieftains gave command to go forward. None of us were mounted and each warrior wore moccasins and also a cloth wrapped about his loins. This cloth could be spread over him when he slept, and when on the march would be ample protection as clothing. In battle, if the fight was hard, we did not wish much clothing. Each warrior carried three days' rations, but as we often killed game while on the march, we seldom were without food.
We traveled in three divisions: the Bedonheko led by Mangus-Colorado, the Chokonen by Cochise, and the Nedni by Whoa; however, there was no regular order inside the separate tribes. We usually marched about fourteen hours per day, making three stops for meals, and traveling forty to forty-five miles a day.
I acted as guide into Mexico, and we followed the river courses and mountain ranges because we could better thereby keep our movements concealed. We entered Sonora and went southward past Quitaro, Nacozari, and many smaller settlements.
When we were almost at Arispe we camped, and eight men rode out from the city to parley with us. These we captured, killed, and scalped. This was to draw the troops from the city, and the next day they came. The skirmishing lasted all day without a general engagement, but just at night we captured their supply train, so we had plenty of provisions and some more guns.
That night we posted sentinels and did not move our camp, but rested quietly all night, for we expected heavy work the next day. Early the next morning the warriors were assembled to pray, not for help, but that they might have health and avoid ambush or deceptions by the enemy.
As we had anticipated, about ten o'clock in the morning the whole Mexican force came out. There were two companies of cavalry and two of infantry. I recognized the cavalry as the soldiers who had killed my people at Kaskiyeh. This I told to the chieftains, and they said that I might direct the battle.
I was no chief and never had been, but because I had been more deeply wronged than others, this honor was conferred upon me, and I resolved to prove worthy of the trust. I arranged the Indians in a hollow circle near the river, and the Mexicans drew their infantry up in two lines, with the cavalry in reserve. We were in the timber, and they advanced until within about four hundred yards, when they halted and opened fire. Soon I led a charge against them, at the same time sending some braves to attack the rear. In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother, wife, and babies; of my father's grave and my vow of vengeance, and I fought with fury. Many fell by my hand, and constantly I led the advance. Many braves were killed The battle lasted about two hours.
At the last four Indians were alone in the center of the field, myself and three other warriors. Our arrows were all gone, our spears broken off in the bodies of dead enemies. We had only our hands and knives with which to fight, but all who had stood against us were dead. Then two armed soldiers came upon us from another part of the field. They shot down two of our men and we, the remaining two, fled toward our own warriors. My companion was struck down by a saber, but I reached our warriors, seized a spear, and turned. The one who pursued me missed his aim and fell by my spear. With his saber I met the trooper who had killed my companion and we grappled and fell. I killed him with my knife and quickly rose over his body, brandishing his saber, seeking for other troopers to kill. There were none. But the Denéé had seen. Over the bloody field, covered with the bodies of Mexicans, rang the fierce Denéé war-whoop.
Still covered with the blood of my enemies, still holding my conquering weapon, still hot with the joy of battle, victory, and vengeance, I was surrounded by the Denéé braves and made war chief of all the Denéé. Then I gave orders for scalping the slain.
I could not call back my loved ones, I could not bring back the dead Denéé, but I could rejoice in this revenge. The Denéé had avenged the massacre of Kaskiyeh.
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jun 20, 2011 13:44:56 GMT -5
Does anyone know the name of the Oglala chief of Crazy Horse's band in the autumn of 1863. The Wichasha Wakan was Worm, Crazy Horse's father. Thank you ...
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Post by yellowhair1850 on Jun 14, 2011 15:21:47 GMT -5
Great pictures ... am I the only one that noticed the sacred pipe given to the Lakota by White Buffalo Woman is prevalent in many of your pictures ...?
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