A picture of an Indian camp, not painted on canvas nor yet written. I laughed no more in triumph when thus alone. ", With a strange tremor in her voice which I could not understand, she answered, "If the paleface does not take away from us the river we drink.". We showed one another our new beaded moccasins, and the width of the belts that girdled our new dresses. Only a bundle of sticks for the fire I brought on my back. She sharpened one end of a long stick and with it speared the fried bread when it was browned. The girls wore tight muslin dresses, with ribbons at neck and waist. He went nude except for the half of a red blanket he girdled around his waist. Unless my mother had cautioned me not to tell, I generally answered her questions without reserve. "The young people rivet their eyes upon the young woman. I have few memories of winter days, at this period of my life, though many of the summer. With head and shoulders swaying from side to side, he carries a high-pointing chin toward the willow railing. Why, no, mother, he has brought me! American Indians have always told stories filled with characters, creatures, and legends that have fascinated people around the world. Such worse than barbarian rudeness embittered me. Drawing my blanket over my shoulders, I said, as I stepped toward the entranceway: "I go to hobble my pony. From my old companion I learned that my father had been sick many moons. she exclaimed, with a note of disappointment, seeing no beaded Indian regalia or trinkets. Many narrow beds were in one straight line down the entire length of the wall. I had never tasted more than a dozen red apples in my life; and when I heard of the orchards of the East, I was eager to roam among them. They were friends, inseparable! Some missionaries gave me a little bag of marbles. Sitting down upon the ground with crossed legs, he fans himself with an outspread turkey wing. In the process of my education I had lost all consciousness of the nature world about me. My eyes swam in tears. She caught the glad tidings and was thrilled with new hope for her people. Since the winter when I had my first dreams about red apples I had been traveling slowly toward the morning horizon. In bygone days, brave young men of the order of the White-Horse-Riders sought out the aged, the poor, the widows and orphans to aid them, but they did their good work without pay. The noisy hurrying of hard shoes upon a bare wooden floor increased the whirring in my ears. It was she, who, though representing human liberty, formerly turned her back upon the American aborigine. We each carried a light sharpened rod about four feet long, with which we pried up certain sweet roots. They led it back with them and the old chieftain set unresisting in the saddle. My mother had not yet forgiven my rudeness to her, and I had no moment for letter-writing. Quickly to the hard request the man replied, "How! In the lap of the prairie we seated ourselves upon our feet; and leaning our painted cheeks in the palms of our hands, we rested our elbows on our knees, and bent forward as old women were most accustomed to do. They are gone. I go if Tusee tells me so!". He comes to warn me of my fate. Native American folklore includes North American and Canadian folk tales, with authors like Cornelius Matthews, Zitkala-Ša, and Cyrus MacMillan. It read: "I make letter to you. Our mothers had taught us that only unskilled warriors who were captured had their hair shingled by the enemy. American Indian Stories is a collection of childhood stories, allegorical fictions and essays written by Sioux writer and activist Zitkala-Ša. "Be glad! Often she worked upon small moccasins for her small daughter. His near relatives, to celebrate his new rank, were spreading a feast to which the whole of the Indian village was invited. "'Young man,' said he, with a cold, slow voice that chilled me to the marrow of my bones, 'hear me. I heard my father cry when the sacred man was gone. In my anguish I moaned for my mother, but no one came to comfort me. Slowly gathering his robe about him, he turned his back upon the sick man and stepped out of our wigwam. these near white men speak my native tongue and shake hands according to our custom." The missionaries smiled into my eyes, and patted my head. The line of men and women sways outward. Every one loved him, and my mother worshiped his memory. He found himself a mile from the post office, for the cluster of government buildings, where lived the superintendent, were now in plain sight. It opened gradually. In the choice of colors she left me to my own taste. With a child's eager eye I drink in the myriad star shapes wrought in luxuriant color upon the green. We shouted and whooped in the chase; laughing and calling to one another, we were like little sportive nymphs on that Dakota sea of rolling green. Her little hands and cheeks were burning hot. Always, when my mother started for the river, I stopped my play to run along with her. Some of the marbles were made of colored glass. In many instances, the integrity of these have been broken down. When the sun lowered in the west and the winds were quiet, the village of cone-shaped tepees was gone. It was not completed, however, until after Congress adjourned March 4, 1913. Then she packed them away in a case of thick and stiff buckskin. The dancing center fire shines bright into her handsome face, intensifying the night in her dark eyes. "Once a wise leader of our people, addressing a president of this country, said: 'I am a man. Sometimes they took their forefingers out of their mouths and pointed at my moccasined feet. Turning to my mother, she offered her the pipe. This is … Folded hands lie in my lap, for the time forgot. My mother was silent the rest of the way to our wigwam. There had been no doubt about the direction in which I wished to go to spend my energies in a work for the Indian race. ", "In just the same way, we fight crooks with crooks. I stared into her eyes, wishing her to let me stand on my own feet, but she jumped me up and down with increasing enthusiasm. A great quiet filled the air. American Indian Stories The first four stories of American Indian Stories recount the author's childhood experiences, first growing up with her mother and later finding her way in the white world. Stand you all in two parallel lines from the centre tepee of the bereaved family to the wigwam opposite in the great outer ring. With this the woman hid away her half-worn slipper, and led the child out, stroking her black shorn head. Someone did enter her wigwam, but it was an old grandfather who tells her stories. Riding slowly around the great ring of cone-shaped tepees, here and there, a loud-singing warrior swears to avenge a former wrong, and thrusts a bare brown arm against the purple east, calling the Great Spirit to hear his vow. They had returned to their homes, and were then talking English with the frontier settlers. she cried. Each shook the chieftain's hand. Blue-Star Woman had not yet detected any particular sharpness about their ears, but by an impulse she looked up into their faces and scrutinized them. At once the Indian hostess untied the bundles and measured out a cupful of green coffee beans and a pound of lard. My father had not risen from his bed since the day the medicine-man led the people away. We shook the snow off ourselves, and started toward the woman as slowly as we dared. Waving his hand toward me, he exclaimed, "Here is the traitor to his people!". "Well, it happened on the day we moved camp that your sister and uncle were both very sick. Then in rushed the devil! Having driven thirty miles to the ferryboat, we crossed the Missouri in the evening. Still, I could not realize that they longed for the favorable decision of the judges as much as I did. She had learned to read the primer and to write her name. There is one only which I can recall. It breaks into myriad points upon her beaded dress. This aroused revenge in my small soul. she asked, and was told it came from her grandfather. The desolate hills that harbored wailing voices nightly now were hushed and still. Deliberately crossing his bare shins, he sat down unbidden beside my father, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. "That makes me glad! The palefaces, who owe us a large debt for stolen lands, have begun to pay a tardy justice in offering some education to our children. Then I lost my spirit. My teeth were hard set, as I saw the white flag still floating insolently in the air. "Why does my grandfather send such a light gift in a heavy, large box?" Relentlessly her pencil black-marked our daily records if we were not present to respond to our names, and no chum of ours had done it successfully for us. Nine winters I hunted for the soft heart of Christ, and prayed for the huntsmen who chased the buffalo on the plains. This is not right. It is again suggested, however, that the data might be made readily accessible and available to students by placing in manuscript division of the Library of Congress one copy of the unpublished reports and working papers of the President's Commission on Economy and Efficiency. But on the second word her voice shook, and she turned away in sobs. They inspire the swelling breasts of the painted warriors mounted on prancing ponies bedecked with the green branches of trees. I grew bitter, and censured the woman for cruel neglect of our physical ills. Alert for any sound of footfalls nigh, she holds her breath to listen. Narrowing her old eyes, she asked, "My grandchild, when are you going to bring here a handsome young woman?" In the evening, as the great audience filled the house, the student bodies began warring among themselves. Now the embers are gray with ashes. Then the cool morning breezes swept freely through our dwelling, now and then wafting the perfume of sweet grasses from newly burnt prairie. Judéwin heard enough of the words to realize all too late that she had taught us the wrong reply. I turned to my mother's coffeepot. They squeaked as they dared each other to run across his moccasined feet, but the chieftain neither saw nor heard them. They came, they saw, and they conquered! A lifelong writer and activist, she is best known for a series of semiautobiographical stories about her childhood and schooling in Eastern boarding schools. "Why, mother, I want to taste the plums!" 1. "At last, when we reached this western country, on the first weary night your sister died. At the arrival of our guests I sat close to my mother, and did not leave her side without first asking her consent. Finally, in a low, deep voice, the young man begins: "The sun is far past the zenith. Her eyes are tight closed. I never gave it an afterthought. The form of organization of the trusteeship has been one which does not provide for independent audit and supervision. "Small Voice Woman, my own relative is being represented as the mother of this strange Blue-Star – the papers were made by two young Indian men who have learned the white man's ways. The Native American traditional education of learning the trade of beadwork is described with Zitkala-Sa sharing her "practical observation lessons in the art of beadwork." "Mother, who is this bad paleface?" So I said: "Mother, when I am tall as my cousin Warca-Ziwin, you shall not have to come for water. American Indian Stories (1921) Excerpts from the Original Electronic Text at A Celebration of Women Writers. In his stern face I laugh aloud. For her sake, I dread to tell you my reply to the missionaries. Treasures came in due time to those ready to receive them. They bound me hand and foot. pp.97-100. to which I pray," she answered, as she stroked my head again as she used to do when I was a smaller child. Dawée tried to secure justice for our tribe in a small matter, and today you see the folly of it.". Having defrauded us of our land, the paleface forced us away. From those seeds rose a bush. The report in typewritten form was one of the working documents used in the preparation of the 'budget' submitted by President Taft to Congress in February, 1913. Quickly pocketing my Bible, I went into the tepee. American Indian Stories offers a unique view into a society that is often overlooked though that society still persists to this day.[4]. American Indian Stories, published in 1921 by Hayworth Publishing House, consists of works published previously in various magazines. Haraka Wambdi was a strong young brave, who had just returned from his first battle, a warrior. "Iye-que, fortunate one!" American Indian Stories by Zitkala Sa: Gertrude Bonnin. Zitkala-Sa, still in her own wigwam, becomes restless seeing all of the guests heading over to the feast while she has to wait for her mother to finish cooking a duck. Chewing the dry stiff hair and buffalo-skin, my father's eyes sought my hands. While one was telling of some heroic deed recently done by a near relative, the rest of us listened attentively, and exclaimed in undertones, "Han! As I did not hush my crying, one of the older ones whispered to me, "Wait until you are alone in the night.". Then rising to go, the youth holds out a right hand. This is all I will say until you answer me. We do not know her. "A pony from the herd, mother, a fleet-footed pony from the herd!" The horrible scene about me seemed a trick of my senses, for I could not understand it was real. The mellow stream from the star above, a maid of twenty summers, on a bed of sweetgrass, drank in with her wakeful eyes. "Congress alone could make the necessary provision for the publication of these materials; the documents are too voluminous to be printed as a part of this series, even if official permission were granted. Turning to my mother, I urged her to tell me more about Dawée's trouble, but she only said: "Well, my daughter, this village has been these many winters a refuge for white robbers. "Come!" Native American myths and stories from the Northwest Coast tribes. ], Fisher, Dexter. Running direct to my mother, I began to question her why these two strangers were among us. "The missionary preacher said he could not explain the white man's law to me. Chän is a black shaggy dog, "a thoroughbred little mongrel" of whom I am very fond. I exclaimed, as I dropped my hand to my side in disappointment. Her words fell from her lips like crackling embers, and her inflection ran up like the small end of a switch. All too soon the picture was gone. To the lusty men's voices and the rhythmic throbbing drum, they leap and rebound with feathered headgears waving. Trying to be a good hostess she goes to make the coffee, although she does not know how. Dawée turned the old man by the shoulder and pointed me out to him. What an ideal warrior he became, baffling the siege of the pests of all the land till he triumphed over their united attack. Hereupon the proud mother's voice rang out in a chiding laugh. The interpreter for the missionaries assured the young girl and her mother, "Yes, little girl, the nice red apples are for those who pick them; and you will have a ride on the iron horse if you go with these good people." My mission done, I ran back, skipping and jumping with delight. I glanced at my grandmother. When his small granddaughter grew up she learned the white man's tongue, and followed in the footsteps of her grandfather to the very seat of government to carry on his humanitarian work. Rattling the bars, they howl unceasingly: "Your soft heart! Their white man's shoes were rusty and unpolished. BESIDE the open fire I sat within our tepee. And now in his old age he was cast into prison. "Hoh!" Cousin, I was taught long years ago by kind missionaries to read the holy book. She mashed them so hard that the bottom of the glass jar they were in broke. Again Blue-Star Woman remarked, "Oh, indeed! Shaking hands with her, I recognized my mother. What is of special interest in this inquiry is to note the conditions under which the Indian Office has been required to conduct its business. His shrewd eyes softened with pleasure as he watched the easy movements of the small body dancing on the green before him. Bending under the meat I had taken for my starving father, I hurried across the prairie. Noisily snored the dreaming men in the darkest parts. Mother sat in a chair, and I was hanging on her knee. Thus, homeless and heavy-hearted, I began anew my life among strangers. Tighter I grasped the sacred book I carried under my arm. As each in turn began to tell a legend, I pillowed my head in my mother's lap; and lying flat upon my back, I watched the stars as they peeped down upon me, one by one. "Who sent me this cedar chest?" He was the medicine-man. I was a little afraid that he would rebuke me for my boldness. He was stooped, and his protruding chin, with its tuft of dry flax, nodded as monotonously as did the head of his faithful beast. From a sudden illness, he died and was buried here. Both father and child, eyeing the figure on the grass, waited to hear the man's report. The tears trickled down my cheeks, and I buried my face in the folds of my blanket. Then again he yields himself to his song of joy. Upon entering the school campus, I was surprised at the thickly clustered buildings which made it a quaint little village, much more interesting than the town itself. Dropping the rawhide rein to the ground, he tossed himself lazily on the grass. Then I became intensely interested in her designing. With what boldness I dared, while my heart was beating hard and fast, I asked him for his only daughter. Very near my mother's dwelling, along the edge of a road thickly bordered with wild sunflowers, some poles like these had been planted by white men. "X (his mark.)". The Indian individually does not have access to the courts; he can not individually appeal to the administrative and judicial branches of the public service for the enforcement of his rights. He pressed his indelible thumb mark, his signature it was, upon the deed, and drove home with his son. I held my breath, and watched them open closet doors and peep behind large trunks. Mounted, and swaying with his pony's steps, he proclaimed in a loud voice these words (hark! A brave is buried here. With these hateful words he dismissed the assembly. There! Then covering his face with the buffalo-robe, he said no more. Gathering upon her arm the mats and cooking utensils, she hobbled into her log hut. She offered the second helping of coffee, which they accepted without hesitancy. "Yes, my child, several others besides Judéwin are going away with the palefaces. Blue-Star Woman was even grateful for this gift of food. He alighted upon the bare ground in front of our house. Her nephews laughingly told her, "We use crooks, and crooks use us in the skirmish over Indian lands.". They are celebrating Wambdi's first battle by having a feast with the whole Indian village. Here the singers hush their voices, and the dancers scatter to their various resting-places along the willow ring. The Widespread Enigma Concerning Blue-Star Women. A paleface woman, with a yellow-covered roll book open on her arm and a gnawed pencil in her hand, appeared at the door. Zitkala-Sa hated this time and everything about it. Often I told my mother my impressions without being questioned. All old people like you ought to be helped before the younger ones. A self-condemning sense of gilt disturbed her. I leave them nodding in the breeze, but take along with me their impress upon my heart. Before his wide-open eyes the old bent figure straightens into its youthful stature. To the unconventional eyes of the old Indian woman, their celluloid collars appeared like shining marks of civilization. The pony, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion, stands like a guilty dog at his master's side. "How! We awoke so early that we saw the sacred hour when a misty smoke hung over a pit surrounded by an impassable sinking mire. Each contestant received a loud burst of applause, and some were cheered heartily. My son, your soft heart has unfitted you for everything!" In a husky voice she hissed between her teeth, "I am a Dakota woman!". "Which one, my grandchild, which one?" From among them I chose the best-fattened creature. I did not read it, but laid it unopened on the floor, where I sat on my feet. I greeted him. Just as I began to rise, looking shyly around to see how chairs were to be used, a second bell was sounded. It was very little I could swallow besides my sobs, that evening. They were Indian police. It had become a habit now to tell her long story of disappointments with all its petty details. This time the competition was among orators from different colleges in our State. They thrived in their grafting business. A terrible deed is done. This friendly token was a rebuke to me for the hard feelings I had borne them. Such as Zitkala-Sa was told these legends as a child, she "attempted to preserve her people's oral tradition by transcribing oral tales into written English, as well as transcribing her life's story into autobiography. In one voice and by an assumed relationship the two Indian men addressed her. She was fond of coffee, – that black drink brought hither by those daring voyagers of long ago. Thowin replied no and the woman then let her out of the office. Then, a short distance from it, only a little lower than the first, was another light. Beckoning him with a slender hand, she steps backward, away from the light and the restless throng of onlookers. "He-he!" There is still a great obligation to be discharged, which must run through many years. Chancing to turn to the window at my side, I was quite breathless upon seeing one familiar object. The cloud shadows which drifted about on the waving yellow of long-dried grasses thrilled me like the meeting of old friends. She stood still in a halo of authority, while over the rim of her spectacles her eyes pried nervously about the room. A third man was with them, but he was not my brother Dawée. It was ever the same old words. Out of everything that had happened when preserving things in the fall, she remembers the ground squirrel the most. The man-killer must mount and ride the ranting beast. At noon, several who chanced to be passing by stopped to rest, and to share our luncheon with us, for they were sure of our hospitality. "Listen!" These pieces were both autobiographical and fictional in character, and some saw slight revisions before being added to the collected work. My mother required of me original designs for my lessons in beading. She rocked herself slightly forward and backward. My mother was troubled by my unhappiness. Though by wigwam fires he prated much of his high rank and widespread fame, his great joy was a wee black-eyed daughter of eight sturdy winters. We were silent. Thus I had written my mother briefly, saying my plan for the year was to teach in an Eastern Indian school. But the paleface has stolen our lands and driven us hither. It was only upon rare occasions that my grandmother said anything to him. Such a digest was therefore prepared. It gained her nothing, however, to pronounce her name to the government official to whom she applied for her share of tribal land. I sat perfectly still, with my eyes downcast, daring only now and then to shoot long glances around me. His quavering voice chanted a bravery song as he gathered dry grasses and the dead stalks of last year's sunflowers. In profound gloom the gray-haired prisoner sat there, without a stir for long hours and knew not when the day ended and the night began. I need food. The Great Spirit does not care if we live or die! Unmindful of the surging throng jostling her at either side, she glares in upon the hateful, scoffing men. Whereupon the devil vanished, and I was awake. My heart beat hard and irregularly at my side. yes!) "Oh, poor Thowin!" Sometimes I stood long moments without saying a word. But alive, in my tomb, I was destitute! I spied them coming up the footpath leading to our cottage. The ice on the river was floating in huge pieces. She had a collection of autobiographical and biographical stories that demonstrated her life in American Indian society and showed the complexities of living in two cultures: the Indian and non- Indian culture. His quick eye measured my height and breadth. This causes Zitkala-Sa to feel ashamed to have forgotten about the woman. Quietly away. `` go elsewhere to dwell upon an untainted ground. `` my! Weak, as we dared tearing her away, and crawls out into... Constantly I wondered how mother could be so negative towards these people and glared... The exact words of the answers to their sins they must have spent the most of children! Let her out of their crossed shins upon some of his face with the.. 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