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I didn't know where to
put this, but I felt it deserved a place on our page. Thanks Sumer.
From Indian news
Below are the ways to express "Merry Christmas" in a number of languages of
the Americas. These are found on a website (see end of piece). If your
language is missing or incorrect drop me a line and I'll pass it on to that
LANGUAGE COUNTRY - MERRY CHRISTMAS
ALEUT ALASKA - Ruudzdistvachxizax^ama ama slum tagadagan inix^sinaa imchix
ALUTIIQ ALASKA - Spraasnikam! [Happy Holidays]
APACHE, WESTERN USA - Gozhqq Késhmish
APALACHICOLA CREEK USA - Nettv-Cako-Rakko
AYMARA PERU,BOLIVIA - Sooma Nawira-ra
BLACKFOOT USA/CANADA - I'TAAMOMAHKATOYIIKSISTSIKOMI [Merry big holy day]
CARRIER,CENTRAL CANADA - Zoo dungwel
CENTRAL AHTNA ALASKA - C'ehwggelnen Dzaen [Holy Day, Holiday]
CHEROKEE USA - Danistayohihv
CHEYENNE USA - Hoesenestotse
CHOCTAW USA - Yukpa nitak hollo chito.
CREE USA - Mitho Makosi Kesikansi
CREEK USA - Afvcke Nettv Cako Rakko
DINÉ (NAVAJO) SW USA - Yá'át'ééh Késhmish
GITKSAN W. CANADA - Hisgusgitxwsim Ha'niisgats Christ ganhl Ama Sii
GUAHIBO COLOMBIA,VEN. - Pexania Navidadmatacabi pijinia pexaniapejanawai
GUAMBIANO COLOMBIA - Navidadwan Tabig tugagunrrigay
GUARANÍ ÑANDEVA PARAGUAY - Avyaitete ahï ko Tupa ray árape qyraï Yy
GUARAYU BOLIVIA - ¡Imboeteipri tasecoi Tupa i vave!
GWICH'IN W CANADA - Drin tsal zhit shoh ohlii
HÄN CANADA - Drin tsul zhìt shò ahlay
HAWAIIAN USA - Mele Kalikimaka me ka Hauloi Makahiki hou
INUPIAQ ALASKA - Annaurri Aniruq
IÑUPIATAM CANADA - Quvianaq Agaayuniqpak
IROQUOIS USA - Ojenyunyat Sungwiyadeson homungradon nagwutut
KAQCHIKEL GUATEMALA - Dios tik'ujie' avik'in [God be with you]
KOYUKON ALASKA - Denaahto' Hoolaanh Dedzaanh Sodeelts'eeyh
KUTCHIN ALASKA - Drin Tsal Neenjit Goozu'
LAKOTA N. CENTRAL US - Wanikiya tonpi wowiyuskin
LENAPE (DELAWARE) USA - Mèli Këlìshmìsh
LOWER TANANA ALASKA - Bet'oxdilt'ayi bedena' ch'exulanhde dranh
ninoxudedhet MATACO ARGENTINA - Lesilatyaj ihi Dios ta i pule ye, Letamsek
ihi wichi ta Dios ikojejthi ta i honat e
MAYA, YUCATEC MEXICO - Utzul mank'inal [Happy Holidays]
NASKAPI CANADA - miywaaitaakun mikusaanor
NAVAJO SOUTHEAST US - Kasmish Bihozhi
OJIBWE (CHIPPEWA) N USA/S CANADA - Niibaa' anami'egiizhigad
ONEIDA USA - Wanto'wan
PAPIAMENTO ARUBA - Bon Pasko
PAPIAMENTO CURAÇAO - Bon Pasku
Q'ANJOB'AL MEXICO - chi woche swatx'ilal hak'ul yet jun yalji Komami'
QUECHUA PERU - Sumaj kausay kachun Navidad ch'sisipi.
QUICHE GUATEMALA - Dios kkje' awuk' [God be with you]
RETVARA COLOMBIA - Mamaka wejejerãka
SALCHA ALASKA - Dzeen chox teedle 'aay nayilkaa
SECOYA ECUADOR - Sihuañu'u Ejaërepa aide'ose'ere.
SRANEN SURINAME - Bun kresneti
TANAINA ALASKA - Natukda Qizdlan Na'el Qanahdghalen
TEWA USA - Hihchandi Núuphaa
TLINGIT ALASKA - , CANADA - Xristos kuwusteeyí káx sh kaxtoolxétl
TUTCHONE, NORTHERN W CANADA - Ut'óhudinch'i Húlin Dzenú.
TUTCHONE, SOUTHERN W CANADA - Ut'àkwädch'e dzänù nàkwìtth'ät
YANESHA'-AMUESHA PERU - Yomporcha' ya' nataya YUPIK,
CENTRAL ALASKA - Alussistuaqegtaar
YUPIK, ALASKA - Quyanalghii Kuusma
These greetings are found at website
I want to go where the blind can see
I want to go where the lame will walk
I want to see the sick ones clean
Where the deaf can hear and the silent talk
Where are you going?
To a ghost dance in the snow
I am a mighty warrior
And I'm finally coming home
I want to go where the dead are raised
Where the mountain lion lays down with the lamb
I want to stand where God is praised
I want to ride across the plains to the promised land
Where are we going?
To a ghost dance in the snow
I am a mighty warrior
And I'm finally coming home
Where I'm going don't need to raise your voice
No starvation, there'll be plenty to eat
No guns, no wars, no hateful noise
Just a victory dance, we'll never taste defeat
Where nothing done or said can't be forgiven
Where every step you take is on sacred ground
Walk away from death to the land of the living
Where all the lost tribes are finally found
Where are you going?
To a ghost dance in the snow
I am a mighty warrior
And I'm finally coming home
Where are you going?
To a ghost dance in the snow
I am a mighty warrior
And I'm finally coming home
-Bill Miller, 1999 Nammy Award Winner
"Song of the Year"
November 22, 1999
Standing for what you believe
regardless of the odds against you,
and the pressure that tears at your
resistance, means Courage
Keeping a smile on your face,
when inside you feel like dying,
for the sake of supporting others,
Stopping at nothing,
and doing what's in your heart
you know is right, means Determination
Doing more than is expected,
To make another's life a little more bearable,
Without uttering a single complaint,
Helping a friend in need,
No matter the time or effort,
to the best of your ability, means Loyalty
Giving more than you have,and
expecting nothing but nothing in return,
Holding your head high,
and being the best you know you can be
when life seems to fall apart at your feet.
Facing each difficulty with the confidence
that time will bring you better tomorrows,
and never giving up,
Thursday, November 11, 1999
Now I am going to do something I haven't done since that time I made the
mistake a couple years ago. It was a mistake then because it was done in
innocence (some people mistake innocence for ignorance). This time it is
with conscious intent, and no mistake. Here is last night's dream:
I dreamed of a circle, self-contained. Around the circle was a darkness. It
was a nothingness, but it was also vast. It had depth, dimension, and was
not visible because it was nothing. Inside the circle, which is surrounded
by darkness, is a well of light. The light is like sand, containing
particles. But it is also one thing. It is both many and one at the same
time. This appears as an image in my dream, viewed from space, from inside
the nothing place which is really something. The circle has a consciousness.
It has a thought, which is a single thought, and in my dream I think to
myself, "It is a group thought." From this point in my dream I move to
another place. It is over the earth. I see a center point on the earth and
four rivers are coming out of it, moving in four directions. And the rivers
are streams of people. They go forward. They turn. A swastika appears on the
face of the earth, made out of people who are coming out of the center.
They are continually coming out of the center. I move closer in my dream to the
earth, and I can see this land stretching from the north pole to the south
pole, the Americas and especially where they join hands. Now out of this
center, where two hands are joined, there are four roads. I see the wind
moving all around the surface of the land, like an animated Vincent Van Gogh
painting. It moves over these two lands, and loud noises come out of it and
bright steaks of light. At first it is like a storm, and the winds move in
chaos. Suddenly it finds form, and the winds divide in four directions,
aligning itself to the four roads, and all becomes clear. There is a
peaceful silence and the movement of the wind along the road is soft and
flowing. Waters along the edges of the land begin to ebb. The wind becomes
people. I see them moving like spirits along the roads, and they are
traveling with the others who walk on land rather than on air. Guiding them
according to the pattern of the Ancient World. I see that the hands of the
north and south are joined, but the hands of the east and west have come
apart. Now one hand disappears. And the four hands are brothers. In the
dream, this knowledge comes to mind. The hand goes straight. It does not
turn. It follows another pattern. It keeps going and even leaves the land
and crosses the water. The roads begins to have colors. The road to the
north turns into mother-of-pearl. The road to the south turns blackish. The
road to the west turns red, but the road to the east has no certain color.
It seems to change from one color to another as if it either contains all
colors or else does not know which color it is. The road is in
forgetfulness. And the road is forgotten. I am high over the earth and I see
a circle where the two hands join. Even the hands of the north and south
have come apart. Now the circle is empty. Because the hands have come apart
and because there are not four. Something strange begins to happen. There is
a call. The circle is empty! There is a loud call. THE CIRCLE IS EMPTY!
There is no light in the circle. My heart plunges. War is being prepared.
WHERE THERE IS NO LIGHT, DARKNESS MAY ENTER. (Whose voice is that?) Three
roads return to the circle, but they cannot re-enter. Something is missing,
but the fourth road is forgotten, so what is missing is now a mystery. I
want to speak down to earth but I am too far away and no one will hear me.
I want to say, "Where is your brother?" The road to the east hears the call,
and returns, but no road will recognize it. It's route is strange. It's
color changes. It could be mother-of-pearl, but it isn't. It could be red,
but it isn't. It could be black, but it isn't. It could be yellow, but who
can know? No one will take the hand of the brother. No one is willing to
bring him into the sacred circle. The hands of the north and south join
again. But the hands of the east and west are not joined. No light can
enter. The circle is empty. It is all too much. I wake up.
A white woman dreaming.
GUIDE TO LIFE
With Humor, but true...
Crisis management principle: Good judgment comes from experience, and alot
of that comes from bad judgment.
Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier 'n puttin' it back.
Negotiation principle: Never drop yer gun to hug a grizzly.
If you're ridin' ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then
to make sure it's still there.
If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin'
somebody else's dog around.
A good horse never comes in a bad color.
After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started
roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The
moral: When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut.
Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.
There's two theories to arguin' with a woman.
Neither one works.
Don't worry about bitin' off more than you can chew.
Your mouth is probably a whole lot bigger'n you think.
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.
Never slap a man who's chewin' tobacco.
It don't take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep.
Always drink upstream from the herd.
When you give a lesson in meanness to a critter or a woman, don't be
surprised when they learns their lesson.
When you're throwin' your weight around, be ready to have it thrown
around by somebody else.
Always take a good look at what you're about to eat. It's not so
important to know what it is, but you might need to know what it was.
The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it backin
Never miss a good chance to shut up.
There are three kinds of men: those that learn by reading; the few who
learn by observation; and the rest of them that have to pee on the
electric fence for themselves.
Resolutions For Avoiding
Choose to love...
rather than hate.
Choose to smile...
rather than frown.
Choose to build...
rather than destroy.
Choose to persevere...
rather than quit.
Choose to praise...
rather than gossip
Choose to heal...
rather than wound.
Choose to give...
rather than grasp.
Choose to act...
rather than delay.
Choose to forgive...
rather than curse.
Choose to Pray...
rather than despair.
From one of our fans, I just thought this would bring a little light into the day today.
Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another
baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her
3-year old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.
They found out that the new baby was going to be a girl,
and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to
his little sister in Mommy's tummy. He was building a
bond of love with his little sister before he even met
The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active
member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in
Morristown, Tennessee. In time, the labor pains came.
Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every
minute. But serious complications arose during delivery
and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a
C-section be required?
Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister
was born. But she was in very serious condition. With a
siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant
to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital,
The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The
pediatric specialist regretfully had to tell the parents,
"There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst."
Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a
burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their home
for the new baby-but now they found themselves having to
plan for a funeral.
Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see
his sister. "I want to sing to her," he kept saying.
Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come
before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing
to his sister, but kids are never allowed in the Intensive
Care. Karen made up her mind, though. She would take
Michael whether they liked it or not If he didn't see his
sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed
him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He
looked like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse
recognized him as a child and bellowed "Get that kid out of
here now! NO children are allowed!"
The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually
mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head
nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving
until he sings to his sister!" Karen towed Michael to
his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing
the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing.
In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old Michael sang:
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy
when skies are gray." Instantly the baby girl seemed to
respond. Her pulse rate began to calm down and become
"Keep on singing, Michael," encouraged Karen with tears in
"You never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't
take my sunshine away."
As Michael sang to his sister, the baby's ragged, strained
breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr. "Keep on
"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I
held you in my hands..." Michael's little sister began
to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her.
"Keep on singing, Michael." Tears had now conquered the
face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take
my sunshine away..."
The next day ... the very next day ... the little girl
was well enough to go home! "Women's Day Magazine" called
it "The Miracle of a Brother's Song." The medical staff
just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of
Never give up on the people you love. Love is so Incredibly
Please send this to all the people that have touched your
life in some way. To the world you may be one person, but
to one person you may be the world!
October 17, 1999 8:13 PM
Seven Philosophies For A Native American Man
Copyright: "Winds of Change" Autumn 1996
SEVEN PHILOSOPHIES FOR A NATIVE AMERICAN MAN:
First Philosophy to the Women:
The cycle of life for the woman is the baby, girl,
woman and grandmother. These are the four directions
of life. She has been given by natural laws the
ability to reproduce life. The most scared of all
things is life. Therefore, all men should treat her
with dignity and respect. Never was it our way to
harm her mentally or physically. Indian men were
never abusers. We always treated our women with
respect and understanding. So from now on:
-- I will treat women in a sacred manner. The
Creator gave women the responsibility for
bringing new life into the world. Life is
sacred, so I will look upon the women in a
-- In our traditional ways, the woman is the
foundation of the family. I will work with
her to create a home atmosphere of respect,
security and harmony.
-- I will refrain from any form of emotional or
physical abuse. If I have these feelings, I
will talk to the Creator for Guidance.
-- I will treat all women as if they were my
own female relatives.
This is my Vow.
Second Philosophy to the Children:
As an eagle prepares its young to leave the nest
with all the skills and knowledge it needs to
participate in life, in the same manner so will
I guide my children. I will use the culture to
prepare them for life.
The most important thing I can give to my
children is my time. I spend time with them in
order to learn from them and to listen to them.
I will teach my children to pray, as well as the
importance of respect. We are the caretakers of
the children for the Creator. They are His children,
I am proud of our own Native languages. I will
learn mine if I can and help my children to learn it.
In today's world it is easy for the children to
go astray, so I will work to provide positive
alternatives for them. I will teach them the culture.
I will encourage education. I will encourage sports.
I will encourage them to talk with the Elders for
guidance; but mostly, I will seek to be a role
model myself. I make this commitment to my children
so they will have courage and find guidance through
Third Philosophy to the Family:
The Creator gave us the family, which is the place
where all teachings are handed down from grandparent,
to the parent, and to the child. The children's
behavior is a mirror of the parent's behavior. Know-
ing this, I realize the importance for each man to be
responsible to the family in order to fulfill the need
to build a strong and balanced family. By doing this,
I will breach the cycle of hurt and ensure the posi-
tive mental health of the children, even the children
yet to be born. So, from now on:
-- I will dedicate my priorities to rebuilding my
-- I must never give up and leave my family only to
-- I am accountable to restore the strength of my
family. To do this, I will nuture our family's
spiritual, cultural and social health. I will
demonstrate trust, respect, honor and discipline;
but mostly, I will be consistent in whatever I
do with them.
-- I will see that the grandparents and community
Elders play a significant role in the education
of my children.
-- I realize that the male and female together are
fundamental to our family life. I will listen to
my mate's counsel for our family's benefit, as
well as for the benefit of my Indian Nation.
Fourth Philosophy to the Community:
The Indian community provides many things for the
family. The most important is the sense of belonging;
that is, to belong to "the people", and to have a
place to go. Our Indian communities need to be restor-
ed to health so the future generations will be guar-
anteed a place to go for culture, language and
Indian socializing. In the community, the honor of
one is the honor of all...and the pain of one is
the pain of all. I will work to strengthen recovery
in all parts of my community. As an Indian man:
-- I will give back to my community by donating
my time and talents when I am able.
-- I will cultivate friendships with other Indian
men for mutual support and strength.
-- I will consider the effects of our decisions on
behalf of the next seven generations; in this way,
our children and grandchildren will inherit
-- I will care about those in my community so that
the mind changers, alcohol and drugs, will vanish,
and our communities will forever be free of violence.
If each of us can do all these things, then others
will follow. Ours will be a proud community.
Fifth Philosophy to the Earth:
Our Mother Earth is the source of all life, whether
it be the plants, the two-legged, four-legged, winged
ones or human beings. The Mother Earth is the great-
est Teacher, if we listen, observe and respect her.
When we live in harmony with the Mother Earth, she
will recycle the things we consume and make them
available to our children and to their children. As
an Indian man, I must teach my children how to care
for the Earth so it is there for the future genera-
tions. So from now on:
-- I realize the Earth is our Mother. I will treat
her with honor and respect.
-- I will honor the interconnectedness of all things
and all forms of life.
-- I will realize the Earth does not belong to us,
but that we belong to the Earth.
-- The natural law is the ultimate authority upon
the lands and water. I will learn the knowledge
and wisdom of the natural laws. I will pass this
knowledge on to my children.
-- The Mother Earth is a living entity that maintains
life. I will speak out in a good way whenever I
see someone abusing the Earth. Just as I would
protect my own mother, so will I protect the Earth.
-- I will ensure that the land, water, and air will
be intact for my children's children -- the unborn.
Sixth Philosophy to the Creator:
As an Indian man, I realize we make no gains without
the Great Spirit being in our lives. Neither I, nor
anything I attempt to do, will work without our
Creator. Being Indian and being Spiritual have the
same meaning. Spirituality is our gift from the
Great One. This day I vow to walk the Red Road.
As an Indian man, I will return to the traditional
and spiritual values which have guided my ancestors
for the past generations.
I will look with new eyes on the power of our
ceremonies and religious ways, for they are important
to the very survival of our people.
We have survived and are going to grow and flourish
spiritually. We will fulfill our teachings and the
purpose that the Creator has given us with dignity.
Each day, I will pray and ask for guidance. I will
commit to walk the Red Road, or whatever the
spiritual way is called in my own culture.
If I am Christian, I will be a good one. If I am
traditional, I will walk this road with dedication.
If each of us can do these things, then others will
follow. From this day forward, I will reserve time
and energy for spirituality, seeking to know the
Seventh Philosophy to Myself:
I will think about what kind of person I want to be
when I am an Elder. I will start developing myself
now to be this person.
I will walk with the Great Spirit and the grand-
fathers at my side. I will develop myself to remain
positive. I will develop a good mind.
I will examine myself daily to see what I did good
and what I need to improve. I will examine my strengths
and weaknesses, then I will ask the Creator to guide
me. I will develope a good mind.
Each day, I will listen for the Creator's voice in
the wind. I will watch nature and ask to be shown a
lesson which will occur on my path.
I will seek out the guiding principles which guided
my ancestors. I will walk in dignity, honor and
humility, conducting myself as a warrior.
I will seek the guidance of the Elders so that I may
maintain the knowledge of culture, ceremonies and
songs, and so that I may pass these on to the future
I choose to do all these things myself, because no
one else can do them for me.
I know I CANNOT GIVE AWAY WHAT I DON'T HAVE, so I
will need to learn to walk the talk.
"We will be known forever by the tracks we leave."
"The greatest strength is gentleness.' Iroquois Proverb
A Message from the Hopi
Activist Mailing List - http://get.to/activist
From the Hopi Elders:
"There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift, that
there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly. Know the
river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore,
push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads
above the water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate.
"At this time in history, we are to take nothing personal. Least of all,
ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey
comes to a halt.
"The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
"Banish the word "struggle" from your attitude and your vocabulary. All
that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
WE ARE THE ONES WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR."
Insight into the trail of tears!
Tue, 12 Oct 1999
John G. Burnett's Story of the Removal of the Cherokees
Birthday Story of Private John G. Burnett, Captain Abraham
McClellan's Company, 2nd Regiment, 2nd Brigade, Mounted
Infantry, Cherokee Indian Removal, 1838-39.
This is my birthday, December 11, 1890, I am eighty years
old today. I was born at Kings Iron Works in Sulllivan
County, Tennessee, December the 11th, 1810. I grew into
manhood fishing in Beaver Creek and roaming through the
forest hunting the deer and the wild boar and the timber
wolf. Often spending weeks at a time in the solitary
wilderness with no companions but my rifle, hunting knife,
and a small hatchet that I carried in my belt in all of my
On these long hunting trips I met and became acquainted with
many of the Cherokee Indians, hunting with them by day and
sleeping around their camp fires by night. I learned to
speak their language, and they taught me the arts of
trailing and building traps and snares. On one of my long
hunts in the fall of 1829, I found a young Cherokee who had
been shot by a roving band of hunters and who had eluded his
pursuers and concealed himself under a shelving rock. Weak
from loss of blood, the poor creature was unable to walk and
almost famished for water. I carried him to a spring, bathed
and bandaged the bullet wound, and built a shelter out of
bark peeled from a dead chestnut tree. I nursed and
protected him feeding him on chestnuts and toasted deer
meat. When he was able to travel I accompanied him to the
home of his people and remained so long that I was given up
for lost. By this time I had become an expert rifleman and
fairly good archer and a good trapper and spent most of my
time in the forest in quest of game.
The removal of Cherokee Indians from their life long homes
in the year of 1838 found me a young man in the prime of
life and a Private soldier in the American Army. Being
acquainted with many of the Indians and able to fluently
speak their language, I was sent as interpreter into the
Smoky Mountain Country in May, 1838, and witnessed the
execution of the most brutal order in the History of
American Warfare. I saw the helpless Cherokees arrested and
dragged from their homes, and driven at the bayonet point
into the stockades. And in the chill of a drizzling rain on
an October morning I saw them loaded like cattle or sheep
into six hundred and forty-five wagons and started toward
One can never forget the sadness and solemnity of that
morning. Chief John Ross led in prayer and when the bugle
sounded and the wagons started rolling many of the children
rose to their feet and waved their little hands good-by to
their mountain homes, knowing they were leaving them
forever. Many of these helpless people did not have blankets
and many of them had been driven from home barefooted.
On the morning of November the 17th we encountered a
terrific sleet and snow storm with freezing temperatures and
from that day until we reached the end of the fateful
journey on March the 26th, 1839, the sufferings of the
Cherokees were awful. The trail of the exiles was a trail of
death. They had to sleep in the wagons and on the ground
without fire. And I have known as many as twenty-two of them
to die in one night of pneumonia due to ill treatment, cold,
and exposure. Among this number was the beautiful Christian
wife of Chief John Ross. This noble hearted woman died a
martyr to childhood, giving her only blanket for the
protection of a sick child. She rode thinly clad through a
blinding sleet and snow storm, developed pneumonia and died
in the still hours of a bleak winter night, with her head
resting on Lieutenant Greggs saddle blanket.
I made the long journey to the west with the Cherokees and
did all that a Private soldier could do to alleviate their
sufferings. When on guard duty at night I have many times
walked my beat in my blouse in order that some sick child
might have the warmth of my overcoat. I was on guard duty
the night Mrs. Ross died. When relieved at midnight I did
not retire, but remained around the wagon out of sympathy
for Chief Ross, and at daylight was detailed by Captain
McClellan to assist in the burial like the other
unfortunates who died on the way. Her unconfined body was
buried in a shallow grave by the roadside far from her
native home, and the sorrowing Cavalcade moved on.
Being a young man, I mingled freely with the young women and
girls. I have spent many pleasant hours with them when I was
supposed to be under my blanket, and they have many times
sung their mountain songs for me, this being all that they
could do to repay my kindness. And with all my association
with Indian girls from October 1829 to March 26th 1839, I
did not meet one who was a moral prostitute. They are kind
and tender hearted and many of them are beautiful.
The only trouble that I had with anybody on the entire
journey to the west was a brutal teamster by the name of Ben
McDonal, who was using his whip on an old feeble Cherokee to
hasten him into the wagon. The sight of that old and nearly
blind creature quivering under the lashes of a bull whip was
too much for me. I attempted to stop McDonal and it ended in
a personal encounter. He lashed me across the face, the wire
tip on his whip cutting a bad gash in my cheek. The little
hatchet that I had carried in my hunting days was in my belt
and McDonal was carried unconscious from the scene.
I was placed under guard but Ensign Henry Bullock and
Private Elkanah Millard had both witnessed the encounter.
They gave Captain McClellan the facts and I was never
brought to trial. Years later I met 2nd Lieutenant Riley and
Ensign Bullock at Bristol at John Roberson's show, and
Bullock jokingly reminded me that there was a case still
pending against me before a court martial and wanted to know
how much longer I was going to have the trial put off?
McDonal finally recovered, and in the year 1851, was running
a boat out of Memphis, Tennessee.
The long painful journey to the west ended March 26th, 1839,
with four-thousand silent graves reaching from the foothills
of the Smoky Mountains to what is known as Indian territory
in the West. And covetousness on the part of the white race
was the cause of all that the Cherokees had to suffer. Ever
since Ferdinand DeSoto made his journey through the Indian
country in the year 1540, there had been a tradition of a
rich gold mine somewhere in the Smoky Mountain Country, and
I think the tradition was true. At a festival at Echota on
Christmas night 1829, I danced and played with Indian girls
who were wearing ornaments around their neck that looked
In the year 1828, a little Indian boy living on Ward creek
had sold a gold nugget to a white trader, and that nugget
sealed the doom of the Cherokees. In a short time the
country was overrun with armed brigands claiming to be
government agents, who paid no attention to the rights of
the Indians who were the legal possessors of the country.
Crimes were committed that were a disgrace to civilization.
Men were shot in cold blood, lands were confiscated. Homes
were burned and the inhabitants driven out by the
Chief Junaluska was personally acquainted with President
Andrew Jackson. Junaluska had taken 500 of the flower of his
Cherokee scouts and helped Jackson to win the battle of the
Horse Shoe, leaving 33 of them dead on the field. And in
that battle Junaluska had drove his tomahawk through the
skull of a Creek warrior, when the Creek had Jackson at his
Chief John Ross sent Junaluska as an envoy to plead with
President Jackson for protection for his people, but
Jackson's manner was cold and indifferent toward the rugged
son of the forest who had saved his life. He met Junaluska,
heard his plea but curtly said, "Sir, your audience is
ended. There is nothing I can do for you." The doom of the
Cherokee was sealed. Washington, D.C., had decreed that they
must be driven West and their lands given to the white man,
and in May 1838, an army of 4000 regulars, and 3000
volunteer soldiers under command of General Winfield Scott,
marched into the Indian country and wrote the blackest
chapter on the pages of American history.
Men working in the fields were arrested and driven to the
stockades. Women were dragged from their homes by soldiers
whose language they could not understand. Children were
often separated from their parents and driven into the
stockades with the sky for a blanket and the earth for a
pillow. And often the old and infirm were prodded with
bayonets to hasten them to the stockades.
In one home death had come during the night. A little
sad-faced child had died and was lying on a bear skin couch
and some women were preparing the little body for burial.
All were arrested and driven out leaving the child in the
cabin. I don't know who buried the body.
In another home was a frail mother, apparently a widow and
three small children, one just a baby. When told that she
must go, the mother gathered the children at her feet,
prayed a humble prayer in her native tongue, patted the old
family dog on the head, told the faithful creature good-by,
with a baby strapped on her back and leading a child with
each hand started on her exile. But the task was too great
for that frail mother. A stroke of heart failure relieved
her sufferings. She sunk and died with her baby on her back,
and her other two children clinging to her hands.
Chief Junaluska who had saved President Jackson's life at
the battle of Horse Shoe witnessed this scene, the tears
gushing down his cheeks and lifting his cap he turned his
face toward the heavens and said, "Oh my God, if I had known
at the battle of the Horse Shoe what I know now, American
history would have been differently written."
At this time, 1890, we are too near the removal of the
Cherokees for our young people to fully understand the
enormity of the crime that was committed against a
helpless race. Truth is, the facts are being concealed from
the young people of today. School children of today do not
know that we are living on lands that were taken from a
helpless race at the bayonet point to satisfy the white
Future generations will read and condemn the act and I do
hope posterity will remember that private soldiers like
myself, and like the four Cherokees who were forced by
General Scott to shoot an Indian Chief and his children, had
to execute the orders of our superiors. We had no choice in
Twenty-five years after the removal it was my privilege to
meet a large company of the Cherokees in uniform of the
Confederate Army under command of Colonel Thomas.
They were encamped at Zollicoffer and I went to see them.
Most of them were just boys at the time of the removal but
they instantly recognized me as "the soldier that was
good to us". Being able to talk to them in their native
language I had an enjoyable day with them. From them I learned
that Chief John Ross was still ruler in the nation in 1863. And I
wonder if he is still living? He was a noble-hearted fellow
and suffered a lot for his race.
At one time, he was arrested and thrown into a dirty jail in
an effort to break his spirit, but he remained true to his
people and led them in prayer when they started on their
exile. And his Christian wife sacrificed her life for a
little girl who had pneumonia. The Anglo-Saxon race would
build a towering monument to perpetuate her noble act in
giving her only blanket for comfort of a sick child.
Incidentally the child recovered, but Mrs. Ross is sleeping
in a unmarked grave far from her native Smoky Mountain home.
When Scott invaded the Indian country some of the Cherokees
fled to caves and dens in the mountains and were never
captured and they are there today. I have long intended
going there and trying to find them but I have put off going
from year to year and now I am too feeble to ride that far.
The fleeing years have come and gone and old age has
overtaken me. I can truthfully say that neither my rifle nor
my knife were stained with Cherokee blood. I can truthfully
say that I did my best for them when they certainly did
need a friend. Twenty-five years after the removal I still
lived in their memory as "the soldier that was good to us".
However, murder is murder whether committed by the villain
skulking in the dark or by uniformed men stepping to the
strains of martial music.
Murder is murder, and somebody must answer. Somebody must
explain the streams of blood that flowed in the Indian
country in the summer of 1838. Somebody must explain the
4000 silent graves that mark the trail of the Cherokees to
their exile. I wish I could forget it all, but the picture
of 645 wagons lumbering over the frozen ground with
their cargo of suffering humanity still lingers in my
Let the historian of a future day tell the sad story with
its sighs, its tears and dying groans. Let the great Judge
of all the earth weigh our actions and reward us according
to our work.
Children - Thus ends my promised birthday story.
This December the 11th 1890.
Wakantanka Nici Un
"Remember Wounded Knee"
If you haven't seen our web site lately please check it out!
FOR PAUL AND CORAL
MY FAVORITE UNCLE AND AUNT
BE THE LAST TO
SEE THE SUNRISE
BE THE FIRST TO SEE IT SET
LAY IN THE FIELD OF DREAMS
EXPLORE THE ENCHANTED FOREST
SWIM THE SEA OF WONDER
COME CLIMB THE MOUNTAIN OF LOVE
JOURNEY IN THE YELLOW SUBMARINE
SEARCH FOR LITTLE GREEN MEN
TRAVEL TO THE LAND OF AVALON
EXPLORE THE MANY WONDERS
AND FIND TRUTH
IN THE WORLD
- MICHAEL ANTHONY KEENAN-
The River and the Clouds
By Thich Nhat Hanh
Once upon a time there was a beautiful river finding
her way among the hills,
forests, and meadows. She began by being a joyful
stream of water, a spring
always dancing and singing as she ran down from the
top of the mountain. She
was very young at the time, and as she came to the
lowland she slowed down.
She was thinking about going to the ocean. As she
grew up, she learned to
look beautiful, winding gracefully among the hills
One day she noticed the clouds within herself.
Clouds of all sorts of colors
and forms. She did nothing during these days but
chase after clouds. She
wanted to possess a cloud, to have one for herself.
But clouds float and
travel in the sky, and they are always changing
their form. Sometimes they
look like an overcoat, sometimes like a horse.
Because of the nature of
impermanence within the clouds, the river suffered
very much. Her pleasure,
her joy had become just chasing after clouds, one
after another, but despair,
anger, and hatred became her life.
Then one day a strong wind came and blew away all
the clouds in the sky. The sky became completely empty.
Our river thought that life was not worth
living, for there were no longer any clouds to chase
after. She wanted to die. "If there are no clouds, why should I be
But how can a river take her own life?
That night the river had the opportunity to go back
to herself for the first
time. She had been running for so long after
something outside of herself
that she had never seen herself. That night was the
first opportunity for her
to hear her own crying, the sounds of water crashing
against the banks of the
river. Because she was able to listen to her own
voice, she discovered something quite important.
She realized that what she had been looking for was
already in herself. She
found out that clouds are nothing but water. Clouds
are born from water and
will return to water. And she found out she herself
was also water...........
From: "Dreamwalker" email@example.com
The Grandfathers Hold Me
When the dark of night
and calls it's loneliness
the Grandfathers hold me
When my Heart
and wants me to let go
the Grandfathers hold me
When all around
is lost and gone
and I falter in my step
the Grandfathers hold me
Their voices ring
than the pain
and the Grandfathers hold me
stands tall before me
unmoved at all
and The Grandfathers hold me
In their eyes
I stand before them
that the Grandfathers hold me
In the stillness
they fill me
the Grandfathers hold me
In the dark of night
they teach me
they show me
the Grandfathers hold me
Their words ring true
mending the Circle
is what we must do
the Grandfathers told me
the Grandfathers told me
of Sacred Ego
is all we need
the Grandfathers told me
walking the path
the grandfathers told me
So I walk with you
and the Grandfathers hold me.
More of Dreamwalkers Poems...click here
"I wish this message to travel to all corners of
this land and
across the great waters, where people of
understanding may consider these
words of wisdom and knowledge. This I want."
This is what Dan Katchongva sais later on in this
I felt it my duty to oblige.
FROM THE BEGINNING OF LIFE
TO THE DAY OF PURIFICATION
An excerpt from "The Hopi Story"
Teachings, History, and Prophecies of the Hopi
by Dan Katchongva, Sun Clan (1865-1972)
translated by Danagyumptewa
In a talk recorded on January 29, 1970, Dan told the story of the People of
Peace, from the dawn of time to the attacks which led to the founding of
Hotevilla in 1906, the school, money, and police systems which threaten to
end the Hopi Way within this generation; and the consequences for America
and the world.
The thought of publishing his talk grew from the recognition that those
causing this tragedy, and the millions who support them, could not persist,
had they but a glimpse of the purpose behind Hopi resistance to foreign
control. Dan agreed to the publication of this booklet on condition that it
never be sold, insisting that to sell Hopi teachings would be like selling
his own mother.
In addition to the prophecies fulfilled during his lifetime, Dan was told by
his father that he would live to see the beginning of the final event of
this era, the Great Day of Purification. Dan Katchongva died in 1972.
[Editor's Note: This story tells of the beginning of life, the creation of
people by the Great Spirit and the giving of the Great Spirit's laws to live
by. It tells of the Hopi people's emergence into the present world, and the
first meeting with the Great Spirit in this world, and the people's
migration to the four corners area in the Southwest, and the settling of the
village of Oraibi and the peace and happiness that surrounded their way of
life. The story then continues...]
Arrival of Another Race Foretold
Time passed on, people passed on, and the prophecies of things to come were
passed from mouth to mouth. The stone tablets and the rock writing of the
life plan were often reviewed by the elders. Fearfully they waited as they
retold the prophecy that one day another race of people would appear in
their midst and claim our land as his own. He would try to change our
pattern of life. He would have "a sweet tongue" or a "fork tongue" and many
good things by which we would be tempted. He would use force in an attempt
to trap us into using weapons, but we must not fall for this trick, for them
we ourselves would be brought to our knees, from which we might not be able
to rise. Nor must we ever raise our hand against any nation. We now call
these people Bahanna.
The Forces of Purification
We have teachings and prophecies informing us that we must be alert for the
signs and omens which will come about to give us courage and strength to
stand on our beliefs. Blood will flow. Our hair and our clothing will be
scattered upon the earth. Nature will speak to us with its mighty breath of
wind. There will be earthquakes and floods causing great disasters, changes
in the seasons and in the weather, disappearance of wildlife, and famine in
different forms. There will be gradual corruption and confusion among the
leaders and the people all over the world, and wars will come about like
powerful winds. All of this has been planned from the beginning of creation.
We will have three people standing behind us, ready to fulfill our
prophecies when we get into hopeless difficulties:
the Meha Symbol (which refers to a plant that has a long root, milky sap,
grows back when cut off, and has a flower shaped like a swastika, symbolizing
the four great forces of nature in motion), the Sun Symbol, and the Red
Symbol. Bahanna's intrusion into the Hopi way of life will set the
Meha symbol in motion, so that the four great forces of nature (the four
directions, the controlling forces, the original force) which will rock the
world into war. When this happens we will know that our prophecies are coming
true. We will gather strength and stand firm.
This great movement will fall, but because its subsistence is milk, and
because it is controlled by the four forces of nature, it will rise again to
put the world in motion, creating another war, in which both the Meha and
the Sun Symbol will be at work. Then it will rest in order to rise a third
time. Our prophecy foretells that the third event will be the decisive one.
Our road plan foretells the outcome.
This sacred writing speaks the word of the Great Spirit. It could mean the
mysterious life seed with two principles of tomorrow, indicating one, inside
of which is two. The third and last, which will it bring forth, purification
The third event will depend upon the Red Symbol, which will take command,
setting the four forces of nature (Meha) in motion for the benefit of the
Sun. When he sets these forces in motion the whole world will shake and turn
red and turn against the people who are hindering the Hopi cultural life. To
all these people Purification Day will come. Humble people will run to him
in search of a new world, and the equality that has been denied them. He
will come unmercifully. His people will cover the Earth like red ants. We
must not go outside to watch. We must stay in our houses. He will come and
gather the wicked people who are hindering the red people who were here
first. He will be looking for someone whom he will recognize by his way of
life, or by his head (the special Hopi haircut) or by the shape of his
village and his dwellings. He is the only one who will purify us. The
Purifier, commanded by the Red Symbol, with the help of the Sun and the
Meha, will weed out the wicked who have disturbed the way of life of the
Hopi, the true way of life on Earth. The wicked will be beheaded and will
speak no more. This will be the Purification for all righteous people, the
Earth, and all living things on Earth. The ills of the earth will be cured.
Mother Earth will bloom again and all people will unite into peace and
harmony for a long time to come.
But if this does not materialize, the Hopi traditional identity will vanish
due to pressure from Bahanna. Through the whiteman's influence, his
religions, and the disappearance of our sacred land, the Hopi will be
doomed. This is the Universal Plan, speaking through the Great Spirit since
the dawn of time.
The Hopi have been placed on this side of the Earth to take care of the land
through their ceremonial duties, just as other races of people have been
placed elsewhere around the Earth to take care of her in their own ways.
Together, we hold the world in balance, revolving properly. If the Hopi
nation vanishes, the motion of the Earth will become eccentric, the water
will swallow the land, and the people will perish. Only a brother and a
sister may be left to start a new life.
[Editor's Note: there is more history here about the faithful Hopi meeting
their test, encounters with the U.S. government and the consequences of
that, the eviction of Hopi from Oraibi, the founding of Hotevilla village
and further persecution by the U.S. government, and the continuation of
troubles -- as of 1970, the date of this talk.]
Continuing the narrative from the pamphlet...
We know certain people are commissioned to bring about the Purification. It
is the Universal Plan from the beginning of creation, and we are looking up
to them to bring purification to us. It is in the rock writings throughout
the world, on different continents. We will come together if people all over
the world know about it. So we urge you to spread this word around so people
will know about it, and the appointed ones will hurry up with their task, to
purify the Hopi and get rid of those who are hindering our way of life.
I have spoken. I wish this message to travel to all corners of this land and
across the great waters, where people of understanding may consider these
words of wisdom and knowledge. This I want. For people may have different
opinions about some things, but because of the nature of the beliefs upon
which this Hopi life is based, I expect that at least one will agree, maybe
even two. If three agree it will be worth manyfold.
I am forever looking and praying eastward to the rising sun for my true
white brother to come and purify the Hopi. My father, Yukiuma, used to tell
me that I would be the one to take over as leader at this time, because I
belong to the Sun Clan, the father of all the people on the Earth. I was
told that I must not give in, because I am the first. The Sun is the father
of all living things from the first creation. And if I am done, the Sun
Clan, then there will be no living thing left on the Earth. So I have stood
fast. I hope you will understand what I am trying to tell you.
I am the Sun, the father. With my warmth all things are created. You are my
children and I am very concerned about you. I hold you to protect you from
harm, but my heart is sad to see you leaving my protecting arms and
destroying yourselves. From the breast of you mother, the Earth, you receive
your nourishment, but she is too dangerously ill to give you pure food. What
will it be? Will you lift your father's heart? Will you cure your mother's
ills? Or will you forsake us and leave us with sadness to be weathered away?
I don't want this world to be destroyed. If this world is saved, you all
will be saved and whoever has stood fast will complete this plan with us, so
that we will all be happy in the Peaceful Way.
People everywhere must give Hopi their most serious consideration, our
prophecies, our teachings, and our ceremonial duties, for if Hopi fails, it
will trigger the destruction of the world and all mankind. I have spoken
through the mouth of the Creator. May the Great Spirit guide you on the right path.
Top of Page
Sent: Monday, September 13, 1999 7:10 AM
From "From the Dreamtime", Australian Aboriginal Legends, by Jean A Ellis
The Dreamtime is the name given to that mystical period of time, back
beyond human reckoning, when the land was first created and the Aboriginal
people of what is now Australia began establishing their independence
and their individuality.
Legends form the Dreamtime tell of this creation. They give reasons for
the distinctive geographic formations of the different areas, the peculiar
habits of some Australian animals and the changing climatic conditions.
Dreamtime lore explains the mysterious sky world and the age-old
complexities of human nature, as well as the joys and the problems of
people living together. Each Aboriginal group had its own set of legends,
which linked those people to their individual totems and their own area.
However, there are many obvious links and similarities from one group to
another. Overall it is a vast, fascinating and complex collection.
The story offered is only a very small part of the whole and it belongs
to the Aboriginal people.
The Drought-Maker Koala
Throughout Australia the Traditional Aboriginal people treated the koala
with respect, and in some areas it was completely taboo, so was never
hunted or harmed. The Aboriginal people of South Eastern Australia have
a legend to explain this.
Once there was a little orphan boy called Koobor. Aboriginal people
have traditionally been very loving and protective to all the children in
their group, but the relatives of poor little Koobor did not respect this
tradition. He was badly neglected and often did not have enough to eat
There was a time of very serious drought, and the law of the group
decreed that the little water available must be shared equally. But little
Koobor was made to give up his share to his relatives.
One day there was a ritual hunting ceremony and everyone in the group
was supposed to leave camp and take part in it. Koobor was too weak to go,
and anyway his relatives did not think he mattered, so he was left alone.
They thought he was too weak to get up from where he was lying, so they
didn't bother to hide the water container. They expected that he would be dead
by the time they got back, and they did not care.
But Koobor was a very determined boy, and he did not intend to die. As
soon as everyone was out of sight he struggled up, crawled to the water
container and had a long cool drink. Immediately he felt a little stronger.
As his strength returned he devised a plan, a way to make sure he would
never be thirsty again. He gathered up all the bark water containers,
first those belonging to his relatives and then those belonging to the
rest of the group as well. Some he placed in the forks of a nearby
gum tree and the rest he hung on the lower branches.
Then he climbed into the tree himself.
There he sat calmly, chanting a mysterious magic song which he had once
learnt. His song had strong mystical power, and the tree slowly began
to grow taller.
As he chanted it grew taller and taller, until it stood higher than any other tree.
When Koobor's relatives and the rest of the group returned that evening
they were amazed at the sudden height of the tree. Then they became
annoyed as they realized that Koobor was up there way out of reach, and
with him, all their precious water.
"Come down! Come down!" they shouted. "We need to drink. Bring our
water back down!" But Koobor pretended not to hear. Several of the men
tried to climb the tree, but it was much too high.
The people were tired after their hard day. They were also very hot and
very thirsty, and as time passed they grew more thirsty and more angry.
At last they called on one of the old men who knew magic. He was very
clever, and after a time, with the help of his magic, he was able to climb the tree.
Koobor watched, and as the man climbed towards him he became very
frightened. And indeed, when the man reached the boy, he began to beat
and shake him savagely.
"Please don't beat me any more," Koobor cried. "Let me explain why I
did this!" But the angry old man would not listen. He raised Koobor above
his head and threw him hard, all that long way to the ground. The people
watched in silence as Koobor crashed in a crumpled heat at the foot of the tree.
For a moment the shattered little body lay motionless, but before they
had time to blink he was changed from a boy into a koala. His ancestor
spirits had been watching and had decided to help him. The people who saw this
miracle cried out in amazement as, quick as thought, Koobor the koala scampered
back up the tree.
Now indeed he was safe, because even the man who knew magic was afraid
after what had happened. He knew that his magic could not match this,
andh e very quickly climbed down from the tree. Then he and all the rest of
the group stood for a long while looking up at Koala Koobor.
All those who had seen this miracle continued to be very much afraid of
Koobor. They realized that with the spirits helping him he no longer
needed water himself, and might cause further drought as a punishment
for them if they were ever to harm him again, especially if anyone were to
break his bones.
Koalas have lived high in the treetops ever since, and unlike most other
animals they do not need water to keep them alive.
Each generation of Aboriginal people has been told this story. They have
listened and understood, and have decided it is wiser to leave the koalas
to themselves, safe and undisturbed in their leafy tree-top world.
ISBN 0 86371 016 7
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