High upon a mountain peak, not seen by the world below, sat the Four Winds. Long had it been since the council had met. The job of watching over The People had kept the Winds busy for uncountable years, but now the days were drawing to a close, and the council convened.
Unole Sakonige-i, the North Wind, was first to speak, “True were the words of Creator, wise was His counsel to withhold our anger. I did not foresee that the people would grow so strong in a land once dark with their blood,” said North Wind, standing with his gaze taking in the American Continent, black cloak flapping in the breeze. He sat down enveloped in a dark cloud.
East Wind, Unole Gigage, stood next to speak. She was dressed in dancing flames of light, a smile streamed from her face, “I would not have thought it. In the end our people are more numerous than in the beginning, they are proud, and they are strong.” From her eyes shot out great beams of light. Flashing from one scene to the next: a gathering of elders on the Navaho reservation, a large pow-wow in Kansas, an Indian family setting down to dinner in Missouri, a light-skinned Indian in Michigan sending smoke and prayers up to the Creator, a group of Indians camping out in Kentucky, an American Indian rally in New York, another in Washington, and a Convention in Delaware. These and many more images flashed across the minds of the Four Unole, as East Wind spoke not only out loud, but into their minds as well.
After a time, Unole Unega, South Wind, arose to speak to the other Winds. “Brother and Sisters,” he began, with flames dancing about his feet and playing in his hair. “Once I wished nothing more than to kill every white-skin on Turtle Island, I now stand astonished and abashed. Who would have thought these whites who once wished to drive our people into the sea, would come to love the Red People, to write books, tell about them in more ways than can be counted. Others would champion the cause of the People, some would risk life and wealth for the People—and these the children of those who once wanted only to steal from The People.” Unole Unega said, smiling a great glaring smile that soon washed out his face with its bright light.
Last to arise was Grandmother West Wind, Unole Gvhage-i. “My heart once was broken by the tear-stained faces of my children. How I longed to take them into my arms, and to wash away their grief,” she said, leaning upon a curly black stick as her long gray hair swam around in the currents of air. “Creator is truly wise. He could see this time, the time beyond our grief and anguish. The people have gathered, and dispersed across Turtle Island, they have blended into the colors of the rainbow—yet I can recognize them, whether their skin is black as night, or pale as flour. I watch them grow and smile, holding their heads high in knowledge of who they are, and no man takes this from them. I have dreamed of this time when Turtle Island will
All four Unole arose at the sound of a mighty horn. All four smiled as the sky was alight with their kindred Winds that swept the Earth and Turtle Island. All four raised hands in worship as Unehlanvhi descended upon the world.
BLUE SNAKE SAPONI CHIEF
He sat high upon a rocky shelf on a cold spring morning. The small, hot fire burned nearly smokeless beside him. The fire was unable to take away the chill; it certainly had no power to remove the chill from his heart.
Blue Snake (Asoti Wageni1), chief of a band of about thirty Saponi Indians, tried to draw strength this cold morning from the Great God (Itani Einga). Blue Snake needed strength for his people; he did not have any for himself—much less for his tribe.
Last fall, in the time of falling leaves, his band had numbered nearly one hundred and fifty members. Sickness and disease over the winter (wanei) had decimated his people.
Blue Snake liked to come to this sacred place to pray, he liked to watch the eagles soar over the valley below. Somehow coming here gave him hope he did not feel when looking into the faces of his dying people. He banished that thought, it had no power to help him, hope was what he needed today. First he took his decorated flute out of the leather bundle he carried. He placed the appropriate fingers upon the holes in the cedar flute, and played away the melancholy he felt within. That mournful sound rose upon the gentle morning breeze, melting away the sadness of the chief, even as the rising sun took away the chill in his body.
He was silent then for a time, but smiled as he saw an eagle drifting upon the warming air currents in the distance. He stoked the fire that had nearly gone out, then replaced the flute in the bundle, and took the sacred pipe out of the bundle on the rock ledge. He held the sacred pipe up toward the Sun above: “Great God (Itani Einga), I hold this pipe, the sacred “mouth stone—ihenstek” up before you. I am the chief of a small people, a tribe that has fallen like the leaves at the end of summer. I seek your blessing as we leave this place, and look for a new home on Mother Earth (Ina Amani).” Blue Snake, chief of his Saponi people lit the pipe and drew smoke. He sent the smoke to carry his prayers to the Creator above.
He sat for he knew not how long. But just as had happened once before, a vision came to the chief. He sat in a trance and watched the vision scroll before his eyes: White people floated upon the water as pollen. Like pollen from every tree in the forest they covered the vast lake that the chief looked upon. He could see some tiny Islands on the lake, upon those Islands were a few scattered cedar trees. In his vision he watched the sky darken, a storm quickly rose up and pounded the lake with a hard rain. The White pollen upon the lake danced around as the rain struck. The cedar trees bent beneath the fierce winds that swept the lake and the Islands. The White pollen began to cluster about the edge of the Islands as if for protection from the storm. For a time Blue Snake feared the cedar trees might topple over in the storm, but they stood fast. As quickly as it came, the vision ended.
Chief Blue Snake pondered the vision for awhile upon that rocky ledge. The birds were singing around him, and the sky was bright and clear over his head. He nodded in understanding as he gathered his sacred bundle and made his way back toward his tribe below. The Great God (Itani Einga) had showed him what he feared, and had given him courage to face it.
It was time to join the other remnant bands at Roanoke. His people gathered their few belongings, they prayed at the gravesides of the family and friends they had to leave behind in Mother Earth. Then as always, The People set their course to face the challenges before them, and to fight for their place on Turtle Island.
Copyright © 2001 Karlton Douglas. All rights reserved
Unole Sakonige-i, the North Wind, was first to speak, “True were the words of Creator, wise was His counsel to withhold our anger. I did not foresee that the people would grow so strong in a land once dark with their blood,” said North Wind, standing with his gaze taking in the American Continent, black cloak flapping in the breeze. He sat down enveloped in a dark cloud.
East Wind, Unole Gigage, stood next to speak. She was dressed in dancing flames of light, a smile streamed from her face, “I would not have thought it. In the end our people are more numerous than in the beginning, they are proud, and they are strong.” From her eyes shot out great beams of light. Flashing from one scene to the next: a gathering of elders on the Navaho reservation, a large pow-wow in Kansas, an Indian family setting down to dinner in Missouri, a light-skinned Indian in Michigan sending smoke and prayers up to the Creator, a group of Indians camping out in Kentucky, an American Indian rally in New York, another in Washington, and a Convention in Delaware. These and many more images flashed across the minds of the Four Unole, as East Wind spoke not only out loud, but into their minds as well.
After a time, Unole Unega, South Wind, arose to speak to the other Winds. “Brother and Sisters,” he began, with flames dancing about his feet and playing in his hair. “Once I wished nothing more than to kill every white-skin on Turtle Island, I now stand astonished and abashed. Who would have thought these whites who once wished to drive our people into the sea, would come to love the Red People, to write books, tell about them in more ways than can be counted. Others would champion the cause of the People, some would risk life and wealth for the People—and these the children of those who once wanted only to steal from The People.” Unole Unega said, smiling a great glaring smile that soon washed out his face with its bright light.
Last to arise was Grandmother West Wind, Unole Gvhage-i. “My heart once was broken by the tear-stained faces of my children. How I longed to take them into my arms, and to wash away their grief,” she said, leaning upon a curly black stick as her long gray hair swam around in the currents of air. “Creator is truly wise. He could see this time, the time beyond our grief and anguish. The people have gathered, and dispersed across Turtle Island, they have blended into the colors of the rainbow—yet I can recognize them, whether their skin is black as night, or pale as flour. I watch them grow and smile, holding their heads high in knowledge of who they are, and no man takes this from them. I have dreamed of this time when Turtle Island will
All four Unole arose at the sound of a mighty horn. All four smiled as the sky was alight with their kindred Winds that swept the Earth and Turtle Island. All four raised hands in worship as Unehlanvhi descended upon the world.
BLUE SNAKE SAPONI CHIEF
He sat high upon a rocky shelf on a cold spring morning. The small, hot fire burned nearly smokeless beside him. The fire was unable to take away the chill; it certainly had no power to remove the chill from his heart.
Blue Snake (Asoti Wageni1), chief of a band of about thirty Saponi Indians, tried to draw strength this cold morning from the Great God (Itani Einga). Blue Snake needed strength for his people; he did not have any for himself—much less for his tribe.
Last fall, in the time of falling leaves, his band had numbered nearly one hundred and fifty members. Sickness and disease over the winter (wanei) had decimated his people.
Blue Snake liked to come to this sacred place to pray, he liked to watch the eagles soar over the valley below. Somehow coming here gave him hope he did not feel when looking into the faces of his dying people. He banished that thought, it had no power to help him, hope was what he needed today. First he took his decorated flute out of the leather bundle he carried. He placed the appropriate fingers upon the holes in the cedar flute, and played away the melancholy he felt within. That mournful sound rose upon the gentle morning breeze, melting away the sadness of the chief, even as the rising sun took away the chill in his body.
He was silent then for a time, but smiled as he saw an eagle drifting upon the warming air currents in the distance. He stoked the fire that had nearly gone out, then replaced the flute in the bundle, and took the sacred pipe out of the bundle on the rock ledge. He held the sacred pipe up toward the Sun above: “Great God (Itani Einga), I hold this pipe, the sacred “mouth stone—ihenstek” up before you. I am the chief of a small people, a tribe that has fallen like the leaves at the end of summer. I seek your blessing as we leave this place, and look for a new home on Mother Earth (Ina Amani).” Blue Snake, chief of his Saponi people lit the pipe and drew smoke. He sent the smoke to carry his prayers to the Creator above.
He sat for he knew not how long. But just as had happened once before, a vision came to the chief. He sat in a trance and watched the vision scroll before his eyes: White people floated upon the water as pollen. Like pollen from every tree in the forest they covered the vast lake that the chief looked upon. He could see some tiny Islands on the lake, upon those Islands were a few scattered cedar trees. In his vision he watched the sky darken, a storm quickly rose up and pounded the lake with a hard rain. The White pollen upon the lake danced around as the rain struck. The cedar trees bent beneath the fierce winds that swept the lake and the Islands. The White pollen began to cluster about the edge of the Islands as if for protection from the storm. For a time Blue Snake feared the cedar trees might topple over in the storm, but they stood fast. As quickly as it came, the vision ended.
Chief Blue Snake pondered the vision for awhile upon that rocky ledge. The birds were singing around him, and the sky was bright and clear over his head. He nodded in understanding as he gathered his sacred bundle and made his way back toward his tribe below. The Great God (Itani Einga) had showed him what he feared, and had given him courage to face it.
It was time to join the other remnant bands at Roanoke. His people gathered their few belongings, they prayed at the gravesides of the family and friends they had to leave behind in Mother Earth. Then as always, The People set their course to face the challenges before them, and to fight for their place on Turtle Island.
Copyright © 2001 Karlton Douglas. All rights reserved
