While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
I have noticed the many singular
notions of the Sioux concerning thunder, and especially the fact
that they believe it to be a large bird. They represent it thus.
This figure is often seen worked with porcupine quills on their
ornaments. Ke-on means to fly.
Thunder is called Wah-ke-on or All-flier. U-mi-ne-wah-chippe
is a dance given by some one who fears thunder and thus
endeavors to propitiate the god and save his own life.
A ring is made, of about sixty feet in circumference,
by sticking saplings in the ground, and bending their tops down,
fastening them together. In the centre of this ring a pole is
placed. The pole is about fifteen feet in height and painted
red. From this swings a piece of birch bark, cut so as to
represent thunder. At the foot of the pole stand two boys and
two girls.
The two boys represent war: they are painted red, and
hold war-clubs in their hands. The girls have their faces
painted with blue clay: they represent peace.
On one side of the circle a kind of booth is erected, and about
twenty feet from it a wigwam. There are four entrances to this
circle.
When all the arrangements for the dance are concluded,
the man who gives the dance emerges from his wigwam dressed up
as hideously as possible, crawling on all fours towards the
booth. He must sing four tunes before reaching it.
In the meantime the medicine men, who are seated in the
wigwam, beat time on the drum, and the young men and squaws keep
time to the music by first hopping on one foot, and then on the
other moving around inside the ring as fast as they can. This is
continued for about five minutes, until the music stops. After
resting a few moments, the second tune commences, and lasts the
same length of time, then the third, and the fourth; the Indian
meanwhile making his way towards the booth. At the end of each
tune, a whoop is raised by the men dancers.
After the Indian has reached his booth inside the ring,
he must sing four more tunes as before. At the end of the fourth
tune the squaws all run out of the ring as fast as possible, and
must leave by the same way that they entered, the other three
entrances being reserved for the men, who, carrying their war
implements, might be accidentally touched by one of the squaws
and the war implements of the Sioux warrior have from time
immemorial been held sacred from the touch of woman. For the
same reason the men form the inner ring in dancing round the
pole, their war implements being placed at the foot of the pole.
When the last tune is ended, the young men shoot at the
image of thunder which is hanging to the pole, and when it falls
a general rush is made by the warriors to get hold of it. There
is placed at the foot of the pole a bowl of water colored with
blue clay. While the men are trying to seize the parts of the
bark representation of their god, they at the same time are
eagerly endeavoring to drink the water in the bowl, every drop
of which must be drank.
The warriors then seize on the two boys and girls the
representations of war and peace and use them as roughly as
possible taking their pipes and war-clubs from them, and rolling
them in the dirt until the paint is entirely rubbed off from
their faces. Much as they dislike this part of the dance, they
submit to it through fear, believing that after this performance
the power of thunder is destroyed.
Now that the water is drank up and the guardians of the
Thunder bird are deprived of their war-clubs and pipes, a
terrible wailing commences. No description could convey an idea
of the noise made by their crying and lamentation. All join in,
exerting to the utmost the strength of their lungs. Before the
men shoot at thunder, the squaws must leave the ring. No one
sings at this dance but the warrior who gives it; and while the
visitors, the dancers, and the medicine men, women and children,
all are arrayed in their gayest clothing, the host must be
dressed in his meanest.
In the dance Ahahkah Koyah, or to make the Elk a figure
of thunder, is also made and fought against. The Sioux have a
great deference for the majesty of thunder, and, consequently
for their own skill in prevailing or seeming to prevail against
it.
A Sioux is always alarmed after dreaming of an elk, and
soon prevails upon some of his friends to assist him in dancing,
to prevent any evil consequences resulting from his dream. Those
willing to join in must lay aside all clothing, painting their
bodies with a reddish gray color, like the elk's. Each Indian
must procure two long saplings, leaving the boughs upon them.
These are to aid the Indians in running. The saplings must be
about twelve feet in length. With them they tear down the bark
image of thunder, which is hung with a string to the top of the
pole.
All being ready, the elks run off at a gallop, assisted
by their saplings, to within about two hundred yards of the
pole, when they stop for a while, and then start again for the
pole, to which is attached the figure of thunder.
They continue running round and round this pole, constantly
striking the figure of thunder with their saplings, endeavoring
to knock it down, which after a while they succeed in
accomplishing.
The ceremony is now ended, and the dreamer has nothing
to fear from elks until he dreams again. There is no end to the
superstitions and fancies entertained by the Sioux concerning
thunder. On the cradle of the Indian child we frequently see the
figure of thunder represented. It is generally carved on the
wood by the father of the child, with representations of the
Elk, accompanied with hieroglyphic looking figures, but thunder
is regarded as the type of all animals that fly.
There are many medicine feasts and I saw one celebrated near the
Oak Grove mission, and near, also, to the villages of Good Road,
and the chief Man in the Clouds. It was on a dark cold day about
the first of March. We left the fort at about nine o'clock and
followed the road on the St. Peter's river, which had been used
for many months, but which, though still strong, was beginning
to look unsafe. As we advanced towards the scene of the feast,
many Indians from every direction were collecting, and hurrying
forward, either to join in the ceremony about to be celebrated,
or to be spectators. We ascended quite a high hill, and were
then at the spot where all the arrangements were made to
celebrate one of the most sacred forms of their religion. Many
of the Indians to be engaged in the performance were entirely
without protection from the severe cold their bodies being
painted and their heads adorned with their choicest ornaments,
but throwing aside even their blankets, according to the laws of
the ceremony. The Indians continued to assemble. At eleven
o'clock, the dance commenced. Although I could not
faithfully describe, yet I never can forget the scene. The dark
lowering sky the mantle of snow and ice thrown over all the
objects that surrounded us, except the fierce human beings who
were thus, under Heaven's arch for a roof, about to offer to
their deities a solemn worship.
Then the music commenced, and the horrid sounds
increased the wildness of the scene; and the contortions of the
medicine man, as he went round and round, made his countenance
horrible beyond expression. The devoted attention of the
savages, given to every part of the ceremony, made it in a
measure interesting. There were hundreds of human beings
believing in a Great Spirit, and anxious to offer him acceptable
service; but how degraded in that service! How fallen from its
high estate was the soul that God had made, when it stooped to
worship the bones of animals, the senseless rock, the very earth
that we stood upon! The aged man, trembling with feebleness,
ready to depart to the spirit's land, weary with the weight of
his infirmities the warrior treading the earth with the pride of
middle age the young with nothing to regret and everything to
look forward to, all uniting in a worship which they ignorantly
believe to be religion, but which we know to be idolatry.
I was glad to leave the scene, and turn towards the
house of the Rev. Mr. Pond, who lives near the spot where the
feast was celebrated. Here, pursuing his duties and studies,
does this excellent man improve every moment of his time to the
advantage of the Sioux. Always ready to converse kindly with
them in order to gain their confidence giving medicine to the
sick, and food to the hungry; doing all that lies in his power
to administer to their temporal comfort, he labors to improve
their condition as a people. How can it better be done than by
introducing the Christian religion among them? This the
missionaries are gradually doing; and did they receive proper
assistance from government, and from religious societies, they
would indeed go on their way rejoicing.
Placed under the government of the United States, these
helpless, unhappy beings are dependent upon us for the means of
subsistence, in a measure, and how much more for the knowledge
of the true God? Churches will soon rise where the odious feast
and medicine dance are celebrated, but will the Indians worship
there? When the foundations of these churches are laid, the
bones of the original owners of the country will be thrown out
but where will be the souls of those who were thrust out of
their country and their rights to make way for us?
I have seen where literally two or three were met
together where in a distant country the few who celebrated the
death of the Redeemer were assembled where the beautiful service
of our church was read, and the hearts that heard it responded
to its animating truths. We rejoiced that the religion which was
our comfort was not confined to places; here were no altars, nor
marble tablets but here in this humble house we knew God would
meet and be with us.
An Indian silently opened the church door and entered.
As strange to him was the solemn decorum of this scene, as to us
were the useless ceremonies we every day witnessed. He watched
the countenance of the clergyman, but he knew not that he was
preaching the doctrine of a universal religion. He saw the
sacred book upon the desk, but he could not read the glorious
doctrine of a world redeemed by a Savior's blood. He heard the
voice of prayer, but how could his soul like ours rise as on
eagle's wings, and ascend to the throne of God! Who was he, this
intruder? It may be a descendant of those who guarded the
oracles of God, who for a time preserved them for us.
No wonder he tired and turned away. Not his the fault
that he did not join in the solemn service, but ours. If we
disregard the temporal wants of the Dahcotah, can we shut our
ears against their cry, that rises up day after day, and year
after year, Show us the path to happiness and God?
The books presented are for
their historical value only and are not the
opinions of the Webmasters of the site.
Dahcotah, Or Life and Legends of the
Sioux around Ft. Snelling
