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Mock-Pe-En-Dag-A-Win: or Checkered Cloud, the
Medicine Woman
Within a few miles of
Fort Snelling lives Checkered Cloud. Not
that she has any settled habitation; she is
far too important a character for that.
Indeed she is not often two days in the same
place. Her wanderings are not, however, of
any great extent, so that she can always be
found when wanted. But her wigwam is about
seven miles from the fort, and she is never
much farther off. Her occupations change
with the day. She has been very busy of
late, for Checkered Cloud is one of the
medicine women of the Dahcotahs; and as the
Indians have had a good deal of sickness
among them, you might follow her from teepee
to teepee, as she proceeds with the sacred
rattle2
in her hand, charming away the animal that has entered the body
of the Dahcotah to steal his strength.
Then, she is the great legend-teller of the Dahcotahs.
If there is a merry-making in the village, Checkered Cloud must
be there, to call to the minds of the revelers the traditions
that have been handed down
from time immemorial.
Yesterday, wrapped in her blanket, she was seated on
the St. Peters, near a hole which she had cut in the ice, in
order to spear the fish as they passed through the water; and
to-day but while I am writing of her, she approaches the house;
even now, her shadow falls upon the room as she passes the
window. I need not listen to her step, for her mocassined feet
pass noiselessly through the hall. The door is slowly opened,
and she is before me!
How tall she is! and with what graceful dignity she
offers her hand. Seventy winters have passed over her, but the
brightness of her eye is undimmed by time. Her brow speaks of
intellect and the white hair that is parted over it falls
unplaited on her shoulders. She folds her blanket round her and
seats herself; she has a request to make, I know, but Checkered
Cloud is not a beggar, she never asks aught but what she feels
she has a right to claim.
"Long ago," she says, "the Dahcotah owned lands that
the white man now claims; the trees, the rivers, were all our
own. But the Great Spirit has been angry with his children; he
has taken their forests and their hunting grounds, and given
them to others.
"When I was young, I feared not wind nor storm. Days
have I wandered with the hunters of my tribe, that they might
bring home many buffalo for food, and to make our wigwams. Then,
I cared not for cold and fatigue, for I was young and happy. But
now I am old; my children have gone before me to the 'House of
Spirits' the tender boughs have yielded to the first rough wind
of autumn, while the parent tree has stood and borne the
winter's storm.
"My sons have fallen by the tomahawk of their enemies;
my daughter sleeps under the foaming waters of the Falls.
"Twenty winters were added to my life on that day. We
had encamped at some distance above the Falls, and our hunters
had killed many deer.
Before we left our village to go on the hunt, we
sacrificed to the Spirit of the woods, and we prayed to the
Great Spirit. We lifted up our hands and said, 'Father, Great
Spirit, help us to kill deer.' The arrows of our hunters never
missed, and as we made ready for our return we were happy, for
we knew we should not want for food. My daughter's heart was
light, for Haparm was with her, and she never was sad but when
he was away.
"Just before we arrived at the Falls, she became sick;
her hands were burning hot, she refused to eat. As the canoe
passed over the Mississippi, she would fill her cup with its
waters, to drink and throw over her brow. The medicine men were
always at her side, but they said some evil spirit hated her,
and prevented their spells from doing her good.
"When we reached the Falls, she was worse; the women
left their canoes, and prepared to carry them and the rest of
the baggage round the Falls.
"But what should we do with We-no-nah? the flush of
fever was on her cheek; she did not know me when I spoke to her;
but she kept her eyes fixed upon her lover.
"'We will leave her in the canoe,' said her father;
'and with a line we can carry her gently over the Rapids.' I was
afraid, but with her brothers holding the line she must be safe.
So I left my child in her canoe, and paddled with the others to
the shore.
"As we left her, she turned her eyes towards us, as if
anxious to know what we were about to do. The men held the line
steadily, and the canoe floated so gently that I began to feel
less anxious but as we approached the rapids, my heart beat
quickly at the sound of the waters. Carefully did her brothers
hold the line, and I never moved my eyes from the canoe in which
she lay. Now the roaring of the waters grew louder, and as they
hastened to the rocks over which they would fall they bore with
them my child I saw her raise herself in the canoe, I saw her
long hair as it fell on her bosom I saw no more!
"My sons bore me in their arms to the rest of the
party. The hunters had delayed their return that they might seek
for the body of my child. Her lover called to her, his voice
could be heard above the sound of the waters. 'Return to me,
Wenonah, I will never love maiden but you; did you not promise
to light the fires in my wigwam?' He would have thrown himself
after her, had not the young men prevented him. The body rests
not in the cold waters; we found it and buried it, and her
spirit calls to me in the silence of the night! Her lover said
he would not remain long on the earth; he turned from the
Dahcotah maidens as they smiled upon him. He died as a warrior
should die!
"The Chippeways had watched for us, they longed to
carry the scalp of a Dahcotah home. They did so but we were
avenged.
"Our young men burst in upon them when they were
sleeping; they struck them with their tomahawks, they tore their
scalps reeking with blood from their heads.
"We heard our warriors at the village as they returned
from their war party; we knew by their joyful cries that they
had avenged their friends. One by one they entered the village,
bearing twenty scalps of the enemy.
"Only three of the Dahcotahs had fallen. But who were
the three? My sons, and he who was as dear as a son to me, the
lover of my child. I fled from their cries of triumph I longed
to plunge the knife into my own heart.
"I have lived on. But sorrow and cold and hunger have
bowed my spirit; and my limbs are not as strong and active as
they were in my youth. Neither can I work with porcupine as I
used to for age and tears have dimmed my sight. I bring you
venison and fish, will you not give me clothes to protect me
from the winter's cold?"
Ah! Checkered Cloud he was a prophet who named you.
Though the cloud has varied, now passing away, now returning
blacker than before though the cheering light of the sun has for
a moment dispelled the gloom 'twas but for a moment! for it was
sure to break in terrors over your head. Your name is your
history, your life has been a checkered cloud! But the storm of
the day has yielded to the influence of the setting sun. The
thunder has ceased to roll, the wind has died away, and the
golden streaks that bound the horizon promise a brighter
morning. So with Checkered Cloud, the storm and strife of the
earth have ceased; the "battle of life" is fought, and she has
conquered. For she hopes to meet the beloved of earth in the
heaven of the Dahcotahs.
And who will say that our heaven will not be hers? The
God of the Dahcotahs is ours, though they, less happy than we,
have not been taught to know him. Christians! are you without
blame? Have you thought of the privations, the wants of those
who once owned your country, and would own it still but for the
strong hand? Have you remembered that their souls are dear in
His sight, who suffered for them, as well as for you? Have you
given bright gold that their children might be educated and
redeemed from their slavery of soul? Checkered Cloud will die as
she has lived, a believer in the religion of the Dahcotahs. The
traditions of her tribe are written on her heart. She worships a
spirit in every forest tree, or every running stream. The
features of the favored Israelite are hers; she is perchance a
daughter of their lost tribe. When she was young, she would have
listened to the missionary as he told her of Gethsemane and
Calvary. But age yields not like youth to new impressions; the
one looks to the future, the other clings to the past. See! she
has put by her pipe and is going, but she is coming oft again to
talk to me of her people, that I may tell to my friends the
bravery of the Dahcotah warrior, and the beauty of the maiden!
the legends of their rivers and sacred isles the traditions of
their rocks and hills!
If I cannot, in recounting the wild stories of this prophetess
of the forest, give her own striking words, I shall at least be
faithful to the spirit of her recitals. I shall let Indian life
speak for itself; these true pictures of its course will tell
its whole simple story better than any labored exposition of
mine. Here we may see, not the red man of the novel or the
drama, but the red man as he appears to himself, and to those
who live with him. His better characteristics will be found
quite as numerous as ought to be expected under the
circumstances; his faults and his sufferings should appeal to
the hearts of those who hold the means of his salvation. No
intelligent citizen of these United States can without blame
forget the aborigines of his country. Their wrongs cry to
heaven; their souls will be required of us. To view them as
brutes is an insult to Him who made them and us. May this little
work do something towards exciting an interest in a single tribe
out of the many whose only hope is in the mercy of the white
man!
Dahcotah
1: A medicine woman is a female doctor or
juggler. No man or woman can assume this office without previous
initiation by authority. The medicine dance is a sacred rite, in
honor of the souls of the dead; the mysteries of this dance are
kept inviolable; its secrets have never been divulged by its
members. The medicine men and women attend in cases of sickness.
The Sioux have the greatest faith in them. When the patient
recovers, it redounds to the honor of the doctor; if he die,
they say "The time had come that he should die," or that the
"medicine of the person who cast a spell upon the sick person
was stronger than the doctor's." They can always find a
satisfactory solution of the failure of the charm.
2: Sacred rattle. This is generally a gourd,
but is sometimes made of bark. Small beads are put into it. The
Sioux suppose that this rattle, in the hands of one of their
medicine men or women, possesses a certain virtue to charm away
sickness or evil spirits. They shake it over a sick person,
using a circular motion. It is never, however, put in
requisition against the worst spirits with which the Red Man has
to contend.
Notes About the Book:
Source: Dahcotah, Or Life and Legends of the
Sioux around Ft. Snelling, Mary H. Eastman,
1849
Online Publication: The manuscript was scanned and
then ocr'd. Minimal editing has been done, and readers can and should expect
some errors in the textual output.
This site includes some historical materials that may imply negative
stereotypes reflecting the culture or language of a particular period or place.
These items are presented as part of the historical record and should not be
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