Last year I wrote Northland College and asked if they had any old yearbooks from 1912 when G Grandma Martha graduated (pictured -I am amazed at how much she looks like our daughter Margaret). Surprisingly they did and in it was a Native American Legend written by her. Whether this story is truly a legend or was created by Martha, I do not know:
A MOHAVE LEGEND IN THE OJIBWA TONGUE
(As was told to me by the half-breed Indian trader who hath visited many encampments, who knoweth many tribes of men and who can speak in many tongues).
And now in the moon of the strawberries was there great feasting and rejoicing in the lodge of Chief Soan-ga-te-ha, for Gitchee Manitou, the mighty, had sent him a son from the clouds of white hazy mists and shadowy shapes and naked souls.
And there was great cause for this dancing and feasting for Ge-bod-is, the other only son of Soan-ga-te-ha, had died in infancy, and Ahnnung, the starry eyed daughter had left home, to dwell in the far city with her paleface husband. Soan-ga-te-ha mourned that his line should die; for he had no son to succeed him as chief. His father and his father's fathers had been chiefs ever since the world was young and green and the Great Father of all had planted the red man upon it to hunt and fish. Now was all the earth changed, he had a son. His eyes were filled with the lustre of his dreams he had of the future glory of his papoose. The face of his wife Gesa was illuminated again as in those old days when he first brought her to his lodge from the wigwam of her father.
Wa-wa-te-se they called the boy. He grew up tall and straight and of all the young men of the tribe he was the most proficient in all the feats and games. But in his heart there was a spark of cruelty which smouldered, fiercely against the palefaces. The people in the neighboring settlements suffered at his hands and the whole tribe was censured and persecuted by the whites. The tribal council assembled and it was agreed that Wa-wa-te-se should forfeit his life for the many he had taken. Heart-broken though he was, Soan-ge-te-ha gave the word that meant death to his son, his own flesh, his own blood, his own beloved, wild Wa-wa te-se.
In the dark funeral days which followed Gesa mourned and would not be comforted.
"You let paleface have Ahnnung; you let medicine man kill Gesa's son; you make Gesa's heart to bleed. She hate you, she no live with you no more. She go back to her father's wigwam."
Soan-ga-te-ha would not let her go. He clung to old Gesa wanting comfort, but her heart was hurt and sore. One night, she sought to kill Soan-ga-te-ha and another night the medicine man. Then Soan-ga-te-ha sat by the fire and pondered long. If Gesa did not love him, what use was it to keep her? Love was the law of life and Gesa did not love him anymore. When she arose, sullen, heavy-eyed the next morning, he told her she could go. His heart was heavy as a mountain when he saw her walk down the path that led from him.
From this time on, did Soan-ga-te-ha sit before the fire and dream and think. Then one day a trader came to the door of his lodge. He brought with him a little boy, a boy with great black eyes and yellow hair. The chief gazed at him long and then said, "Soan-ga-te-ha knows him; yet he knows him not. Ah he has it! The boy is flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, bone of his bone. The heart of Soan-ga-te-ha mourns for his own and already it loves the boy who's eyes sparkle like Ahnnung's."
"You are right" explained the trader "the boy is Ahnnung's own. She and her husband were killed in a railroad wreck and the boy has been sent to you."
"I take him? - I keep him?"
"Yes, he is yours. No one else can claim him."
The days that followed were very happy ones for Soan-ga-te-he. Gesa, hearing of the coming of the boy returned home and they called the child Opechee, which means "robin" in the Ojibwa tongue. he truly was a little wild woodland bird. The forest awoke that Indian love of the wild in him which would have been dormant all his days had he dwelt in the city.
Gesa fashioned for Opechee moccassins, leggings and pouches wondrously wrought with beads of cream color, and bright colored porcupine quills and downy furs. Soan ga-ta-ha defty made a bow and many arrows for him. he taught him, even as a child, to fish and hunt and swim and run and dance and fight. He also told him may strange and beautiful tales of the Great Master of life. So Opechee, little wild bird, grew to love the old Grandmother and Grandfather and grew to love all his people and woods wherein they dwelt.
One day the sheriff from the neighboring village appeared with an unknown paleface. The sheriff was blunt, "Chief, we have come seeking the boy. We want to take him with us."
"Soan-ga-te-ha not let him go. Opechee stay here always. By and by, him be chief."
"The law won't let you, Chief. This man here, is the boy's uncle, understand Chief?"
Almost fiercly Soan-ga-te-ha turned to the stranger, "You love him, you?"
"As much as it will be possible to love an Indian brat. I have plenty of money to support him, if that is your idea of love. It's one that works well with most of us."
Paying no heed to this insolent talk, the old Indian addressed the boy. "What you say Opechee? You want to stay here with your chief or go away with big paleface?"
"Me stay here, here always!" and the little fellow clung almost crying to his grandfather.
"What? Opechee cry! Opechee is no papoose, no paleface baby, he Indian brave. Indian brave no cry," admonished Soan-ga-te-he.
"Me cry no more. Me no good brave if I cry."
"Does Opechee love his chief and is willing to obey him?"
The square little shoulders grew squarer. "Yes."
"Your chief commands you to go away from him with the paleface man."
The sheriff and the uncle looked on wonderingly as the little fellow quietly walked over and put his hand in that of his uncle.
Many, many moons waned. Soan-ga te-ha dragged out his long, strong life. The old fire was gone from his bosom. Gesa was dead and he was alone. The bitter thought that always was with him was that his line was dead, that he has no one to succeed him. Then came upon the feebleness of years. The medicine man said that soon his spirit would hear the call of the Great Spirit and would be still. Already the young tribesmen strove in feats and contests hoping to be chief.
One afternoon Soan-ga-te-ha's life was wavering and his soul longed to be free, yet hardly dared to go and face his ancestors without leaving behind him one of his own blood for chief. He lay on his couch quiet and tense; but his spirit was writhing. The curtain in the doorway was lifted and a great, tall, bronzed man with black eyes and gold-glinted hair entered and fell on his knees before the bed of Soan-ga-te-ha.
"Oh chief, my chief, now am I come to do that which you dreamed of, to lead my people and your line will not be extinguished, my chief.
And with great joy on his seamed, leathery face, the pinnioned soul of Soan-ga-te-ha broke away from the holdings of the flesh and passed into the spirit land, the happy hunting ground, here to dwell with his fathers and his father's fathers until the day when the Son of Man, would descend from the clouds and call the tribes of men together.
M.H.W.
