Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee (part 1)
My heart has been very sad lately. One of the causes has been reading, “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” which is a history of the American West from the perspective of the Native Americans. This book is having a profound affect on me, and every time I finish a chapter or take a break from reading, I breath out a long sigh and think, “I never knew this”.
One story that I recently read was about Black Kettle, a leader of the Southern Cheyennes, who lived in the Colorado/Kansas area. When treaties of protection were being violated by the American settlers and government, Black Kettle signed a treaty to remove his tribe to Sand Creek reservation, that the US government had allocated for them, a land in which the soil was unsuitable for crops and the wild animals were scarce. Many of the tribe, including women and children died within the first winter. Other native american leaders thought he was a coward but Black Kettle believed that it was the only way to have peace, as the Americans were too strong for them.
After a while a regiment of soldiers led by a man called Chivington approached the Sand Creek Reservation. The official Indian agent of the US government advised Black Kettle that if he raised an American and White flag from his tent, they wouldn’t be harmed. Black Kettle raised the flag as the soldiers approached. He assured the frightened women and children that they would not be harmed.
Chivington and his men killed 163 Cheyenne that day, mostly women and children by stabbing or shooting them. Black Kettle managed to escape with his injured wife.Even after this he was a proponent of pacifism and when the US government demanded another “peace” treaty to be signed, Black Kettle signed and removed his tribe even father south to Oklahoma to the land that was allotted to them.
Because other Cheyenne resisted the ongoing killing and being forced out of their lands, General Sheridan sent Custer and his men to attack any native americans they could find as punishment. When Custer and his men approached Black Kettle’s camp this time he did not assure everyone to stay calm but had everyone flee. 100 Cheyenne including women and children were killed that day, as was Black Kettle and his wife, both shot in the back as they were running away.
This is one story of many, and it isn’t even the worst one, but I thought I’d share it because Black Kettle was really a hero in my eyes, and I am ashamed that we killed him and his family. He was a true peacemaker in a world of violence and greed.
This happened only 150 years ago. It’s too soon to forget about it.
“Although wrongs have been done me I live in hopes. I have not got two hearts….Now we are together again to make peace. My shame is as big as the earth, although I will do what my friends advise me to do. I once thought that I was the only man that persevered to be the friend of the white man, but since they have come and cleaned out our lodges, horses, and everything else, it is hard for me to believe white men any more.” – Motovato (Black Kettle)
