Posts Tagged ‘Iroquois’

The head of the family was an angel. So pure and highminded the Ancient of the Days called him one day and said,” Down to the earth you go!” He ordered,” this instant.”
Me- Righteous, the angel took the form of a Native Indian and before he could count the toes of his feet he had got a family and three children. What’s more he had Hurons for neighbors. Me-Righteous counselled Hurons how to plant corn and skin furs from otters; he taught them many useful things with which the tribe prospered. Naturally Me-Righteous become the patriarch. Everyday he taught his three sons: they were highminded, righteous and men of peace. One son taught the Hurons to trade and the second how to negotiate with those who were contrary. The third taught them to build settlements and manage lands. Under their guidance the tribe prospered. It was least expected but the French came to the scene and they had powerful muskets and technology that impressed the Hurons. They had to make peace with them in order to suvive. The Iroquois being envious of the Hurons instantly allied with the Dutch who also had firearms and lethal weapons.
Old Me-Righteous was old and by the time he woke up he found the whole area up in arms and blood was being shed wholesale. He called his three sons and faulted them for letting matter slide into blood feud.
“ How come you have failed me?” the old man asked in bitter tears.
“Oh father we shall answer you after you put the same question to the Great Spirit in the Blue Yonder,”replied the eldest son.
There is something mighty peculiar: We rear our children with the best of intentions and give them every advantage our moral sense is capable of. Yet we fail to stop the evil from coming in. A Bermuda triangle into which, our ‘goodness’ disappears and none can be individually held responsible for.


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Prophet Totem Pole ©

Long ago when American Indians roamed the heart of American continent they had no miracle workers. Iroquois lived close to the soil, hunted the bison for meat and lived from the fruits of the earth. They dressed themselves too well,- they wore buffalo skins in winter and loin clothes of various fibers spun from plants at other times. Children of the Plains they were.
A prophet one day came out of nowhere and revealed to them of the Great Spirit of the Plains. They were impressed. The chief asked him to marry his daughter as a mark of respect. The prophet refused politely saying that his dress was special and it did not brook any person ever touching his person.
“See how white it is?” the prophet asked.” It is made out of some cactus the likes of which grows only in the Blue Yonder. He pointed dramatically to the horizon and said,” My sanctity and powers come from this poncho which I shall leave at my death which is soon.”
One morning he went on the top of a hillock to die. His dress lay in a tepee decorated with sacred objects he had brought along. “As long as this remains white as now, it is a sign that my body shall never decay.” So he died.
The whole tribe mourned for him. They revered the dress, which each member of the tribe, young and old alike kissed in veneration. It was not obvious at first but with time the poncho changed color. It became yellow. Was it as a result of the breath of devotees or time working out changes? One day pilgrims filed past the relic: the poncho was no better than rags.
Next they checked the body to see, and it had to their horror, become a totem pole! Since then the tribe began praying to the pole instead.

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