[or-roots] Aunt Charotte's book

[Nancy Lee Adams]

Hi Everyone,

I just got hooked back up to the Internet, as my Internet provider here in
St. Helens, OR. lost there motherboard, hard drive & more, so I had no
Internet for over a week. It was horrible, believe me!!!
But anyway, I'm not sure what is going on here with Walt & this bigotry
stuff?, but thought I would put this on here, as I thought it is so true.

>  From"Chief Two Eagles" 
>
>  An old Indian Chief sat in his hut on the reservation, smoking a
ceremonial pipe and eyeing two U. S. Government officials sent to
interview him.
>
>  "Chief Two Eagles" asked one Official, "You have observed the white 
> man
for 90 years. You've seen his wars and his technological advances.
You've seen his progress, and the damage he's done." The Chief nodded in
agreement.
>
>  The Official continued, "Considering all these events, in your 
> opinion,
where did the white man go wrong?"
>
>  The Chief stared at the Government Officials for over a minute and 
> then
calmly replied, "When white man found the land, Indians were running
it."
>
>  "No taxes."
>
>  "No debt."
>
>  "Plenty buffalo."
>
>  "Plenty beaver."
>
>  "Women did all the work."
>
>  "Medicine man free."
>
>  "Indian man spent all day hunting and fishing."
>
>  "All night having sex."
>
>  Then the Chief leaned back and smiled, "Only white man dumb enough to
think he could improve system like that."


Thanks Nancy 
 
-------Original Message-------
 
From: Steve & Ronda Howard
Date: 02/12/05 22:28:23
To: or-roots at sosinet.sos.state.or.us
Subject: Re: [or-roots] Aunt Charotte's book
 
Hi all,
I'm having a hard time figuring out what is so hurtful.  I think to most
people a Brave was an Indian man who hunted and provided for his family, a
Squaw was an Indian woman who gathered food for her family, a Papoose was a
baby on a board on their Mother's backs.  I see no disrespect here.  I can
see how some over generations could change the meanings of these words to be
something hurtful.  Two generations ago our society was very different.  My
Grandmother's Grandmother was full blood Mohawk Indian.  My Grandmother
never breathed a word about it her entire life.  Her sister only said
something about it when she was nearing 100 years old.  Our society didn't
value those of different colors.  I however feel differently.  I have taught
my kids that it doesn't matter what color someone's skin is, inside we all
have the same red blood.  We are all people.  It doesn't matter what color
the skin is, there are wonderful and evil men and women of every color.  I
suspect it is the "bad guys" in every color category that change perception
and word meanings.  Hopefully those who are taking offense can realize that
many of us have much more respectable meanings attached to these words.
 
I attended a DNA seminar a few months ago.  One of the things that was
interesting was that all human DNA was 99% the same.  All of our differences
was in 1% of our DNA.
 
By the way, Walt's picture takes up very little room.  He found some way to
make it very small.  There were a bunch of posts around 6 months ago on how
to do this. It will be in the archives.
Ronda
----- Original Message ----- 
From: DAVIESW739 at aol.com 
To: or-roots at sosinet.sos.state.or.us 
Sent: Friday, February 11, 2005 11:05 PM
Subject: [or-roots] Aunt Charotte's book


Both of these boys stayed with us a great deal. One, whom we called Jack,
hung around so persistently that Mother told him that he must stay away or
else be washed and dressed decently and keep away from the Indian camps. So
Jack came to live with us. He lived with us till he was a grown man. He was
just a "Siwash" but a kindly, honest, gentle-souled fellow, with the Siwash
mentality and the Siwash indolence.
 
  Siwash in Chinook means Indian, but we came to use it to differentiate
between the coast Indians and the higher type from the interior.
 
  The coast Indians were peace-loving, indolent and sickly. They were not
warriors and were even indifferent hunters, frequenting the clam beds where
a living was easy. The squaws gathered nuts and berries and canas. Canas is
a kind of lily bulb like an onion. They roasted it in pits and stored it
away for winter use. I used to rather like it.
 
  Our Indians were not thrifty and they never seemed to take a lesson from
the lean years. Their meager stores were always pitifully small and the
winter usually found them starving. At such times they could be hired to
work, but they were at best, indifferent helpers.Jack was a true Siwash, but
he belonged to us and of course, always had enough to eat and wear.
 
  When he came to us, he wore an old blue soldiers cap. It sat well up from
his head. One day Father noticed that it sat rather too high to look natural
 He lifted it from Jack's head and an avalanche of salt poured down over his
shoulders and spread around his feet. He had taken it from our storehouse
and was on his way to his old, blind Mother's teepee.
 
  Father scolded him, and told him that he would  "Punish him severely if
such a thing ever happened again." He made it quite clear that taking
without asking was stealing. Father also made it clear to Jack that if he
wanted anything for his Mother he was to ask for it, and if it were possible
she could have it.
 
  Many a sack of meal, and other things were carried to the old, blind squaw
 and never, to my knowledge, did the boy again touch a thing that was not
strictly his own, and I kept track of him even after he had married and gone
to live on the reservation with his own people.  He died quite young.
Tuberculosis by that time was among them and was taking a heavy toll. The
tribe to which Jack belonged, is almost, if not quite extinct.
 
  The Indians who camped near us were called, Yamhills. I do not know the
origin of the name. They were friendly and very good to me. I spent a great
deal of time at there camp and learned to speak the Chinook jargon with a
fluency that in consideration of my dark eyes and skin, was not altogether
flattering to my family.
 
  I have never forgotten it, few of the Indians that are now living, can
even speak it. Now and then I meet one, who is very old, and the words come
to me as readily as they did when I was a child. The true Indian accent with
which I spoke it, always seems to mystify them.The Indians have a certain
native delicacy and they would hesitate to question, but once or twice I've
had them ask "Mika sitcom Siwash?" (are you half Indian) and my answer, 
Wake" (no), causes them to glance at me skeptically. An embarrassed Indian
always has immediate and pressing business elsewhere.
 
 
 
Walt Davies
Cooper Hollow Farm
Monmouth, OR 97361
503 623-0460 

 
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