Day of Mourning

For some, today is a day of giving thanks, of spending the day with family. For some it’s an excuse to eat, drink and watch football. For others, however, it is a day of mourning. A day rooted in terror, sadness, and bloodshed.

I’ve always known this day to be Thanksgiving, and have always gone through the typical Thanksgiving process. So basically food and mutterings of why were thankful. However, I recently moved to the New England area for work and wasn’t able to get home for the holidays this year.

It was going to be a first for me, another first that is, as being this far from family was a first all on its own and came with a ton more. In the spirit of new and firsts I decided to take up an invitation to an event with a new friend I had made at work. Her name was Ellie, and she was part of one of the local indian tribes.

To be honest I was hesitant at first, the event is called “The Day of Mourning” and is put together by a group called the “United American Indians of New England”. Not only was mourning on Thanksgiving one of the most foreign concepts I had ever thought of, but to be honest I felt like I might be out of place, or that they would not appreciate my presence as I was a white person.

I voiced my concerns to Ellie and she laughed at me, told me that there were a ton of Native Americans, Latino’s, Blacks and whites who took part of it every year and volunteered. It wasn’t a protest of indians, it was a day of remembrance and everyone was invited. Feeling assured I decided to go after all.

So we met at noon on Cole’s hill, across from Plymouth Rock which is inhabited by those performing a re-enactment of Thanksgiving day. You couldn’t really see or hear them, but the knowledge that they were nearby while this event was going on felt embarrassing. Is this what it felt like for Christians when Westboro Baptist Church started boycotting funerals?  I felt awkward, not really talking to anyone, just listening to the speakers, while feeling out of place.

This was my own fault, while I listened and learned, I understood more of what this place, what this day represented to these people. I realized too that the awkwardness was being not being imposed by them, but by the guilt I felt for what my people did so long ago. Then a new speaker came up, he was a representative speaker for the people spending their Thanksgiving in North Dakota, protesting the current construction of the pipeline. My eyes were opened then, not only had we committed atrocities the likes we’d never truly replicate again upon these people who lived in this land, but we were still doing so.

After the speaker for the Dakota Access Pipeline group finished I decided to move into the large building they were using to host a potluck. I didn’t feel like eating, but I needed something to drink, and I was hoping to find Ellie. I was hoping for a fire as it had snowed the night before and was chilly enough that my feet were beginning to numb. The building was pretty full, with many women and children sitting and eating. There were a few people sitting beside the fire, an older woman was talking to a couple of kids and a woman.

Ellie!
I grabbed a bottle of water and made my way over to them, trying to stay quiet and not interrupt the old woman talking to the kids who, I suspect, belonged to Ellie. Seeing me out of the corner of her eyes she smiled wide and bid me over silently. I circled around the couch and took an empty chair beside Ellie, sitting directly across from the old lady. I began to listen in to the story as I warmed my feet and greeted Ellie.

Her children, a boy and a girl about six years old, were being told the history of their particular tribe, and how the events of this day affected their ancestors. The children listened politely and the girl seemed very sad by it all. In the meantime Ellie explained that the older woman was the children's grandma, who they did not get to see very often. She was happy they were happy she could make it, and talk to the children.

“Do you know the importance of this day?” came the voice suddenly, cutting into Ellie and my conversation. We turned to see the older woman looking at me squarely.

“I thought I did.” I reply earnestly. “I realize now, after listening to the speakers, that I did not.”

The older woman smiled and bade me to join her on the floor. I obliged and made my way to her, putting my hands in her outstretched hands as I got close. Her smile widened as she took my hands and held them tightly.

“You have found a new truth, a new story, a fresh start. I am happy that you are my daughters friend. Thank you for being here today. Tell me, do you have blood of our ancestors in you?”

I thought a moment before shrugging slightly. “I dont know. I’ve heard my mother say that we had Cherokee blood in us, but I dont know how correct that is.”

The old woman smiled once more and nodded. “Let us assume it is true. Would you like to know the importance of this day?”

I wanted to say I was beginning to understand already when Ellie cut me off.

“No mom, no.”

The old woman did not look at Ellie though, her smile had faded and she was staring seriously into my eyes. I didn’t want to tell her no, though I was beginning to feel nervous and uncomfortable, but words would not come. I simply nodded, which summoned back the smile to the old woman’s lips. She dropped my hands and reached near the fire where she had been brewing some tea. She drew from her pocket what looked like a few small buttons and put them in a cup. Ellie began to protest but was silenced however as the old woman gave her a hard look.

She poured coloured water, some kind of tea from the look of i,. into the cups and began to brew. Her movements were calculated, concise, she knew exactly what she was doing. She brewed the tea, drink awhile, humming a small tune as she did so that was peaceful, rhythmic, and easy to follow along with. The buttons were at the top of the drink, floating, looking a little bigger than they had been when they had first entered. As she hummed she put a few more herbs into the tea, but only for a small time, removing them with a spoon soon after. Only the beads remained in the sweet smelling water.

Finally her humming drew to an end and she handed me the drink.

“The beads?” I asked. The old woman nodded and grinned.

“You chew them” she said.

“Are they drugs?” I ask innocently.

Ellie couldn’t hold her tongue any longer and interjected.

“Yes, it’s peyote, you dont have to drink it! My mother is a medicine woman, she shouldn’t even be sharing it with anyone besides the elders.”

I figured as much.

“Hush now dear, I can choose to share it with whom I please in ritual, and what better ritual is there than the one of learning?”

Ellie stepped back as if shocked by such a bold statement of defiance from her mother when it came to tradition. Her gaze fell to me and she had a look of warning, but I had made my mind.

“It’s okay Ellie. This is all in the spirit of new and firsts!”

Ellie just shook her head, but gave me a small smile knowing she was wasting her time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow... Hopefully.” She then ushered her children away from the fire and towards the dwindling line for food. I didn’t know what she meant but nodded and turned back the drink held out before me. I take it in both hands and give it a deep drink, leaving the beads in my mouth to chew on as I was instructed.

It doesn't take long before I begin to feel a little fuzzy, and my eyes feel...clearer? Like as if they were made from glass and somebody just cleaned them with windex. However they also felt heavy, and I felt like I wanted to sleep.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” said the old woman calmly, taking hold of my hands again and smiling wide and happy. She began to hum her tune again and I felt myself smile. As it spread against my face I could feel every muscle ripple. It was an instant move of muscles but felt like a minute had passed.

“This isn’t so bad.” I said with a dumb grin, I blame it on the fire, it had suddenly become extremely warm and felt like I was a foot and the fire was a sock straight out of the dryer.

“Eyes on me please.” Ellies mom cut in, her voice cold and commanding. A shiver ran down my spine as I turned my head to her and met her eyes.

“I will now tell you the importance of this day.”

I nod, trying to keep my calm, I know this is important, and the last thing needed here is for another white person dropping some kind of acid or hallucinating in general and making a scene.

Ellie’s mom was beginning to hum again, I could feel the vibrations in the air, as they cascaded into my person. “Close your eyes.” she said before humming more. I do as I am told and close my eyes, the sensation of the vibrations feel even stronger as a result, as if they were making their way to the very core of my being.

“The importance of this day, like everyday, is that it was a crossroads. Some days our crossroads mean very little, sometimes they can be very important. This day however, a very very important even happened. This was the first day that our people, and many more tribes of people, lost our loved ones, our lands, our way of life.”

The hum hadn’t stopped, though she had stopped herself. It bounced inside my body keeping me calm and focused. I began to envision the crossroads she was talking about, but nothing came to mind. I could see, in my mind's eye however, a grey image in the distance.

“This was the day that your people decided that our people did not deserve this land. From here forth the “americans” as you would be called branded us as savages and came upon us with numbers, guns, disease, and fire.”

That last word. Fire, said with such passion that the edges of my dark vision flared to life and I lost the grey image I had been seeking. The humming in me was fading and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I clench my eyes and then open them, hoping to see the old woman and not some monster introduced from the psychedelic I had ingested.

Instead there was nobody there at all. Instead I felt the heat of the sun blinding me as I stood in a field. Blinded momentarily I stepped back and bumped into something with my foot causing me to fall back. Wiping my eyes I sit up to look at what tripped me and end up screaming. What I was sure was a log was instead a body, a native, covered in blood, lay lifeless before me in the grass, his eyes staring off into the void. I look around to see if there are more and scream again. All around me are dead natives, bloody, burning, the air is filled with deep sickening black smoke as Teepee’s burn.

“This is our ancestor's fate.” all the bodies speak at once, their lifeless eyes seem to have a spark of life in them suddenly. I look back to the one I tripped over and jump back as it’s lips move.

“Slowly, whenever your people purchase land that does not belong to you, or simply need more room, they lead the charge, guns blazing, to kill us or force us away. Some aren’t attacked outright, for some our fields get poisoned, and we all die of sickness brought to us by your people.”

I close my eyes again, I wanted to know, but never did I think I would live it! I try to focus on the last few vibrations of humming and relax as the sound of fire and wind disappear.

“Your people bring the plague, and what was close to 90% of our people die because of it. We are then forced out of our lands into lands unknown, and many die as we are escorted from our homes. Many wish to stay and are killed outright.”

I feel Ellie’s mom’s hands once more. Or so I thought. I open my eyes once more and what I feel instead are reins in my hand as I ride horseback. The clip-clop of hooves remind me of the humming from Ellie’s mom and soothes me a little. All around me are natives, walking, riding, all of them just moving in the hot sun overhead. No one is talking, they are just silently suffering, the air is as heavy as their hearts.

Suddenly my horse shudders and collapses off to the side of the path. Having not been properly strapped in I am thrown further. When I rise, I notice no one has stopped moving, some are watching, some with eyes of hope, others impassive. As I move back to the line I see a few other bodies along the path from natives who have fallen, with little done to prepare them for the next life.

“The Trail of Tears” the bodies speak, making me jump back in fright.

I stutter as I speak, my throat feels dry as I choke out “I want to be done now…”

Silence, and then:

“How many of us do you think said those exact same words over this time?”

My mouth hung open as I looked back to the line of people stretching from one side on the landscape to the other. She was right, of course, but I still wanted out nonetheless.

“The great Cherokee nation and several others are forced to relocate by the Americans. Many did not make it, and some of the smaller nations only had a handful of survivors, hardly enough to be called a tribe, and are absorbed into the Cherokee nation. Another great tradgedy for our people.”

The voice pauses and smiles.

“You’ve done well, I figured you’d offer more of a fight. Close your eyes.”

Her words were a mystery to me, but as I closed my eyes I began to understand. She was leading me through these, I had just let her, not even put up a fight. I wait for her to speak again but she does not, instead I hear the now familiar humming and the ripples of vibrations as they cascade through my body. I concentrate on those and prepare myself for what’s next, but instead hear a crisp clear.

“Open your eyes dear.”

I do so and I am back in reality. The fire is burning bright, and darkness is spread out all around us. I could make out the furniture nearby, but nothing else. I suppose reality was just one more step away?

“You were under for a long time.” Ellie’s mom said with a smile as she stretched her legs suddenly and started to stand.

I look around again and notice we are the only two people in the building, it was now night, and the moon was high and full in the sky. I could make out fresh snowfall outside.

“How long was I…?”

“Almost ten hours now, it’s a little after 1 AM.” Ellies mom answered with a chuckle. “You did well young one. I hope you learned a little more about what we are mourning, why we mourn, and the implications of everyone’s actions.”

I try to stand but have to sit, my legs are shaky and weak, I remember I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I did.” I state simply, wishing to say more but not coming up with the words. Ellies mom smiled and brought me a bottle of cold water.

“Drink deep, I have some food set aside for you. When you are feeling better you can go home and rest. I already called Ellie and asked her to check in on you in the morning. How are you feeling?”

“I feel a little woozy” I say as I take a long drink of the water. It’s about half a second later before I jump up and spin around the couch and running to a nearby trash can and promptly empty the little contents in my stomach.

“There you go.” Ellies mom says as she pats my back. “Here, eat some food.”

I oblige, eating quickly, as if I hadn’t eaten in days. As I do so, Ellie’s mom tells me more about the day, and more of the past tragedies, but she ends it on a happy note talking about the triumphs the natives have had in the past, and some of the triumphs they’ve shared recently. It’s almost 3 AM when we part ways and I slowly drive home. I will never forget those visions from the past, they will haunt me forever. I have been given a task, and that is too not forget the past 24 hours, become more active rather than turn a blind eye and deaf ear, and try and help prevent further tragedy for a people who never deserved any of the pain they’ve been forced to endure for so long.

“This is our ancestor's fate.” I shudder at the image of the lifeless indians face muttering those words. No, I will never forget what I have seen, what I have learned. Happy Thanksgiving to those who would celebrate it, but if you’d rather, there’s always the Day of Mourning.