Ghost Shirt

GHOST SHIRT.

If a man loses anything and goes back and looks carefully for it he will find it, and that is what the Indians are doing now when they ask you to give them the things that were promised them in the past; and I do not consider that they should be treated like beasts, and that is the reason I have grown up with the feelings I have....I feel that my country has gotten a bad name; and I sit sometimes and wonder who it is that has given it a bad name.

- TATANKA IYOTANKA (SITTING BULL)

   The hardship of the winter is all but behind us now. The white blanket of snow that covered the plains has all but gone, washed away by the power of the sun, and our brother now shines ever brightly in the noonday sky making each day hotter then the one before. It feels good to have the sun once again bringing light to our world and warmth to our bodies. We no longer have to huddle beneath the buffalo robes or wear blankets to keep warm during the light of day.
   The little meat that was given to us by the agents upon the reservation, bad and rotten as it was, only just managed to keep the hunger at bay during the winter moons. But now the need to replenish our stocks is great once again. The want for fresh pte meat makes the people ill and the children cry out in hunger. This makes my heart heavy for I know that the agents are deaf to the sound of our misery. Times will become ever harder if no buffalo herds can be found when the grasses are lush again. The holy men sing songs and offer up prayers for the return of the once mighty buffalo herds. In time it is hoped that they will once again shake the earth beneath the thunder of their hooves. But I fear the buffalo herds have all been destroyed like everything else that the whites found blocking their path across these lands.
   I am a father and soon I will have to endure the pitiful sound of my children crying as the pangs of hunger holds them tightly in its grip. The village dogs also sense that times are bad because whenever someone goes near them they fall silent and shy away, fearful for their own lives. They do not realise however that their numbers are so low that we will have to refrain from eating them until such times as their numbers more than double to what they were before the winter moons. We will only eat them when times are very desperate and we have no other choice but to do so. But that moment, unknown to them, is some way off yet.

At night when I come to rest within the warmth and comfort of my lodge my woman pretends that she does not worry. But I see the fears that beat within her breast which makes her heart heavy. She is a good wife and mother and it makes me sad to see her frightened for the future welfare of our children.
   ‘When will we have meat?’ She questions softly when the children are asleep.
   I do not know the answer to that question, only Wakan Tanka knows, and thus far he has not blessed me with a vision. I try and soothe her worries by telling her about the great hunting to be had when the buffalo herds come to drink the cooling waters at the Greasy Grass away from the agency. This seems to satisfy her for now but I know words will not be enough when she hears her children cry out for food. It makes my heart heavy to think such thoughts.
   And so in the silence of the night, before the tipi comes to life, I sneak away from the lodge. I am careful not to wake my wife or children. Taking two ponies from the large herd I leave the village in the darkness before dawn. I have made a silent vow to myself in that I will not return until I can put meat into the feeding bowls of my family. I know my wife will worry about my absence but I also know she will understand the need for what I am doing. I am ready to risk the wrath of the soldiers to go and hunt for meat. For am I not an Oglala Lakota warrior?

   As the light spreads out before me it allows me to see the wonderful sight that is the beauty of these lands which now surrounds me like the comforting arms of a mother. This is the land of my forefathers. During my time upon these land I have come to know it because it is my spiritual mother. I know every blade of grass, each tree and shrub, and all the many rivers that have allowed me to quench my thirst in such times when I could wander free far and wide across the land. I have come to know all my brothers, the four legged type, who share these sacred lands with me. This land is my mother! The earth beneath my feet rises and falls with every breath that she takes! Each time that I find myself alone upon the earth I offer up a special prayer thanking the Great Spirit for making me a Human Being and blessing me with such sights. Today is no exception. I add a further prayer asking the Great Spirit to guide me in my search for the elusive pte.
   For now I will travel both day and night in my search. The longer that I am away the hungrier and weaker my family, and the members of my village, will become. The land spreading out before me looks still and empty. As far as my eyes can see the land is devoid of any living animal but I. Slowly I continue onwards towards a distant hill covered with tall trees stretching far up into the blue yonder where I hope I might encounter a deer or two.
   But my search there, and in other places like it, all prove to be fruitless. In the heat of the day and the cold of the night I continue onwards with my search. I will not allow myself the comfort to either rest or sleep. First I must find nourishment for my people, only then can come the nourishment that I need for my own body. On the third day as I circle back towards the direction of the reservation my tired eyes spot a slight movement in the outer edges of a wooded area just ahead. Instantly I am alert.

   I stop my tired pony and slide slowly and silently down from the animals back. Kneeling low to the ground I look again in the direction of the movement. There are two things I now have to consider and be careful about before I venture forth. The first of which is, was the movement caused by an enemy who now lays in wait to attack me? Or was the movement caused by the feeding of animals within the dense foliage around them?
   Then I spot the light brown fur of a deer. My heart thumps so loudly that I am afraid that the creature will hear it and run away. I hold my breath. The bushes move again and I realise that there are more than one of my four legged brothers feeding there. I move my ponies back a safe distance. Now I must prepare myself for the coming hunt. I take out my paints and offer them up to the sky as I pray to the Great Spirit to see the colours that I am about to paint. I then paint myself before checking that my bow and arrows are held securely, for I do not want them making any kind of noises when I go in search of my quarry. Before I set off I again offer up another prayer to the Great Spirit thanking him for sending me the deer and asking him to guide my arrows so that they might travel straight and hit their target when I come to fire them.
   Keeping low, and leaving the two ponies to graze, I make my way slowly towards the woods. I test the air to check which way the wind is blowing, for I do not want my scent carried to my brothers thereby warning them of my impending arrival amongst them. Staying down wind from where I first spotted them I move slowly forward. I feel a certain calm wash over me. No longer do I feel tired, my mind and body are fully alert, my movements are slow and assured.

   When I reach the edge of the woods I stop and listen. Apart from the sound of the gentle breeze making the branches of the nearby trees and bushes dance merrily in the air I also hear the sound of the deer moving about just a short distance from where I crouch. I slowly take an arrow out and place it upon my bow. Moving forward again to get a better aim I accidentally brush against the trunk of a tree. This is all the sound that is needed to scare my quarry away. They scatter, faster than a speeding arrow, in every direction, heading deeper into the woods.
   I know what I must do now. There is no time to curse my luck or ponder what might have been. I go back and collect my two ponies. I then lead them into the woods. It will soon be dark and I am hoping to sight the deer once again before the light disappears. This time I am careful where I place my feet and where I lean my body. The woods are very quiet. My movement through it is painfully slow but this is the way it must be. I know that if I spot the deer and accidentally alert them to my presence, that will be my last chance to bring them down. And I know that I cannot go back to my village empty handed.
   The darkness of the night quickly descends. I leave my ponies tethered to a tree and proceed alone. It will be easier this way. If I make a kill then I will go back and bring up the ponies. I listen carefully to every sound that is made by those around me. I try not to disturb the creatures of the night who happen across me. The night is long and cold and as the early morning light chases the morning dew from the floor of the woods there in the distance I spy not one but two deer. They in turn have not seen or detected me. I kneel slowly and take out my first arrow. I pull my bow and release the deadly missile. As the first arrow speeds towards its target I quickly release the next one. The first arrow flies straight and true striking the deer just below the neck, piercing deep into the animals chest, it brings down the lead deer who is dead before he hits the ground. His companion does not have time to comprehend what is happening before it too falls down in a heap.

   I am elated by the sight of the two arrows hitting their target. I scramble towards the bodies of the deer and kneeling beside them I pull the bloody arrows from their bodies and sing a song over them. They have given their lives so that I and my family might live, and for that I am grateful. I put the arrows away and then go and collect the ponies. After fastening the deers to the back of the rear pony I now make my way back to my village.
   I enter the village in the early morning light and, because they are still asleep, I have to call my wife from her slumber to come outside and see what I have brought her. I can see the look of delight upon her face as I carry the largest of the deers across and lay it down upon the ground at her feet. No words need to be exchanged between the two of us. I know what is in her heart. I then take the body of the second deer across to the lodge of our chief. I then place the body before him and he will now see to it that the deer is divided up amongst our people so that they might all enjoy the good fortune of this fresh meat. Later that day when I return to my own lodge I clearly see that my wife has been generous with the meat I presented her. This makes my heart soar. I now enter the tipi and lay down upon my buffalo robe. Unlike the other members of our village my body craves sleep not food.
   In the days that follow my hunt I notice that my wife begins to act a little strangely. Whenever I come into the tipi she becomes a flurry of activity. The children sit eating and whenever they look across at me they smile. They have a knowing look upon their small faces and when I ask them the reason for this their mother promptly and quietly moves them outside. I have then to move across the tipi from where I have been sitting so that I might then hear her whispering to them. They are words of warning not to say anything to me. I have to confess I find her actions a little intriguing. I do not question her about these things because that is the way of women. For I know how they love to gossip.

   Then one evening as I return from a council meeting I find both my wife and children sitting outside our tipi as if waiting for me. I cannot understand why this is so. My looks of inquiry go unanswered. I step forward and realise that my wife is expecting me to enter our lodge alone. Quickly, so that I will not be spotted doing what a woman wants, I enter. I look around and then my eyes behold a most wondrous sight. I can hardly contain the joy that I feel welling up inside my chest.
   Laid out upon my buffalo robe is the grandest Ghost shirt that I have ever seen. The detail and work that went into its making is of the highest standard. Now I slowly realise what my wife had been hiding from me. I quickly prepare myself, for she has even arranged everything that I need to do this, and then with great care I pull the shirt on. It feels soft and warm to the touch. I slowly parade around the lodge which enables me to get a better feel for the shirt. When I am finally ready I move to the entrance of the lodge and step boldly outside.
   I stand tall so all can see. I move before my wife and feel her eyes upon me. Her face expresses the wonder in her eyes and I see her again as the young maiden that I took for my wife many moons ago. I thank her for the gift and know in my heart that she will expect more than words tonight. In that she will not find me wanting. I move around the village so that the people might see this wonderful shirt. They come and admire it one and all. As I make my way towards another lodge, in the fading darkness of the day, I happen across two bluecoats as they stagger their way back to the soldier camp. They are lowly dogs and I would kill them now if I thought it would not alert the other soldiers.

I know from past experiences just how much they love to kill women and children, and I would not let a fate like that befall my beloved family for the scalp of these two dogs! So instead I stand my ground and make the dogs step aside and walk around me. I can see the fear in their eyes and it fills my heart with joy. For they expect us to be humbled and frightened by their greed and their cruelty. But I do not bow or quiver before these two mangy dogs. I have the strength and the protection of my ghost shirt to guide me now and the bluecoats will come to know that I am an Oglala Lakota ready to fight and die to protect all that I am.
   “Wear it well my brother,” the wind suddenly calls to me, “for it will protect you now and forever more.”
   I cannot express the joy in my heart at hearing such words. I know that it is I who will now have to begin the task of arranging a Ghost Dance ceremony in the not too distant future. That was probably why the Great Spirit allowed me to gather the meat of the deer, and then allowed my wife the pleasure of taking the hide and making this shirt. He was making sure that we had meat a plenty for such an occasion as this. Everything in life has a purpose and I now understand what my part in this must be.
   The Ghost shirt has renewed my faith in the cause. It has shown me that we are not to be cowered and beaten my an enemy who is without both a heart and a soul. The new Messiah has come to show us all how we must bring back the spirits of our dead ancestors so that they and we might live again as we did in the old days when the land was free from the contamination of the white man. To dance is to show faith. I have the faith and the belief that we will grow strong again and have the strength and commitment to throw away the shackles that have ground us into the dirt like lowly dogs scrambling around on their bellies. We will call for life and hope that our words are carried up into the great beyond, and into the Hoop Of The People, where they will join us in our singing.

My name is Running Antelope, I am an Oglala Lakota, I live as a Lakota and so shall I die a Lakota. These are my words so hold them to your heart and when you next hear the wind blow gently across these lands listen very carefully for you might hear my song.

THE END.