Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha (1752-1830)

“Thereupon the Indians smiled, and left.”

Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha was a great man. It should always take only four pages of dialogue to convince anyone of the speaker’s character. It’s a shame we can’t always be as open and honest at all times, but that is the way our culture is today. I’m not attacking it, I’m just acknowledging it: honesty has come a long way from home, and it’s changed because of that.

I’m still trying to determine whether the Indians smiled out of honest courtesy, understanding, or a sarcasm that can only be applauded. Part of me knows it can’t be the last thought, but that same part very much wishes that was the case. I’m leaning towards understanding: the intense acceptance of life around them. The Indians truly were an amazing people, and their culture was just… something, wasn’t it? In comparison, our culture today is a concentric circle that will never share a common boundary with theirs. While honesty and truth was not even considered among their people, as it was so customary, today it is questioned at every turn, from a tongue in cheek comment in a casual conversation to a gavel slamming in a courtroom. The idea of being true to everyone seems so far away, but if just in the past or in the future as well can as of yet not be said without a touch of hope instead of certainty.

Obviously, there are similarities between this reading and the speech given by Chief Seattle besides the obvious “they’re both natives in contact with the settlers.” The key theme is that both leaders, and the people that follow them, chose to live as they were and as they wished as best as possible without giving in to the settlers wishes. They were the first punks, really, only I’m not sure how native music compares to a good three chord kick to the chest. I make light of the topic, honestly, because the entire message Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha delivered seemed more positive. Maybe it was the smiling, maybe it was the positive outlook he had, or maybe it was the fact that the Chief seemed to have a more... calm tone. Regardless, the reading does give a new look into the Indians way of life, and was very enlightening. I’m also glad that there was someone in time who used the phrase “eye-opening” as commonly as I do.

Again, I say that Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha was a great man, but I should add that he was also an admirable man. He stood up to a greater power in defense of his beliefs. Such a thing should not go unnoticed. It’s a shame, then, that no one felt the same way in his time, and the only notice that was taken was by the greater power.

Chief Seattle (1786-1866)

Decent white Americans can read the passage without shame: what decent white Americans can't do is ignore it.

There’s no proper way to truly express how that short passage made me feel. The only word I can think of that properly describes sitting on the edge of my bed, an unheard track by My Chemical Romance playing in the background with my hand unconsciously clenched as I look at but don’t read the last words of Chief Seattle’s speech, is awkward. I felt so out of place after reading those few pages of thought. It was akin to touching the obelisk and realizing I could use tapir bones as a weapon: such a simple idea once understood, but it can leave a civilization staring in awe, or in this case, a disheveled looking youth in a slight disarray. I know of what happened hundreds of years ago at the founding of the country: I understand the thought process of the time, and I can sympathize with the settlers and their way of thinking. But now, it’s… different. Now I know what happened hundreds of years ago at the founding of this country.

Chief Seattle’s speech was very enlightening for me. I’ve never truly understood what happened to the natives of this land when the settlers came. It had to be done, in the name of progress, much like the crusades and slavery, and that it is on the same list as those evils should be common knowledge to everyone, and yet sadly it rarely is. I’m not about to become an advocate for Native rights, but I think I’ll try. I’ll do something. I don’t even have any idea what that will be, but it seems wasteful of the knowledge I have to simply not do… something.

It’s so easy for someone to look back on history. Once we’re a generation or two, or even a year of two, removed from an event, we can start to see it differently. It’s easier to see things as facts instead of events once we’re reading it out of a slightly cold book that’s been sitting on your floor all night, rather than living the life of seeing everything you’re ever loved being raped and changed by a force that cannot be defeated and hardly reasoned with. We can see history as a huge play of forces that are all connected: of course Europe would discover America, and of course they would settle there, and of course the natives would put up a fight. It’s when we truly think about, and look outside of the history books written by the victors that we see what happened. This is true with all history, but especially with what happened to the Native Americans when we came. And I use the word we, even though I don’t consider any of us today responsible. What’s done is done, sadly, and that really is that. But we must shoulder this black cross whether we know it or not. I for one would like to think that people today could at least make an effort to learn what was lost. We can visit a Native American museum. We can read a book about them. We could, at the very least, Wikipedia their culture.

What’s truly unsettling is that this is what it’s come to: we could at least Wikipedia them.