Thanksgiving is once more upon us. Time to bake the old turkey and laden the table with food. Time to be grateful for all the bounty we possess. Thank God for our big warm house and the car in the drive and the money in the bank. Yep. Got lots to be thankful for as we count all these blessings. Well, unless of course you are an Indian!
Oh, wait, I can not call them that anymore. They are now known as Indigenous People. Indigenous is defined in Webster's dictionary as "originating in and characteristic of a particular region or country." It is interesting to note that the next entry is indigent, which is defined as "lacking the necessities of life because of poverty." See how that works out?
Back in the day when I went to school in Nickerson, Kansas, we were taught about Thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving was in 1621. Seems the land was at that time populated by Indians. They roamed free. They rode horses and hunted the buffalo. They made all their own tomahawks, lances, saddles, blankets, moccasins, cooking utensils, clothes, and on and on. Everything they needed and used was made from the land. The Pilgrims wanted to celebrate their first harvest in this new land and for some reason beyond the grasp of my small mind, the Indians wanted to help. I think they felt sorry for this "ragtag" lot who were struggling for survival and brought food to them. Lordy, it went down hill from there.
I do not remember dates and times, but it was not too long before they began to expand westward and the Indian lands were no longer Indian lands. Treaties were made and treaties were broken. White people killed Indians and Indians killed white people. A railroad was pushed across the plains and buffaloes were in the way so they were slaughtered taking away the mainstay of food, shelter, and tools. Indians were pushed to reservations, and then moved. Study your history. If you can look at it objectively, you may note that we came here and virtually shoved the Indians into corners. I wonder if I went today to Jamestown or the Dakotas and set a table out with all the amenities of Thanksgiving, if any of the Indigenous would come. As a member of the white race, with German, Irish, French, and English blood running through my veins, I rather doubt it.
I do know one thing and that is even today we are still screwing the Indigenous people. We want a pipeline across their sacred tribal lands and our leaders ram it through. The deer and the antelope are gone. The buffalo are cornered. No doubt there is a Walmart in the heart of the reservation. I remember 55 years ago when I worked as a barmaid, it was illegal to sell beer to the Indians that worked on the railroad. They might go crazy and scalp us!
I have granddaughters who have Southern Ute blood in their veins. They sometimes go to the reservation and take part in the heritage celebrations of the Southern Ute. They are beautiful examples of humanity. I would love to go with them some day, but I may be too old to make it over that pass again. Who knows.
So when you carve your turkey and thicken your gravy, before you cut your pumpkin pie, pause for just one moment and think about how you got into your big house on the hill and thank your God, that the first Thanksgiving was not the last. Go outside at night and try to imagine, as you look up at the star filled sky, what our world would have been like had the first natives of this land not taken pity on a bunch of pathetic, starving pilgrims on the banks of the new world.
Then tuck your babies in their beds and go put your good dishes back in the cupboard and lay down on your featherbed, secure in your white heritage.
Oh, wait, I can not call them that anymore. They are now known as Indigenous People. Indigenous is defined in Webster's dictionary as "originating in and characteristic of a particular region or country." It is interesting to note that the next entry is indigent, which is defined as "lacking the necessities of life because of poverty." See how that works out?
Back in the day when I went to school in Nickerson, Kansas, we were taught about Thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving was in 1621. Seems the land was at that time populated by Indians. They roamed free. They rode horses and hunted the buffalo. They made all their own tomahawks, lances, saddles, blankets, moccasins, cooking utensils, clothes, and on and on. Everything they needed and used was made from the land. The Pilgrims wanted to celebrate their first harvest in this new land and for some reason beyond the grasp of my small mind, the Indians wanted to help. I think they felt sorry for this "ragtag" lot who were struggling for survival and brought food to them. Lordy, it went down hill from there.
I do not remember dates and times, but it was not too long before they began to expand westward and the Indian lands were no longer Indian lands. Treaties were made and treaties were broken. White people killed Indians and Indians killed white people. A railroad was pushed across the plains and buffaloes were in the way so they were slaughtered taking away the mainstay of food, shelter, and tools. Indians were pushed to reservations, and then moved. Study your history. If you can look at it objectively, you may note that we came here and virtually shoved the Indians into corners. I wonder if I went today to Jamestown or the Dakotas and set a table out with all the amenities of Thanksgiving, if any of the Indigenous would come. As a member of the white race, with German, Irish, French, and English blood running through my veins, I rather doubt it.
I do know one thing and that is even today we are still screwing the Indigenous people. We want a pipeline across their sacred tribal lands and our leaders ram it through. The deer and the antelope are gone. The buffalo are cornered. No doubt there is a Walmart in the heart of the reservation. I remember 55 years ago when I worked as a barmaid, it was illegal to sell beer to the Indians that worked on the railroad. They might go crazy and scalp us!
I have granddaughters who have Southern Ute blood in their veins. They sometimes go to the reservation and take part in the heritage celebrations of the Southern Ute. They are beautiful examples of humanity. I would love to go with them some day, but I may be too old to make it over that pass again. Who knows.
So when you carve your turkey and thicken your gravy, before you cut your pumpkin pie, pause for just one moment and think about how you got into your big house on the hill and thank your God, that the first Thanksgiving was not the last. Go outside at night and try to imagine, as you look up at the star filled sky, what our world would have been like had the first natives of this land not taken pity on a bunch of pathetic, starving pilgrims on the banks of the new world.
Then tuck your babies in their beds and go put your good dishes back in the cupboard and lay down on your featherbed, secure in your white heritage.
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