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Authors: James Alexander Thom
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and dizzy to hear the words. And for once, Chiksika’s pleasure did not make Tecumseh laugh.
T HE YOUNG WHITE MAN WAS TAKEN AWAY TO A LODGE where women would feed him and heal his wounds with herbs and ointments. He had proven himself strong and brave by not crying out once, and thus it was assured that he would be adopted into the tribe.
And so Chiksika would tell people: “Yes, he must be strong, to be alive after the beating our Tecumseh gave him! Ha, ha!”
Tecumseh was sick and troubled by dreams for several days after that, but soon the easy flow of the summer days soothed his soul, and everything was as it had been.
One day as the light of the late afternoon sun glowed golden in the village and over the woods and meadows all around, Hard Striker sat by his lodge with his wife and waited for Tecumseh to come in from play. The child came running, tired, hungry, and happy, and he saw his father summoning him with a wave of his hand. He came and stood before him, and Hard Striker said:
“My son, I have something to tell you about yourself. It is the most important thing you will ever know. It is time to tell you because I think you are old enough now.” His father’s face was like stone, but his voice was soft and warm.
“You were born under a great sign, the sign of the Panther leaping across the sky. To be born under a great sign means that you will have a great thing to do, and your life will not be easy.”
It was as if his father’s voice itself had weight, and he felt the weight settle on him.
His life, which had always been play and love and happiness, with everything easy to understand, was changing.
That night he dreamed of whitefaces, of a white bird, of yellow dust and great thunder noises, and he woke up crying.
His mother had to hold him until he was quiet.
She put her cheek against his and whispered to him: “For once it is not your little brother Loud Noise who cries in the night. Now go back to sleep. You are in your family, and all is good.”
5
K ISPOKO T OWN
June 1774
“S EE THIS, ” C HIKSIKA TOLD T ECUMSEH, KNEELING BESIDE him in a sunny glade in the deep green woods. The forest there was of enormous hardwoods. The ground under the trees was pleasantly open and free of deadwood and underbrush, because it was close to the village, and firewood gatherers kept it clean. Chiksika pointed at a plant. Many other plants like it were growing in the glade. “This is the poison vine that made your skin itch last spring. Know it by the three notched leaves. You must know the shape of the leaves and stay out of it. But if you do get it on your skin … Come here now.” He rose and walked a few steps and knelt again. “Now see this plant.” It had a light green, oval-shaped leaf.
“I know that one,” Tecumseh said. He knelt beside Chiksika, his small bow in his left hand. “In the summer it has the little orange flowers, and the little hummingbirds go to it.”
“Yes. Good,” said Chiksika. “And now see this, how much juice comes out when I break the stem. Now, brother, if you get the poison plant on your skin, then you should come and get this plant, and mash the stems and leaves and rub their juice on your skin, and the itch will stop, and the sores will go away. This iswhat Mother put on you to cure you when you got into the poison plant.”
“Ah!”
“Is it not good how Our Grandmother Kokomthena who lives beside the moon has made the world?” Chiksika said, smiling and squeezing Tecumseh’s shoulder. “She has created something for everything. If she makes a poison, she also makes something to cure the poison.”
“Yes. But why did she make the poison?”
Chiksika paused. That was the kind of question Tecumseh would always ask in the middle of a lesson. Now Chiksika replied: “So that there will be more to know, and to show us how much she thinks of us. Do you remember the root I showed you which cures the bite of the rattlesnake?”
“Yes.
T HE YOUNG WHITE MAN WAS TAKEN AWAY TO A LODGE where women would feed him and heal his wounds with herbs and ointments. He had proven himself strong and brave by not crying out once, and thus it was assured that he would be adopted into the tribe.
And so Chiksika would tell people: “Yes, he must be strong, to be alive after the beating our Tecumseh gave him! Ha, ha!”
Tecumseh was sick and troubled by dreams for several days after that, but soon the easy flow of the summer days soothed his soul, and everything was as it had been.
One day as the light of the late afternoon sun glowed golden in the village and over the woods and meadows all around, Hard Striker sat by his lodge with his wife and waited for Tecumseh to come in from play. The child came running, tired, hungry, and happy, and he saw his father summoning him with a wave of his hand. He came and stood before him, and Hard Striker said:
“My son, I have something to tell you about yourself. It is the most important thing you will ever know. It is time to tell you because I think you are old enough now.” His father’s face was like stone, but his voice was soft and warm.
“You were born under a great sign, the sign of the Panther leaping across the sky. To be born under a great sign means that you will have a great thing to do, and your life will not be easy.”
It was as if his father’s voice itself had weight, and he felt the weight settle on him.
His life, which had always been play and love and happiness, with everything easy to understand, was changing.
That night he dreamed of whitefaces, of a white bird, of yellow dust and great thunder noises, and he woke up crying.
His mother had to hold him until he was quiet.
She put her cheek against his and whispered to him: “For once it is not your little brother Loud Noise who cries in the night. Now go back to sleep. You are in your family, and all is good.”
5
K ISPOKO T OWN
June 1774
“S EE THIS, ” C HIKSIKA TOLD T ECUMSEH, KNEELING BESIDE him in a sunny glade in the deep green woods. The forest there was of enormous hardwoods. The ground under the trees was pleasantly open and free of deadwood and underbrush, because it was close to the village, and firewood gatherers kept it clean. Chiksika pointed at a plant. Many other plants like it were growing in the glade. “This is the poison vine that made your skin itch last spring. Know it by the three notched leaves. You must know the shape of the leaves and stay out of it. But if you do get it on your skin … Come here now.” He rose and walked a few steps and knelt again. “Now see this plant.” It had a light green, oval-shaped leaf.
“I know that one,” Tecumseh said. He knelt beside Chiksika, his small bow in his left hand. “In the summer it has the little orange flowers, and the little hummingbirds go to it.”
“Yes. Good,” said Chiksika. “And now see this, how much juice comes out when I break the stem. Now, brother, if you get the poison plant on your skin, then you should come and get this plant, and mash the stems and leaves and rub their juice on your skin, and the itch will stop, and the sores will go away. This iswhat Mother put on you to cure you when you got into the poison plant.”
“Ah!”
“Is it not good how Our Grandmother Kokomthena who lives beside the moon has made the world?” Chiksika said, smiling and squeezing Tecumseh’s shoulder. “She has created something for everything. If she makes a poison, she also makes something to cure the poison.”
“Yes. But why did she make the poison?”
Chiksika paused. That was the kind of question Tecumseh would always ask in the middle of a lesson. Now Chiksika replied: “So that there will be more to know, and to show us how much she thinks of us. Do you remember the root I showed you which cures the bite of the rattlesnake?”
“Yes.
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