Thomas Common Man (Ikce Wicasa) Modern Lakota Spirituality and Practice

Words and Wisdom from Sidney Keith and Melvin Miner
1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-1-62095-290-0
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 300 Seiten

Using interviews and personal experience, A Common Man explores Lakota Sioux Spirituality and Religion. Sidney Keith was a Lakota Spiritual Leader and Holy Man for twenty seven years. He brought the sacred Sun Dance back to the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota. Melvin Miner was also a respected leader of the Lakota Sioux. In his journey through life he was a Sun Dancer and follower of the Sacred Pipe. Spiritually our Lakota culture is not dead, it still goes on. This is a gift that we were given as a people and a gift that Sidney Keith was given. Sidney reached a lot of people, hundreds maybe thousands of people throughout his life. By creating this book and describing some of the events that took place, our religion can be shared with people who are interested in learning more about our culture. Some of these stories are what some of the people would call miracles; we just call them spiritual happenings. Through Sidney's twenty seven years as a spiritual leader helping people, he has made a big difference and can be used as an example as a teacher to our people, to other tribes and to other nations.-Melvin Miner Before the Calf Pipe Woman, the Indians, they lived right. There was no alcohol. There were no bars. They knew that something made them and they looked at everything and said, 'Somebody made all this around us. The animals, how come they got four legs? How come they got horns and we don't?' They figured it out that there was something more powerful than they were that did all this. So they prayed to Him, and the first Sun Dance was originated.- Sidney Keith

Autoren/Hrsg.

Thomas, Kevin

Leseproben

Chapter One -
Sidney Keith I was born eight miles west of the Moreau River in Bear Creek, South Dakota. In my family there were only two boys, I’m the oldest. My Dad died when I was fourteen years old. Most of the time growing up I spent with my grandmother and grandfather. I liked them so well, that’s who I spent most of my time with. I followed my grandfather around because he liked to tell stories, he talked with the older men about their hunts and they told each other how they used to do this hunting, riding, and chasing buffalo. So I learned all those things, all about the culture and all the ways to survive when in a big storm and what to do in case of an emergency and all that stuff. He’d even tell me these stories at noon. He always talks with the older people and that’s where I learned to listen to the stories and I learned quite a bit. Some of these are some of the older men, he grew up with them. They sit around and talk about their hunt and I used to sit there and just listen hour after hour. When my mother came out to look for me, I’d always be there. I’d be laying on my belly or laying on my back or sitting up and I used to listen to my grandfather. My grandmother, at night she’d tell wocahie (animal) stories, that were easy to tell. She would keep talking till one of us goes to sleep, she keeps talking till I go to sleep, and she never finished telling the story. Every day, every month, every year till my parents they were there, she’d teach us three or four different stories. She would tell us iktomi (spider) stories about a giant iktomi. That’s what I learned from my grandmother. In later years, my grandfather was a medicine man. He used to have to pray and also watch who does it himself. I would go along and sit quite a ways away, so I don’t interfere with him and watch him go through the motions. It’s still done like that, it’s still the same way today that we do here. The ceremony is still the same way, the singing and everything is still the same. When I grew up to three or four years of age, why I used to sing, I didn’t know all the songs, but I knew some of the words. They said I used to sit on a trough and bang on the water tank and sing to the Spirits! So that’s the reason I grew up to be kind of an authority on this, from watching the ceremony, because I knew somebody and I grew up with it. When I grew up, why my Dad died, so I had to work and support my mother and my brother Raymond. After I graduated from high school, I got a scholarship, so I went to Phoenix, Arizona. I went two years there studying art, till I was a good artist and that’s what this scholarship was about. This would be the Santa Fe Art School that used to be. Somehow they wanted a bigger school so they moved it to Santa Fe, and then I don’t know what happened to the other school in Phoenix. But I went into the service. I went to the Air Force for four years and finally got discharged in 1945. I came home and started dancing. I made my way up to the purest style of dancing that everybody liked. They were competing in dancing contests, so I did a few exhibition dances. I had about six bustles on, you ought to see them. I had two or three outfits in different colors. If there’s a three day dance, they used one outfit one day, another a different color the next. But after I got married, I kept slowing down. I was still dancing, but I kept slowing down. I got more into Indian Religion. I studied more and more as I came into contact with other Indian people like Frank Fools Crow and we talked about things and feathers and medicines and that sort of thing. My Mother married three times so I had stepbrothers and one of my stepbrothers taught me how to do it. They were medicine men and good ones too. They taught me about these things. (Name omitted) was the first to suggest that we take the pipe up. Just before that we went to a sweat lodge and asked him if he was powerful enough and if we were good enough that we could make the ceremony and we were. He said we could tell the people about their religion. He told us a few things that we had to do and we did them. One was that we had to go to a sweat lodge if we were going through the ceremony. All the ones that were on the committee or directors had to all go into the sweat lodge and purify ourselves before we could perform the ceremony. We weren’t the actual performer, but we have to sweat, you know, for the medicine, but we knew that we have to do it that way. Also we’re not supposed to take pictures because of the reflection and that could send the Spirits away. They’re powerful; their lightning is powerful, more powerful than that, they’ll kill you by the reflection. When I was a little kid, I seen this Pipe in the 1930s. I remember because it was the Depression, dust blowing every day and you have to drive around with the lights on! The cattle were just skin and bones and no water! It was really terrible. Everything we possessed was just full of sand. So I guess that these old people that had this Pipe, but they wouldn’t open it, regardless. That happened right here in Green Grass, they opened it for the first time. But I was small enough that I couldn’t remember what it looked like. I know it was the Pipe. It was a beautiful Pipe, one eagle feather on it. In fact, that‘s the same feather that was on there when they brought it. So it must be a pretty old feather, but it’s in real good shape. It had some markings, carving, all this kind of thing, rather than just an ordinary pipe. You could feel the presence of something. Even I was pretty scared. I was involved in that all the time. Today we use the Pipe for a lot of reasons. One time we prayed for the Wounded Knee to cease without any bloodshed in it. It didn’t until after several people got killed. You can expect something like that. But as a whole, the people that was out there nobody was shooting like they mean it, it was more of a scare tactic. But it turned out alright, because that’s the way we prayed. Anything you pray for, you got to expect it to happen. That was 1919, I was born in. I lived there all my life, except the time I went to Arizona and then on into the service from there. I didn’t come back home for six years, I think it was 1945, the first time I came back. And that’s the funniest thing, I forgot my Sioux language! When I went into the house my mother was sitting there just as happy as can be and started talking to me and hugging me up. I was gonna say something and I just couldn’t remember! I can distinctly remember, the communication was there, as far as that goes and I knew what she was saying, but my words couldn’t come out. So it’s possible to lose the language. I believe it. Like my kids, they don’t speak it, they lost it. But I’m pretty sure that they could get it back if they were taught by an Indian in this. They have to be trained. Indian language teachers have to be trained. My grandfather’s name was Ray Eagle Chaser and he was about the oldest one in Cherry Creek. That’s where they homesteaded and they lived along Ash Creek, where they had a ranch. They owned a lot of horses and had cattle and pigs and turkeys and chickens. They were hardworking people, you know. My grandmother, as soon as that sun comes up, she’s out there doing something. Preparing a hide, or making parfleche bags and those are hard to make, but she does all that, tans hides, makes moccasins. In those days you don’t sell them, you give them away. Like a relation comes from Pine Ridge and they stay overnight or for a couple of days. They really treated them nicely. Feed them the best food that they had, that they know how. they give them the best beads and stuff like moccasins and shawls and blankets. They don’t expect nothing in return. Sometimes my grandfather will give them a horse. He looks at their horses, and if it’s kind of lame, why, “Here’s a couple more that you can have. They’re broke to ride.” So those things don’t mean nothing to them, they just give them away. Just so they can make their way home they give them extra food, dried meats and extra blankets, and they take them home. They give them a lot of water before they take off back to Pine Ridge, because they might have to camp two or three times on the way before they get home. Then if we go over there, why they do the same thing to us. They might give you something, maybe not a horse, but they do quillwork, and that’s a beautiful thing. My grandmother told me later when I was able to comprehend a lot of things, that because I was the oldest son, I was in a cradle, wokazeze, they call it. It’s beaded with porcupine needles and that’s the fanciest. They hold it highest, because there’s a charm in one of those things, Woken wokazeze, they call it. That’s a cradle. It’s really made nice. I had one of those, like I say. In the parades they used to have, my grandmother carried me on her back. My Indian name is Naca Cikala, Little Chief. “Naca Cikala, Naca Cikala.” She used to sing that, using my name Naca Cikala to let people know that, “Here’s a boy! My grandson! Someday he’s going to be a good boy and a good man and a leader.” So I always remembered that. My grandfather was a good one. When he smoked, when I was still small, why he gives me the pipe! He says, “Hey”. So I smoked the pipe, which is something, they don’t do that very often. They wouldn’t let...