Nunna daul Isunyi (The Trail of Tears)

The Story

            “He tried to run away, and a soldier grabbed him.  They started yelling at each other, and your brother brought out a knife, so they brawled.  Other soldiers came to help, now his leg is broken. He was cut a few times.”  The soldier, John, looked at Uwoduhi with a somber face, but she could see the pity in his eyes.  He turned her around and escorted her back toward the front of the; his boots crunched in the snow.  Uwoduhi noticed his glossy boots, and then saw the bare feet of an old elder, stiff in the snow.

            “What will you do with him?”  She glanced up the line at Saquu and then turned back to the soldier. 

            “Well, you see, we consider him dangerous now.  This is not the first time that he has attempted to run or fight.  It will be hard for him to walk, so he will ride a guarded wagon until the captain gives further notice.”  He turned back and shouted at the soldiers to finish dressing the wounds. Uwoduhi thought it was silly for the white men to be afraid of a Cherokee boy, but she said nothing. She watched the soldiers, and heard Tsuli moaning.  Her mind raced back to a time not long ago, in the night.  She remembered the horses coming in to her village with the white men on them.  She remembered her father’s face, strong and determined.  And she remembered the blood on the ground, and on his face, and the white men shouting.  She remembered the load moaning that had sounded through the village.

            She took Saquu back, who was asleep, and waited until dusk to take squirrel to the wagon for Tsuli.

            “Ale galieliga uyohusv, I am glad you are not dead.”  She looked at Tsuli and pulled out a small, beaded pouch held it in the palm of her hand.  Her mother had beaded it with pictures of flowers and leaves.  Inside was medicine from the Blue Clan, and it was made to heal wounds quickly. She poured a small pile into her hand.

            “Tsuli!  You are a foolish boy.  You have a broken leg, and now you have no respect from the elders or our people!  You are in a wagon, like an old, sick woman, and you are not even free to move about!  What do you think about your choice?”  She studied Tsuli.  He was lying on his back in some straw, and his hands were tied with strong cords, “I even must bring you food, and I must even feed you like a baby!”  She was not as irritated as she spoke, but she did not know what to say.  She sprinkled the medicine in his wounds and massaged it in with her finger tips. She did not understand him. She too felt the pain of leaving home, and the longing for a father and mother, but she also suffered the sting of his disgrace in the eyes of the white men and her people. She wondered if he did not also feel it.

            “Uwoduhi, I cannot live like this any longer!”  Tsuli’s features were twisted and ugly.  His voice had traces of untainted hate interwoven in the frenzied words.  He struggled to sit up, “I have seen tears on your cheeks and I have heard Saquu crying.  Every day we are cold, and we eat little.  I have seen our people die here, and be eaten by birds and have fingers and toes fall off!  I have seen the bloody footprints and I have seen the Elders fall in the snow and be beaten.  I have seen the scars and the wounds, and I have my own. I cannot do this anymore, Uwoduhi! This time I hoped that they would kill me, but they did not. Instead they wounded me and left me here in my shame!”

            “Oh, Tsuli,” Uwoduhi cried and embraced him, “you cannot do this! You must be like Father and be strong.  You must be kind and stay with Saquu so when we get to the west you can protect us and hunt for us.  You must survive this with us, so that we can have a good life after!”  She wept at his side.   She looked at his face, and he looked back at her with loathing.

            “I cannot do this, Uwoduhi.” He said simply and scooted away.  A soldier motioned at her with his gun, “Time to go.”