Please note that the memories and artwork contained herein are copyrighted 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008

Echinache - Early Morning

It is a sunny morning and I crawl out of my tepee to stretch and admire nature. I am pleased with how my tribe is living in this world and proud that we are here among it all, trusted by the Gods and our ancestors to look after it and our people. We are of the Potowan tribe of what the new settlers call "Indians", attached to the Chickasee and the Sioux but very much our own. We do not agree with some of the more brutal policies of our larger cousins, nor are we as war-like as some though we can defend ourselves if need-be. It has been a long time since we've even had to defend ourselves against the pale, strangely talking people who began to fill our land some time ago in fact its not many winters since those in the settlement nearby would have starved if it hadn't been for us. They seem grateful and although they don't fully understand our ways, nor we them, we get on as well as we might and are welcome to visit their town as well as they are to visit us. That is not, we are told, how some of these people have behaved and, like myyoungest son, Jefoota (pronounced -yeh-foo-ta), I am not totally convinced that this is how things will always be here. We have seen the way they act amongst themselves if things go wrong - and the lack of respect they have for nature. Echiniche (e-chin-ee-chee), my older son, holds a different view and is fascinated by things, items they own - he argues we should trade with them and gain all of this new alien knowledge that we can. I feel, in the end, we would be trading our souls. Not all that is new, is good, icounsel him, but as so often with the younf, he is headstrong and will not see. It does not bother me just now. We are at peace and I am proud of my tribe, with its laughing children and women, and strong, swift, smiling men.

I, by the way, am called "Looming Cloud", chief to the Potowans for the past twenty years, taking over from my father at the age of 36. We do not practice hereditary cheifship here, though the finest warrior is given the title, and I just happened to be the man given that honour. I am a warrior but truly, I am a man of peace. Stability. It was around this time we suffered our last battle with neighbouring tribes and I lost my first wife, a warrior-woman. Unusual, I grant you,  but our tribe sees no reason to bar a femake from this profession should she wish it, and many make as efficient, if not fiercer fighters than the males. Her name was Jefasta (Yeh-fass-ta) My second wife, her sister, died in the childbirth of my youngest son.. My true name, the one we only use among ourselves, the tribe-family, is Echinache (e-chin-ar-chay). In looks my oldest son is most like me in temperament, it is the youngest.

I gaze round. The grass is very green, as are the leaves on the trees. It will be a good summer for growing things, and for beasts to hunt, as they will have plenty to eat. Satisfied for the future of my people, I set off to walk round them and ask how they feel this day.

Later, in the Afternoon

I am standing close by the flap of my tepee, almost where I stretched this morning, and am startled by the sound of many hooves, combined yelling voices and my people shouting and pointing to the south in amazement. I take a step forward. About half a mile away, over a hundred young men are rushing towards us, some with war-axes and knives raised, those on horses, with a bow. I have not seen something such as this since the wars at the time my father died. My throat swallows. My People!! A Battle?? What have we done? I go to take another step forward and say something calming but an arrow takes me in the stomach and I am left with a speech-less open mouth. I begin to fold as if my body won't obey me, and there is strangely little pain and blood, Someone helps me down. My eyes begin to close and the last thing I see is Jefoota, staring wide-eyed at me, and then at the man leading the charge of the other tribe. Echiniche. His brother.

I takes me two days to die but I am warm and feel less discomfort from the wound than I expect. It is Echiniche I cannot comprehend. Nor can he it seems. When his brother brought him to stand before my sick-bed, he collapsed onto his knees and spoke loudly but not words I could understand. In his disgust, his brother bade him leave. Of the battle, I know the basic details. Seeing our people, male, female and children, arm themselves bravely with whatever came to hand to defend our home, the other tribe took pity and gave us also great respect. They left with only one further casualty a man, cut deeply in the arm, who tried to attack the brave who felled me. They did not take Echiniche with them. He could not understand why they did not attack, and also, did not them know the fate of his father. Jefoota, who has now been voted a reluctant chief, has allowed him to live but has him bound in side, nearby. Jefoota is young and does not yet believe enough of himself, yet my last thought is this :Jefoota will do well for our people.