The morning haze made for a muggy afternoon at the pow-wow and rodeo grounds along the Long Soldier Creek.
Oškate: A Victory Celebration
A Commemoration Of The Little Bighorn
By Dakota Wind
Fort Yates, N.D. - Last year I
had heard about a Little Bighorn victory commemoration on the Standing Rock
Sioux Indian Reservation, where I’m from. Intrigued, but unable to attend the
event, I waited. Another year passed, and my schedule allowed me to take it in.
My day
began with the sunrise, north of Mandan. The morning sun shone brightly through
the windows and into the living room spilling golden light throughout the house
and into the kitchen. I bid the family goodbye and braced myself for a long hot
day.
The morning
was relatively cool. A light ran during the night kissed the grass with dew.
The sun’s warmth rung the moisture from the ground and air, and filled the sky
with a heavy clammy haze. Clouds hung low, and combined with the haze gave the
landscape an almost dreamy quality. The sunlight danced through the clouds and
haze as light would through water at the bottom of a pool.
The drive
itself was quiet and uneventful. Traffic was light in the early dawn and I passed
by what I imagine to be farm traffic. Almost nothing but pick-ups were on the
highway or just merging with the highway from the many dirt roads that broke
off from the main road.
The poster
that was circulating the web said that the event would begin promptly at 9:00
AM. I drove just slightly over the speed limit, pacing myself, so that I’d get
there at least fifteen minutes before the flag song and flag raising at the Akičita
Haŋska Wačipi grounds (the Long Soldier Pow-wow grounds).
When I
pulled onto the grounds a group of veterans were already there patiently
waiting for the singers (drum group) and Nača (headman) and eyapaha
(announcers). One of my lekši (uncles) and his wife and their children and
grandson came out to see and hear what was happening.
A short but
pleasant wait later, the headman of the Šuŋg Sapa Gleška Okolakičiyĕ (The
Spotted Black Horse Society) made an announcement that several people had
mistaken the information that was circulating online and believed that the
victory celebration wouldn’t take place until the evening.
Since there
were veterans present, and two American flags to raise, regardless that the
celebration wouldn’t take place until later that day, the leader brought out
the Spotted Black Horse Society’s drum to render the Lakota National Anthem. There
were few singers present, so my lekši and two of his sons, my téhaŋši (male
cousins), joined the leader to render the song. My lekši turned to me and
simply said, “Here,” and gestured to the drum. I have never sung with my lekši nor
my téhaŋši before, and never at the grounds I danced at when I was boy.
Téhaŋši
John led us in the Lakota National Anthem, then my téhaŋši Rick “Bu’bu” lead us
in the flag song as the flags were reverently brought out and raised with
honor.
One of the eyapaha, John Eagle, offers words in memory of our ancestors and encouragement to the Lakota people today.
I thought
to myself, “How could we [the Lakota] be so patriotic as we honored that flag
and remembered our relatives who fought for a country who had once fought
desperately to put us here, AND honor our relatives who fought to defend us on
this day 137 years ago?” The setting of strong contemporary patriotism and
commemoration for our relatives who defended our homes and land left me feeling
a wonderful juxtaposition of humility, pride, and a tremendous amount of
respect for our Lakota lalaki and unčiki (grandfathers and grandmothers) who
fought, lived and sacrificed so that we could be here today.
Who can say
they’re more patriotic in this land?
I took
lunch with my lekši at his home. There he shared with me the story of my lala
Innocent’s grandmother, Emma Creek, who had fought at the Little Bighorn to
defend her family.
Great-Grandson of Sitting Bull, Ernie LaPointe, "Women didn't fight at the Battle of the Little Bighorn," he explained.
A few
summers ago, I heard an Oglala named Ernie LaPoint – a direct-lineal descendant,
a great-grandson, of Tatanka Iyotanke (Sitting Bull) – speak about how Lakota
women didn’t fight at the Battle of the Little Bighorn or elsewhere. I think
that it may be true, from his perspective, that women didn’t fight.
Major Reno,
who was an officer more at ease behind a desk than on actual campaign or in
combat, lead his command of the 7th Cavalry into the Hunkpapa Lakota
camp at the Little Bighorn.
There are
other women who took up arms against the soldiers because the need to protect
their children was so great. Among the Hunkpapa Lakota and Ihanktowana Dakota
on Standing Rock there are women like Rocky Butte Woman and Moving Robe Woman,
and many others, who stood up with their fathers’ or brothers’ warclubs and
went into the fight, and not just to repel Reno and his command but also at
General Custer’s fight on Last Stand Hill.
Midday came
swiftly and the sun cast broken shadows through the passing clouds, dappling
the land in sunlight and shadow. It wasn’t hot, but humid. The morning’s haze
had burned away only by a small margin that the air seemed to have a bluish
tinge to it. A nice crowd of maybe a hundred or so people had gathered at the
rodeo grounds on the north side of Long Soldier Creek – the pow-wow grounds
rest on the south bank of the creek.
I crossed
the creek and memories of my grandmother Thelma camping along the creek during
the pow-wow came back. I knew the exact spot where she set her tent, and I
walked by it. I remember playing on the bridge there as a little boy during the
pow-wows. I remember a quiet walk to the rodeo stand with a girl I used to
like.
Jerking
myself back from my own reverie of the past, I made my way to the racetrack
where a horse racing challenge was about to take place. There, a drum group
rendered an honor song for the spirit of the horses and a Lakota cowboy elder
gave a prayer to commemorate our past relatives and the enduring spirit of the
Lakota today.
Several
races, bareback and saddle, occurred throughout the afternoon. My personal
favorite to witness was the Stealing-A-Maiden race. The race began with my lekši
providing exposition about a story he heard from his father, my grandfather,
about a Lakota warparty long ago who went into Crow country not just to steal
horses, but to bring back wives. One young man captured a Crow woman who
eventually became so beloved by the people that when she died, she was honored
in song.
Cedric Goodhouse tells the story of a Lakota horse-stealing raid that ended with a man taking a Crow woman too and eventually marrying her.
My lekši
shared too, that my grandfather also said to be mindful and respectful of the
Crow because one day we may have relatives among them. And we do. My lekši has
two granddaughters who are part Crow.
A young man "steals" a maiden in this race.
The
Stealing-A-Maiden race began in earnest with a bareback rider making a run to a
point demarcated with a line of women. The riders rode hard to get to the
women, dismounted, and put their women on horseback, then ran on foot while
guiding their horses back to “camp.”
There was also the "Wounded Warrior" race in which a rider races to a point to pick up his kola (his best close personal friend; so close a friend that they were as brothers) from the open field and bring him back. I've seen a similar demonstration by the Frontier Army of the Dakota at Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park.
The first place winner of the last race on foot and on horseback.
The last
horse racing contest of the day was a grueling test of stamina. It began with
runners making a one-mile run uphill, down and through the creek, and to a line
of horses, where they raced another three miles bareback. The runners/riders
returned safely to the ending and singers honored them with victory songs.
The
Vocational Rehabilitation program sponsored the feed. They made an announcement
for people to bring their own plates utensils as was still practiced just a few
decades ago, with the intention to cut down on refuse after the feed. I think I
was the only one who saw that announcement in the poster, but the Voc-Rehab
folks thoughtfully provided paper plates and plasticware for all.
The actual
Oškate (Victory Celebration) began after the evening meal. There was no grand
entry, typical of regular pow-wows. A young woman walked around with a handful
of black grease paint, and applied a victory stripe to everyone’s cheek. The
commemoration began with a victory round dance. Dancers were separated by sex.
Men in the inner circle, women in the outer circle. It appeared to be generally
arranged by age too. Generally speaking, older men and women led the circles
followed, again, generally, by younger men and women. A whipman, a type of
cultural enforcer, walked around the bowery and motivated passive attendees to
become active dancers. Only the elderly or those unable to walk were given
leave to remain seated.
The evening
progressed with general community dances called “inter-tribals,” that is, songs
were sung so that all dancers from all categories were invited to dance, even
attendees who came in street clothes.
In between
a few of the songs, the eyapaha invited people to come up and share family
stories of relatives who were at the Little Bighorn. My tuŋwiŋ (aunt) Thipiziwiŋ
was called up to the announcer stand and share the story of Rocky Butte Woman.
She asked me to accompany her, and it was my pleasure to hear as complete a
story as I’ve ever heard of Rocky Butte Woman’s account of the Little Bighorn.
Rocky Butte
Woman entered the fight when Reno’s command attacked the Hunkpapa camp. She had
no choice but to defend her children. A man, probably a lala or lekši of her’s
told her to carry only a warclub into the fight at Last Stand Hill, as the air
was so heavy with dust that none could clearly see. And it was as dark as dusk.
I left the Oškate
at sundown with the question ringing in my heart, “Who can say they’re more
patriotic in this land?”
No comments:
Post a Comment