Whitestone Hill 150 Years Later, 1863-2013
The Bloodiest Massacre On The Great Plains
By Dakota
Wind
WHITESTONE HILL, N.D. – The wind blew in gusts
across the vast open plains. The Dakota and Lakota people who have lived here
for millennia are people of the stars, and some of them say too that they are
people of the wind. The wind isn’t just the defining characteristic of prairie
life, but a part of the indigenous culture.
The Dakota say that the patterns on ones’ fingertips indicate which direction the wind was blowing on the day of one’s birth. The swirling pattern on one’s crown was taken to mean not just the living presence of one’s spirit, but the wind that brings that spirit. Sometimes, a very powerful wind was even referred to as Táku Wakȟáŋ Škaŋškáŋ, Something With-Energy Is Moving About. Indeed, a Dakȟóta elder visiting from Crow Creek, SD declared that the strength of the wind was an indication that the spirits were there at Whitestone Hill.
On
Saturday, August 24, 2013, over 300 people from across North Dakota and the
Great Plains gathered at Whitestone Hill near Kulm, ND to remember the
bloodiest massacre of Dakota Indians following the largest mass execution in
the history of the United States, which involved thirty-eight of the Dakota Indians in Mankato, MN, Dec. 26, 1862.
Despite high winds, and green lodge assemblers, this beautifully painted lodge was set up.
On this day, someone
from Lake Traverse, the Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate, brought a beautifully painted thipí rendered in warm earth tones of
red, orange, and brown with constellation patterns embellishing the outside of
the lodge. A call went out for assistance to erect the lodge on that windy day
and volunteers rushed to assist.
They say in
the days of memory, that women could erect a lodge in as little as ten minutes.
Their nomadic life way demanded a lifetime of practice, but on this day Dakȟóta women supervise a handful of
non-native men, there’s even a Chippewa in the mix helping to get the lodge up.
Renowned
and eminent flute-player and hoop dancer, and enrolled member of the Standing
Rock Sioux Tribe, Kevin Locke, was called forward to begin the day with a
prayer. At the end of the afternoon’s lectures and reflections, Locke would
share the message of vision and unity of the human spirit with the hoop dance,
traditional stories, and flute songs.
Locke performs the hoop dance, pictured here at Williston State College.
Locke,
known among the Dakȟóta and Lakȟóta as Tȟokéya Inážiŋ, The First To Arise, is also a descendant of Ta’Oyáte Dúta, His Red Nation, who is
more widely known by the name Little Crow. Locke doesn’t make a public issue
about his great-grandfather, probably because Tȟaóyate Dúta was not at Whitestone Hill, but had died of a gunshot
wound in a field near Hutchinson, MN in a fight with a farmer.
Richard Rothaus, owner and director of Trefoil Natural and Cultural out of Minnesota, was invited to present about the causes of the 1862 Minnesota Dakota Conflict, and expertly tied the Dakota Conflicts in Minnesota and Dakota Territory to the American Civil War which was being waged concurrently in the south.
Aaron Barth, a historian and archaeologist from North Dakota State University, offered his thoughts about the Whitestone Hill massacre as an agent of genocide in American history. Barth facetiously suggested attaching cables to the current monument atop Whitestone Hill and pulling it down, but in seriousness suggested a memorial be erected on site honoring the Dakȟóta and Lakȟóta.
A local
city band gathered together over the lunch hour and played music themes from
popular movies and other pieces. The music, while rendered in the spirit of
peace, seemed decidedly out of place. At one point the band played the theme
made popular in the Rocky movies. A visitor from the Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate
observed that the music was very nice but out of place and jovially said during
the Rocky theme, “That makes me feel like running to the top of the hill and
raise my fists and shout, ‘We’re still here!’”
A panel
discussion made up of members from the Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate and the Standing
Rock Sioux shared observations regarding the history and conflict of Whitestone
Hill. LaDonna Brave Bull-Allard shared her grandmother’s story of survival when
her people, the Iháŋktȟuŋwaŋna Pabáska,
the Cuthead Yanktonai, came under sudden and unexpected fire.
The Cuthead
Yanktonai band had been proponents of the United States since 1818 when their chieftain,
Waná’at’á, The Charger, was released
from an internment at Fort Snelling. The Charger led the Yanktonai in a siege
under the command of Colonel Leavenworth against the Arikara in 1823. The
Yanktonai had no reason to fear their American allies until General Sully
brought the wrath of the soldiers on them at Whitestone Hill, Sept. 3-5, 1863.
A tribal
elder from Crow Creek, and a descendant of Tȟóka
Khuté, Shoots The Enemy, who was captured at Whitestone Hill and imprisoned
at Fort Thompson, Dakota Territory (present-day South Dakota), articulated a
short explanation of the site before he departed from Whitestone Hill that
afternoon. In the Ihanktowana dialect,
Wičhéyena, Whitestone Hill was never
called or recognized as Whitestone Hill. They called it Pa IpuzA Nape Wakpana, Dry Bone [as in “Very Thirsty] Hill Creek.
“They never called it ‘Whitestone Hill,’” insists Corbin Shoots The Enemy.
Shoots The
Enemy shared the story that few young men were in the village as most were out
hunting. Men who were past their warrior days stayed behind with elders and
youth in the village. Among the chiefs who led thiyóšpaye, an extended family, at Whitestone Hill that day are: Nasúna Thaŋka (Big Head), Taȟča
Ska (White Deer), Šuŋkáȟa Napíŋ
(Wolf Necklace), Mahtó Wakáŋtuya
(High Bear), Hotháŋke (Big Voice,
Winnebago), Mahtó Nuŋpa (Two Bear), Wáğa (Cottonwood), Hoğáŋ Dúta (Red Fish), Mahtó
KnaškiŋyAn (Mad Bear), Awáska
(White With Snow), Waŋbdí Wanapȟéya
(Eagle That Scares), Waŋbdí Maní
(Walking Eagle), Waoŋzoği (With
Pants, or Pantaloons), Čhaŋ Ičú (Takes
The Wood), Waŋbdí Ska (White Eagle), Tȟóka Khuté (Shoots The Enemy), and Ziŋtkála Maní (Walking Bird).
These Itȟáŋčhaŋ, chiefs, led tens to hundreds
in their thiyóšpaye. There were
easily at least a thousand Ihanktowana at
Whitestone Hill. Several tons of food were destroyed following the massacre,
thousands of dogs were killed, and as many as three hundred Dakȟóta people lost their lives, and
over a hundred were taken prisoner, most of whom were women and children.
Lakȟóta language instructor, Earl Bull
Head, and an enrolled member of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, was called upon
to share a song and story. A storyteller, Bull Head opened with a few jokes
about his travels to Europe and his experiences with the world before sharing a
story and song he originally composed for a friend who lost his son. Bull
Head’s friend was caught up in misery and heartbreak. The song came to Bull Head
to inspire his friend to live a good life; it was a call to redemption and
forgiveness.
A stone circle, this one about five feet in diameter, rests on private land at the Whitestone Hill site.
A local
landowner invited this writer to his land nearby to view some of the features
not found at the Whitestone Hill State Historic Site. On top of a rolling hill
were several stone circles, several about five feet across and one measured
about fifty feet in diameter, and a few great heavy anvil stones bore evidence
of shaping tools over thousands of years, which reminded this visitor once
again that people were coming here millennia before the conflict.
Sunset at Stoney Lake, north of Tappen, ND. This is where the Lakota engaged General Sibley's command for the second time in July, 1863.
The day
ended with a buffalo feed. A long lingering line gradually worked itself
through the hundreds of visitors present. Plates were piled with great cuts of
lean bison meat, hot steaming potatoes, warmed beans, and handmade biscuits.
Conversation ebbed and flowed as the line shrunk. The wind gradually calmed to
a breeze, which in the great shade a cottonwood, actually cooled the waiting
hungry crowd.
My plate
was piled high and heavy with food. I took a cup of lemonade and downed it
before I made it back to my car. I was hungry and the smell of roasted meat
nearly made me break my fast, but I couldn’t eat. I felt the impression of my
grandmother, after all these years sometimes it seems like I can smell her or sense
her watching me.
Sunset at Big Mound where Sitting Bull counted coup on one of Sibley's men. Sitting Bull also stole a mule from the line in a show of bravery. This was the first engagement that summer between the Lakota and Sibley's command, July 1863.
I drove off
down the dusty gravel road, over the rolling grassy hills, and out of sight
from the crowd. It may seem like waste to some, but it wasn’t to me. I
pulled over onto the grass, took my plate, and carried it to the side of the
road. I said no prayer or benediction. I didn’t call out or cry. I could not
eat there when long ago my relatives were forced to go without. It is the
custom of the Dakȟóta and Lakȟóta people to take food to our
relatives who’ve taken their journey.