Published on April 12, 2013 by Carol
Native American Broken Russian Treaties
Even though it has been twenty years, I remember it as if it were yesterday. Quantum Physics is right, time does not exist. It is all there in the quantum ocean waiting for us to tap into it. I did. Willie Whitefeather, my Cherokee Indian medicine man friend, used to come out of the desert to visit me.
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He knocked so loudly on my apartment door, at two in the morning, that he would wake the whole complex. I would let him in and he would plop on the rug in the living room with his brown bag full of fresh corn, which he had just liberated from some field. I would sit in my chair, ( I never could get comfortable in the cross -legged sitting style that he used.) Willie would shuck the corn and dig into it. I always thought he must have teeth like steel the way he could bite and chew that raw corn. But he loved it that way, no salt no butter. Naturally I refused his offer.
When I think back, I could kick myself for not having a tape recorder on to record all the wonderful stories he used to tell me. I have to do the best I can do to remember some of them. When he had finished off the corn, he would lay back and fall off to sleep for a few hours. Snoting loudly in contentment. I remember thinking, that Willie loves life and has a great sense of humor. One of his favorite past times was to go to the complex pool with me.
There were always five or six women sunbathing on lounge chairs around the pool. And in Arizona the sun shines 360 days a year. I am going back one day. Willie would let down his long black hair, run towards the pool and leap into it, while emitting this loud Indian war cry. He hit the water like a cannon ball, and being a small pool, it drenched the women in the lounge chairs.
When he came to the surface with his black hair smacked down, framing his classic Indian features, he had a big smile on his face. This presented a most fearsome Indian warrior look, that caused several of the women to get up and run away screaming. Willie would smirk, and be most satisfied, having caused the desired effect.
He was like a little boy during these times and loved splashing around the pool. But I encouraged him to make a fast exit.
Willie told me a story he called “Broken Treaties,” At the time before the break up of Russia, Willie was wary of them. He called Russia “The Bear!” Let’s see if I can recall some of the story for it is quite long.
The Bear looked over the mountain and saw a fat country (USA). The Bear was hungry. So the Bear decided to unite with the Eagle (USA). Bear studied the Eagle. Bear saw that the people were” idealists.” Bear decided to divide and then conquer. Bear started with one word “abortion.” The country divided, Bear then placed a guilt trip on the women and the country divided again. Then Bear used two words “child abuse.”
Bear had every one arguing amongst themselves. Next Bear put fear into the Chief of the country and he built a wall around the White House. Now that the country was afraid, they would not go to Europe they would go to “Disneyland!” Bear knew that if the Chief is in fear of Nasty terrorists, the whole tribe would be in fear. The brain of Bear is behind his mouth.
Bear looked back at the old days and made enemies of all former friends.. Now Bear builds a wall around the country so the mean and nasty terrorists won’t hurt the TV watching people. But then the people shout, ” Hey wait! We can’t get out!” “Gottcha!” sez Bear.
Bear is to white man what white man was to the Indians. —Trail of Broken Treaties — come full circle.
When I think back about Willie I am still amazed how wise that Cherokee Medicine man was. He knew more about the inner workings of world politics than most white men. And he spent almost all of his time in the desert, at Four Corners, on the Colorado river and the Grand Canyon.
I believe that his periodic Vision Quests and sweat lodges gave him more accurate news than CNN or the New York Times. He knew what he knew. He didn’t report news not knowing anything about it, like our newscasters.
By: Ellis Peterson