Legends

etiyv uninohetlvna

LEGENDS

How The Pine Tree Was Born
The old (u-wah-tï) people tell us that when the world was new, there were seven boys who used to spend all their time down by the longhouse
playing the gadayû'sdï game. This game is now called Chunkey, and is played by rolling a stone wheel along the ground and sliding a curved stick
after it to strike it. Their mothers scolded them, but it didn't do any good. One day the mother's collected some gatayû'stï stones and boiled them
in the pot with the corn for dinner.

When the boys came home their mothers dipped out the stones and said, "Since you like the gadayû'sdï better than working, take the stones now
for your dinner."

The boys were very angry, and went down to the townhouse, saying, "Since our mothers treat us this way, let's go where we will never trouble
them any more." They began a dance - some say it was the Feather dance - and went round and round the longhouse, praying to the creator to
help them. At last their mother's were afraid something was wrong and went out to look for them. They saw the boys still dancing around the
longhouse, and as they watched they noticed that their feet were off the ground, and that with every round they rose higher and higher in the air.
They ran to get their children, but it was too late, for they were already above the roof of the longhouse--all but one, whose mother managed to
pull him down with the gadayû'sdï pole, but he struck the ground with such force that he sank into it and the earth closed over him.

The other six circled higher and higher until they went up to the sky, where we see them now as the Pleiades, which the Cherokee call Ani'tsutsä
(The Boys).

The people grieved long after them, but the mother whose boy had gone into the ground came every morning and every evening to cry over the
spot until the earth was damp with her tears. At last a little green shoot sprouted up and grew day by day until it became the tall tree that we call
now the pine, and the pine is of the same nature as the stars and holds in itself the same bright light.

(From the CAHC Cherokee Language Specialist: The word "gadayusdi" may be a different way of saying gadayosdi or Marble. This might be another word for Chunkey, but if so, it is also our word for
marble (as in digadayosdi "Cherokee marbles"). No one asked knows a word for "Chunky" in Cherokee, so the two words might be that similar. No one seems to know for sure.)

Doyu anidawehi geso igada Anijalagi. Gosdigwu ijadanhtehdi ijvneha. Hiyoligis kilo adonisgi adehlohgwasgi? Adonisgi iyulsdohdi adehlohgwa
didehlohgwasgi.

This is one of the etiyv uninohetlvna, from a Cherokee Eji (Uji), who taught me to live in the usvi, and ahlawidiha -
We Only Say HIS Name With Those We Feel A Comfort With: This is his story . . .

Tonight, while the wind sweeps down our chimney and the rain pelts the window pains, and streaks of bright lightening crawl across the black
sky; someone is sick, dying in our little corner of the world, and this is the story of that creature which will come to steal life from that dying man.
When I was a little girl he came to me and we talked for a short time.
He looked down from above me and I looked into his eyes, black and void of all things most human.
And, he said, "I come with the thunder at my back and the lightening coming through me. I am a fiery shape, my arms outstretched are large
wings, sparks jump up from behind me. Men and witches fear me."
And then he added, "But the humans are most afraid of the rushing sound, the noise of a strong wind that screams at them through that wide
expanse of night outside. And, every little while, as I fly I make a cry like the cry of a gvhnagei koga (ayhga) when it "dives" in the air."
I have heard that cry --not like the common raven cry-- and you hear it and are afraid, because you know that some man's life will soon end.
Now, listen close my TuTsi, this dark imitation of the gvhnagei jisgwa comes, sets his feet upon the ground outside of the house, he finds others
of his kind waiting there, and unless there is a didahnvwisgi on guard who knows the way to drive them away, they will go inside, all invisible,
and frighten and torment the sick man until they kill him. It is an occupation for some, if not honorable, then at least a seriously studied technique
of those who would live beyond the normal years of men.
Sometimes while taking the life they even lift him from the bed and throw him on the floor, but his family and friends who are with him think he is
only struggling for breath, in the ravages of death. Now he is nudanhtvna.
After they lend to his death, kill him early, they take out his heart and eat of it, and vie for his liver, and so add to their own lives as many days or
years as they have taken from his. No one in the room can see them, and there is no scar where they take out the heart, but yet there is no heart
left in the body. Only one who has the right nvwoti can recognize these creatures, and if such a man stays in the room with the sick person THEY
are afraid to come in, and retreat as soon as they see him, because when one of them is recognized in his right shape he must die within seven
days. And, you my child, will speak to him, saying what I whisper to you seven times, and you will know who he is, and he will die.
When the family and friends of a dying person know that there is no more hope they always try to have one of these medicine men stay in the
house and watch the body for three days and on the fourth day, when it is buried, because after burial THEY do not steal the heart.
The OTHERS, who were also waiting to take the life, are jealous of the large gvhnagei jisgwa, and afraid to come into the same house with one.
Once my mother, your grandmother, was watching by the bed of a sick man and saw these OTHERS outside trying to get in. They clawed at the
windows, and scraped their fingers against the outside walls of the cabin. She wasn't afraid, because she had the medicine. All at once they
heard a LARGER ONE, the black one, cry overhead and the others scattered "like chickens in the yard when a hawk swoops down."
Your grandmother killed that one. She asked his name, and with the words I whispered to you, with her medicine, it died before the seventh day.
When at last it was dead these OTHERS took revenge by digging up the body and abusing it.
Your grandmother told me of . . .
A young man had been out on a hunting trip and was on his way home when night came on while he was still a long distance from home. He knew
of a house not far off the trail where an old man and his wife lived, so he turned in that direction to look for a place to sleep until morning. When
he got to the gahljobe (house) there was nobody in it. He looked into the âsï and found no one there either. He thought maybe they had gone
after water, and so stretched himself out in the farther corner to sleep. Very soon he heard a raven cry outside, and in a little while afterwards
the old man came into the juwenvsi (home) and sat down by the fire without noticing the young man, who kept still in the dark corner. Soon there
was another raven cry outside, and the old man said to himself, "Now my wife is coming," and sure enough in a little while the old woman came in
and sat down by her husband. Then the young man knew they were of those creatures I have been telling you about, and he was frightened and
kept very quiet.
Said the old man to his wife, "Well, what luck did you have?" "None," said the old woman, "there was a didahnvwisgi watching. What luck did you
have?" "I got what I went for," said the old man, "there is no reason for failure, but you never have much luck. Now, take this and cook it and lets
have something to eat." She fixed the fire and then the young man smelled meat roasting and thought it smelled sweeter than any meat he had
ever tasted. He peeped out, and it looked like a man's heart roasting on a stick.
Suddenly the old woman said to her husband, "Who is over in the corner?" "Nobody," said the old man. "Yes, there is," said the old woman, "I
hear him snoring," and she stirred the fire until it blazed and lighted up the whole place, and there was the young man lying in the corner. He
kept quiet and pretended to be asleep. The old man made a noise at the fire to wake him, but still he pretended to sleep. Then the old man came
over and shook him, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes as if he had been asleep all the time.
Now it was near daylight and the old woman was out in the dog trot kitchen getting breakfast ready, but the hunter could hear her crying to
herself. "Why is your wife crying?" he asked the old man. "Oh, she has lost some of her friends lately and feels lonesome," said her husband; but
the young man knew why she was crying because he had heard them talking. She had gained no life to add to her own.
When they came out to breakfast the old man put a bowl of corn mush before him and said, "This is all we have--we have had no meat for a long
time." After breakfast the young man started on again, but when he had gone a little way the old man ran after him with a fine piece of beadwork
and gave it to him, saying, "Take this, you mustn't tell anybody what you heard lastnight; because, my wife and I are always quarreling in that
ridiculous way."
The young man took the beadwork, but when he came to Caney creek he threw it into the water and then went on to home. There he told the
whole story, and a party of warriors started back with him to kill them. When they reached the place it had been seven days after the first night.
They found the old man and his wife lying dead in the house, so they set fire to the house and burned it and the old ones together.
Now, never be afraid of them. Remember my whispers and ask the question, then kill them.

etiyv uninohetlvna

O-Si-Yo -Osiyo - Siyo (Three ways to say, and write, hello. "O-Si-Yo" is the phonetically correct way to write and say hello. "Osiyo" has become the
more acceptable way of writing it phonetically. "Siyo" is the slang, and with friends, the most common use of the word hello.)
Hello, and welcome to another story.

The Strangers And The Lost Villagers

A very long time ago, before we were driven away from our Homelands in the East, while our Cherokee people still lived in the old town of Kana'sta, on the French
Broad, two strangers, who looked in no way different from other Cherokee, came into our settlement one day and made their way among our people, finding their
way into the chief's home.
They made friendly greetings with our chief, who asked them from what town they had come, thinking them from one of the western settlements, but they said,
"We are Cherokee and our town is close by, but you have never seen it. Here you have wars and sickness, with enemies sometimes, and after a while a stronger
enemy will come to take your country from you. They will not be like you. We are always happy. We have come to invite you to live with us in our town over there,"
and they pointed toward Tsuwa`tel'da (Pilot knob). One of the men then said,
"We do not live forever, and do not always find game when we go for it, for the game belongs to Tsul`kälû', who lives in Tsunegûñ'yï, but we have peace always and
need not think of danger. We will leave you now, but if your people will live with us let them fast seven days, and we shall come then to take them." Then they went
away toward the West.

The chief called his people together into the townhouse and they held a special council over the matter. It was decided at last to go with the strangers. They got all
their property ready for moving, and then went again into the townhouse and began their fast. They fasted six days, and it was on the morning of the seventh, before
yet the sun was even high, that they saw a great company of Cherokees coming along the trail from the west, led by the two men who had stopped to talk with their
Chief.
They seemed just like Cherokee from any another settlement, and after a friendly meeting they took up a part of the goods to be carried, and the two parties started
back together for Tsuwa`tel'da. There was one man from another town visiting at Kana'sta, and he went along with them.

Soon, they came to the mountain. The two guides led the way and they entered into a cave, which opened out like a great door in the side of the rock. Inside they
found an open beautiful country and a town, with strong, well built, houses ranged in two long rows that ran from east to west.

The mountain people lived in houses on the south side, and they had made ready the other houses for the new comers. But even after all the people of Kana'sta, with
their children and belongings, had moved in there were still a large number of houses, setting pretty, waiting ready for the next who might come to that West
Mountain.
The mountain people told them that there was another town, of a different people, above them in the same mountain, and still farther above, at the very top, lived
the Ani'-Hyûñ'tïkwälâ'skï (the Thunders).

Now all the people of Kana'sta were settled in their new homes, but remember that one man who had only been visiting with them? Well, he wanted to go back to his
own family and friends. Some of the mountain people wanted to prevent this, but the Chief said, "No; let him go if he must. It is not time for him to be with us; but
perhaps when it is he may return, and when he tells his friends they may want to come, too. There is plenty of room for all."

Then he said to the man, "Go back and tell your family, and all Cherokees, that if they want to come and live with us and be always happy, there is a place here ready
and waiting for them. Others of us live in Datsu'nalâsgûñ'yï and in the high mountains all around, and if they would rather go to any of them it is all the same. We
see you wherever you go. We are with you in all your dances, but you can not see us unless you fast. If you want or need to see us, fast four days, and we will come
and talk with you; and then if you want to live with us, fast again seven days, and we will come and take you."

Then the Chief led the man through the cave to the outside of the mountain. And the man was left there. But, when the man looked back he looked in amazement
as he saw no cave, but there was only the solid rock of the great mountain.

The Cherokee of this lost village were never seen again, and they are still living in Tsuwa`tel'da. Unusual things have been said to take place there, so that the
Cherokee know the Mountain is sacred and do not go to that place unless they are in great sorrow or grave illness. Only a few years ago a party of white hunters
camped there on the side of that mountain, and as they sat around their fire that night they talked of this very story, and not understanding, they made rough jokes
about the people of old Kana'sta.

Then as the night swelled into darkness and a blackened sky crawled over them, they were aroused from slumber by a noise. They told their children it was as if
stones were being thrown at them from among the trees, but when they searched they could find nobody. These white men were so frightened that they gathered up
their guns and pouches and left through the darkness to another place.

We are always looking for original stories...
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Park Hill, OK 74451
Submissions are not returned, so please do NOT send originals.
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The Cherokee Arts & Humanities
Council

How I Became A Snake
As a child I used to go hunting every day with my mother, and all the food we brought home and gave to my grandmother, who was very fond of me. This made the
rest of the family a little bit jealous, and they treated me in such a way that at last one day I told my grandmother I would leave them all, but that she must not
grieve for me. The very next morning I refused to eat any breakfast, but went off hungry to the woods and was gone all day. In the evening I returned, bringing with
me a pair of deer horns, and went directly to the hothouse, where my grandmother was waiting for me. I told the old woman I must be alone that night, so she got
up and went into the house where the others were.

At early daybreak she came again to the hothouse and looked in, and there she saw an immense uktena that filled the Osi, with horns on its head, but still with two
human legs instead of a snake tail. It was all that was left of me. I spoke to her and told her to leave me, and she went away again from the door. When the sun
was well up, the uktena that I had become, began slowly to crawl out, but it was full noon before I was all out of the Osi. I made a terrible hissing noise as I came
out, and all the people ran from me. I crawled on through the settlement, leaving a broad trail in the ground behind me, until I came to a deep bend in the river,
where I plunged in and went under the water.

My grandmother grieved much for her boy, until the others of the family got angry and told her that as she thought so much of me she ought to go and stay with
me. So she left them and went along the trail made by my Uktena body leading to the river and walked directly into the water and she disappeared. It was
sometimes after that a man fishing near the place saw my grandmother sitting on a large rock in the river, looking just as she had always looked, but as soon as
she caught sight of him she jumped into the water and was gone.

A parable that was on the www.newonion.com blog site which speaks for itself in terms of a Government's failure to properly provide
for those most in need of help, according to one blogger.

An elder Cherokee Native American was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them: "A fight is going on inside me...It is a terrible fight, and it is between
two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, pride and superiority. The other
wolf stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. This same
fight is going on inside of you and every other person too." They thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The
old Cherokee simply replied..."The one I feed."