Since mid-August, I’ve been exploring fictionalized stories of women and men who came to this country seeking a better life and new start. Like those who arrive at our borders today they were trying to escape from danger, or famine, or persecution.
Not all who have faced discrimination were from beyond the
borders, though. Because of the “Doctrine of Discovery,” written in the 15th
Century, the men and women who had been living on the land for 20,000 years
were killed, displaced, and persecuted by successive invaders from Europe. The
Spanish, French, and English all applied the principles of this Papal Bull to
their advantage. Land that was not “Christian” was considered unclaimed and open
for colonization. That provided the whole of North and South America as free
and available, despite the civilizations inhabiting the land for generations.
These Peoples were killed or driven from their ancestral
lands and forced to give up their religion. Children were forcibly removed from
families to be indoctrinated in the language and customs of the newcomers who,
with force of arms, were able to ‘subdue’ the Indigenous populations.
For my final story, and in remembrance of Indigenous
People’s Day, I offer this story of a Tewa grandmother and the 16th
Century entry of the Spanish into what became New Mexico. We see the arrival of
these conquerors who believed that they had divine authorization, given by the
Pope, to colonize, subjugate, and convert any and all ‘savage’ people already
living in the Americas.
This image is of Taos Pueblo in New Mexico. The construction remains similar to that seen by the Spanish in the 17th century.
My dearest granddaughter, indeed I must tell you that
story so you can remember what it was like before the men in metal came to our
land. You must learn and recite our history to your children and children’s
children as well.
Why did they come? Why have they taken so much from us?
My child, come and sit with me. We were a people with
lands, communities, religion. We were not used to war. The Apache might come
and steal some of our stores of maize or dried meats. It was part of life. Our
men traveled to trade the blue stones (turquoise) far to the south and to the
western waters. They returned with other beads, shells, and stones, and with
gorgeous long feathers that were used along with our brother eagle’s feathers
in ceremonies. I used to imagine what kind of bird might have such elegant and
long feathers. The shells were fascinating, too. I played with some and
wondered what sort of creature made by the Creator of All lived in such
intricate and hard shells.
The Tewa were farmers. In this dry land, the Ancient Ones
long ago learned how to grow the three sisters of bean, corn, and squash
together and water them. At the right season, the men and many women would go
on hunts, bringing back bison and elk. The women would prepare the meat and
hides so they didn’t spoil. Nothing was wasted. Just like now, we women and
children gathered nuts and berries when they were ripe. In the summer we had
wild greens and other things from the Earth Mother.
You know, we still secretly celebrate the Ancient Ones
who came from the three underworlds. They placed the mountains, stars, and all
creation in order, before anyone could remember. It is a better story than the
one brought by the Spanish. They have no fun in their religion. There is no
Coyote Trickster to turn things upside down and throw the stars into the sky!
You asked me, though, to tell you of the arrival of the
Spanish who now claim to be our masters. They say we are foolish and savage
because we live differently from them. I think they are the fools for the way
they dress in our lands, and for the foods they insist on eating. They would be
better to eat what we have eaten for generations. The strange animals they have
brought, the sheep and pigs and goats, do offer easier meat than the hunts. But
they harm the land by eating so much. Then there are the horses, the animals
that carried them north to our lands.
When I first saw a man on a horse, I was afraid. From a
distance it seemed like some strange new animal with six legs and two heads. I
ran crying to my mother. Together we watched the line of these odd things draw
nearer. Before too long we were able to see that they were people on some
animal that looked something like an elk without horns. But they were men whose
bodies reflected the sun. Only later did we discover that this was what they
called armor, and it came off.
Some of the oldest men remembered seeing such men and
beasts when they were boys. Two generations earlier some like these new men
came looking for what they called Cibola—a city of gold.
“They demanded ‘gold’. We didn’t know what they wanted,”
my grandfather still shook his head after all that time. “It was easier to keep
pointing them further north, than to try and explain there was no city made of
the shining metal they showed us.”
These new arrivals were not just looking for gold, though.
They came with cattle and families. They came to live in our lands. We are a
friendly people, and there is land, so we thought what harm can there be. We
showed them where to camp and offered to help them.
Then they began to take our food stores because their
crops didn’t grow. They forced some of the women to clean and cook for the men.
Such a thing is not good. Our men were beat if they refused to work in the
fields where the Spanish were trying to grow a grain they called wheat.
The leader, Onate, even took over our pueblo Ohkay
Owingeh and named it San Juan. By the time I was a mother, Onate was gone, and
the new governor moved south 30 miles and started a town called La Villa Real de
la Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asís. It means the “Royal
Town of the Holy Faith of St. Francis of Assisi.” A pretty fancy name for a few
adobe houses around a square. All their names were related to their religion,
like many of ours. That is why it was not right for them to rename our pueblos.
Our names have deep meaning, too, from our ancestors.
The brown friars came to our pueblos and forced us to
learn about the Cristos—a man who they said had been killed on a cross, but who
came back to life and now lives in heaven, but also among us. We tried to
relate it to our own stories, but the friars beat us. “The Cristos is not like
your pagan gods,” they shouted. “You must help us build a church for Christos
and his Padre.”
Our men and women and even children labored hard to make
the adobe and drag the timbers and erect the church. They we had to sit inside
to listen to the friars talk about Padre and Cristos. We were forbidden from
doing our dances. Our shaman could not wear their headdresses. Some were taken
and burned. Some we hid so we could honor our ancestors’ ways in secret. The
sacred Corn Dance and Hunting ceremonies were forbidden.
I am getting too old to hope that these invaders will
ever be driven from our lands. Sometimes there are rumors of someone planning
to unite the pueblos against the Spanish. Maybe you will see that happen, my
granddaughter. I fear that even if they are pushed back across the River, they
will return with more men and weapons. The stories that come north with traders
from Mexico tell of only ruthlessness.
My child, do not forget your ancestors and their ways. It is important to hold to the things of the past. Our gods and ancestors are still here, even if they are forbidden. The mountains are still sacred and so is the ground. There will someday be a time when they are not forgotten.
The treatment of the Indigenous nations of the Americas by the Europeans was harsh, and we must not allow it to continue. One thing we can do is recognize that the land we live on was not empty when Europeans arrived. We can acknowledge that we are occupying Tewa or Huron or Cherokee lands. We can stop the destruction of sacred sites and the commercialization of them. We can stand in solidarity with the ancient peoples of this land who were here much longer than we really know. Recent discoveries at White Sands show that there were humans on this continent at least 20,000 years ago! Let us honor that.