American Indian Stories

Оглавление

Zitkala-Sa. American Indian Stories

IMPRESSIONS OF AN INDIAN CHILDHOOD

I. MY MOTHER

II. THE LEGENDS

III. THE BEADWORK

IV. THE COFFEE-MAKING

V. THE DEAD MAN'S PLUM BUSH

VI. THE GROUND SQUIRREL

VII. THE BIG RED APPLES

THE SCHOOL DAYS OF AN INDIAN GIRL

I. THE LAND OF RED APPLES

II. THE CUTTING OF MY LONG HAIR

III. THE SNOW EPISODE

IV. THE DEVIL

V. IRON ROUTINE

VI. FOUR STRANGE SUMMERS

VII. INCURRING MY MOTHER'S DISPLEASURE

AN INDIAN TEACHER AMONG INDIANS

I. MY FIRST DAY

II. A TRIP WESTWARD

III. MY MOTHER'S CURSE UPON WHITE SETTLERS

IV. RETROSPECTION

THE GREAT SPIRIT

THE SOFT-HEARTED SIOUX

I

II

III

IV

V

THE TRIAL PATH

A WARRIOR'S DAUGHTER

A DREAM OF HER GRANDFATHER

THE WIDESPREAD ENIGMA CONCERNING BLUE-STAR WOMAN

AMERICA'S INDIAN PROBLEM

PREFATORY NOTE

UNPUBLISHED DIGEST OF STATUTORY AND TREATY PROVISIONS GOVERNING INDIAN FUNDS

UNPUBLISHED OUTLINE OF ORGANIZATION

TOO VOLUMINOUS TO BE MADE PART OF THIS SERIES

NEED FOR SPECIAL CARE IN MANAGEMENT

CONDITIONS ADVERSE TO GOOD ADMINISTRATION

GOVERNMENT MACHINERY INADEQUATE

OPPORTUNITIES STILL PRESENT

PRIMARY DEFECTS

AMPLE PRECEDENTS TO BE FOLLOWED

Отрывок из книги

A wigwam of weather-stained canvas stood at the base of some irregularly ascending hills. A footpath wound its way gently down the sloping land till it reached the broad river bottom; creeping through the long swamp grasses that bent over it on either side, it came out on the edge of the Missouri.

Here, morning, noon, and evening, my mother came to draw water from the muddy stream for our household use. Always, when my mother started for the river, I stopped my play to run along with her. She was only of medium height. Often she was sad and silent, at which times her full arched lips were compressed into hard and bitter lines, and shadows fell under her black eyes. Then I clung to her hand and begged to know what made the tears fall.

.....

"At last, when we reached this western country, on the first weary night your sister died. And soon your uncle died also, leaving a widow and an orphan daughter, your cousin Warca-Ziwin. Both your sister and uncle might have been happy with us today, had it not been for the heartless paleface."

My mother was silent the rest of the way to our wigwam. Though I saw no tears in her eyes, I knew that was because I was with her. She seldom wept before me.

.....