Walking Buffalo

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This article originally appeared in Akwesasne Notes, a native American periodical published by The Mohawk Nation, via Roosevel town. New York 13683. Send the good people at Akwesasne Notes $10 00 for a one-year subscription. You wont be disappointed.

WALKING BUFFALO REVISITED

Except for some of Ron Cobb's cartoons, a scant handful of recipes, and two or three other very short bits of information, we've never reprinted any editorial material in a current MOTHER that has already appeared in a former issue of this magazine. Certainly never a full page or longer article.

But we're going to make an exception just this once. Because recently while going back through an old MOTHER NO. 5—we were struck, once again, by the warm and gentle and profound wisdom of Walking Buffalo . . . one of the native people of this continent.

So . . . for all of MOTHER's current readers who've never seen the fifth issue of this publication . . . and for all of MOTHER's "old time" readers who've forgotten Walking Buffalo's words from seven years ago . . . here's a special treat by Da Na Waq (White Beaver)

March 20, 1871—a great day in Morley, Alberta. It was on that day that little Tatanga Mani (Walking Buffalo) was born. In the years that followed, he was adopted by white missionary John McDougall, educated in white men's schools, returned to the reserve at Morley to advise and guide his people, and finally—in his old age—was asked to act as an emissary of peace on behalf of the Canadian Government.

Join our Stoney brothers and hear his words:

Nobody tries to make the coyotes act like beavers, or the eagles behave like robins. Christians see themselves as set apart from the rest of the animal and plant world by superiority, even as a special creation. Perhaps the principles of brotherhood which the world urgently needs come more easily to the Indian.

Do you know that trees talk? Well, they do. They talk to each other, and they'll talk to you, if you will listen. Trouble is, white people don't listen. They never listened to the Indians, and so I don't suppose they'll listen to the other voices in nature. But I have learned a lot from trees . . . sometimes about the weather, sometimes about animals, sometimes about the Great Spirit.

We were lawless people but we were on pretty good terms with the Great Spirit, creator and ruler of all. You whites assumed we were savages. You didn't understand our prayers. You didn't try to understand. When we sang our praises to the sun or moon or wind, you said we were worshipping idols. Without understanding, you condemned us as lost souls just because our form of worship was different from yours.

We saw the Great Spirit's work in almost everything: sun, moon, trees, wind, and mountains. Some times we approached him through these things. Was that so bad? I think we have a true belief in the Supreme Being, a stronger faith than that of most of the whites who have called us pagans. The red savages have always lived closer to nature than have the white savages. Nature is the book of that great power which one man calls God and which we call the Great Spirit. But, what difference does a name, make?