Through My Eyes

Prologue

Historically, there have been many groups of people diverse as night and day, but the Native American societies have always remained in a sort of pure state; nature and the world around them staying the same. By this, I mean that they, throughout history, have evolved with nature, in many ways.
The real relationships the Native Americans have with the earth and nature is remarkable. When ever they hunted for food, they only took what was needed. When they made a home, again, they used only what they knew would work, with respect to the environment, and weather. They lived in accordance with the knowledge and information they had gained by life experienced by them, for centuries.
In reality, the Native Americans balanced a number of eco-systems. Life is important to them, so much so, that they presented to the natural world a very real respect. Life was, and is, a gift that is given to them. Because of how they reacted back to this world that fed, clothed, and kept them, they had the knowledge that when something died, and no longer existed in this world, but in another realm of life. The treatment here of living things would ultimately be their reward in another life.
In order to be blessed, they had to remember that respect was, and is, always the bottom line. Respect of everything and everyone has, and is still taught, even today. Life is not just a state to them it is their reality, and it is a wonderful, awesome reality. The living state of this place, they called home, has always kept them in awe of it, and its wonderment. The relationship between the Native people and life has always been a natural born, innate-kind of wisdom, learned. If ever this great respect we have, for the world passes from all of us, then that is the day that nature will fight back in anyway it can, by all the natural disasters, abusive, over use of the natural world, man made disasters, etc. I anticipate a loss of the natural things this home gives, coming to a violent, bitter end.
My father said that the elders always spoke of a day when not only nature, but mankind, and the loss of respect will be the end of us, and this world. Hopefully, we can get back some of this caring for everything, and everyone.
Thus, this book I’m writing is my way of giving back some sort of our knowledge to the future generations about the real life struggles of my people. The prejudices, misconceptions, and judging, that the Native Americans have lived with and are still living with today. The elders said that the Native Americans are America’s hidden shame. They were the caretakers of this land! The native people who were treated as if they were an infestation to be gotten rid of, and so went history, and the statement made that went “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.”
It seemed that this land that was their refuge became an unattainable dream to them. All they wanted was to just be able to again, go freely on their land. To hunt, fish, run, walk, gather, and teach their young. The things they did before being treated like chattel and herded to some place else they knew nothing of. A place that was someone else’s ground. A place that they knew would anger those people who belonged to that land. (Fortunately, we, the Blackfeet, remained on our land.) A place that our “great white, father,” and his government called “Reservations.”
Our true history has never been told in any text book. Nothing was said of the families torn apart because they had to leave the places they knew. To be taught, taught what? How to dress, to talk, to bath, to sleep in a bed. What? We knew all that. We dressed in the skins of the animals we used for food. We spoke our own languages. We slept in lodges that were built according to the weather knowing that we had to make sure our families were warm and comfortable. Using the snow as insulation, and where the door always faced east to maximize the warmth of the sun in the cool of the morning, and facing east would also keep it cool during the hot months.
Setting up camp in a place where there was water to drink and bath, brush for wood. They also made sure that the camp was in a valley for the winter, so the weather and the elements of this land could be used in the best way possible to survive, the sometimes, very harsh winters. In the summer they lived close to the places where they could access food and other things they might need. Always mindful of the fact that their choices aided in their survival. Their lives lived according to the knowledge that they were their only source of this survival and continued life.
My people, the Native Americans are still one of the most misunderstood of nations. We did not need to be rescued, nor did we have a lack of learning. We are a different people. We are not English, and just because we didn’t speak English didn’t mean we were dumb. No, we were only ignorant to the English way of life.
Even today, we just want to live our lives. We appreciate the technology, but again, we are now capable of choice. We may not know everything, but who does? Again, I am writing this book so other, non-native people will get to know us, in a way. Maybe we will become visible, but maybe America will finally try to recognize that there is a nation just as proud as it is, and as important as any people it has recognized throughout time. For years, our presence was a constant reminder of the shame of this supposedly great country, America. We were ignored, but to America we are here and have always been here, to stay.
I am writing this book in my own way of speaking, so if I have run on sentences, or I didn’t use accurate punctuation, I do not apologize, nor do I want to be corrected. This is me, mistakes and all, but like I stated. I don’t claim to be an English major or a professional writer. I am just me, Wanda Marie Bear Medicine Peterson, a 60 plus-year old, Blackfeet/Pikuni (Peeh ghun nee, is how its’ pronounced), female, writing about my Daddy and my hero, Joseph (Joe Guyo) Bear Medicine.
As always I may or may not use names, but if I do, only you who I am writing about will know. I hope you have fun reading about us, and you, who happened to be mentioned in this book of my wonderful memories.
My disclaimer, in case I need to have one, is that these are my memories, and if my memory is not all what you who read this thinks it should be, or should have been, I remain as I stated before. These are my memories seen through my eyes. Again, thank you, for reading my little book, and hey, you should write one if only to keep it as a sort of reference guide when old-timers, I mean, Alzheimer’s starts’ to set in! Read on, and God Bless.