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: Warisaro
Warisaro
by Caitlin
We gather and the elders
allow the
messenger to talk. “I am quite sure you have all heard of the
wrongful
hanging of three of our brothers of the Wampanoag in Tsothohrhko:wa
(January). Their deaths were senseless and their trial was not
fair.
Now the White Men have given us an even greater insult. Another
of our
men was found dead near Swansea. The White Men have been
ruthless
and must be stopped! We will go to war and King Philip, our
leader,
wishes for you to as well!”
 Click play to hear my story |
I wake up this morning to the chatter of little birds and I wonder what they are saying to each other. Does the cold nip at their feathers, as it does my hands, or do their feathers keep them warm? I ponder this as I prepare breakfast with Mother, Grandmother, and my other “mothers”, my mother’s sisters. While I start the fire so we may cook the corn that was harvested the previous day, I ask Grandmother if she knows if the feathers of the little birds keep them warm. She gives me a tiny, knowing laugh and says, “Warisaro, does the animal skin I tanned for you in summer that you wear now keep you warm?”
“Most of the time, Grandmother, but sometimes, such as this day, I am cold.”
“Your clothes, Warisaro, are like the feathers of birds. They can keep you warmer all the time, but they keep you completely warm just most of the time.”
“I think I understand, Grandmother,” I tell her.
Ennisko:wa(March), 1675
I think of this moment with Grandmother that happened many seasons ago when I was little. I was so carefree back then; we all were. I think of the ways things were so different back then, as I went about doing the tasks that will never change. I make food with Mother and I tan skins with the other women.
Tensions are now so high between the White Men and even between our own tribes.
As I gather spring’s first berries, I think of how there has been much talk of war lately. It is similar to a pot of water heating over a fire and on the verge of boiling over; at any point the little bubbles in the pot could turn to a big boil. This position our tribe is in now is like the pot of water just before it reaches its boiling point. There are quite a few challenges facing our tribe right now. For now though I choose not to worry about them.
Ohiari:ha (June), 1675
I chase one of the younger children in a moment of play. Just then a tired “praying Indian”, a man of the Wampanoag, came into our village. I watch as he asks my brother Tawit to see our leader. Tawit notifies the elders and they gather for a meeting with this messenger. Everyone else waits for quite a bit of time while the elders all talk in a long house. Our waiting was rewarded for one of the elders, Sose, came out and announced, “This is a matter that involves all of us. A meeting of the entire tribe will be held.”
We gather and the elders allow the messenger to talk. “I am quite sure you have all heard of the wrongful hanging of three of our brothers of the Wampanoag in Tsothohrhko:wa (January). Their deaths were senseless and their trial was not fair. Now the White Men have given us an even greater insult. Another of our men was found dead near Swansea. The White Men have been ruthless and must be stopped! We will go to war and King Philip, our leader, wishes for you to as well!”
At this remark everyone tried to talk at once and mayhem ensued. One of the older men, Saksari, heatedly claims, “ The White Men have been bringing disease and warring with our brothers ever since they came here. They are no good and they must be stopped. We have no choice but to fight.” At this remark others feel the need to add all the other grievances the White Men had brought. Many people speak of how, since the White Men came, they had over hunted the land, making food scarce. People speak of how they drove out other entire tribes with their metal killing tools. We talk of how they have killed other tribes recently with disease.
A female voice commands, “Silence!” and Kenenstatsi, a young woman who is very kind to me, stands up and speaks. “I fear for the tribe if we are to go to war, for they have many weapons that we do not know of. They have men in such large numbers; for every one of our brave warriors they have five of their men, equipped with the magic killing tools. These odds are not in our favor, and we will lose many of our men for a quarrel that is not of our concern. Our tribe cannot face the consequences of going to war.”
A great silence descends on the tribe while people consider what she said. Kenenstatsi now asks us, “Do you, brothers and sisters, agree with me?” There is a general murmur of people agreeing with her. Even though before I was not sure if we should fight the White Men or not, now I am decided. I find myself agreeing we should not go to war. Other people talk late into the night, but Kenenstatsi’s words prove to be powerful. Their numbers are too great and we will not assist King Philip with his war effort.
Ohiarihko:wa (July), 1675
It has happened. First they attacked Swansea. After that they ambushed one of the White Men’s soldier groups. They used the metal weapons they had gotten from the White Men to kill them. They call them “guns”. King Philip and the tribes that are helping them have risen up and attacked. He gathered more tribes together to do this than anyone thought possible. The White Men, as we call them, or the “English” as they call themselves, think, due to this war, any of our tribes will fight against them. Even the Mohegan, under Oneko are not trusted by the White Men despite their mindless loyalty to them.
There is devastation everywhere. Many surrounding tribes have been caught in the crossfire. There have been reports that these “English” people have gathered their forces and marched from a place called “Plymouth,”a White Man’s place. They went to King Philip’s village on Mount Hope, and they burned every village they met on their way. The Wampanoag got caught in a swamp, but rumor has it that they were able to evacuate their women and children across the bay to Pocasset of Queen of Weetamoo. I do hope they are safe. I do not know what I would do if these English monsters attacked and my little brother, Resis, got hurt. I would be so sad. There are probably many older sisters who have lost younger brothers and sisters in this war. It is not fair because most everyone killed was just murdered because they happened to be near the trouble. The injustice of it all has put our tribe in quite a grim mood.
Kentenhko:wa (November), 1675
This war will never end. Everyone is caught up in it. We have heard one good thing, though. Metacomet, or “King Philip”, has retrieved his women and children that we were so worried about. He will not stop attacking and the English are getting even more brutal. It has been said that Philip will ask for our warriors assistance once again. Most of our men have become eager to fight and, if asked to fight, I fear they will say yes.
Tsothohrha (December), 1675
He arrived surrounded by proud warriors and did not need to ask to find the elders for they were already outside to greet him. I am so upset that he showed up, for any tribe that houses King Philip will most definitely be burned. He asked for our warriors, and I was worried about our men. Then Resis volunteered to fight. I could not stop him and tell him he is too young, because that would disgrace him. He is but a boy, so little.
This night I was stifling my tears, which would also be a disgrace to Resis, when Atonwa, a man of about my age walked in to my part of the long house. I had played with Atonwa when I was younger and he was always nice. He walked up to me and brushed his hand against my arm. I looked up at his face, kind and understanding. He sat down on the same log as I was on.
“Warisaro, don’t be upset; it is what he wishes. You must let him go; he is a man. When the war is over, he will come back to you.”
He stayed with me most of the long night, comforting me. His words made me relax and, at the night’s fire, I sat not with my Mother; I sat with him. Things would be very different. After a while the war would stop and everything would improve. It might take years for things to return to the way they were, but they will, eventually.
Ohiari:ha (June), 1678
King Philip lost to the White Men and the war has been over for a year. I was wrong though, life never did quite get back to normal. In some ways things got worse, but in some ways things got much, much better. Once King Philip was killed, and, with no leader the rebellion fell into disarray. On one sunny, joyous day several young men reached our camp. One of these young men was my brother. He was older and more serious, but he still was my brother. A few weeks later Atonwa and I became partners. I do love him so! Of course many lives were lost, and there are still fights between the English and us, but the battles are never big. I am older now as well, but I am so much more cheerful now that the war is over. Let us hope things stay this way.