Storytelling + Research = LoiS: Powers - A Firemaker and a Peacemaker

Friday, November 25, 2022

Powers - A Firemaker and a Peacemaker - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

While this is almost the end of this year's Native American Heritage Month, it certainly should never be the end of some of the wisdom told in the stories of this continent's First Nations both in the U.S. and Canada. Our country seems particularly in the grip of mass murders and hate. This week has been our Thanksgiving, but it has too often felt like we are doing everything possible to hurt each other. That sent me hunting for stories with a possibility of helping. Margaret Read MacDonald's book, Peace Tales; World Folktales to Talk About is an excellent modern book with the added benefit generally found in folklore books nowadays of including a bibliography of the sources for its stories. MacDonald has her doctorate in folklore and is particularly thorough in not only giving her sources and other books on her topic, but much more including ways to tell the stories.

MacDonald gave a version of an Iroquois peacemaking technique that she found as a story in a book by Mabel Powers (or Yeh Sen Noh Wehs, which means "The One Who Carries and Tells the Stories"). Back on November 13, 2020 I have included another story, "How Giving Evil for Evil Ends" from Powers' book, Around an Iroquois Story Fire. It is definitely appropriate for a desire to find a conflict resolution or Peace tale to talk about. Peace Tales, however, uses a story Powers tells in Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children. MacDonald re-tells "How Two Indian Boys Settled a Quarrel" calling her version, "The Argument Sticks." It is so condensed it looks more like poetry. I will include the original story, but only after the story named in today's blog title. At first the title story seems more like an explanation of Iroquois customs including the role of women as Peacemakers, but the story part really begins when telling of "a Peacewoman" who "proved untrue to her trust." Because the story of the boys is both short and another method of peacekeeping, it will follow today's title story.

A FIREMAKER AND A PEACEMAKER

In the olden times, tribes of Indians did not always live in one place as they do now. They sometimes wandered from one valley or woodland to another. When they came to a sheltered place, where there was pure running water, and where plenty of game and wood were to be found, they would build their lodges and light their council fires.

There they might camp for one moon, or for many moons. As long as their arrows brought game on the hunting trails near, they would not break camp. But if game grew scarce, or if for any reason they did not like the camp ground, they would move farther on.

Sometimes they would go several days' journey, before they found a camping place such as they liked.

The first thing that was done in making a camp was to secure fire and light the council fire. This fire was always kept burning. It never went out while they remained.

The Indians loved the fire. It was the gift of the Great Spirit to the Red Children. It kept them warm and cooked their food by day, and protected them by night.

A line of fires was kept burning around the camp. This protected the Red Children from the wild animals, for all animals fear fire, and are charmed by it. They might prowl and howl all night long outside the fire ring, but never would they attempt to come within that ring. There the Indians could sleep in peace, guarded by the spirits of the fire.

The Indian that could make fire first became a chief and leader. When it was decided to camp at a certain place, a signal would be given. At this the young braves would leap into the woods, to see which one first could bring back fire. Each had his own secret way of making it. Usually a bowstring was twisted about a fire stick, and the stick was turned rapidly in a groove. In a few seconds, smoke would rise from the sawdust that formed. After a little fanning a flame would leap forth.

The Indian whose brain and hand worked swiftest and surest was the smartest and best man. He became a Firemaker, and was made a chief of the tribe. He could do something that the rest could not,—at least he had proved himself to be more skillful. Such a man, it was thought, had a better understanding of all things, and therefore could tell the rest of the tribe what ought to be done.

He no longer was just a man who ate and slept, walked and ran. He was a man with a mind. He could think and could do things. So he became a Firemaker chief, and he helped the tribe to think and do.

The Iroquois Red Children believe that there are three kinds of men: those that use the body only; those that use body and mind; and those that use body, mind, and spirit.

Now it happened that sometimes an Indian grew to be so kind and so great, that he could not only strike the fire we see, but the fire we do not see,—the fire of love that burns in the hearts of people.

When an Indian could strike this kind of fire, and warm the hearts not only of his own tribe but of all tribes, so that they came to love one another, he was a great chief, a Peacemaker chief. Such a man would go from tribe to tribe, teaching the people how they should do, so that all might live in peace and plenty, like brothers.

To be a Peacemaker was the highest seat an Indian could take. Few Indians became Peacemaker chiefs, and they were the great men of the tribe.

Indian women also might become Peacemakers. At one time the Iroquois had a Peace Wigwam, where all disputes and quarrels were settled.

The most beautiful, just, and fair-minded woman of all the tribes was chosen to sit in this wigwam. It was her duty to tend the Peace fire, and to see that it never went out. She also kept a pot of hominy always steaming over the fire.

If two Indians had a dispute, it was the custom for them to run to the Peacemaker's wigwam. They entered from opposite sides. Inside the wigwam, a deerskin curtain separated them from each other.

The Peacemaker would listen to the grievance of the one and then to that of the other. Then she would draw aside the curtain, get the enemies together, and settle the dispute with justice.

The two would then eat of the hominy, and depart in peace,—no longer enemies, but friends.

No nation could fight another nation without the consent of the Peacemaker. Because the peacewomen were wise, and just, and kind, and taught men to love, not fight each other, the Iroquois were for many years at peace.

But one day, it is said, a Peacewoman proved untrue to her trust. She thought more of her own happiness than that of the nation.

This woman was very beautiful, and the people loved her. For some time she sat in the Peace Wigwam, and tended faithfully the Peace fire.

One day an Oneida and a Cayuga chief fell to quarreling. They sought the Peace Wigwam. As they entered and saw the young Peacewoman tending the fire, each thought he had never seen a woman so beautiful.

Into the heart of each there leaped the desire that she might tend his wigwam fire.

The Peacemaker listened to the quarrel of the young chiefs and settled it justly. Then each tried to persuade her to leave the Peace fire and return with him to his lodge. But the Peacemaker said, "No, I must tend the fire, it must be kept burning." The chiefs departed with heavy hearts.

But the Oneida chief could not forget the beautiful woman. When a moon had passed, he returned to the Peace Wigwam. This time he persuaded the Peacemaker to leave her fire and return with him to sit at his wigwam door.

The Peace fire flickered and went out. The Iroquois again went on the warpath, and for many, many moons, they fought and suffered and died.

HOW TWO INDIAN BOYS SETTLED A QUARREL

Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow were two little Indian boys. They lived by Singing River, and they played from sunrise to sunset. They were as happy as the day was long.

In the summer, they fished and swam in Singing River, and they shot their arrows into chipmunk and woodpecker holes. Sometimes they played "Dodging Arrows," a game their mother had taught them when they were very young.

In the winter, they jumped into fleecy snowdrifts and rolled until their little bronze bodies took on a red-raspberry tint. Then they would send their snow-snakes skimming over the hard crust of snow.

Snow-snakes were small rods of wood, polished smooth with resin, oil, or wax. They could be thrown long distances. Long Moose—Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel's father—could throw a snow-snake a mile and a half, over the crust of the snow. But the snow-snakes he used were eight feet long and tipped with lead.

It was the Moon of Berries. Six times had Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow seen the Berry Moon hang her horn in the night sky. And not once in all their lives had they quarreled.

One morning, Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow planned a foot race. Seven times they were to run. Three times, Flying Squirrel had made the goal first. Three times, Lightning Bow had outrun him. The seventh race was claimed by each. No one saw them run, so no one could decide the game. And they fell to quarreling.

Louder and louder their voices were raised. More and more angry they grew.

White Fawn, their mother, was baking corn bread on the coals of the wigwam fire. The angry voices reached her ears. She stepped to the door.

"For shame!" she called. "Go and set up your sticks."

Then she showed Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel how to set up three sticks so they would stand for many days.

"Now go into the wood, set up your sticks, and leave your quarrel there," she said. "When the Berry Moon has passed, you shall return and see if the sticks are still standing.

"If they lean toward the rising sun, Lightning Bow was right. If they lean toward the setting sun, Flying Squirrel won. If they have fallen down, neither was right and neither won."

Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel went into the wood and set up their sticks. Then they began to throw balls with willow wands, and soon they were happy again.

The sun had risen and set many times. The Berry Moon had passed. It was the Thunder Moon, when White Fawn said to Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel, "Today you may go into the wood and see if your sticks are still standing."

Hand in hand, the two little Indian boys ran into the wood. They found only a heap of rotting sticks.

Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow stood and looked at the sticks. They thought and thought.

"What did we set up the sticks for?" each asked of the other.

And for the life of them they could not remember what they had quarreled about, and why they had set up the sticks!

Further thoughts beyond the book

While the book's title page and cover don't list the illustrator, it's easily seen on the drawing of the two boys (and less easily on the one of three Iroquois) by W. Fletcher White. I was able to learn he was born in Indiana. I searched because the two boys surely would have needed more to wear than just loincloths on days snowy enough to play Snow Snakes!

However you may be dressed these days, let us all try to not repeat the ending of the first story:

The Peace fire flickered and went out. The Iroquois again went on the warpath, and for many, many moons, they fought and suffered and died.

George Santayana's quote about “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” seems most appropriate

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This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain." The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated. I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century. My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them. I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.

At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience. Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week. This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here. (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.) Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.

Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-

There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection. I have long recommended it and continue to do so. He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm

You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories. There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.
Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"