Moonflower, Medicine Woman: A.D. 1490

By Jerry D. Sisson

Have you ever wondered what the American Continent was like before the Native Americans discovered that Columbus was lost? A time before alcohol, guns and other mechanized New World inventions. The horse came onto the scene with the arrival of the Spanish Explorers in the Sixteenth Century. Before the Natives were introduced to the horse, all travel was by walking.

Though many Native tribes were highly sophisticated societies, technology was still very primitive. This story takes the reader to a time of scant historical traces left by a people who believed it was honorable to leave no footprints upon the Mother during ones lifetime.

The story itself is an obscure legend that has had reality interwoven with folklore so as to duplicate as closely as possibly the life and times of these people whose culture was wonderfully rich and colorful.

This story tells of how the ancient peoples upon the Continent lived before recorded history. What they ate. What they believed in. How they survived. Their politics and social life. My goal is to create a feeling in my readers of having traveled to this interesting and intriguing time and place. To have met the characters in their own environment where they are dealing with their personal concerns and survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456767495

Jerry D. Sisson

Many roots of my family tree are traceable back to the Cherokee and Choctaw Nations. My grandpa was born in Indian Territory in 1888. My father was raised on the Tahlequah Indian reservation near Twin Oaks, Oklahoma. So, my interest in the Native culture comes to me naturally. After a term in the military during the Vietnam War, and after college, where Native American history classes were always my favorite electives, I decided to spend a few years living off the land that recalled my upbringing in the Trinity Mountains of the Great Pacific Northwest. Day-to-day experiences of living as a mountain man and working with nature and weather to survive gave me personal inspiration in writing this book.

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Contents

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Introduction

Have you ever wondered what the American Continent was like before the Native Americans discovered that Columbus was lost? A time before alcohol, guns and other mechanized New World inventions. The horse came onto the scene with the arrival of the Spanish Explorers in the Sixteenth Century. Before the Natives were introduced to the horse, all travel was by walking.

Though many Native tribes were highly sophisticated societies, technology was still very primitive. This story takes the reader to a time of scant historical traces left by a people who believed it was honorable to leave no footprints upon the Mother during one’s lifetime.

The story itself is an obscure legend that has had reality inter-woven with folklore so as to duplicate as closely as possibly the life and times of these people whose culture was wonderfully rich and colorful.

This story tells of how the ancient peoples upon the Continent lived before recorded history. What they ate. What they believed in. How they survived. Their politics and social life.

My goal is to create a feeling in my readers of having traveled to this interesting and intriguing time and place. To have met the characters in their own environment where they are dealing with their personal concerns and survival.

1

Long ago, long before the arrival of the Europeans upon the shores of the New World, long before the people of the lands that were to become known as the Americas were believed to have recorded their own history and before they were known as Indians, there lived a tribe of natives. It was a large and well-organized tribe whose members built huge mounds of dirt; this is the reason we know they exist today, and they have been historically known as the Mound Builders. Inside of one of these mounds, a picture story was found painted on birch bark that had been molded together by pounding the edges of the bark together while it was still green and supple. It was found rolled up and preserved in a wax-sealed stone room. When the bark was unrolled, it was still as supple as cloth and unrolled easily to reveal a love story. Without words, the pictures told, scene after scene, what became known as the story of the rainbow? It goes like this.

It was a particularly long and brutal winter in an age when warm weather was rare and came in short seasons with only moderate increases in the temperature during summer. These short seasons of warmth and sunshine were days of renewal and rejuvenation, a time to celebrate the joys of life and a time of cheerful gaiety. It was a time for building and replenishing winter supplies, having survived the brutal cold and long, dark nights. Long, dark nights of mourning loved ones that did not have the stamina to endure one more pitiless hardship put upon them by the angry northern spirits. Even the loss of another tribe member was a harsh reality—a person to be missed and a neighbor whose death would be mourned. By the arrival of spring, food stores were always low. The people would be hungry and malnourished. Sleeping was the most pleasurable way of passing the time and the long, frozen nights. Still, there was work to be done—preparing meals, repairing clothes and shelters, keeping the fires burning, and foraging for anything the bare and frozen landscape had to offer in the way of nourishment. Sometimes the only available food would be the young offspring of the hardy mammals that would remain throughout the four seasons and somehow endure the wrath of the angry spirits of the north that show themselves during winter. There were bears sleeping in caves, and there were moose, elk, mountain sheep, buffalo, and a variety of deer. Fish were always accessible. There were some game birds also, but mostly it was the very young of the larger mammals that had the most difficulty eluding the predators—man. Thus they became a common prey. All sentiment was reserved for the starving children and the loved ones of the village. There was none saved for the infant game. Days being short, there was little time to accomplish the necessary tasks by the daylight, and little could be accomplished in the dark.

Dark nights without the moon were dark indeed, but in the dark nights during a new moon with a dense layer of clouds blocking out the meager contribution of light offered by the stars, blackness was complete. One might just as well be blind. Not even a night bird with its stealth and boldness could navigate such a night. With the darkness came the snows and a stillness like that found only in death. It was perhaps the closest a living being could come to this lifeless experience. Cold, dark, and silent, it was into this world and into this environment that Wa-Wona was born.

While Wa-Wona’s parents were very happy to have their first child together, even though the baby was a girl, boys were always preferred. The sex of the child was usually soon forgotten, as love for one’s offspring proves to be the stronger emotion. Wa-Wona was a special child, however—one to even further test the natural love she would need from her parents. A happy, bright, and charming baby, Wa-Wona was also very homely. She had a large head with an unnaturally high hairline; two small eyes set close together, a wide, flat nose, and a small mouth. Her parents, being good-hearted people, determined early on that their little girl would need a lot of love and understanding to help her overcome her unattractive appearance. The men of the tribe did enjoy a beautiful woman, but a pretty face did not ensure the skills necessary to provide a comfortable lodge. Wa-Wona would be a unique woman in the tribe who may or may not choose to have a mate. Homemaking talents could mean the difference between life and death in this harsh environment; one could not live on looks alone. Every mother understood this equation very well and knew immediately that this would be the way to their daughter’s future.

As she grew, Wa-Wona became known for her humor and intelligence. While still a child, her relatives loved her, and everyone enjoyed her playful antics. Energetic, she seemed always to be present of mind and spirit. Visitors might find Wa-Wona playing on animal skins in front of the fireplace. When the fire popped and crackled, shooting sprays of sparks into the air, up from the burning limbs, Wa-Wona would throw her hands into the air, opening her mouth and eyes wide in mock surprise, looking around at everyone in the room. She had a way of making everyone laugh like pretending to fall as if she were startled into losing her balance, and then she would laugh her infectious, riotous laugh at herself. She also learned to speak words and phrases in ways that were humorous. She was quick to catch on and quick to devise word play. Everyone would say, What a delightful child! Her mother would often say, Beauty is as beauty does, a saying that Wa-Wona learned to love as she became more aware. She adored her mother, and during the years of her youth, she was as close to her as a shadow. She followed her mother everywhere; she wanted to help, always asking how to do this chore or that one. She lived for the praise her mother gave her. Her aunts and uncles commented on the respect she showed them. Her cousins enjoyed playing with her and were always very sweet to her. It seemed that everyone loved Wa-Wona. No one seemed bothered by her odd looks, and so in Wa-Wona’s young life, her features were never an issue.

She passed through her early childhood with a great self-image. It wasn’t until her early adolescent years when she was ten years old that Wa-Wona felt her first pains of heartbreak. It was at this time that her mother used to allow her daughter to walk alone to the far western edge of the village and then a little beyond to the lodge of the medicine woman. The lodge stood next to a stand of trees that surrounded a beautiful spring that ran full throughout the summer.

Wa-Wona loved to sit with the medicine woman on the soft green moss beside the spring pool in the cool shade. She listened with rapt attention as the wise old soul told her stories and taught her the ways of healing herbs and the power of the healing spirits that worked through her. The medicine woman felt as much like an aunt to her as any of her blood relatives. She was present the night Wa-Wona was born and stopped by to visit more often than anyone. She had cultivated a close and dear relationship with her favorite child of the village.

2

Now on this morning, as the medicine woman walked along the shaded trail that led down to the spring pool, she felt uneasy. It was a beautiful warm morning, and the active birds sang loudly. Streams of light broke through the tall, thick canopy of trees overhead. Streaks of light washed over the large boulders, and thick, thorny vines of red and purple berries mingled with the bright green leaves. She stopped short of reaching the pool to pick and eat a few sweet, juicy berries. The water made the trickling sounds that she loved. Together, with the birds singing and a mild breeze whispering through the treetops and rattling leaves in a soft flutter, the medicine woman felt that this was her element. It was her favorite time and place to be alive.

She heard a little sniffle like that of a sad child. She heard it again. It was not very loud, but she did hear it—it was unmistakable. There was a child down by the pool crying. There was no doubt about that, but who was it? A few steps farther past the berry vines, she could see that the crying child was Wa-Wona. As the medicine woman approached, Wa-Wona looked up to see her. The poor girl’s face was streaked with tears. Her eyes looked swollen. She had a sadness on her face that the medicine woman had never seen there before. This was Wa-Wona, the happy child. She didn’t even cry the night she was born.

What is wrong, child? the old woman asked as she cradled the girl’s head against her breast with long, bony fingers. Wa-Wona melted against the woman’s kindly touch. Tell me why you cry so.

Wa-Wona took a deep breath through her nose, cleared her throat, and whispered her grief. I didn’t know people could be so mean and cruel. I was never treated like this before.

Like what, child? asked the old woman. What happened?

"On my way to visit you at your lodge this morning, I passed a group of children on the edge of the village playing the hoop-catch game. I have seen a couple of them before, but the rest of them must live in the south village along the river bend. I’ve never been down there. It is too far for me to go. I only know about it. They were older than I. I smiled at them as I passed on the trail that goes by the open field on the way here. I’d didn’t see it happen, but someone threw a hoop over me and pulled me off balance. Then someone else from behind pulled me the other way, and I fell down hard. My arms were pinned, and I couldn’t catch myself to stop the fall. My knees hit the ground very hard, and I skinned them until they bled. One of the older boys got down beside me on his hands and knees while I was on my hands and knees. He put his face and chin into the air and turned up his upper lip, sticking it out, he then made the sounds of a rutting stag. He arched his back and did it again. All the children standing around laughed. They laughed and pointed at me. At first, I didn’t know what they were laughing about. I’d never seen anyone laugh when someone was hurt before. Then I noticed the boy next to me acting like a rutting stag and realized that he was making fun of me! Why were they being

Reviews for Moonflower, Medicine Woman

[Claudia Vivanco · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Nice story. Characters we can care about. Is lemon grass an indigenous cooking ingredient? I think not. But, I'm glad I read this book.