I am one of less than fifteen-thousand who can speak my native tongue. This near loss of our native tongue is a lingering effect of four-hundred years of genocide against my peoples. However, you would have to be Choctaw to fully appreciate how deep and expressive is our tongue. I truly struggle to express myself in English, sometimes I cannot.
Decades back an old Choctaw man takes up teaching me the spiritual ways of our peoples. I learn of the vulgar (common) ways of our peoples out in our crop fields, but amongst corn stalks is not quite the right place to learn of spirits, to learn of sacred notions. Sometimes I think my elder is my father, sometimes I think he might be my grandfather. However, I am not allowed to ask of such matters; this is a taboo topic for me. My father remains a mystery.
My hatak ikhananchi (teacher) has a favorite pine tree, a very old and tall pine tree down near shoreline of Grassy Lake, just off Mudline Road. He likes this pine tree because an old and deadly water mocassin lives in a trunk hollow near ground level. He tells me this keeps people out of his tree and he knows I am scared to death of water moccasins.
On some Sundays he comes walking down the old dirt route out front of our farm, about the time grandpa dismisses us kids from listening to a fire and brimstone preacher out of Del Rio, Texas. Every Sunday we are to sit in our front room and listen to grandpa’s tiny tube type radio which is powered by a six volt car battery. We do not have electricity, this comes in years later.
My elder always walks me down to his pine tree, boosts me up so I can reach the lowest branch. Up we go, we climb right up to the top of his pine tree then sit, sometimes we actually talk but most of the time he tells me about things I am not allowed to tell you; sacred.
On a Sunday I am feeling more brave than usual, I ask, hatak nipi tohbi na katimiho.
My best interpretation for you, "what is the matter of white man?"
aholabi nishkin okpulo oktalushi
I would need to write several pages to have you understand this expression. In essence, he says,
"white eyes with bad (evil) eye liar"
White eyes man sees all with bad intent in his mind’s eye and tells us lies.
He teaches me to never trust Anglicans, to never trust Americans. My elder is always right about such matters, he is an American Indian truth speaker.
I am reverting back to my native ways, reverting back to my savage ways. I am losing control over my native passions. You would not know by my words I am angry enough to take to physical violence, take to giving out black eyes. I gave out a lot of black eyes during my childhood and my teenage years. Sometimes this is the right way to deal with people.
This Sarah Palin affair today has me so very angry. I considered going around and blasting a thousand blogs with my true thoughts. This will do no good, aholabi nishkin okpulo oktalushi. I need my elder’s pine tree, I need my elder. I need to vent without hurting.
Throughout our news media, almost all I read coming from white folks is gossip, rumor, speculation, ridicule, mockery, deceit and black lies. All I see are talking heads telling me what Sarah is thinking and what I should be thinking, none of this good.
I am reading discontent, malcontent, hatred and even evil. I am reading your Lucifer having a field day with America. This is so foolish, this is so shameful.
Today, I find myself thinking all these bad things happening to our world are justified and are brought down upon us, by us. I am thinking this economic disaster, riots, disease, famine, terrorism and war, all this and more is the fault of aholabi nishkin okpulo oktalushi.
Right now, I sincerely question if white folks will ever become civilized like my peoples.
My elder is now well over a hundred years old and I know in my heart he still walks that dusty dirt route out front
of our farm, going about teaching lessons to Choctaw children. I can see him. White folks could see him, if their
minds’ eyes were not so blinded by egotistical hatred.
