Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children

Excerpt

HOW THE STORIES CAME TO BE

Out of the moons of long ago, these stories have come. Then every tribe of the Iroquois had its story-teller.

When the Old Man of the North came out of his lodge, and the forests and rivers of the Red Children grew white with his breath, these story-tellers wandered from wigwam to wigwam.

Seated on warm skins by the fire, the story-teller would exclaim, "Hanio!" This meant, "Come, gather round, and I will tell a story."

Then all the Red Children would cry, "Heh," and draw close to the fire. This meant that they were glad to hear the story. And as the flames leaped and chased one another along the fire trail, they would listen to these wonder stories of the Little People, of the trees and flowers, of birds, of animals, and men. When the story-teller had finished, he said, "Na ho." This meant, "It is the end."

The earth was very young, when the Red Children first learned how everything came to be, and just why it is that things are as they are. They told these wonderful things to their children, and their children in turn told them to their children; and those children again in turn told them to theirs, that these things might not be forgotten.

Now, but few of the Red Children know these stories that the grandmothers and old men of the tribe used to tell. The story-teller is no longer seen wandering from wigwam to wigwam.

Some time ago the writer of these stories was asked to speak for an Indian Society. She accepted the invitation, and that night made her first Indian friends.

Her new friends told her many beautiful things about the Red Children. The more the writer learned about the Iroquois people, and things Indian, the more interested she became. After a time she began to tell the Paleface the things she had learned.

Soon, one of the tribes, the Senecas—the tribe to which her new friends belonged—heard that she was speaking for them. They wished to honor her, so they asked her to be present at their Green-Corn Feast, and become one of them.

So when the Green-Corn moon hung her horn in the night sky, the writer found the trail to the Land of the Senecas. There the Senecas adopted her into the Snipe clan of their nation. She was called Yeh sen noh wehs—"One who carries and tells the stories."

Thus it was that the writer became one of the Red Children, Yeh sen noh wehs—the Daughter of the Senecas.

The more Yeh sen noh wehs learned of the Red Children, and their simple stories, the more she loved them. One day, Yeh sen noh wehs said she would be the story-teller not only of the Senecas, but of all the tribes of the Iroquois. There are six great families of this people. Each family is called a tribe or nation.

Once, the council fires of these six nations burned from the Hudson on the east, to Lake Erie on the west, and they were a great and powerful people.

It was at the time of the Berry Moon that Yeh sen noh wehs hit the story trail. Since then she has journeyed through all the lands of the Senecas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Oneidas, the Mohawks, and the Tuscaroras.

Like the story-teller of old, Yeh sen noh wehs wandered from lodge to lodge of the Iroquois. "Hanio," she would call, and as the Indians gathered round, she would tell them one of the stories that other Indian friends had told to her....