Yankton Indians -- Government relations; Yankton Indians -- Social conditions; Yankton women -- Biography; Zitkala-Sa, 1876-1938
I watched my chance, and when no one noticed, I disappeared. I crept up
the stairs as quietly as I could in my squeaking shoes,--my moccasins
had been exchanged for shoes. Along the hall I passed, without knowing
whither I was going. Turning aside to an open door, I found a large room
with three white beds in it. The windows were covered with dark green
curtains, which made the room very dim. Thankful that no one was there,
I directed my steps toward the corner farthest from the door. On my
hands and knees I crawled under the bed, and cuddled myself in the dark
corner.
From my hiding place I peered out, shuddering with fear whenever I heard
footsteps near by. Though in the hall loud voices were calling my name,
and I knew that even Judéwin was searching for me, I did not open my
mouth to answer. Then the steps were quickened and the voices became
excited. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Women and girls entered the
room. I held my breath and watched them open closet doors and peep
behind large trunks. Some one threw up the curtains, and the room was
filled with sudden light. What caused them to stoop and look under the
bed I do not know. I remember being dragged out, though I resisted by
kicking and scratching wildly. In spite of myself, I was carried
downstairs and tied fast in a chair.
I cried aloud, shaking my head all the while until I felt the cold
blades of the scissors against my neck, and heard them gnaw off one of
my thick braids. Then I lost my spirit. Since the day I was taken from
my mother I had suffered extreme indignities. People had stared at me. I
had been tossed about in the air like a wooden puppet. And now my long
hair was shingled like a coward's! In my anguish I moaned for my mother,
but no one came to comfort me. Not a soul reasoned quietly with me, as
my own mother used to do; for now I was only one of many little animals
driven by a herder.
III.
THE SNOW EPISODE.
A short time after our arrival we three Dakotas were playing in the
snowdrift. We were all still deaf to the English language, excepting
Judéwin, who always heard such puzzling things. One morning we learned
through her ears that we were forbidden to fall lengthwise in the snow,
as we had been doing, to see our own impressions. However, before many
hours we had forgotten the order, and were having great sport in the
snow, when a shrill voice called us. Looking up, we saw an imperative
hand beckoning us into the house. We shook the snow off ourselves, and
started toward the woman as slowly as we dared.
Judéwin said: "Now the paleface is angry with us. She is going to punish
us for falling into the snow. If she looks straight into your eyes and
talks loudly, you must wait until she stops. Then, after a tiny pause,
say, 'No.'" The rest of the way we practiced upon the little word "no."
As it happened, Thowin was summoned to judgment first. The door shut
behind her with a click.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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