When the tree flowered

by John G. Neihardt

“In the sacred dance the proud heart dies with pain and thirst, hunger and weariness, that the power of Wakon Tonka may come in and live there for the good of all the people. Many brave men had taken the pipe and would dance.

“When Chagla was through talking, the other old men said, ‘hetchetu,’ meaning it was so; and then Chagla held the stem of the pipe towards me.

“As I told you before, we boys had made a vow to dance and we had dedicated a pipe to Wakon Tonka. We were back home safe now with many horses and much honor. But I was afraid. This thing I had to do was wakon and a fearful thing. I wished I had not made the vow, so that I could refuse the pipe. The four old men and my step-father and mother were all looking hard at me, but for a while I could not reach out and take the pipe. Then when Chagla began to draw it back towards him, all at once my heart leaped within me and I grasped the pipe and held it to my mouth; and the four old men said, ‘hi-yay.’ Then they went away.

“Now I had to dance, for I had made a vow and I had taken the pipe. I was not afraid any more. When the enemies are many and you are few, and it seems there is nothing to do but to die right there, you raise a death-song, and then you are not afraid of anything, because you are dead already, and what can hurt you? It was something like that with me.

“My step-father and mother were very proud of me when I came back with those Crow horses, and now they were still prouder because I was going to dance. So they made a feast and asked many to come. Many came to eat and they told my mother and step-father what a brave young man their son was, and maybe I would grow up to be a great chief.

“The dancing place was prepared, and the next thing was to find the chun wakon [the sacred tree] which would stand in the center of the circle. It must be a tall slender cottonwood and everything had to be done just right. When I was young I heard the old men say why this was so. A long while ago—beyond so many snows and grasses that the oldest man’s grandfather and his grandfather before him, and his and his could not remember—there was a beautiful girl who was big with child. The child was a boy and would grow up to be a great wichasha wakon. And while he was still inside his mother, at the time when cherry seeds harden and the sun is strongest, he had a great vision about the sun dance, and everything was shown to him just as it should be. So when he became a young man he remembered his vision and taught the people. He was the first owankara, the first to prepare a sun dance. This is what the old men told when I was young.

“Four were chosen to go forth and find the chun wakon—two men and two women. Both men were great warriors and wichasha yatapika, and no bad thing could be said of them. They belonged to the Chante Tinza society [Strong Hearts]. The two women were mothers, neither young nor old, and they were always helping the sick and the needy, and no one among all the people could say anything but good of them. So these four went forth with axes to find the sacred cottonwood, and after them went young warriors wearing their war bonnets and painted as for war. Maybe the tree was a long way off; maybe it was near. But when it was found, standing tall and straight with a fork near the top, the young warriors charged upon it, crying, ‘hoka-hey,’ as in a battle, and couping the tree with their coup-sticks. When this was done, the two chosen men took their axes and struck the tree; and between strokes they told of brave deeds they had done. Then when the tree was cut more than halfway through, the two chosen women approached with their axes and chopped carefully, so that the tree did not fall all at once, but slowly; and as it fell it cried out as with great pain. When it was lying on the ground, four poles were placed under it and eight men lifted it so, placing the butt towards the quarter whence comes the sun, bringing light and wisdom and the peace that wisdom gives. Then the two women began chopping off all the branches, and only the two forks were left at the top. The young warriors now were riding fast back and forth between the sacred tree and the happy people, who were feasting; and to these they brought the news of the tree, telling all that the four chosen ones were doing. ‘They have found the chun wakon—they are chopping it—the tree has fallen—the women are cutting the limbs away,’ Every little thing the young warriors told the people, riding fast back and forth; and the people heard, crying, ‘hi-yay,’ and singing as for a victory.

“No one could touch the tree with hands, for it was wakon. When it was all ready to be brought home, eight men lifted it on the four poles, four men on each side. And four would change with another four, so that many brought it home. These walked slowly in a sacred manner; and as they walked, the young warriors rode fast back and forth between the holy tree and the happy people yonder, telling where it was now, and where now, and now. And the people heard, cheering and singing as for a great victory. When at last the chun wakon had come in sight of home, one of the carriers, who was a great warrior and had counted many coups, raised a long howl the way a dog does when the moon is big, and the other carriers joined with him. Then all the people swarmed forth to meet the tree, singing together as they crowded about it, but not too close. You remember how the warriors at the wagon boxes were like a blooming mountain valley walking; but those were singing the death-song. Now the happy people were singing to the Ever-Living One, and they were all blooming—the girls and women with flowers braided into their hair, and the men with their war bonnets.

“So the chun wakon came home. The carriers placed the tree in the center of the dancing ring with its butt pointing to where the sun comes up; and there a hole had been dug for the planting. But before it was planted, Blue Spotted Horse, the old holy man—the same who prepared me for my vision quest—came to paint the tree. First he prayed to the Six Powers, as he had taught me, and then he took red paint that he had made by mixing red clay with bison tallow, and painted from the top down to the butt, so that the whole tree was bright with the sacred color. And as he painted the chun wakon, all the people sat round about in a great circle and watched, and there was no sound; and the sun watched too.

“Next Chagla came with a bundle of chokecherry branches which must be tied in the crotch of the tree. No chokecherries were growing in the country where we were, so a band of young warriors had been sent all the way to Mini Shoshay [the Missouri] to fetch the branches. Below these the bundle of offerings must be tied. It was a pouch made of buffalo skin, and inside were all kinds of little things the people had brought—locks of hair, little pieces of their own flesh, sinew for sewing and bone needles, rings, beads, and many other little things that the people might think of giving so that the sacred power might not forget them; and last of all a flint, an arrow, and a gun were placed in the bundle. Before he tied these bundles in their places with thongs of bison hide, Chagla prayed; holding his pipe towards the sun, stem forward. And when he had prayed, he told the people about a vision that had come to him. It was the vision that had commanded him to prepare the dance for the good of the people, that they might be a nation and live to see their children flourish, and their children’s children. Last of all, before the tree was planted, Chagla took a piece of buffalo tallow and dropped it in the hole. It was the gift to Maka [earth], the mother of all living things, the only mother, she who has shown mercy to her children.