Volume 16 Number 3
May 1977

Dixon Sumpter

When Keshamonedoo (Ke-sha-mon-e-doo) made the red man, he made him happy. The men were larger, were fleeter on foot, were more dexterous in games, and lived to an older age than now. The forest abounded with game, the trees were loaded with fruit, and birds that now have a black plumage were dressed in pure white. The birds and fowls ate no flesh, for the wide prairies were covered with fruits and vegetables. The fish in the waters were large. The Munedoo (mu-ne-doo) from heaven watched the blaze from the wigwam’s fires, and these were as countless as the stars in the skies.

Strange visitors from heaven descended every few days, and inquired of the Indians whether anything was wrong. Finding them happy and contented, they returned to their high homes. These were tutelar gods, or guardians, and they consulted with the sages of the different villages and advised them not to climb a certain vine which grew on the Earth. The top of this vine reached the sky as it was a ladder on which the spirits descended from heaven to Earth to bless the red man.

One of these errand-spirits became well acquainted with one of the young braves who dwelt in a cabin with his grandmother, and extended to him an invitation to go for a stroll around the various villages. Now the favoritism shown to this young man by the god made the other braves jealous, and during the absence of his spirit friend, the young brave was much troubled by his neighbors who envied him his situation. On one occasion when his persecution became intolerable, he determined to leave his country and, if possible, to accompany the spirit to the skies.

The chief man had warned everybody never to attempt to climb the vine whose branches reached the heavens, telling them that to do so would bring upon them severe penalties. But when the spirit found the young man quite sad, he inquired and learned the true cause of his sorrow, and so, taking him with him, the two climbed the vine to heaven. The old grandmother cried for his return, "No-sis, be-ge-wain, be-ge-wain." "My child, come back, come back."

But he wouldn’t come home. So the old woman adjusted all her matters in her lodge, and after dark one night, went to the vine and began to climb it. In the morning the Indians found that she had left her lodge and soon saw her climbing the vine. They shouted to her saying, "Come back, come back, you old witch you." But she continued ascending—up, and up, and up. A council was held then to determine what could be done to make her return. They could hear her sobbing for her grandson. "Ne-gah-wah-bah-mah, no-sis." "I will yet see you my child."

Consternation and fear filled the hearts of the people of the Nation, for one of their number was disobeying the Great Spirit. The warriors were filled with indignation and fury and they burned the woman’s wigwam because she had broken the laws of the tribe. The light of the burning lodge shed its rays all around.

The woman was just nearing the top of the vine which was entwined around one of the stars, when it broke, and down she came with the broken vine which had before been the ladder of communication between heaven and Earth. The people of her Nation passed by her as she sat in the midst of the ruin she had wrought, and pushed her bent head saying, "There you sit, you wicked old witch." Some kicked her; others dragged her by the hair, and thus expressed their disapproval of what she had done. And the chief said, "All who shall live after thee, shall call thee a squaw." And so ever since, the word squaw has been a derogatory term.

But when the Indian speaks with respect about his wife, he calls her his woman.

"A Choctaw Legend" was submitted by Dixon Sumpter, who received it from the records of his Choctaw grandfather in Oklahoma. Sumpter, who lives in Mesa, Arizona, is composing room foreman for the Mesa Tribune. He presented the legend to a group of Arizona Press Women recently as part of a talk on women in the news media.