The Word Carrier of Santee Normal Training School (Santee, Nebraska), 1911-09 - 1911-10

              The Word Carrier.
of Santee Normal Training School.
VOLUME XL
HELPING THE RIGHT, EXPOSING THE WRONG.
NUMBER  5
SANTEE, NEBRASKA.
SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER, 1911
THIRTY CENTS PER YEAR
Our   Platform
F0i Indians we want American Education! We want
American Homes! We want American Rights! The result
of which is American Citizenship! And the Gospel is the
power of God for their Salvation !	
The pioneers of Lacquiparle County, Minnesota celebrated tbe 40th anniversary of the organization of the county at Madison, Minn., on
September 28-30. The old mission station at
jjaciiuiparle dates back to 1835, or seventy six
years ago. So it was very fitting for them to
have Dr. John P. Williamson, who was born
then-, address them. There were present a
goodly number of sensible people who took a
lively interest in the old mission work.
Tlie American Indian Association, of which
mention was made in the July-August Word
Carrier, accomplished a permanent organization at their recent meeting at Columbus, Ohio.
Ami the men of whom we made mention at
that time are to be prominent in its management. The name is changed to the Society of
American Indians, with head quarters at Washington, D. C. Their program for the meeting
wus remarkably devoid of any moral or religious
quesiions. However the christian Indians and
other christian people in attendance did put some
religious sentiment into the conferences. The.
third item in their statement of purposes is: "to
exercise the right to oppose any movement
which may be detrimental to the race in matters, educational, social aud political." This
will mix iu rather queerly with getting recruits
for ihe Wild West ."ihow and being special
attoi-nies for the mescal business.
Efficiency Figures
Our Dakota Indian mission in its Congregation.! and Presbyterian branches presents these
proofs of efficiency. The most of their missionary contributions go for work among the In
dian iribes. They are begiuning to contribute
to th' general missionary work of the churches,
but that is not noted here.
Congregational Dakota Indian Churches
Mem'.ers   1156
Ordained Indian ministers         6
Given to Native Missionary work 1910-11
Chnr h contributions     250 55
Women's societies   1240 32
Y.M.C.A       15 10
Other sources       C5 83
Total  contributed $1571 80
Expended  for Native Missionary
work 1910-11 $2000 00
Stations occupied  7
Stations to be occupied the coming year 7
Presbyterian Dakota Indian Churches
Members     1751
Ordained Indian ministers         20
Given to Native Missionary work 1910-1911
Church contributions $627 30
Women's societies 2632 30
Y. M. C. A   145 79
Other sources     85 68
Total contributions  . $3491~08
Expended for Native Missionary work,
1910-1911 ". $2677 77
Stations  occupied  6
Stations to  be  occupied the  coming
year  7
The Story of Kate
What do I remember of my early life? As a
baby I know only what they tell me. With my
small legs doubled under me to prevent kicking
I was tied up into a tight round bundle. Some
times 1 was hung iu a tree or hooked to a board
aad leaned up against the tipi while my mother
was cooking pashlayapi, buffalo meat, or some
Kind of wild game, or it may be while she sewed or embroidered with beads or porcupine
quills the beautiful moccasins for my father
or brother.
As I grew older and followed mother about,
1 began to do just as she did.    If she carried
water from the spring I also carried my little
pail, and when she went to the woods for fire
wood, I too had a strap and brought home a
pack. I made canning little moccasins for my
babies, and when mother wailed for my older
brother when he died, I laid my baby away and I
wailed crying "Mechunkshe, mechunkshe" with
real grief.
I was already a little woman and learning to
bear the burdens as a woman should, according
to the Dakota way of thinking, when one day
Aampaha wakan, Mr. Thomas Riggs, came to
our village on Cherry Creek, and asked my father to send me to bis school. And my father
only said Ho, ho!—Yes, yes. So when September came and we were off duck huntiug he
said to mother, "Tomorrow you take her," and
I crept to my place in the tent with heavy heart
aud full of fear.
Early next morning I opened my eyes to find
the tent already down. The poles were fastened on the pony's back, in this way to carry the
tent and my mother's pack, and on the top of all
she put Mesunka, the little brother. Mliheca,
mliheca—hurry, hurry, she called. Today is
reading book day aud Wahcha washtaywin, will
be angry if you get there late. I swallowed
quickly my fried bread and wild duck, and putting my shawl over my head was then all ready.
Father had ridden on ahead, mother and I
followed on foot with the pack horse, and it
was not long before we were looking from the
bluffs down onto the big Missouri, and could
see across the river the school house shining
in the sun. A little later, we came near the
bank, and mother said, Iyanka, iyanka,— run,
ruu ! I came down the little path and stepped into the canoe. My mother came with my bundle.
My little brother we left behind with father
aud the ponies—the river was too big and swift
to ford.
While paddling across this strange, wide river I felt that strange things were beginning to
happen, and timidly begged my mother to take
me back. But she said, "Foolish one, Ililalan-
ka, ililalanka"—be still, be still. So we went
on up to Ta-mas' house, when Beautiful Flower
woman spoke kindly, and smiled when I answered i:ot a word—for that is the way with Indian children—they are shame-faced and afraid.
Then she played on the-wooden-singiug-thing
and that pleased me, but when I looked my
mother was gone. Then I screamed loudly,
Ina, Ina, aud could have gone after, but
Ta-mas carried me unwilling to the school,
where I saw other Indian girls and boys. And
then a woman whom they called "Tun-wee"—
Aunt, told me that she would give me some
beautiful dolls to play with, but first, she took
me into a little room made of clothes frames,
covered with sheets. She made me get into a big
tub, aud when I just let the water run down over
my body softly, she put on much soap. And
said,"Li-la e-con, li-lae-con" rub hard, rub hard,
and she rubbed, and I rubbed and I scratched
my legs up and down, and there were white lines
and black lines. "See, tun-wee, see!" I cried.
She laughed and said, I looked like an animal
called a zebra, and I laughed, though I didn't
know what a zebra was. She combed my head
with a very fine comb, and braided my hair as
mother did, and then I had some new clothes,
not like my Indian ones, all sewed on to you,
but with many buttons and button holes.
Then I had the dolls the Wellesley girls had
sent, a whole family, all named Simpson. Mrs.
Simpson the mother, in a silk gown, and Fred
and Fritz the boys, and Amy and Bess and
some more girls—Simpson. But then it came
over me that I would never see my mother, my
little brother or my sister again and I didn't
care for any of the Simpsons any more, but
went into a corner and cried, and again, when
they put me into my little bed I cried myself
to sleep.
That was my first day at Oahe There were
very many other days.    Every thing at first was
different. We ate at a long table, and you had
to learn to use at the same time a kuife and
a fork instead of your fingers, and to sit on a.
chair instead of sitting on the ground or on a
buffalo robe, as we did at home.
My teachers taught me useful things, sewing,
washing dishes, aud ironing, and reading and
singing. What I liked best of all was singing.
Sundays, instead of English school, we had
meeting and sang in Dakota, and had classes to
learn about Wakantanka, the God of the white
man.
We had happy times. Christmas and New
Years were,the best. Christmas Eve we sang
songs about the Babe in the Manger, and had a
cedar tree all hung over with pop corn balls and
red apples for every one. Once when we did not
like our teacher, six of us ran away before day
light but Ta-mas went after us and caught us
before night and we went back very ashamed
and with our shawls over our heads.
While we were so busy, it did not take long
for June to come, and in that month our people
were sent for to take us home. I was so proud
then to show my mother all I'd learned. Aud
she said La-ma-M-la-ma, la-ma-hi-la-ma—wonderful, wonderful!
For four winters I went to the Oahe school.
Then iny father said I should go with my sister
to Dr. Riggs at Santee. Dr. Riggs was Tamas'
brother, and his Dakota name was Zit-ka-la-wa-
shtay, Good Bird.
Dr. Riggs gave to my sister Hapstina the
English name Isabel, for that is the custom
always to have an English name, and took her
to tbe Birds' Nest, the Home for the little
girls, where a pleasant-faced woman was mother. I was to be in the Dakota Home with the
bigger girls, and if I had learned many things at
Oahe, there were many more to learn at Santee.
Dr. Riggs is a kind father to ns all. Every
one goes to him with their troubles. Mrs.
Riggs teaches us cooking and sewing. "Mr.
Fred" teaches the young men and gives lectures with the Stereopticon evenings, telling
us about strange worlds and strange peoples,
and many other things. All our days are happy with study in books and music, and how to
sweep and wait on table, and if my mother
said "wonderful" before, she will when I go
home again, say, "much more wonderful."
While the girls are studying so many things,
the boys can learn farming, and printing, and
blacksmithing. There seems to be no end to
what one can learn on this earth and more than
all we are learning about another world and
how much there is that we—each one of us—
can do in the service of our Lord Jesus.
The days and the months fly with wings, and
we soon would be flying with them—home—
when one May night our Dakota Home caught
on fire, and burned to the ground, no time for
saving anything only ourselves—only time to
jump out of bed and slip clown stairs, and then
to watch the Home go up in a. great blaze
against the sky.
Next morning we were all at our places at
the breakfast table or ready to serve. Some in
stocking feet and some in rubbers with skirts
or petticoats borrowed from the teachers, and
we tried to be brave and not to mind.
And now you ask am I coming back to Santee another year? Dr. Riggs when he bids
you good bye, invites you, or doesn't invite
you. And T am so glad, for to me he has just
said,"Kate 1 hope to see you again next year."
And father will say when I tell him, "That
suits me well," and as for mother, "The learning
at Santee is truly most wonderful!"
Anna Riggs Warner.
Deaths
Jones—In Mitchell, S. D., Sept. 17, Nancy
Jones, wife of Henry Jones, Santee, Nebraska.
Jones—In Mitchell, S. D.,Oct. 14, IdaHolmes
Jones, wife of Stephen Jones, and daughter of
Rev. William Holmes, Santee, Nebraska.