Grandma's Tipi

Page 1

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“I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight . . . and I saw that it was holy.” —Black Elk, Oglala Lakota

The tipi is such a hoop, and its door always faces east, opening to the rising of the morning sun and the beginning of a new day. This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.

A Present-Day Lakota Story

S. D. NELSON

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Abrams Books for Young Readers • New York

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“Oh, Clara, it’s so good to see you.” Grandma hugged me like she would never let go. She smelled good, like flowers and fresh baked bread. My cousin Juniper was there, too. She lived with our unci (oon-CHEE), our grandma, and went to school on the Standing Rock Reservation where they lived. In the fall Juniper was going to be in second grade. I was going to be in third! Mom and Dad said I was old enough to come to spend part of the summer with them.

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Next morning, as Juniper and I finished our breakfast, we heard a noisy engine come down the drive and stop outside. Grandma’s eyes brightened. “It’s your uncle Louie. He’s brought something special!”

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We ran outside. What a sight! Poles, as long as could be, were lashed atop a pickup truck. Inside the truck bed was a large canvas-cloth bundle. Out of the cab stepped a man with a toothy grin—our uncle Louie. He was big, like a bear. “Well, holy guacamole,” he cheered. “It’s my two nieces and their grandma!” He gave us all a hug.

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“What have you got?” I asked.

“It’s your unci’s tipi!” he answered. “Actually, it’s our family tipi. Your grandmother is the keeper. She’ll tell you all about it.”

“The tipi has been with our family a very long time,” our unci said. “My mother was the tipi’s first keeper. She passed it to me. And one day, you girls will receive it.” She lit a braid of sweetgrass that offered a ribbon of sweet-smelling smoke to carry her prayer upward. “Thank you for this, our family’s tipi. We ask for a blessing. May it stand strong. May good stories from long ago be told and new memories made.”

Uncle Louie showed us how to stand up and stack the poles. Then our unci, with our uncle’s help, showed Juniper and me how to wrap the canvas covering around and over them.

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“The tipi door always faces east,” Uncle Louie said. “It always opens to the rising of the morning sun and the beginning of a new day.”

Colorful figures covered the tipi, painted by generations of family. My grandmother, hers before that, and other family members had painted them. They seemed to dance—horses, buffalo, birds, dragonflies, and people. At the top, two big smoke flaps opened like butterfly wings. They let smoke out from the woodfire but could be closed when it rained.

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Inside we spread tarps and blankets on the ground. The great tipi smelled of woodsmoke from cooking fires and storytelling fires from years long past. Our unci brought out sandwiches for us—cheese, salami, and homemade baked bread!

Afterward, she braided my cousin’s hair. She brushed out the tangles until all was smooth and even. After parting the hair on top, she separated it into three strands on one side and wove them into a traditional braid. Grandma did the same on the other side. I was next. Grandma gave me a new style of braids, the kind that some girls wear to a powwow—a big gathering where people sing and dance to the pounding of drums.

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That night, Uncle Louie, my aunt Margaret, and their son joined us, along with other relatives and friends. Uncle Louie built a glowing storytelling fire in the center of the tipi.

Our unci wore the wonderful traditional beaded dress that her grandmother had made many years ago. She spoke, almost whispering. “The circle of our tipi has a story to tell . . . it is about remembering how to live in the great Circle of Life. Father Sun and Sister Moon are round and turn in the sky above. Mother Earth, beneath our feet, is a round circle, too. She gives us everything we need in this life— food and shelter. We must care for her forests, rivers, and animals. The four seasons—summer, autumn, winter, and spring—come and go in a circle. The birds of the air know this teaching. They build their nests in a circle that tenderly holds their clutch of tiny round eggs. We call the Circle of Life Cangleska Wakan, or the Sacred Hoop.

Our unci taught us to give thanks by singing “Wóphila Olówaŋ” (“Thanksgiving Song”).

Tȟuŋkášila (Grandfather)

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Philámayaye (thank you)

Philámayaye (thank you)

Philámayaye ló hé (thank you)

Wičhózani waŋ ([for] the health)

Mayá k’ú čhá (that you have given me)

Philámayaye ló hé (thank you)

After the others left, Juniper and I laid out our sleeping bags. We were going to spend the night in our tipi! Overhead, where the tipi poles crossed, the smoke flaps opened to the sky.

“Oh look,” said Juniper, pointing up. “The Star People are circling above.”

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“Yes,” I replied. “My dad says they are the spirits of our ancestors who lived long ago—the two-legged beings, the four-legged creatures, the winged-beings of the air, and even the little creepy-crawlies. They dance along the Spirit Road of the Milky Way.”

We soon drifted off to sleep and dreams.

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As the days grew hotter, Grandma showed us how to roll up the walls of the tipi to allow for a cooling breeze.

Our unci took us swimming in the Cannonball River that flowed behind her house. Juniper and I waded along the bank and splashed each other. Grandma stayed on the riverbank. Suddenly a creepy snake came skimming across the water’s surface toward us. We shrieked! Juniper and I were out of the water in an instant, trembling and shivering with fear. Grandma said the snake was harmless. Then we were all laughing with delight—we had escaped!

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Later that day, our unci explained, “It is best to paint tipi walls when the canvas is spread flat on the ground. Today I will paint while the tipi is standing upright. I want to paint a spirit picture for each of you.”

Grandma asked Juniper, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

My cousin answered right away. “I want to be on the high school basketball team.”

Our unci smiled and nodded.

“I want to be a pilot,” I said, “and fly jets.”

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Our unci painted a basketball player for Juniper. She painted my spirit picture next to swift birds and dragonflies. We got to paint our handprints next to our spirit pictures.

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On Saturdays, Grandma drove off the reservation to do her grocery shopping. When she returned, Unci sliced the red meat she had bought into thin strips and sprinkled them with salt. Juniper and I hung the strips on a drying rack outside the tipi. In a couple of days, the meat would be dry. Grandma said, “Some people call this dried meat ‘jerky.’ We call it ‘bah-pah.’ Before refrigerators, our ancestors preserved meat in this way. It can be stored and eaten weeks and months later! I will make you a stew mixing the bah-pah with corn, squash, and prairie turnips.”

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In the tipi, Juniper and I began a beading project. Nestled about us were tin pie plates filled with red, yellow, blue, and white glass beads. We each strung beaded necklaces.

Unci sat with us. She had sewn a traditional Lakota dress. Now she was decorating the buckskin. Her nimble hands worked the needle and thread. With each stroke of the needle, she picked up the glass beads and stitched them in place. Unci said, “I am making this dress for a girl that I know. I hope that someday she will wear it and dance at our powwow.

“Clara, stand up and hold the dress to your chin. Let’s see how this dress might look like on you.”

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“Oh, Grandma,” I said. “This is a perfect fit for me!”

“My goodness,” Unci said. “It does look like a perfect fit. Well then, this dress must be for you!”

My eyes and mouth opened wide. “Oh, Unci, I love you!”

I gave her a big hug.

One afternoon, the clouds in the west darkened and rose like monstrous mountains. Then came the pitter-patter of raindrops on the tipi. Grandma hurried out of the house to close the smoke flaps and show us how to roll down the tipi covering. The gentle rapping quickly turned into a downpour. Lightning flashed purple. The Thunderbeings pounded their great thunder drums. Hailstones pelted the walls, but our tipi stood strong. Inside, we were safe and dry. This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.

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Almost as suddenly as the storm had come, it passed, followed by a glowing rainbow that arced across the sky. Our grandmother said, “We two-legged beings pray for rain. We pray with our four-legged brothers—Coyote, Rabbit, and Buffalo. We join with our sisters of the sky—Hummingbird and Hawk—to welcome the rain. The Thunderbeings come with the gift of water. They give life to this thirsty land. Mother Earth smells wonderful after the rain. Green leaves reach up, and lovely flowers open everywhere.”

Juniper and I went out into the sunshine. We played barefoot, squishing mud between our toes.

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A Heyoka appeared, riding a horse. He rode backward without a saddle! Juniper shouted, “It’s our uncle Louie!”

Heyokas are clowns who do things backward in life. Louie waved his hand and greeted us. “Goodbye, everybody.” He dismounted and blundered about. “Holy guacamole!” he exclaimed. “I wish it would rain!” Uncle Louie waded into one of the puddles and then sat with a splash. Covered with mud, he cried like a big baby. Juniper and I had never seen anything so funny. We screamed with laughter. We laughed so hard that we cried. This

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And so, the summer days passed. My parents arrived to pick me up all too soon. Saying goodbye meant hugs and happy tears. My unci handed me a package. Her parting gift was her smile and the beaded dress she had made especially for me!

My mom and dad said we would return in the fall so that I could wear my new dress and dance in the powwow. As we drove away, I waved goodbye to Unci, Juniper, and Uncle Louie with one hand. In my other hand, I clung tightly to my Lakota dress and fond memories of summer days and starry nights . . . and Grandma’s tipi. This

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Author’s Note

Human beings have been living in tipi-like dwellings for eons. The specific origins of the tipi are lost in the shadows of prehistory. During the last Ice Age, and more than 15,000 years ago, nomadic people crossed the Bering land bridge that connected Asia with the Americas. These newcomers became the indigenous people or Native American Indians. They were huntergatherers that traveled on foot, following the great

herds of caribou, bison, and woolly mammoths. Being constantly on the move, they needed a transportable shelter to protect them from the harsh elements. The rudimentary conical-shaped tipi served them well. It was a marvelously designed structure made of upright poles leaned against one another and tied together near the top with hand-braided rope. The framework was covered with animal skins. It provided protection from rain, snow, and wind. With a fire inside, it provided warmth. These Stone Age people had domesticated the dog, who when rigged with a harness could drag the shelter from one place to another.

In the sixteenth century, Europeans from Spain introduced the horse to the Americas. The horse replaced the dog in pulling the poledrag, called a travois, and could drag much longer poles and considerably more weight. The result was a much bigger tipi. It became the primary dwelling for nomadic American Indians

One of several paper model tipis I made for reference to create the illustrations. It helped my accuracy as the characters moved around and inside the tipi. The paintings are on the outside of the tipi, but the sunlight silhouettes them allowing you to see them when inside. (Photo courtesy of author)

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who followed the enormous herds of bison on the Great Plains, such as the Lakota/Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho, Crow, Blackfeet, and Kiowa.

During the latter part of the 1800s, the animal skin coverings were replaced with canvas acquired through trade with the AngloAmericans. Shortly thereafter, the United States government forced all the Indian tribes onto reservations. They had no choice but to give up their nomadic ways, including living in tipis. They were compelled to live in cabins and woodframe houses.

Plains Indian tribes are fond of the tipi and continue to use them today. Other Native American tribes still use the tipi, too. It is common to see them set up at powwows and other Native people’s gatherings and traditional ceremonies. Indigenous people believe that the tipi offers a clear statement: “Our people are still here. We remember and honor our traditions, and we want to share them with the world in a good way.”

A beaded dress similar to the one Unci wore in this story. Sewn by a Lakota (Teton) woman circa 1900. The materials used are animal hide, glass beads, metal beads, sinew, and cotton thread. (Photo courtesy of National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution, 20/2045)

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In the mid-twentieth century, my great-uncle Flying Cloud—Frank Zahn—served as the interpreter for Reginald and Gladys Laubin while they researched their seminal book The Indian Tipi: Its History and Construction. Flying Cloud, or Mahpiya Kiny’ An, is the family name that was also given to me by my mother, Elk Tooth Woman, or Unphan-Hinkske-Wi.

This name once belonged to my great-great-grandfather, a Lakota warrior. He was given the name because it was said that when he rode his horse across the prairie, the trail of stirred-up dust looked like a flying cloud. Twice he proved his valor by stealing horses from enemy tribes. His third horsestealing raid against an enemy Crow village ended in his death. Mahpiya Kiny’ An was shot full of arrows. The fighting was so furious that his body was never recovered. I am an enrolled member of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and descended from Sitting Bull’s, or Tatanka Iyotake’s, Hunkpapa band.

For the strong-hearted athletes on the Standing Rock Reservation— Ho-ka-hey! Lace up your shoes and get in the game.

Now is your time in the sun.

—S.D. Nelson, Mahpiya Kiny’ An

The artwork for this book was created with acrylic paint on gessoed MDF board.

Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.

ISBN 978-1-4197-3192-1

Text and illustrations © 2023 S. D. Nelson

Edited by Howard W. Reeves Book design by Heather Kelly

Published in 2023 by Abrams Books for Young Readers, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

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Native Americans continue to use tipis today. Many put up their tipis during the gathering on the Cannonball and Missouri Rivers in protest of the Dakota Access Pipeline that was installed beneath the Missouri River, Standing Rock Indian Reservation, North Dakota. (Photo courtesy of author)

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