The Chief ' s Testimony The Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land . The Great Chief also sends us words of friendship and goodwill , This is kind of him , since we know he has little need of our friendship in return . But we will consider your offer , for we know that if we do not sell , the whiteman may come with guns and take our land . How can you buy or sell the sky , the warmth of the land ? The idea is strange to us . If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water , how can you buy them ? Every part of this earth is sacred to my people - every shining pine needle , every sandy shore , every mist in the dark woods , every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people . The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the redman . The whiteman ' s dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars . Our dead never forget this beautiful earth , for it is the mother of the redman ; we are part of the earth and it is part of us . The perfumed flowers are our sisters : the deer , the horse , the great eagle , these are our brothers . The rocky crests , the juices of the meadows , the body hear of the pony and man all belong to the same family . So when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to by our land , he asks much of us . The Great Chief sends word that he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably , to our selves . He will be our father and we will be his children . So we will consider your offer to buy our lands , but it will not easy , for this land is sacred to us . This shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water , but the blood of our ancestors . If we sell you our land you must remember that it is sacred , and you must teach your children that it is sacred , and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of our people . The water ' s murmur is the voice of my father ' s father . The rivers are our brothers , they quench our thirst . The river carry our canoes and they feed our children . If we sell you our land you must remember and teach your children that the rivers and our brothers , and yours , and you must hereforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother . The redman has always retreated before the advancing whiteman , as the mist of the mountains runs before the morning sun , but the ashes of our fathers are sacred , their graves are holy ground . And so these hills , these trees , this portion of the earth is consecrated to us . We know that the whiteman does not understand our ways - one portion of land is the same to him as the next , for he is stranger who comes in the night and takes what he needs . The earth is not his brother but his enemy , and when he has conquered it he moves on . He leaves his fathers ' grave behind and he does not care ; he kidnaps the earth from his children , he does not care . His father ' s graves and his children ' birthrights are forgotten . He treats his mother the earth and his brother the sky as thing to be bought , plundered , sold like sheep or bright beads . His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert . I do not know ; our ways are different from your ways . The sight of your cities pains the you of the redman , but perhaps it is because the redman is a savage and does not understand . There is no quite place in the whiteman ' cities - no place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of insects ' wings . But perhaps it is because I am a savage and does not understand . The clatter only seems to insult the ears . And what is there to life if a man can not hear the lonely cry of the whipoorwill , or the argument of the frogs round the pond at night ? I am a redman and do not understand . The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond , and the smell of the wind itself , cleansed by a midday rain or scented by the pinon pine . The air is precious to the redman , for all things share the same breath . The beast , the tree , the man , they all share the same breath . The whiteman does not seem to notice the air he breath : like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench . But if we sell you our land , you must remember that the air is precious to us , that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports . The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh . The wind must also give our children the spirit of life . And if we sell our land , you must keep it apart and sacred as a place where even the last whiteman can go to taste the wind that it sweetened by the meadow ' s flowers . So we will consider your offer to buy our land . If we decide to accept , I will make a condition : the whiteman must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers . I am a savage and I do not understand any other way . I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie , left by the whiteman who shot them form a passing train . I am savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important that the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive . What is the man without the beasts ? If all the beasts were gone man would die of a great loneliness of spirit , for whatever happens to the beasts soon happens to man . All things are connected . You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers . So that they will respect the land , tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin . Teach your children what we have taught our children - that the earth is our mother . Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth . ; if men spit upon the ground , they spit upon themselves . This we know - the earth does not belong to man , man belongs to the earth . This we know . All things are connected . Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth . Man did not weave the web of life , he is merely a strand in it . Whatever he does to the web he does to himself . But we will consider your offer to go to the reservation you have for my peoples . We will live apart and in peace . It matters little where we spend the rest of our days - our children have seen their fathers humbled in defeat : our warriors have felt shame and after defeat they turn their days in idleness and contaminate their bodies with sweet foods and strong drinks . I matters little where we pass the rest of our days . They are not many : a few more hours , a few more winters and none of the children if the great tribes that once live on this earth , or that roam now in small bands in the woods , will be left to mourn the graves of a people once as powerful and hopeful as yours . But why should I mourn the passing of my people ? Tribes are made of man , nothing more . Men come and go like the waves of the sea . Even the whiteman whose God walks and talks with him as if friend to friend cannot be exempt from the common destiny . We may be brothers after all , we shall see . One thing we know , which the whiteman may one day discover - our God is the same God . You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land , but you can not . He is the God of man , and His compassion is equal for the redman and the white . This earth is precious to Him , and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator . The whites too shall pass , perhaps sooner than other tribes . Continue to contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste . But in your perishing you will shine brightly , fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the redman . That destiny is a mystery to us , for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered , the wild horses are tamed , the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men , and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires . Where is the thicket ? Gone . Where is the eagle ? Gone . And what is it to say goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt ? The end of living and the beginning of survival . So we will consider your offer to buy our land . If we agree it will be to secure the reservation you have promised ; there perhaps we may live out our brief days as we wish . When the last redman has vanished from this earth and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie , these shores and forests will still hold the spirits of my people . For they love this earth , as newborn loves its mother ' s heart beat . So if we sell our land , love it as we have loved it ; care for it as we have cared for it ; hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you take it ; and with all your strength , with all your heart , preserve it for your children and love it , as God loves us all . One thing we know ; our God is the same God , This earth is precious to Him . Even the whiteman cannot be exempt from the common destiny . We may be brothers after all - we shall see . ** 퍼 옴 > 녹색평론 읽 는 사람 들 - color of water 님 이 올리 신 글 .