The Girl Who Married the Moon Read online

  Copyright © 1994, 2006 Joseph Bruchac and Gayle Ross

  Originally published in 1994 by BridgeWater Books, an imprint of Troll Associates, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bruchac, Joseph, 1942-

  The girl who married the moon : tales from Native North America / told by Joseph Bruchac and Gayle Ross.

  p. cm.

  Originally published: Mahwah, N.J. : Bridgewater Books, c1994.

  Includes bibliographical references.

  ISBN 1-55591-566-3 (alk. paper)

  1. Indians of North America--Folklore. 2. Indian women--North America--Folklore. 3. Folklore--North America. I. Ross, Gayle. II. Title.

  E98.F6B8942 2006

  398.2089’97—dc22

  2006001117

  ISBN-13: 978-1-55591-566-7

  ISBN-10: 1-55591-566-3

  Printed in the United States of America by Malloy Incorporated

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Design and cover image: Jack Lenzo

  Fulcrum Publishing

  16100 Table Mountain Parkway, Suite 300

  Golden, Colorado 80403

  (800) 992-2908 • (303) 277-1623

  www.fulcrumbooks.com

  To my grandmothers—J. B.

  For my grandmother Ann Ross Piburn, for my mother, Elizabeth Collins, and, most especially, for my daughter, Sarah Holt—G. R.

  Contents

  Introduction

  The Northeast

  Arrowhead Finger, Penobscot

  The Abandoned Girl, Seneca

  The Girl and the Chenoo, Passamaquoddy

  The Girl Who Escaped, Mohegan

  The Southeast

  Stonecoat, Cherokee

  The Girl Who Helped Thunder, Muskogee (Creek)

  The Girl Who Married an Osage, Piankeshaw (Peoria)

  The Girls Who Almost Married an Owl, Caddo

  The Southwest

  The Poor Turkey Girl, Santa Clara Pueblo

  The Girl Who Gave Birth to Water-Jar Boy, Cochiti Pueblo

  The Bear Woman, Diné (Navajo)

  The Beauty Way—The Ceremony of White-Painted Woman, Apache

  The Northwest

  How Pelican Girl Was Saved, Lake Miwok

  Where the Girl Rescued Her Brother, Cheyenne

  Chipmunk Girl and Owl Woman, Okanagan

  The Girl Who Married the Moon, Alutiiq

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Sources

  Introduction

  Several years ago, when Cherokee Assistant Chief Wilma Mankiller became principal chief of the nation, filling the unexpired term of Chief Ross Swimmer, who had been appointed head of the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington, she became the object of a great deal of national attention. The media hailed her as the “first woman chief of a major American tribe.” With gentle amusement, Chief Mankiller pointed out that her occupancy of this high office represented “a return to old traditional ways.” Indeed, early British officials in the Southeast called the Cherokee “the Indians with the petticoat government” because of the number of women in positions of power.

  Of all the misconceptions and misunderstandings perpetuated about Native peoples, the role of women in traditional cultures is perhaps the most falsely portrayed. The image of the overworked “squaw” has permeated popular books, movies, and television until the non-Native observer can be forgiven for believing that Native cultures viewed women as property to be bought, sold, or traded. Nothing could be further from the truth. Though the survival of the tribe often sharply defined the roles of both men and women, the balance that existed between the sexes was as important as the harmony between the people and the world in which they lived.

  In the great matriarchal societies of the Iroquois, the ultimate power over most aspects of daily life rested with the council of Clan Mothers. In the agricultural societies of the Southwest, women wielded great economic power as the owners of the seeds, the keepers of life. Even among the western Plains peoples, with their strong warrior traditions, women were treated with love and respect. The gifts given by a suitor to a young woman’s father were intended to show that the young man respected the great value of the woman to her family, and that he understood what her loss would mean to them. Though women’s roles varied widely from tribe to tribe, among all Native cultures, no force was considered more sacred or more powerful than the ability to create new life.

  Just as a young boy must make his rite of passage into manhood, so comes the day in the life of a young girl when her body tells her she is growing into a woman. Throughout time in Native North America, that day has been celebrated with song and dance, story and ritual.

  In this collection, Joseph Bruchac and I have organized the stories into four sections, reflecting the significance of the number four to Native peoples: there are four seasons, four winds, four directions, four stages in a person’s life. And so we have four stories from four nations from four different regions of Native North America. Some are ancient stories that speak of the paths from youth to maturity, from foolishness to wisdom, from selfishness to caring. Two are stories of actual ceremonies that are held to celebrate a young girl’s entrance into womanhood. Like human beings themselves, the stories can be beautiful or powerful, sometimes humorous, sometimes frightening. Though times change, and people and societies change with them, the wisdom of the traditional tale is everlasting.

  Like Joe, I believe that now, when it has become increasingly apparent that we must find a balance between our technological society and the resources of the planet on which we live, these traditional Native tales have much to teach us. And so we offer these stories both to honor the generations of grandmothers who have gone before us and to reach the daughters and granddaughters who will come after. In the teachings of Native peoples, to speak of becoming a woman is to remember the Earth, who is the mother of us all.

  —Gayle Ross

  The Northeast

  It is especially appropriate to begin this book with stories from the Northeast, for it was in this part of the North American continent that the strong roles women played in Native life were made clearest to the Europeans who arrived there as colonists in the seventeenth century. Although the most common roles of Native women were as heads of families and owners of households, numerous European visitors to the tribal nations of the New England coast also make mention of women who were chiefs and war leaders.

  The five nations of the Iroquois—the Seneca, Cayuga, Oneida, Onondaga, and Mohawk—are a society divided into hereditary clans headed by women. As leaders of those clans, the women not only pass their lineage on to their sons and daughters, but they own the houses and control agriculture, too. They are also the ones who choose the chiefs and can depose a chief who fails to follow the will of the people. The Abenaki, Passamaquoddy, and Mohegans, neighbors to the east and southeast of the Iroquois, rely traditionally on the counsel of women elders and, in some cases, even have women chiefs.

  Just as there were Medicine Societies for the men of the tribal nations of the northeastern woodlands, there were special women’s societies that no man could belong to, such as the Society of Women Planters among the Iroquois. This society was responsible for the extensive gardens in each Iroquois village and had special songs and ceremonies that accompanied the planting, hoeing, and harvesting of the Three Sisters—corn, beans, and squash.

  When a man married, he went to live with the family
of his wife. If, as sometimes happened, a couple divorced, the man went back to the longhouse of his mother, and the children remained with their mother, to whose clan they belonged. Becoming a woman among the Iroquois meant that a young girl was entering a world in which she commanded not only respect, but great power.

  Each of the stories in this section presents a young woman who, like those women of the Iroquois clans, is aware of her central place in her nation and is capable of showing both bravery and intelligence in the face of difficulty. “Arrowhead Finger” is a tale that tells of a young woman whose physical bravery and endurance are the equal of any boy’s. “The Abandoned Girl” gives a picture of a young woman who does not despair when it seems, more than once, that all is hopeless. “The Girl and the Chenoo” reminds us that not only bravery, but also kindness, can help a young woman overcome obstacles and even melt a heart of ice. “The Girl Who Escaped” reveals a heroine who knows her own mind and is helped by a friend to whom she has remained faithful.

  Unlike such European heroines as Sleeping Beauty or Little Red Riding Hood, who need strong men to rescue them, the female Native protagonists of these traditional tales are able to initiate action. They survive their trials and make their passages into womanhood by taking control of their own destinies.

  Arrowhead Finger

  Penobscot

  Kita! Listen. Long ago, my story was out walking around and it came to a village of the people of the Dawn Land. In that village, there was a girl who knew a great deal about plants. This was in the days before corn came to the people, and so it was very important to be able to gather food from the plants of the woods and the meadows, the swamps and the streams.

  This girl always knew where to find the plants that were good to eat. In the early spring, when the berries were ripe, she would go out with her sisters and her cousins to gather strawberries from the meadows. Later in the season, in the Moon of Raspberries, they would walk among the bushes to gather red fruit in their baskets of folded birch bark sewed together with spruce roots. Because this girl was the strongest and bravest, she was the one who carried a spear, in case the bears, who also thought they owned those berry patches, should try to drive the girls away.

  In the autumn, when acorns and beechnuts fell from the trees, she was always there with the other girls, collecting great loads of nuts to cook and grind into flour. She knew when to go to the marshes and gather the pollen of cattails to make flour. The girl knew, too, how to wade into the water and find the tubers of the arrowroot with her bare feet. She would dig in the soft earth at the edge of the Long River and find the white roots of the wild turnip. She enjoyed gathering plants so much that the other girls laughed and gave her the name of Gatherer. And when all the other girls were tired of collecting food and went on to other things, she would continue.

  But Gatherer never took more than the people needed, for her parents had taught her this, and also that one should be thankful. So whenever she gathered any plants, she thanked each plant for the gift it gave her. The older women saw this and were pleased.

  “This one will do good things for our people,” they said. “The plants like her. See how they bend down their branches to make it easier for her to gather from them.”

  One day, Gatherer went off by herself to dig roots. As she dug, she walked far into the forest, away from her village near the river. Suddenly, her keen eyes saw men hiding in the brush near the trail. She knew that they were Maguak warriors, enemies of her people, come from the west to raid their village. Gatherer turned to go back to her village and warn the others, but the men saw her. Fearful that she might not escape, she called out in a loud voice, loud enough for her people to hear, “Maguak, Maguak!” Then, tucking one of the roots she had been gathering into her dress, she began to run.

  She did not run far. The enemy warriors caught her and covered her mouth so that she could no longer cry out. But they knew it was too late. Soon the young men of the village would arrive, and the Maguaks knew they would be outnumbered. They tied Gatherer’s hands and took her with them as a captive.

  They traveled fast all day. It was only because Gatherer was such a strong runner herself that she was able to keep up with them. She knew that she did not dare fall behind. These men were angry at her, and if she could not keep up, they might kill her.

  In the evening, when they made their fire, the Maguaks brought their captive close to it.

  “Let us see how brave this bark-eater girl is,” they said. Then they held her hand close to the fire so that the tips of her fingers burned.

  Gatherer was determined not to cry out. She made no sound as they put first one hand and then the other to the fire. Finally, the Maguak warriors stopped.

  “This one has fingers of stone like an arrowhead,” their leader said. And so they began to call her by that name, Arrowhead Finger.

  That night, as the warriors slept, Arrowhead Finger reached into her dress and took out the root she had gathered.

  “Help me, Little One,” she said, rubbing the root over her burned fingertips.

  When the Maguak warriors woke the next morning and untied their captive, they were surprised to see that her burns were healed. They traveled hard again all day, crossing over the mountains. When evening came, they made their fire and held the young girl’s fingers to the flames to see if this time she would cry out. Just as before, Arrowhead Finger said nothing. And when the warriors slept, she took out the root and rubbed it on her fingers, healing her burns.

  In the morning, the Maguak warriors were surprised to find that their captive’s burns were, once again, gone. “Perhaps she is carrying medicine,” their leader said. “See if she has something hidden in her dress.”

  But without their noticing it, Arrowhead Finger swallowed the root that had helped her. When the Maguaks searched her, they found nothing. “Her hands are too hard for us to hurt her,” their leader said. So, that night, when they made their fire, they did not hold the young girl’s hands to the flames.

  They traveled on for many more days and, at last, came to their own village. The people greeted them with shouts, and because it was the custom in those days for captives sometimes to be adopted, an old woman and an old man who had lost their daughter came forward.

  “We will take this girl as our daughter,” said the old woman.

  The young man who had led the raiding party stood in the old woman’s way. “No,” he said, “this one spoiled our raid. We have to decide in council what to do with her.”

  When the council met, the leader of the raiding party told his story. He described how Arrowhead Finger warned her village and how she refused to cry out when her fingers were burned. Many of the people in the village admired her courage. The old woman and old man spoke up again and said they wished her to be their daughter. It was agreed that until a decision was reached, Arrowhead Finger would stay with those two old people.

  Then the council of chiefs went into their longhouse. They talked for many days. Finally, they reached a conclusion. “We will see if this one who has been captured is indeed like an arrowhead. We will make a great fire and we will place her in it.”

  Not everyone in the village was pleased, however. During the short time she had been there, Arrowhead Finger had begun to make friends. People saw that she was a helpful person and a hard worker. And the old man and old woman had begun to love her like a daughter. So the council of chiefs agreed they would wait for a while before burning her.

  As the moons passed, Arrowhead Finger began to notice that her body was changing. The root she had swallowed had become a baby inside her.

  “We must tell our chiefs that our new daughter is expecting a child,” said the old woman. Her husband went and spoke to the chiefs of the village. It was decided to wait even longer before putting Arrowhead Finger into the fire.

  More moons passed. Almost everyone in the village grew to like Arrowhead Finger. She worked harder than anyone, gathering food and preparing hides, gathering wood an
d doing the many things that made women the heart of the village. On the day her baby was born, many of the women came to see the new child.

  But that night, after Arrowhead Finger fell asleep, she heard a voice calling to her. To her surprise, her newborn son was standing beside her.

  “Mother,” the baby said, “I am the root you gathered in the forest long ago. Because you always treated all of the plants with respect, I will help you. In two days, your enemies in this village plan to kill you. Even now, they are piling wood for a great fire. You must flee.”

  “How can I escape?” Arrowhead Finger said.

  “Ask my grandmother for help,” the baby answered, indicating the old woman who had adopted Arrowhead Finger. “She loves you and will tell you what to do. But you must leave me here so that I may do my work. Although someday we will be together again, for now, you must go without me.” And the baby climbed back into his cradleboard and went to sleep.

  Arrowhead Finger went over to the old woman and gently woke her.

  “Mother,” she said, “my enemies plan to burn me. You must help me escape.”

  “My daughter,” the old woman said, “I have been thinking a long time about how to save you. You must do just as I tell you. Tomorrow, when the women gather firewood, you must go with them and leave your baby here. Then go off on the path toward the east. Because your baby is here in our lodge, they will not expect you to run away. If you keep traveling always to the east, you will reach your home.”

  When morning came, Arrowhead Finger woke up early and cradled her baby in her arms. “Little One,” she said, “thank you for all you have given me. I do not want to leave you, but I must do as you have told me. Do not forget that one day we will be together again.”

  Arrowhead Finger kissed her baby, placed him in the arms of the old woman, and went to join the women collecting firewood. When they were deep in the woods, she turned off toward the rising sun and found the path. As soon as she was out of sight, she began to run. She ran all day and slept inside a hollow log at night.