Sangine's Journal

                                                Thirteenth December 1620

The month of snowfall hath finally come. And with it this year other men too. White men. They came to us with sickness and death. Many times, I would watch my father peek at the white men. Some of them were like Mother, Sister and I. They had long sun-crisped hair as yellow as the bright sun in the warm July sky. I must get off to bed. The bright red circle has gone to sleep and the night sun is waiting for me to sleep so she can watch over my family.

                                                      Sangine.

                                                    Fifteenth December 1620

Father and some other people from our community found some of the white men’s weapons. One looked like a fire shooter. It made a loud bang when we pressed a button. It kills people instantly. I don’t like these white men here. One of them encountered my little sister the other day. When I found her, she was in a small position, curled up tightly. Her cheeks were wet and red. I knew she had been crying. When I confronted her about this, she brought me deep into the wood. She told me she had found a body. When we came upon the body, I came to see that it was mother’s. Stripped of all clothing and blue. They had been here only a few days and already, they took the one thing away form Salgena and I. Our mother.

                                                        Sangine.

                                                Twentieth December 1620

We buried mother. Had a lovely celebration with it. There was a small feast – we needed to ratio food – but everyone in the village was there to celebrate the birth of mother’s spirit. It was absolutely lovely. Salgena didn’t really understand all of it yet. She was only still young. To be of 132 moons soon.  I understood the celebration more, having to go through it once before when the great Chief died when the snow had begun to fade and beauty was beginning to grow with crops and flowers. I had just passed my sixteenth year of life. So I did understand more.

Father also had another encounter with the white men. He told us that they spoke a funny language. One he could not comprehend. He heard words such as “Indians” and “savages”. I do not know what they mean, but I don’t like the sound of them. Maybe Chief Dagoné could tell me what they mean. He’s told many stories about the white men. I must be going. The night sun is out and much more things come with the new day.

                                                        Sangine.