Post by Okwes on Nov 14, 2008 12:44:34 GMT -5
Corn Comes To The Wampanoag
Mon-do-min, an old and lame hunter, sat hopeless in his
wigwam and listened to Ke-che-No-din the Storm Wind roar outside. Ke-che-No-din was very angry and had
raged for a long time. Mon-do-min
had not eaten in many days and was growing weak. At last he turned to the Great Spirit. “Send me help from your home in the
heavens,” he prayed. A few minutes
later there was fluttering overhead and a partridge fell through the smoke
hole. Mon-do-min stoked up the
fire and prepared to cook the bird.
Suddenly, in a moment when the Wind paused, he heard
crying outside. A woman lost in
the storm was crouching near his wigwam. Mon-do-min brought her in and settled her near the fire. But she could not stop trembling –
clearly she needed food to warm herself. Mon-do-min gave her his partridge, and after eating it she fell into a
restful sleep. In the morning she
awoke in good health. But she
found Mon-do-min lying dead on the floor -- He had surrendered his chance for
life to aid her.
The woman ran out and told the Wampanoag chiefs, and they
had Mon-do-min on the bank of the Nemaskets River near his tipi.
When the Moon of Leaves came and all the plants sprang
back to life, the Wampanoag saw that Mon-do-min’s grave was covered with a
vigorous broadleaved grass. “What
is this?” they asked, and in answer the Great Spirit spoke from a cloud above.
“My children, these shoots shall ripen into seeds and
bring you a generous new food. Call it Mon-do-min in memory of that fine man’s generosity to the cold
and hungry. From now on the
Wampanoag must tell his story to your children, and to their children, whenever
they see these green shoots waving along the edge of Lake Assawompset and the
Nemaskets River.”
The Wampanoag have done so ever since.
Mon-do-min, an old and lame hunter, sat hopeless in his
wigwam and listened to Ke-che-No-din the Storm Wind roar outside. Ke-che-No-din was very angry and had
raged for a long time. Mon-do-min
had not eaten in many days and was growing weak. At last he turned to the Great Spirit. “Send me help from your home in the
heavens,” he prayed. A few minutes
later there was fluttering overhead and a partridge fell through the smoke
hole. Mon-do-min stoked up the
fire and prepared to cook the bird.
Suddenly, in a moment when the Wind paused, he heard
crying outside. A woman lost in
the storm was crouching near his wigwam. Mon-do-min brought her in and settled her near the fire. But she could not stop trembling –
clearly she needed food to warm herself. Mon-do-min gave her his partridge, and after eating it she fell into a
restful sleep. In the morning she
awoke in good health. But she
found Mon-do-min lying dead on the floor -- He had surrendered his chance for
life to aid her.
The woman ran out and told the Wampanoag chiefs, and they
had Mon-do-min on the bank of the Nemaskets River near his tipi.
When the Moon of Leaves came and all the plants sprang
back to life, the Wampanoag saw that Mon-do-min’s grave was covered with a
vigorous broadleaved grass. “What
is this?” they asked, and in answer the Great Spirit spoke from a cloud above.
“My children, these shoots shall ripen into seeds and
bring you a generous new food. Call it Mon-do-min in memory of that fine man’s generosity to the cold
and hungry. From now on the
Wampanoag must tell his story to your children, and to their children, whenever
they see these green shoots waving along the edge of Lake Assawompset and the
Nemaskets River.”
The Wampanoag have done so ever since.