20 November 2010

 

Patrick Butler, Under the Waterfall

 

    The Caddo’s once roamed in large numbers throughout Texas and Louisiana, this archeologist said, as kingly leaders of tribes.   Their mark in the part of the world known as “Tejas” meaning “friend”  was not made by war, though they could fight if need be. They were known as a tribe of peace, with keen diplomatic skills, bringing reconciliation between bands having trouble with one another.
   I spoke with McCrocklin in 2009 when he discovered that my wife,Janet was a Caddo registered with the tribe. McCrocklin, a World War II bombardier with the 456 Bomb Group, 744th Squadron based in Italy - had his nurse drive more than 100 miles, and met us. 
   “He just loves the Caddo,” she explained to me once here. “He has studied their language, made paintings of them, written about them.”
   And discovered the final village inhabited by Caddo in Northeast Texas before the remnants were swept away in the Trail of Tears. The "Trail," incidentally, lasted about 30 years and included many different tribes. 
  The surviving Caddo need enthusiastic champions like McCrocklin just now. Visiting the Trail of Healing meetings - the counterpart to the "Tears" - in Kiowa County, Oklahoma last week, I ran into Gerald Burton, Jay Swallow and Frank Noah who have interaction with dozens upon dozens of tribes.
  Asking about the Caddo, the men had puzzled looks on their faces.

 

  “I don’t know,” said Swallow, who relates to almost 300 tribes on a regular basis. “They are kind of hidden away. The last time I spoke with any of them was about two years ago. I think there is about 4,000 of them left.”
   Gerald Burton confirmed Swallow’s sentiment.
   “It’s difficult to say.  I don’t have much contact with them,” Burton said. “ They’ve had it kind of rough, I think. I mean, look, they’re from Texas. They fished and grew things. Once they got here (to Oklahoma) they were lost. It was new territory to everybody, but I think it was particularly hard on them.”
  Noah just shook his head.
  “No,” he said almost in wonderment, as if it had been many months since the name Caddo had even reached his ears. “I really don’t know what has happened to them.”
   Now if their fellow Native leaders are not aware of what is going on, how hidden is that?      

  Just think; a lost tribe of peaceful, diplomatic Native Americans, hidden even to those who are dedicated healing the wounds of the past and embracing the destinies of Indian peoples. That’s what the Trail of Healing meetings were all about and why Swallow, Noah and Burton showed up.  
    Is it possible the Caddo have learned something during their thousand-year reign of the Tejas – Texas – area that we could sorely use today?  Can it be they are inheritors of a gift that would strengthen us all?  Where are the men of peace that we need so sorely today.

    What makes the forgetfulness harder to swallow, is that Caddos didn’t fight European advancement. They did what they did best – made friends through diplomacy.  They were helpers, not hinderers. They were faithful to Europeans and trusted friends.

  I’m not here to dig up the past, but there is a long record of broken covenants between the Caddo and Europeans.  The worst result of any broken covenant is lost trust. Ask a divorced person, “Is it easy to trust the opposite sex afterward?”  Trust is a commodity desperately needed in America – and the world – right now.

  Remembering the Caddos is like remembering yourself.  It’s similar to “marriage” that means carefully nurturing the wife or husband because the two have become one. Remembering the high-profile anything – tribes, causes, countries, issues – is easy. But friends left behind makes a peculiar mark not easy to reconcile. It’s too easy to become hard, and that’s why the world is in the mess it is today. Hard hearts.

  May I request, where ever you are in the world, to find someone who has been forgotten and remember them? Even if just long enough to say a prayer, make recognition, or ask how they are?  LIfe becomes easier when you are remembered. Sometimes, forgotten people are living right next to us, or under our noses. 
    I asked Frank, Jay and Gerald to please remember the Caddo. They said they would.
    And just before I left Kiowa County the next day, Gerald called me over to his table.
     “We’re going to embrace the Caddo,” he said with a nod.  “We’re going to remember them.”
    “It shouldn’t be too hard,” beamed Mrs. Brown with a wonderful smile. “After all, we live in Caddo County.”

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