Trail of Tears
It has now been 6 weeks since we have started traveling from Georgia. We, the Cherokee people, have not seen civilization for 3 days and my father is on the verge of dying. He caught diphtheria just last night. It is really cold. As I walk barefooted, I think of our old land and how they took it away. It's not fair we have never done anything wrong! Did we? I don't know. We must have if they are being so mean to us. They even called us one of the five civilized tribes. Doesn't that mean anything or is it just another name? Every second of our journey babies are crying and families are grieving over lost loved ones. Every stop we make there are 15-20 people buried.
We have not gotten fresh water for over a week now. I'm left protecting myself and the little one, finding food and water, and protecting our property. I guess that's it then, I'm going to die. I've just received news that my mother is pregnant. I will kill myself as soon as I get the chance. If you get lost all you have to do to find your way back is look for the blood stained snow and follow it. Some day I will get revenge! As I walk on I wonder, once we do get to the Mississippi, how will we or I cross to the other side. What is there for me in Indian Territory anyway? I'll just be alone fending for myself, and maybe even stealing to survive. Every now and again I step on a sharp rock or a twig. The snow stings my feet as I press on with the little tike in one arm and a backpack full of precious jewelry and inheritance in the other. The people that are paid to lead us to the Indian Territory are crooks.
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