I am Cycuse

I am Cycuse

Copyright © 2022 by Steven F. Cramer

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Print ISBN: 978-1-66784-475-6

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66784-476-3

Printed in the United States of America on SFI Certified paper.

First Edition

Introduction

In the summer of 1853, two young, rambunctious Makah boys, about 8 and 10 summers old, wandered down the wet, gray, sandy beach of our Waadah Island. Waadah served as a natural breakwater to protect our village of Deah (Neah Bay) from the incessant pounding of the northwest Pacific seas. The young warriors had survived in the farthest reaches of the Pacific Northwest territories, in the colonies of the United States. It was wilderness indeed, but not to those two prophets.

The two young men wrestled like a pair of bear cubs while stopping occasionally to drag a crooked stick in the gray, moist sand. They carved unique designs representing nothing special. But those drawings belonged to them and so they meant something important. They smiled broadly as they admired their work and then started yet another drawing before the tide would dissolve their unique creativity. Their illusive designs would prove to be an omen undeniably. But they did not understand such things yet. They were just young optimistic Makah having a good time; innocently drawing their destiny in the sand.

The boys were supposed to be searching for the shrewd razor clam for their village of Bahaada. But they were young brave Makah warriors, and there would be plenty of time for clamming later. Their play was interrupted when the younger boy stopped and stared with his huge coal-black eyes at a giant cloud ship that was rounding our Cape Flattery. It headed straight for them as the ship thrust dramatically through the black Pacific waves toward the safety of our inlet at Deah. The young boys were mesmerized by the giant vessel as they stood frozen in the sand speechless. It could only belong to the Babalids (white men). But what did they want now?

The young boys could not have known about the toxic cargo aboard the Cynosure. Nor did they have any idea of the momentous role it would play in permanently changing the course of their fragile community and a life that they treasured.

The brig Cynosure, under the command of a Captain Fowler, left San Francisco and sailed north with stops along the west coast at Willapa Bay on the Columbia River and then at our village of Deah (Neah Bay).

The ship returned to Deah with two of our local tribal members from the Babalids’ village of San Francisco. That night our travelers visited enthusiastically with their relatives and friends and raved about all of the wonderful things they had seen in San Francisco. The Babalids had many things that we had never seen. Their stories went on long into the night.

But unfortunately for the unwitting interlopers, they would not live long enough to pass the information on to their children.

Within a few days, the relatives and friends of the Cynosure’s Makah passengers had gotten severely sick. They had fevers and muscle aches for three days before developing a rash all over their bodies. ALL over their bodies!

When they scratched the bumps on their bodies, they broke open, and contagious smallpox pus ran out onto their clothes and blankets. Our Shaman prayed and looked to the Great Chief for help but it was far too late. High fevers and convulsions then took over their failing bodies as they vomited and could not keep fluids or food down. The sores developed in their mouths and down their throats and death took two excruciating weeks.

My sister Huhuite and I were in Victoria when the first smallpox epidemic hit us. When we heard the news, we just held each other and cried. The premonition of our mother, Amoito, had come true. Seven years earlier, she had told us that she feared for our survival. We should leave Waatch and make new lives for ourselves.

We were both numb to our earth-walks now. We didn’t understand what was happening. Our Chiefs and Elders were dead, there was no one left to tell us what to do. We could sense the end of our people’s destiny and were desperate for our tribe. Our story as Makah was important and we deserved to survive.

I have passed my entire life story on to my great, great grandson to be told. But I must start at the beginning. I will tell you everything from the day I was born until the day I passed and walked back into the light of the Great Chief. All of my pain, loves, and adventures are here as well as insights into our ancient traditions and spirituality. Everything that I cherished and hated has been included. I spared nothing.

I will take you on exciting but tragic whale and seal hunts. We will trek throughout the majestic rain forests of the Pacific Northwest Olympic Peninsula exploring many of its secrets. We will visit the haunted caves of Cape Flattery as well as the sacred Hot Springs pools of the Sol Doc River. You will gather food with me and prepare it for the long winters of the Pacific Northwest.

And, I will describe how the Babalids systematically dismantled everything that we were. Diseases, treaties that took our land, and the Indian Boarding Schools designed to ...kill the Indian to save the man..., were just a few of their tools of destruction.

You will learn how the Black Robes (Missionaries) tried to forbid me from talking to my Spirit Guides. I would just shrug and say I was talking to their angels. It made no difference to me. I knew who I was.

I will tell you how we healed people with just the simplest things the Great Chief gave us through our earth-mother. The Babalids tried to stop that too. I imagine they still have no idea what Devil’s Club root actually is!

I will reveal the feelings I had when I descended into the darkest reaches of my soul. I hated things and people. I was not proud of those emotions. But I struggled back to complete my earth-walk and to be of service as the Great Chief destined me to do.

And finally, I will introduce you to many old interesting characters. These Spirit Guides in human form made my earth-walk tolerable. I know you will enjoy meeting them. They were very special souls.

So let us begin and I will tell you my story. I am Cycuse Amoito and this is my earth-walk.

The Main Cast of Characters

Cycuse ( Sy-coos) Amoito...you can’t miss me!

Mowato and Amoito...my parents who I loved dearly.

Huhuite Amoito...my little sister and a person I could not have made it without her love.

Wakineesh...my grandmother who taught me everything.

Cocohok and Kokeesa...my aunts who invariably got me out of trouble.

Chook and Mohek...the worlds bravest guard dogs.

Sebi...my best friend as I grew up.

Chenacaw...a wonderful village elder who did his best to manage the people of Waacht.

Surakquaw...a giant with the strength of a bear and heart of a deer. He was always around.

Howiak...a wonderful loyal young man who could not stop talking.

Misakess...an old chief you will love.

Kalchote...The son of Chief Misakess and a wonderful human being.

Medicine Bear...a physical and spiritual friend who comes and goes, you can’t miss him.

Silver Birch...a wise very old Spirit guide or tamanawas from the spirit world.

Teejuk...please pay attention to this one, he was extremely special.

Shabass...a slave woman who knew Teejuks secret.

Captain Peter Francis...young Pierre Marie Peron, watch this boy carefully.

EJ and Patrice Lawlus...hold your sides tight when you explore these two.

Captain Howie Pearson...a truly genuine man who commanded the Clipper ships.

First mate Pat Dooley...a tough little Irishman with the heart of an angel.

Giovanni Manocchio Manoc ...a Sicilian slice of life who smelled like garlic.

Jacque Lecuyer...a kind and gentle man that helped me the best he could.

William Billings...a very dark chapter in my life.

Karishma...a unique soul who saved me several times.

The Great Chief...he needs no introduction. The Babalids called him God.

Babalids and Bostons...the white men.

Washington Territory 1859

Preface

I am Cycuse Amoito’s great-great grandson and my name is not important. This story belongs to Cycuse and her alone.

I have felt for a long time that one of the joys during my earth-walk may be to communicate the story of Cycuse Amoito, a strong Makah woman. She struggled to survive in the early 19th century in the Pacific Northwest territory as the Babalids (white men) tried and succeeded to change her culture, history, and spiritual beliefs forever.

Strange as it may seem to most, I have communicated with Cycuse so that I could pass on her life story. That concept may be very simple to comprehend for some, but impossible for others. When I was made aware of this higher level of realization by a wise old friend who had studied native spirituality for decades, the story of Cycuse Amoito evolved instantly. I sensed it was always there, just waiting to happen.

So, this is the story of a strong Makah woman’s earth-walk as she recalled it and then transferred that information to me. Her adventures, loves and considerable pain are all here to witness and to perhaps learn from. She is a remarkable old spirit and has passed her story to me for you.

I am honored that you are spending some time with us. Her story may test some of your notions about all native tribe’s history during the 19th century. It may even uncover a few hard truths for you to examine, but hold on tight, observing her earth-walk in detail may be life-changing for you. It was for me.

Table of Contents

Part One

Chapter 1 Out from the Light

Chapter 2 The Medicine Bear

Chapter 3 I meet the Bear

Chapter 4 Potlatch

Chapter 5 I grow, learn, and prepare

Chapter 6 Traditions

Chapter 7 Salmon and Clams

Chapter 8 My first and only love

Chapter 9 Time to hunt Whale (Chet-a-pook)

Chapter 10 The hunters return

Chapter 11 My walk was bittersweet

Chapter 12 The Bear goes home

Chapter 13 Teejuks hunt

Chapter 14 The Magic Waters of the Sol Duc

Chapter 15 Dark Watchers

Chapter 16 My Family Grows

Chapter 17 Life goes on in Waatch

Chapter 18 Teejuk is tested

Chapter 19 We must be together

Chapter 20 Teejuk meets his destiny

Chapter 21 I knew how she felt

Part Two

Chapter 22 Old souls can cross at times

Chapter 23 I must go to sea

Chapter 24 Go west young Peter

Chapter 25 Young Peter sails again

Part Three

Chapter 26 The Seal hunts

Chapter 27 My best friend leaves

Chapter 28 I meet a remarkable old soul

Chapter 29 Vancouver Island calls

Chapter 30 I return to Victoria

Chapter 31 My darkest hour

Chapter 32 These people will not define me

Chapter 33 From deep pain came joy

Chapter 34 We must leave Victoria

Chapter 35 Celia Kyuquot Amoito

Chapter 36 I returned to Victoria

Chapter 37 Back to the light

Chapter 1

Out from the Light

It was about 1824, according to the Babalids (white man) calendar, in the remote Makah native village of Waatch (Wy-acht). My people lived in the far reaches of the inclement Pacific Northwest, in the Oregon country of the American States. Our land was being fought over by several of the Babalids countries. They were not invited, but they came anyway. The English, Spanish, and Americans fought over our land and the Russians came for otter skins. The Makah just tried to live in concert with the Great Chief; it was very, very hard during those times.

I existed in the light of the Great Chief; the Babalids called him God. It made no difference to my soul what they called him; I knew who I was. I was one with the Great Chief and we were completely inseparable. I would soon return to the Waatch village, as a strong Makah woman. I knew I would love, hate, cherish, and despise many things as I walked my path with the Great Chief at my side. Everything would be an incredible adventure, and I could not wait to begin the next step on my cosmic trek.

My father was a proud Makah whaler and my mother was a beautiful Klallam woman from a tribe located east of Waatch about two days’ canoe travel. Makahs were descendants of the Nuu-chah-nulth tribes and the Klallams were related to the Coastal Salish tribes. Both were from Vancouver Island, just across the Salish Sea (Straits of Juan de Fuca).

Our people had existed in perfect harmony with the Great Chief for well over 3800 summers (years). Makah were called many things by the Babalids (white men) who arrived in the late 18th century in search of sea otter skins, whale and seal oil, and our land. They called us Mak-kah and our brothers and sisters to the north on Vancouver Island called us Klas-set. Our brothers and sisters to the south as far as the Columbia River called us Kwe-net-sat’h. It meant Generous with Food. I knew exactly who we were. We were the people who live on a point of land projecting into the sea. We were the people of the sea and the seagulls.

There were five main villages left of our tribe—Bahaada (bi-ida), Deah (di-ya), Waatch (wy-acht), Soose (cu-yas), and Ozette (use-it). My village of Waatch was about five miles south of Deah on the west coast, just south of Cape Flattery and our island called Tatoosh. The Waatch River fed into the Pacific Ocean there and we had found a bountiful and safe place to build our longhouses.

Waatch meant build up cedar to make torch. We had about 350 village members who lived there then. At one time, we had many more. The Makah population numbered between 2000 and 4000. The Babalids’ diseases were slowly taking their toll.

My mother, Amoito, was originally from the Klallam tribe, married my father, Mowato, who was Makah and a skilled hunter and whaler. Amoito came from the Klallams with her mother, Wakineesh. Wakineesh was my grandmother, and she would teach me everything. This was the custom of our people. The knowledge of the earth lived and survived within our elders. The old people loved our children greatly and felt responsible for their education. That was the way it was then.

My family was well thought of because they worked hard every day to help provide for the village. Waatch was a good place to live. We felt safe and food from the sea was plentiful. The Great Chief and our Spirit Guides (tamanawas) watched out for our well-being every day.

My Spirit Guide was Silver Birch, who returned to watch over me during my stay this time. He was wise from many earth-walks and offered to return with me to be of service once again. Silver Birch told me I would have a full life with great joy and great sorrow and when I had completed my earth-walk, I would be a much stronger soul. The Great Chief would never give me more problems than I could handle which comforted me greatly and I never forgot.

Our village had nine longhouses that were about 70 feet by 50 feet in Babalids’ terms. They had dirt floors and a structure of poles held together with cedar strips. Cedar did not stretch when it got wet and it rained a lot in Waatch. Covering the roof and sides of the pole structure were hand split cedar interlocking planks. We placed them in such a manner that the perpetual Cape rain drained off onto the ground. Troughs carved from old whale bones and cedar logs, moved the water away from the lodges back to the Waatch River where it would begin its journey again. We separated the roof boards to allow the smoke from our many family fires to escape. We knew exactly what to do; we were Makah.

When it was time for my arrival, my mother was prepared. She had helped with many births, as had her mother Wakineesh and sisters Cocohok and Kokeesa. We were a family, and we knew what to do. My arrival was a blessed event.

My mother had also respected our tradition to never look at an octopus during her pregnancy, as that could cause me to be deformed. I was to be called Cycuse, and I was a unique person to love and respect, as I would do in return. It was now my time to return to physical form and walk my path that the Great Chief had destined.

My mother had known for many days that I was coming soon. She prepared by making a special place in the longhouse’s corner where I would be born. Mats made of woven cedar bark had been hung to create a private space where she, her mother and sisters would wait for my birth. My mother had been chewing Purple Violet root, which would help with the pain of the delivery. Many mothers also drank Yarrow Leaf tea, which helped with healing. Everyone expected women to be back to work within a day or two at most.

It was now time for my arrival. My mother walked tenderly to her corner of our longhouse with her mother and the family helpers. She instinctively knew I was about to arrive as she squatted over a birthing mat made of soft, pounded, yellow cedar bark and bit down hard on a spruce root. She held onto a wooden bar over the birthing area, as Cocohok, Kokeesa, and Wakineesh supported her, and rubbed her back. They sang softly to her Spirit Guide (tamanawas), who was always guiding her, and waited for my arrival. They were incredible support to my mother. That was what Makah women did.

I was still waiting in the light with the Great Chief when Silver Birch gently took my hand,

It is time, little Cycuse. Let us begin your next divine adventure.

I was beautiful, loving, brave, and ready for my earth-walk.

My family shouted with joy as I dropped gently onto the soft mat. Wakineesh lifted me by my feet and cut my cord connecting me with my mother. I gasped for air and screamed.

I am here and I have much to do!

Wakineesh passed me to my aunt Cocohok, who was ready to wash me, as Kokeesa helped my mother complete the birthing process. My mother was fine as she cried with joy and then laid down on her mat, exhausted. They quickly washed me in urine and then warm water. The urine worked like soap because of the alkalinity, and the warm water rinsed me clean. We also used leaves from a plant called Mock Orange to wash our hair. They massaged me with whale oil, and I was then ready to meet my father.

My father, Mowato, had been working all day on a new cedar canoe for whale hunts. Makah carved few canoes ourselves because the best red cedar came from trees further north on the rainy west coast of Vancouver Island. We traded for many of our canoes. Every so often, an adequate cedar log would wash ashore and then we could carve our own. It was vital to keep this Makah tradition alive.

My father’s best friend Surakquaw (Sura-caw) had been keeping him company as they worked and waited patiently for my arrival. They considered Surakquaw a giant in our village. Most men stood about one arm stretch (5 feet 5 inches), but Surakquaw was well over 6 feet tall and towered above the rest of the men in our village. He was huge and strong as a bear, but he had the heart of a deer and would do anything for my father.

As soon as they cleaned me up, they summoned our village elder Chenacaw (Chen-a-caw). He stood blocking all light coming from the doorway to our longhouse, with his hands on his hips, as glared at me with his coal-black eyes. Chenacaw was not a Chief yet. The position of village Chief was passed down from father to son. Chenacaw was not that fortunate. He was now collecting enough wealth to become a Chief.

He thrust his prominent chin forward toward my mother and barked in Makah, Who is this gift from the Great Chief?

My mother, weak from the delivery, pushed herself up on one arm and with a proud smile on her face said, She is Cycuse, and she is perfect.

His regal, weathered face almost showed a slight, extremely rare smile. He then turned like a bear and stormed out to advise my father that he may now meet his daughter.

Mowato and Surakquaw were using an adze to shape the interior of the hunting canoe after they had burned away just the proper amount of cedar. Since they would use the canoe for hunting whales (Chet-a-pook), it must hold a crew of eight. It was just over five arm stretches (30 feet) in length and was being carved from a single western red cedar tree. They knew exactly what to do, having been trained by their fathers. They stopped work as the crusty old Chenacaw burst into the canoe shed displaying the authority and dignity of a senior elder from Waatch.

Mowato, stop what you are doing and follow me, the Great Chief has given you a gift of unspeakable value. You come now, but Surakquaw, you must stay here and work!

My father immediately rose as instructed and followed Chenacaw from the shed. As he left, he glanced back at Surakquaw, who was smiling as he rolled his eyes to the sky, shaking his head.

I sensed my father standing next to me as he gazed down through the blue smokey haze of the longhouse and gently touched my forehead. My mother was now up and feeling better and was holding me. They wrapped me in a soft woven blanket made from Salish Wooley Dog hair and crushed yellow cedar bark. She lifted me proudly to my father.

This is our daughter, Cycuse, and she is perfect.

He cradled me in his arms and sang an old Makah song that his mother and father had sung to him. I felt love and warmth and I knew I was on my way to many new adventures during my earth-walk. I also sensed my tamanawas, Silver Birch, standing next to my father. He looked as proud as Mowato.

Once again, Chenacaw blocked the dim light streaking from the longhouse doorway. He had gone back to his lodge and dressed properly for the occasion of meeting the latest member of our village. He wore a ceremonial hat made of woven cedar bark with a bulbous top signifying his status as a seasoned whaler. Beneath that, he had applied streaks of red and black paint to his weather-beaten face, which were the colors of our Makah tribe. A scar ran across his face over the bridge of his nose, the mark of a great whaler. Long earrings made of bone and dentalium shells hung down, just touching an imposing bearskin vest trimmed with sea otter fur. He wore a Salish Wooley dog hair blanket around his waist as a skirt, held in place with a belt made from dried whale sinew decorated with shells and bone carvings. His feet were bare and looked as if they had walked thousands of miles. He was a sight to be seen, and a man who commanded respect.

I have come to see Cycuse, daughter of Mowato and Amoito. Bring this gift forward to me now.

My grandmother Wakineesh, the senior member of my mother’s birthing family, rose and brought me forward as if offering a gift to a god.

Chenacaw looked down his nose at me and gave me a passing sniff, as if he was checking a hunk of seal meat for freshness. He then looked long and hard at Mowato and Amoito and gazed upward, watching the smoke from the perpetual lodge fires billow through the holes in the longhouse ceiling. He gathered his thoughts and then spoke with genuine love in his voice.

You have brought honor to the Makah people of Waatch. You should be proud of this gift. The Makah people will love and protect Cycuse, as she is now one of us. Let no one harm this gift! I shall send word to Ozette for the Shaman Medicine Bear. He shall come to bless our newcomer to ensure she is protected forever.

He then turned and stormed from our longhouse like a bear. After he left, there was a collective sigh of relief from the rest of our longhouse extended family. But I only sensed unconditional love from the elder Chenacaw.

That night, my father Mowato, took me to the beach to show me my first sunset. It was the best part of the day. He lifted me high so all the universe could see me and then gave thanks to the Great Chief once again.

I was Cycuse, and I was a strong Makah woman. I was here and I would be someone important.

Chapter 2

The Medicine Bear

I remember well my first sensory impressions of my beautiful home of Waatch as if it were yesterday. My grandmother wrapped me on a paddle board that was worn on my mother’s back while she continued to do her daily chores. I continued to grow and observe everything. When I was not packed around by my mother, when she had to leave the longhouse to gather food and firewood, I was rocked in a cradle by anyone handy. Someone constantly swung my cradle while I slept. If a spare hand was not available, they looped a rope over a pole in the longhouse and then attached it to my mother’s foot. She rocked me by pulling on the rope with her foot. This allowed her to weave baskets, prepare meals, and continue with her duties while I napped in great comfort.

Every morning they washed me in urine, since we did not have soap. Then they rinsed me with warm water and rubbed me down with whale oil. They put me back into the paddle board and tucked me in with leather thongs for security. They changed me enough times each day to remain comfortable. My brother babies had a better design for their paddle boards. A small hole was cut out of the soft leather for their penis (chewar), reducing the number of changings each day. My diapers were made of yellow cedar bark, pounded soft and woven.

Some tribes had a tradition of flattening the foreheads of babies as a mark of regal honor. Soon after birth, they placed a soft leather cap against the baby’s head, then tied it to the paddle board. Over time, pressure was gradually increased, causing the baby’s forehead to be flattened. We did not practice that tradition which made me happy. I was beautiful just the way the Great Chief made me.

After a few days, my mother took me outside to experience this wonderful world that the Great Chief gifted to us. I tasted the salt and kelp fragrance of the sea and felt the cold, wet sand with my toes as a cool breeze from the Pacific blew in my face. I marveled at the musical sounds of seagulls, sandpipers, and other sea birds whirling overhead. I knew these were my friends on this earth-walk.

Welcome to our wonderful world, Cycuse. We are glad you are here.

It was time to meet our Shaman, the Medicine Bear. My Spirit Guide, Silver Birch, had spoken to me and said I was in for an amazing experience. Chenacaw sent a canoe with his young trusted warrior, Howiak, along with two slaves, to our southern village of Ozette. They would formally invite the Medicine Bear to Waatch to meet me.

The official Waatch canoe with Howiak in command arrived safely at our thriving village of Ozette, just 12 miles south down the coast. As they approached the beach, they held their paddles upright for everyone on the beach to see as our traditional sign of peace.

The original Ozette village was home to our ancestors for well over 3800 summers. However, about 450 summers ago, a great flood destroyed Ozette. According to legend, this happened because the Thunderbird (T-hlu-kluts) was displeased with us.

The Legend of the Thunderbird

Thunderbird was so angry one time he sent the ocean over the land. When the water reached the village of Ozette, the people got into their canoes. For four days, the water continued to rise. At last, it covered even the tops of the mountains. The boats were carried this way and that by the waves. The people could not guide them, for there was no sun and no land. Then the water went down. For four days, it receded. By that time, the people were scattered. Some canoes landed along the HOH River. So those people settled there. Others landed at Chemakum, on the other side of the mountains. They’ve lived there ever since. Only a few found their way back to Ozette and the Quillayute River.

Young Howiak acted as an official representative for Chenacaw. The young warrior had rehearsed the invitation for Medicine Bear and made sure it was flawless. Chenacaw wanted the invitation to go smoothly. Howiak’s hands were sweating as he approached Chief Misakess of the Ozette village and announced my birth.

The Chief was an imposing figure and wore the traditional attire befitting a man of his position. But the other man with him wore a curious headdress made from the head of a black bear, along with earrings crafted from dentalium and abalone shell. He sat with his face tilted down slightly toward a fire, as if he was in meditation. It was dark now, and the dress of the bear man was very imposing.

"This is Medicine Bear, the Shaman of the Makah people. He is now our Shaman after many years of honor as a great warrior. He counsels with his tamanawas and guides our people in the ways of the Great Chief."

Howiak stared in amazement as the man called Medicine Bear raised his head into the dim, smoky light coming from the lodge fires. There was something distinctive about this man. Then Howiak saw what was unique. Medicine Bear’s eyes were cobalt-blue and his skin was not the typical dark brown leather from many years in the elements. His skin was light, and he had a kind and understanding face. The legends of his life as a warrior could not be true! This was a man of peace. The Bear’s gaze grasped Howiak and held him as if in a trance, as the old Chief just smiled thoughtfully.

"Medicine Bear has counseled with his tamanawas, Silver Birch, and he will travel with you tomorrow to Waatch to bless baby Cycuse. He has already spoken with the spirit of this child and she is a very special soul. Sleep now and rest and then leave in the morning."

The next morning Howiak, Medicine Bear and the two slaves caught the outgoing tide and launched the canoe for the 12-mile trip back up the coast to Waatch. They hoisted a small woven cedar bark sail to help with the current and save their energy. Their canoe bobbed along in the whitecaps as a trailing breeze pushed them northward. About 30 minutes into the trip, the wind changed, and the seas became rough. The waves drenched the crew, requiring one slave to drop his paddle and bail water using a wooden bailer. Howiak dropped the sail quickly while the two slaves paddled as fast as they could to steady the canoe and keep it from capsizing. The going was rough and Howiak considered heading back to shore, but then the rolling waves subsided, and they continued.

Throughout the voyage, the Medicine Bear stood in the canoe’s bow, with arms folded, only occasionally wiping the salty Pacific spray from his gentle face. Several times Howiak had gotten excited and screamed at the slaves. He knew he had a very special guest on board and did not want to feel the wrath of Chenacaw if anything were to go wrong. However, each time his voice peaked, screaming another command, Medicine Bear turned and smiled while holding out a reassuring hand.

Patience, my little brother, we are doing fine, all will work out.

As they passed Shi Shi (Shy Shy) point and approached our Makah Bay, the wind dropped. They turned the corner by Little Tatoosh Island and could hear the Wooley Salish dogs barking and running up and down the beach, expecting to be fed. We had many Wooley Salish dogs on these small islands to keep them pure bred and cold. They would grow long, white fur coats. Our young warriors paddled their small canoes out to the island each day and fed them dried salmon. This was a job for boys preparing to become men to prove themselves worthy of hunting whale. Feeding dogs was not for warriors.

Howiak had intimate knowledge of that assignment. The fur from these dogs was used to weave into blankets and was considered some of the softest available. Sometimes it was woven with feathers, goat hair, and pounded cedar bark.

The crew finally traversed the rolling surf of Makah Bay and beached the canoe at Waatch, stern first with great precision. Howiak finally relaxed like a hair seal basking on a rock in August. A very rare occurrence.

Meanwhile, Chenacaw had met earlier in the day with Mowato, Surakquaw, and many of the younger men in the village, to tell them the romantic legend of the Medicine Bear. They sat quietly by a fire on the beach and listened.

"Our people lived in harmony with our earth-mother for centuries, but about 36 summers ago (1788), we met our first Babalids (white men), who arrived on a giant cloud ship. They brought many new things to trade, and many were good. But they also brought many bad things, and our way of life changed forever.

"The Babalids brought muskets, iron, steel, blankets, and beautiful beads we had never seen before. They also brought whiskey. They called it Grog or rum and when our people drank it, they became crazy and sick. The Babalids laughed at us as we stumbled around like fools. When they had traded for all the otter furs, seal and whale oil we had, they then turned to our women. They took many of our mothers and daughters without romance. They poisoned our blood! Medicine Bear’s mother was one of those women. His blood was not pure and his eyes were blue.

"Medicine Bear was treated as a slave as he grew up, but he worked hard to support his village. He was bright, talented, and had many skills. When he was 14 summers old, he asked to prove his manhood to be worthy of hunting whales and seal. Chief Misakess agreed to the test. Medicine Bear, armed only with a knife, was to spend one moon (30 days) in the mountains to find his Spirit Guide (tamanawas). He was to learn who he would become.

"It was two moons past the last salmon run and the weather was turning cold. He relished the challenge and left the village. The young optimistic warrior trekked east into the mountains. Thirty suns passed and then forty and finally he slogged back up the beach dragging a skid made from cedar branches. He wore a cedar bark skirt and bearskin vest, and something very strange topped his head. As he got closer, Chief Misakess, walked to meet him along with half of our Ozette village.

"Standing before the Chief was the young slave with the head of a black bear fashioned into a headdress on his head and peering out from under it were those steel-blue eyes. He was tanned and his muscles glistened in the evening light. He had his knife, a bow and arrow, and a lance with elk bone tip. In the cedar skid, he dragged the carcass of the bear, a small seal, clams, and mussels.

"He stopped just short of his Chief, and said, ‘I am now Medicine Bear and I am Makah’. Chief Misakess just stared at him with a blank face, shrugged his broad shoulders and turned to walk back to his lodge. He walked about ten paces in the sand and then turned back to the sea and gazed at the surf as he paused and then said, ‘Medicine Bear is now Makah. Prepare to celebrate’.

"They honored Medicine Bear for two days and two nights with gifts, singing, dancing, and eating. Medicine Bear would never again lower his blue eyes when a birth-member of the Makah tribe passed by. He was now Makah. He belonged to us!

"Medicine Bear continued his work in his village and earned a spot on the whaling canoe and became the best harpooner in very short order. His hunting skills with a bow, arrows, and spear were legendary and life was good for the Medicine Bear.

"The Makah and our neighboring tribe, the Elwha, have a turbulent history. After years of insults, we sent out two raiding parties to extract revenge for the murder of one of our tribe members by the Elwha. Medicine Bear led the raid and was joined by six of our finest warriors.

"The attack on the Elwha was to take maybe two days. No one from the raiding party returned on the second day. On the third day, a solitary black-and-red war canoe with only one man in it drifted slowly into our bay. Our villagers ran to the beach to find the Medicine Bear by himself, severely wounded and with no one else from the raiding party around. As the elders ran into the surf to help with the canoe, they jumped back in horror. There in the canoe was the Medicine Bear with two severed heads of the Elwha warriors. Medicine Bear leaned forward and whispered through blood-splattered lips to his Chief, ‘These brave warriors have paid their debt with honor and I will never kill again. I have counseled with Silver Birch and I am finished. I am no longer a savage!’

The Bear had separated those heads from their bodies so that their ghosts could not see their way back, and could not return to exact revenge on our people. From that day on, Medicine Bear has been a man of peace and the Shaman of our people.

The group of young warriors rolled back from the fire after the completion of the story. They looked passionately at each other with inquisitive faces. They would understand some day what Chenacaw had just passed on. Or maybe not.

For now, I was Cycuse, a strong Makah woman about to meet the Bear.

Chapter 3

I meet the Bear

The Medicine Bear jumped out of the black-and-red canoe and onto the beach like a great blue heron landing gently on a lily pad. The entire village was now on the beach whispering to each other, since they had waited for two days to see the savage-turned-holy man. Everyone wondered what he would be like. Should they be afraid? Was it true that he had decapitated his enemies? Should they leave their children in the safety of the longhouses?

He did not wear his imposing black bear head dress but only a traditional cedar bark woven hat with the whaler’s bulge on top. Those hats were to be worn only by the greatest whalers. His weather-beaten face displayed the telltale whaler’s scar across the bridge of his nose and extending over his high cheekbones.

The children of Waatch looked for the Bear’s infamous headdress, but the Shaman only wore that for very special occasions. He didn’t carry a knife or weapon of any kind, but only a simple wooden flute tucked into his sealskin belt. He was not the imposing figure everyone had expected. But his penetrating sky-blue eyes spoke of many interesting earth-walks.

Our villagers separated as our elder Chenacaw strutted forward to receive the Medicine Bear. Chenacaw spoke with as much bravado as he could muster, while folding his muscular arms over his barrel chest.

Medicine Bear, Shaman of the Makah people, I welcome you to Waatch and thank you for coming to honor our people and to bless the child Cycuse.

Chenacaw glanced toward Howiak, who stood to the side kicking the gray sand with his foot. Then he continued with an icy edge, I trust your trip was safe and uneventful? Howiak stared at the sky, trying to avoid Chenacaw’s piercing black eyes.

Medicine Bear then began to speak as the villagers stopped talking in unison and listened intently, Chenacaw, your warm welcome is most appreciated and it is my honor to be of service to you and our people. I look forward to meeting the new young Cycuse and to begin her education on the many wonderful things the Great Chief has given her.

Chenacaw smiled as he gazed left and right for glances of approval from the villagers. He was in his element and relished every moment.

Then it is time for potlatch. Mowato will host this ritual in honor of his daughter, Cycuse, he proclaimed as the entire village shrieked and howled.

The singing, dancing, and eating would begin in two days and continue for 3 days and 3 nights. I slept through the whole thing, but I heard many years later it was a splendid party!

A little later in the day, a small circle of elders and young aspiring whalers gathered in Chenacaw’s lodge to listen to stories of adventure from the Medicine Bear. They all sat around a crackling fire on the dirt floor and waited patiently. The anxious young men sat silently and fidgeted as they waited to hear the details of the infamous Elwha raid.

One young, strong whaler who had been gazing with admiration at the Medicine Bear all night, received a brief glance of approval from Chenacaw and respectfully asked about the raid.

Medicine Bear, composed and thoughtful as always, peered through the blue flickering light, deep into the young man’s black eyes and spoke, "My wonderful little brother, it makes no difference what I did in the past or what I might do in the future. It only matters what I do now. Do not dwell on my savagery in the past, for you will learn nothing. Focus on what I say and do now. Be present only in the now, for that is your destiny. Embrace it every day, every hour, and every minute. The Great Chief walks with you there tonight. Do this and counsel with your tamanawas and your earth-walk shall be bountiful."

The young warrior looked around at the faces in the group for just a glimmer of understanding of what the Bear had just said, but all he got were shrugs and rolling eyes. The Bear smiled as he had accomplished what he wanted. He had ignited an ember of curiosity in the young men. One that would serve them well if they thought about his metaphor.

It was very late when the circle of admirers drifted off to sleep. The Medicine Bear could not sleep. He had not slept well since the Elwha raid, and tonight would be no different. The old Shaman slipped silently out of the longhouse. None of his admirers heard the slightest sound as they snored and dreamed of adventures like the Bear’s. He took his faded gray wooden flute and walked to the beach where a bright full moon beamed proudly to define the seaweed-covered rocks of Makah Bay. He took a seat on an old piece of bleached driftwood and entered a deep meditative state. Tranquility refreshed his tired old body as he focused intently on each breath he took.

When he had centered his thoughts, he raised his seasoned, old flute to the sky in honor of the Great Chief, Silver Birch, and the men he had killed on the Elwha raid. He played as he felt serenity returning to the