For Dad
The legend of
Tatanka Takoda began as many legends do with a stranger traveling
through a strange land.
William Bradford was
driving down a rural road in Lakota country when a tire on his
pick-up blew out. He pulled over and got out of the truck to replace
the tire with a spare when he spotted the remains of a wolf on the
road. He removed a shovel from the bed of his truck. He scraped the
young wolf’s remains from the road and apologized to the animal for
the selfishness and stupidity of the human that caused it’s demise.
Sitting Bull appeared to him as he tossed the animal’s remains
into the ditch and said, “Welcome home Tatanka Takoda. Our people
have been waiting for you.”
William looked at
the newcomer and then looked back at the dead wolf. He set the shovel
upright pushing the sharpened point of it into the ground and held it
there. “My name is William.” He said. “I have no people.”
“Your presence
is strong. Your spirit is Lakota. The people need your help.”
William looked at
the stranger standing before him. He looked like the pictures that
William had seen of Sitting Bull, the man spoke as he imagined
Sitting Bull would. Sitting Bull was dead. If it walks like a
duck and talks like a duck, he
thought to himself. “If
you are Sitting Bull then you are dead.”
“You are still talking with me.” Sitting Bull pointed out. “I
noticed your spirit when you entered the county and have followed you
many miles waiting for the opportunity to appear to you. If you stay
here other spirits will appear to you. Spirits who have lost their
way. Spirits that have grown restless and are looking for loved
ones. Many need a bit of company and a moment to see Mother in the
way that they remember her again.”
“I don’t talk much.” William said.
“You
are kind, patient, and have a presence that these spirits will come
to. There is an abandoned farm nearby. It was purchased by the
tribe when the previous owners left the area. The
fields are cared for but the house and gardens need someone. The
spirits will find you easily there. You are a man who cares for
others. Let me send you others to care for.”
William
looked at something above Sitting Bull’s head then, looked back at
him and nodded.
“Meet me in this spot with your things in two days.”
“Two days.” William answered. By the time he had changed his
tire, put away the damaged one along with his jack and tools William
was alone again. He got into his truck and drove away.
Two days later,
William returned in the pouring rain and sat. He waited. He watched
the rain, closed his eyes and listened to the rain. He looked at the
world around him and imagined what the land would look like when the
rains had stopped and the sun returned. He heard an audible thump as
a car raced past on the road behind him. He put on his hat, opened
the door to the truck, and got out. He made his way for the bed of
the pick-up and quietly retrieved his shovel from underneath a tarp.
He looked and listened for other cars before he stepped out on to the
road. He scooped up the dead possum with his shovel.
At least this
one didn’t suffer. William
thought to himself as he walked the possum to the ditch, said the
words and tossed the remains in.
“May you rest peacefully little one.” Sitting Bull said from
behind William’s left shoulder.
William turned and looked at Sitting Bull.
“Welcome my brother. Let me show you to your new home.”
Sitting Bull sat down on the passenger side of the truck and guided
William down one side road and up a lane. At the end of the lane was
a small house, cleared out farm land with woods skirting each field,
two abandoned chicken houses, an old barn, and an empty root cellar.
William thought that it was one of the most beautiful sights that he
had ever seen.
The house was simple but clean and in good repair. There was
running water, electricity, food in the pantry, and a few cooked
meals in the refrigerator. A note was set on the dining table with
a phone number listed.
“That is Roberta. She is a local historian and friend of the
tribe. She will help you settle in.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” William asked.
“I will be here today. I must travel this world in brief visits.
I will disappear with the sunrise. I will send many to welcome you.
Roberta will help you. Then the work will begin.”
That was how it went. Day after day, people stopped by. Sometimes
one or two, other times, several. These people introduced themselves
and said, “Welcome” or “Thank you for coming.” Many times,
they left food or other small gifts.
Roberta helped William learn who everyone was, who their ancestors
were, and showed him places of historical and spiritual
significance. William found work, settled into the small home, and
was happy. He was also restless. No spirits had visited. William
felt uncomfortable accepting so much from so many kind people without
giving anything in return. Roberta reassured him that his time
would come. His job was to continue getting to know his new home and
the people around him. William worked, took care of the house and the out
buildings, planted a garden, and tended the yard. He waited. One
summer afternoon while he was mowing the roof of the root cellar
visitors arrived in a truck. It was loaded with covers, pins,
ropes, pegs, poles, and a message, “Sitting Bull sent you this.”
He nodded, turned off the mower, and walked over to the pick-up to
help unload.
The tipi was set up on top of the root cellar. Sometimes William
sat in it and other times, outside it. He would admire it as he
worked outside. One afternoon, as he worked in the garden he looked
at the tipi and noticed a warrior was sitting next to it. The
warrior’s legs were crossed, eyes closed, his lips were moving as
if chanting in prayer. The warrior must have felt William looking at
him because his lips stopped moving and he opened his eyes.
William put down his tool, stood up, and slowly walked across the
yard to greet his first non-living visitor.
“Hau.” He said, squatting to face his visitor.
“Hau Tatanka Takoda.” The warrior greeted him in return. “You
made a face when I used your Lakota name. Do you not like it?”
“Names are a tool for identification.”
“There is some other reason I think.” The warrior teased.
“Sitting Bull is ‘Tatanka’. I don’t know what it means.”
“You are uncomfortable being regarded with great respect.”
William gave the warrior a nod.
“Tatanka means buffalo or bison. As you know the buffalo holds
great significance to us so it has been used for leaders. Sitting
Bull was a great leader. Takoda means friend to everyone. You hold
significance for the tribe because you are a friend to everyone, both
the living and the dead. Tatanka Takoda.”
William nodded. “Thank you. Now, what can I do to help you?”
He asked.
“You thought I was coming to you for help? Sitting Bull sent me.
He said that you needed help with something.” The warrior grinned.
William looked at the warrior without saying a word.
“I died suddenly in battle. As you can see I was very young. I
had no wife or children. No one here. I miss the sun, watching the
breeze blow through the trees. The smell of a fire.” The warrior
shared.
“You need company?” William asked.
The warrior nodded.
William looked around the yard. He spotted what was left of a tree.
The parts that were too small or damaged to salvage. “Do you see
that pile over there?” He asked and gestured to the pile with a nod
of his head.
“Yes.”
“I have to burn that on Saturday.”
“I
will return on Saturday.” The warrior announced. “Thank you
Tatanka Takoda. You have been most helpful.” He disappeared.
William
grinned, laughed for a minute, said, “I’ll be damned,” and
returned to his garden. Many
years have passed since he met that first warrior. As
the number of spirits he has helped grew so did his story. The tales
that are told go something like this:
If you go out to the edge of Lakota territory and travel down the
only side road, at the end of a lane there lies a farm. Tatanka
Takoda’s farm. On the night of the Harvest Moon all of the spirits
of all that Tatanka Takoda has helped appear. Human and animal
alike. They glow with stardust and light the fields as if it were
day.
Tatanka
Takoda has grown older. He is strong and healthy. He can work
longer and harder than men decades younger with little strain, which
has helped the legend grow. The number of visitors have increased.
Many non-Indians come now too. They wonder at his strength, health,
and patience in his advancing years. When they do a breeze
whispers, “Some journeys are longer than others. His is an
exceptional one.”