Forever Failure Essay, Research Paper
Everything was peaceful in my Haudenosaunee village. There were some disputes on land from time to time with other villages, but they were never as greedy as these white bearded monsters. They not only took away our homes, but also the land of our ancestors. I am one of the last ones who survived from their attacks for I led the back up warriors. Not one person from my tribe was able to defend themselves from the white men’s gun, not even my father, Mountain-Lion, the bravest worrier of our village was able to survive. This was all a nightmare for me, a nightmare in which I would never wake up from…
These white men had already killed more than half of our bravest worriers. As the son of the courageous warrior, I must lead the rest of the 20,000 men for an attack against the French and Algonquins. I still remember the night before the attack. I sat in my longhouse for a long time. There was so much that I wanted to say, but just not enough time to say them all. Nevertheless, the silence remained, except for a few soft noise of my wife crying. It was hard to believe that two weeks ago, I had believed that I would live happily ever after with my wife. I could give up anything to go back in time and share those brief happy moments with my wife again. I held my tears back as I may not be able to grow old with my wife. I wouldn’t be able to make her smile when she’s sad, or look after her when she is sick.
But in the longhouse I sat till dawn, until my wife, Pink Butterfly helped my dress for my battle. She tied a piece of soft leather around my waist, tied a knife around my leg, and lastly, braided my hair again and tied a large colorful feather around my head. She kissed me gently on my forehead and turned away. The touch of her soft lips made me want to cry, but I knew better. An Indian brave must never shed a tear, I am no longer the Little Bull I was two weeks ago. Now I must lead my people to fight the evil spirits of the White men. The fates of the entire village were in my hands. For a defeat would mean the end of my tribe.
I took my spear and charged out of my longhouse. Outside of my house were the 20,000 men, waiting to take revenge on the white men. Each of them was willing to sacrifice for the homes and families. Just as I was about to leave, my mother ran out of the longhouse and handed me what my father had once used, a bow and a quiver full of arrows. “Your Papa would have been proud of you, but you know you don’t have to do this,” her voice trembled as she spoke. There was a pause as I took one last look at my Mama, her eyes were swollen weeping all night for me. Her face pale, and her hands shaking. She looked so fragile. “Mama, no matter what happens, I will always be Mama’s boy. Don’t cry Mama, I will never leave your side again, I will look over you and protect you for always,” I could feel my tears in my eyes, nothing could stop them from bursting out, for I did not know if this departure meant forever.
Along with the rest of the warriors, we walked towards the White men’s camp. We were about 200 yards from their camp when we heard a few gunshots. The White men had already seen us, and were ready for the battle. I looked at their side, and saw that they were clearly out numbered. There were only about 200 of them. So I charged towards them, I took an arrow out from the quiver, attached it to the bow, and slowly pulled the string towards my chin. I closed one of my eye to aim at a White man that was running towards us, and as if I knew this was the end, flashbacks of Papa, Mama and Pink Butterfly filled my head. And I said to myself, I must not die for there are many still waiting for me. At the same second, there were about 100 gunshots coming from their side. And one of the metal balls hit me. I had lost in the beginning of the battle. The little metal ball hit the side of my stomach. I fell off my horse and everything was a blur. Was this the end? Must Indians always be defeated?