Andrea L. Rogers - Mary and the Trail of Tears: A Cherokee Removal Survival Story

The weather was hot and dry. Too hot to cook or work inside.

Mary, no crop is more important to the Cherokees than corn, my older sister Margaret said. She was in charge of cooking dinner. She stirred dried corn and meat in an iron pot over the fire.

Margaret was only a few years older than me, but she talked like she thought she was an .

My grandma actually was an elder. She sat near us beading. For months she had been working on a beautiful . In the shade of a large oak, we all worked at different tasks.

I had a to finish. I was making a small one from splints of white oak. If all went well, it would fit me or my little sister, Becky.

Farther from the house, Mama and Becky worked in the garden. The corn was as tall as little Becky. She disappeared between the rows. She picked bugs off the stalks and fed them to her pet duck, Kawonu. Even though her duck could walk, Becky carried him everywhere. Kawonu didnt mind.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve. The shade from the tree helped a little. I was glad I didnt have to cook.

I hadnt worked on my basket in a while. I had soaked it in water to make it flexible. Now, as I pulled and pushed on the wooden splints, my fingers grew tender.

Mary, do you think those sides are curved enough? Margaret asked.

I frowned. I didnt want to remove its top rows, so I stretched the sides out a bit. Instead of answering Margarets question, I tried to change the subject. I wanted to be done with that basket. Do you think well have to move west of the Mississippi? I asked. Thats over a thousand miles away.

Margaret took longer to answer than I expected. Finally, she said, Well, something has to change. We Cherokees have no rights in the state of Georgia. White men come in and steal, and we cant speak against them in court. Now the state of Georgia wants to divide our land into sections for white citizens, many of them want more land than they need.

But its illegal for a Cherokee to sell land! It says so in our constitution, I said. The Cherokee Constitution said that the land belonged to all of the Cherokee people. Taking more than you needed to live on was considered greedy.

Margaret nodded. The penalty is death.

I had never heard Margaret talk like this. It frightened me. I turned to ask Grandma what she thought.

She had been sewing colorful glass beads into spirals and flowers on dark blue wool cloth earlier. Now, her hands were still, and her eyes were closed. She didnt look her usual energetic self. I got up, happy to put my basket down. I rubbed my sore fingers together.

Grandma, can I get you anything? I asked.

Grandma opened her eyes and nodded. Can you bring me some cool water from the spring? she replied.

I nodded. The spring-fed creek was just behind the cabin I lived in with my parents and sisters.

Over the years, the Cherokee community had helped my family build three log homes near one another. When everyone works together, it is called gadugi. We participated in gadugi when we helped other families too. Older people could count on the gadugi to help them with their personal gardens. In the summer, we would help harvest the corn in the larger fields. The labor of many people made hard tasks easier.

Nelly, my oldest sister, lived in the newest cabin. Two years ago, she had married Raven. He was a young Cherokee man who wore his hair long and neatly braided. Nelly was going to have her first baby this year. I smiled, thinking about the baby that was coming in the fall.

At the creek, I filled a bucket with cold, clear water. Even when there was very little rain, the creek was full. I gathered water for myself with a dipper gourd and drank mightily.

Got a drink for an old man? Grandpa called as he came out of the woods, holding several rabbits he had hunted.

I filled the gourd and leaped over the creek, then handed him the gourd.

Grandpa took a big drink. Nothing tastes better than the water here, dont you think?

Definitely, Grandpa.

Your daddy and Raven back yet? he asked.

No.

I hear New Echota is full of troops and almost empty of Cherokees, Grandpa said.

Until a few years ago, New Echota had been our capital. It had housed a newspaper, the Cherokee Supreme Court, the Council house, a school, stores, and houses laid out in a grid system. Margaret often told me, Its the center of our nation. Like Athens was for the Greeks.

Jenny and her family left New Echota a while back. Before General Scott got to Fort Wool, I said.

Jenny was Ravens niece, the daughter of his sister, Charlotte. She was also my best friend. I hadnt seen much of her since the soldiers invaded our land, and I missed her and her little brother, Steven.

Grandpa thought for a minute. Yes, Raven said his sister had gone back to their mothers home. I never thought Id live to see so much cruelty. New roads, forts, and built all over Cherokee land, he said as he stared past me.

I looked around too. I saw our cabins and the land in a way I hadnt before. Behind me were the woods. How many times had I gone there with Grandma to gather plants? The provided food and medicine we couldnt grow in the garden. The woods were home to the deer and bears and rabbits we hunted. Moms brother, Uncle Rock, had taken me and my sisters to hunt there before he and his wife had moved west.

Mamas family had lived on this land for a long time. Our kin were buried near the woods behind our home. Relatives gone long before I was born lay next to children who hadnt lived long enough for me to get to know as my brothers and sisters and cousins.

As Grandpa walked toward the house, I remembered what I wanted to tell him. I dont think Grandma is feeling well. She asked me to get her some water.

Well, its hot, Grandpa said, nodding. He handed me the rabbits. Take these to the . He picked up the water bucket and walked toward Grandma as I went to the smokehouse.

Grandma and Grandpa were gone by the time I got back to the shade of the oak tree. I sat down and picked up my basket, determined to finish it. I pulled out the top rows and started again. This time, I paid close attention to the shape. The bottom was the right square shape, and I worked slowly so the top curved out gracefully, like a bowl.

I glanced up at Margaret, who was watching me with a smile. I folded down the tops of the basket and folded the weavers back inside to give the top a nice, clean edge.

Margaret was about to speak when we heard Becky squeal in a happy voice, Daddy!

Daddy and Raven were coming back on their horses. They were visible farther down the road. Go see if Nellys awake. Tell her its time to eat, Margaret said.

I ran to the cabin Raven and Nelly shared and knocked on the door. Nelly opened it immediately. Instead of napping, she had been working at her weaving loom. Next to the loom was a basket of yarn that Margaret had spun over the winter.

Youre going to have more blankets than that baby will need in a lifetime, I said.

Nelly laughed. Couldnt sleep. Finished another. She gestured to the blue and white cloth. She would trade, sell, or give away the extra.

You make these faster than I can make a basket, I groaned. I did finally finish the one Ive been working on, though.