A Sioux Indian Story

By Kia Scherr

This is a remarkable story from a book that was written in 1944, but not published until 1988. The book is called Waterlily and the author is a Sioux Indian woman by the name of Ella Cara Deloria. This excerpt describes one family's reaction to the murder of a young relative.

The Question of Justice

As we approach the one year anniversary of the Mumbai terrorist attacks, we have been interviewed almost daily these past weeks. A question often comes up about justice being served in the case of the remaining terrorist. As I contemplate justice, I feel that justice is most truly served when balance is restored. When there is an act of violence, we see the extreme of the default negative polarity at work. Life negation and the de-valuing of life has taken place – therefore, to restore balance, we must emphasize life affirmation and that would include compassion and re-habilitation. Just this past week, I received the following story from a friend in Canada.

This is a remarkable story from a book that was written in 1944, but not published until 1988. The book is called Waterlily and the author is a Sioux Indian woman by the name of Ella Cara Deloria. This excerpt describes one family's reaction to the murder of a young relative.

I found myself resonating with their choice as ultimate justice. This story powerfully exemplifies what it means to honor the sacredness and oneness of life.

"The enraged young relatives of the slain man debated the kind of punishment they ought to mete out to the slayer, who was still at large. As they debated, their eldest relative, a man of great influence in the entire tribe, sat listening as though in accord with them. After they had all talked themselves out, he began to speak. With consummate skill he gave them the impression that he was going along with them all the way.

"My kindred - cousins, brothers, sons and nephews all - today we have been made to weep without shame, men though we are. Someone has dared to do us an injury in slaying our young relative. Has he not thereby grossly insulted our family pride and our honor? Our kinsman was young; he too loved life. He was not ready to die - yet he is dead. Should we not vow that his slayer too shall die? And should we not go forthwith and kill him? Very well, then, why do we sit talking here? Why not give the murderer his due at once?"

He smoke quietly after this, calm and steady. In due time he resumed speaking. But now he had changed his tack. "And yet (he repeated it), and yet, my kindred, there is a better way. That the fire of hate may not burn on in his heart or in ours, we shall take that better way. Go now to your homes. Look over your possessions and bring here the thing you most prize -- a horse, say, or weapons, or wearing apparel, or a blanket. Easy ways and empty words may do for others. We are men of another make, so let us take the harder way, the better way. If but few are able to do that, then let us be of that few.

"The gifts you bring shall go to the murderer, for a token of our sincerity and our purpose. Though he has hurt us, we shall make him something to us [a relative], in place of the one who is not here. Was the dead your brother? Then this man shall be your brother. Or your uncle? Or your cousin? As for me, the dead was my nephew. And from now on he shall be one of us. We shall regard him as though he were our dead kinsman returned to us."

"Now on the appointed day, the slayer was brought to the council tipi. He was brave. He did not try to run away. He knew he had killed a man and was ready to pay with his life. Even so, not knowing his exact fate, he entered with his eyes averted, steeling himself for the worst. He did not try to infer the decision from the councilmen's faces. He did not want them to pity him. He would not have men say, supposing him to be afraid, 'Poor fellow! Like some hunted animal, he tried to detect mercy in men's eyes.'

"The spokesman said, offering him the pipe of peace, 'Smoke, with these your new kinsmen seated here. For they have chosen to take you to themselves in place of one who is not here.' Hearing these words, the man was visibly unnerved and he began to tremble. 'It is their desire that henceforth you shall go in and out among them without fear. By these presents which they have brought here for you, they would have you know that whatever love and compassion they had for him is now yours, forever.' As he said these words, tears began to course down the slayer's cheeks. You see, he had been neatly trapped by loving kinship. And you may be sure that he proved himself an even better kinsman than many who had right of birth, because the price of his redemption had come so high."

"But I learned then that there is no more powerful agent for ensuring goodwill and smothering the flame of hate than the kinship of humans."