A Message from KiiskeeN'tum Regarding Military Service

In my Native American community, (Mohawk), Service is highly encouraged, and when there is a war to be fought, official or not, Mohawk's volunteer in large numbers, for we are taught from a very young age that if we live in a country we ought to be willing to fight for it.

I grew up partly during the Viet Nam war era. Many young men on my reserve drove down across the 'line' to the US and signed up as volunteers. Many ended up in the Green Beret's, or Rangers or special 'ops'. They took their basic training. Just before they got orders for 'over there', they would get an unexpected leave and come home.

These were boys I went to school with, played hooky with, who taught me to hunt and fish and hide from the nasty truant officer, John Taylor (but that's another story). One group decided that since only men could join up, this was unfair, us being a Matriarchy and all, so they gathered all us younger girls and put us through their version of boot camp.

They taught us basic hand to hand, nasty tricks, how to do maximum damage in minimum time. They worked our butts off! It was a bitter sweet thing, as we knew that some of them wouldn't come home. To this day, no one startles me suddenly. The training ran really deep.

When one of our boys 'came home', we all walked to the local train station to see him on his final journey, a walk of some 8 miles. We had a horse drawn carriage to put the casket on. The entire community of several hundred people walked behind the horse and carriage as we made this last journey. Often songs of the time were sung, "Billy Don't be a Hero", is a song I still cannot listen to without tears. Other times hymns were sung.

Amazing Grace was a favorite. Someone carried a Drum, sounding the heart beat of Mother Earth, and our heart beat, in tune with our walking. Ancient songs of appreciation and gratitude were sung as we made that long march. Rain, Shine or snow. It often got to be -20 degrees or colder, and it was a cold walk then.

Once back to the res, we had a four day Ceremony of saying goodbye. There were four sisters, all unmarried, who made their living by 'mourning' at funerals. It was their job to give voice to all the pain, sadness and sorrow that we all felt. They were called the 'wailing sisters'. Gee, they sure could make a lot of noise. It helped us in ways that words cannot describe..

There would be a huge Feast on the last day. Food was left over night, so that the spirit of the deceased could have one more final meal before moving to the Land of the Spirits. It always included Fish caught by a member of the family of the one who was departing.

Their lives were celebrated more than the manner in which they died. Stories of their child hood and adolescence were told and retold. Everyone took a turn to share some memory. There was joy and laughter, sorrow and tears. Someone from the family stayed with the casket day and night for the entire four days. Others kept them company.

We made that long walk 18 times before the war ended. Another 15 came home, some missing arms, legs, and other parts. All lost part of their souls. There was none of the disrespect to our boys that was shown to many veterans of that war. They were and are heroes, for fighting in a war that wasn't even truly theirs by the standards of many. Mohawks don't recognize the artificial barrier of the US/Canadian border. We never surrendered our rights, never surrendered anything of our sovereignty and it's Turtle Island to most of us who remain. On Veterans Day, all who fought are recognized and honored, as are the survivors of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice. Service is an honorable thing to us. They and all who Served, are heros in my heart, now and always.

Professionally, I've been involved in many things with Viet Nam veterans. PTSD healing groups, Ceremonies in the Traditional way, and some healing projects between those who fought and those who survived. That also, has been an honor.

I've edited a terrific book, Stephen Coles 'Silent Warrior' which is about his attempt to make meaning of his experiences and his healing in the years since. I've worked in rehabilitation, helping with the psychological adjustments to loosing limbs in a foreign land, and the survivor guilt that many struggle with, mostly as a voluteer. And I've gone to more funerals when the guilt was too much, and they chose to return to the Land of the Spirits before their true time. I've mediated meetings with Veterans and Viet Namese who have settled in Canada, only to have old pains and old memories revived upon meeting.

To all of those who Served, in what ever capacity, I am thankful for your Service.

respectfully

Deedee

Who's true Name is KiiskeeN'tum.