Many Many Moons/Chief Bear's-Heart "Makes Talk"

by Lew Sarett

CHIEF BEAR'S-HEART "MAKES TALK"

To be read
slowly and
brokenly in
deep resonant
tones and in a
stolid manner
broken by
periods of re-
strained emo-
tionn.

Agent-man from Keétch-ie O-gi-ma,
Our Big W'ite Chief,
De heart of all de 'Cheebway
In my tribe are good to you;
My people want your heart
Be good to all de Eenzhuns.

In Summer-of-de-Many-Rains,
Conies Long-Blade soldier, Major Rice,
An' Black-Robes priest, for mak'-um treaty.
Dey mak'-um talk in council, so:
"'Cheebway, 'Cheebway, mak'-um treaty;
Walk on far-away reservation an' live;
You go new reservation, you get-um plenty t'ing
From Keétch-ie O-gi-ma:
Get-um plenty grub an' money;
Plenty t'ing for belly an' for back."
Den Long-Blade stick-um one hand
On Big-Black-Book an' treaty-paper,
An' raise-um oder hand to Keétch-ie Má-ni-dó,
De w'ite man's Big Spirit, an' say:
"'Cheebway, all dose t'ing on treaty sure will be!" . . .
Ho! Eenzhun scratch-uim paper;
Stick-um t'umb on treaty;
An' walk on reservation.
W'at's come treaty now! Ugh?

No got-um plenty grub!
'Cheebway got-um small flat belly;
No got-um wite man's big fat belly!

Comes soon de Winter-Maker,
Blowing on de river wit' hees icy breat',
With repressed
emotion—
gathering in
power
An' making dem stand still
Wit' sleep beneat' de snow.
An' Nort' Wind whistle crazy-wild
T'rough crying spruce an' cedar;
An' Muk-wa, ol' fat bear, he sleep
An' sheever in hees hole;
An' Peé-nay, hungry pa'tridge,
Bury in de balsam snow-drif'.
Now walk on Eenzhun wée-ga-wam!
'Cheebway sit dere hungry,—
In winter no can get-um grub lak moose
Who paw big hole in snow for plenty moss.
No got-um plenty money;
No got-um w'ite man's grub.
Squaw, she got-um sick,—
Bad osh-kée-shee-gwa-pee-nay,—
She sick on eye lak devil-hell.
Sqtiaw-sich, little gal,
She got-um measles-sick,
De Spotted-Sickness on de face.
Little boy, he got-umi heap-sick,—
Bad óh-pun-náh-pee-nay,—
Bad Coughing-Sickness;
Ugh! He spit all-tam'!—
Got-um sick on lung, an' hot on cheek;
Got-um eye she blaze lak wildcat! . . .
W'y should be dose t'ing?
Slowly and
brokenly with a
note of irony.
Ugh! Go w'ite man's town:
He got-um plenty grub;
Hees belly laugh wit' grub!
W'y should be diff'rence, ha-aaah?
Mebbe w'ite man's God he want-um diff'rence! Ugh!
Mebbe Má-ni-dó no lak-um Eenzhun chil'en! Hah!
Mebbe Má-ni-dó forget-um Eenzhun chil'en! Ugh!
Mebbe so! Mebbeso!. . .

With dramatic
force

Mebbe no!
Look-um straight!
Talk-um straight!
Ai-yee! Keétch-ie Má-ni-dó
He no forget-um 'Cheebway Eenzhun!
Eenzhun chil'en, good chil'en!
Big Spirit lak-um Eenzhun chil'en
Slowly, with
subtle changes
of emotion
from humor
and irony to
sarcasm and
bitterness.
Jus' so much he lak-um Long-Knife.
   (Ho! Ho!
   How! How!)
Inspector Taylo',
In council of olden tam'
De Long-Blade stick-um hand on Big-Black-Book,
An' raise-um oder hand to sky an' say:
"All dose t'ing on treaty-paper sure will be!"

Mebbe. . . .
Mebbe. . . .
Mebbe he was only fool for fun! Hah?
Ho! Long-Blade only fool for fun! Ho!

Mebbe so! . . . Mebbeso! . . .

Mebbe hees tongue talk-um
Little bit crooked! Ho?

Mebbe so! . . . Mebbe so! . . .

Mebbe he got-um forks in tongue,
Wit' little poison-gland! Ugh!
Fenzhun t'ink—
He lie! . . .

Look on me! . . .
Look on me! . . .
Look on me! . . .

Talk-um straight today!
No got-um double-snake-tongue! . . .

I have said it!

   (Ho!
   How! How!
   Ho! Ho! Hol)