The Medicine Bag
The Medicine Bag
My kid sister Cheryl and I always bragged about our Sioux grandpa, Joe Iron Shell. Our friends, who had always lived in the city and only knew about Indians from movies and TV, were impressed by our stories. Maybe we exaggerated and made Grandpa and the reservation sound glamorous, but when wed return home to Iowa after our yearly summer visit to Grandpa, we always had some exciting tale to tell. We always had some authentic Sioux article to show our listeners. One year Cheryl had new moccasins that Grandpa had made. On another visit he gave me a small, round, flat rawhide drum which was decorated with a painting of a warrior riding a horse. He taught me a real Sioux chant to sing while I beat the drum with a leather-covered stick that had a feather on the end. Man that really made an impression. We never showed our friends Grandpas picture. Not that we were ashamed of him, but because we knew that the glamorous tales we told didnt go with the real thing. Our friends would have laughed at the picture, because Grandpa wasnt tall and stately like TV Indians. His hair wasnt in braids but hung in stringy gray strands on his neck, and he was old. He was our great-grandfather, and he didnt live in a tepee, but all by himself in a part log, part tar-paper shack on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. So when Grandpa came to visit us, I was so ashamed and embarrassed I couldve died. There are a lot of yippy poodles and other fancy little dogs in our neighborhood, but they usually barked singly at the mailman from the safety of their own yards. Now it sounded as if a whole pack of mutts were barking together in one place. I got up and walked to the curb to see what the commotion was. About a block away I saw a crowd of little kids yelling, with the dogs yipping and growling around someone who was walking down the middle of the street. I watched the group as it slowly came closer and saw that in the center of the strange procession was a man wearing a tall black hat. Hed pause now and then to peer at something in his hand and then at
the houses on either side of the street. I felt cold and hot at the same time as I recognized the man. Oh, no! I whispered. Its Grandpa! I stood on the curb, unable to move even though I wanted to run and hide. Then I got mad when I saw how the yippy dogs were growling and nipping at the old mans baggy pant legs and how wearily he poked them away with his cane. Stupid mutts, I said as I ran to rescue Grandpa. When I kicked and hollered at the dogs to get away, they put their tails between their legs and scattered. The kids ran to the curb, where they watched me and the old man. Grandpa, I said, and felt pretty dumb when my voice cracked. I reached for his beat-up old tin suitcase, which was tied shut with a rope. But he set it down right in the street and shook my hand. Hau, Takoza, Grandchild, he greeted me formally in Sioux. All I could do was stand there with the whole neighborhood watching and shake the hand of the leather-brown old man. I saw how his gray hair straggled from under his big black hat, which had a drooping feather in its crown. His rumpled black suit hung like a sack over his stooped frame. As he shook my hand, his coat fell open to expose a bright-red satin shirt with a beaded bolo tie under the collar. His get-up wasnt out of place on the reservation, but it sure was here, and I wanted to sink right through the pavement. Hi, I muttered with my head down. I tried to pull my hand away when I felt his bony hand trembling, and looked up to see fatigue in his face. I felt like crying. I couldnt think of anything to say, so I picked up Grandpas suitcase, took his arm, and guided him up the driveway to our house. Mom was standing on the steps. I dont know how long shed been watching, but her hand was over her mouth and she looked as if she couldnt believe what she saw. Then she ran to us. Grandpa, she gasped. How in the world did you get here? She checked her move to embrace Grandpa, and I remembered that such a display of affection is unseemly to the Sioux and would embarrass him.
Hau, Marie, he said as he shook Moms hand. She smiled and took his other arm. As we supported him up the steps, the door banged open and Cheryl came bursting out of the house. She was all smiles and was so obviously glad to see Grandpa that I was ashamed of how I felt. Grandpa! she yelled happily. You came to see us! Grandpa smiled and Mom and I let go of him as he stretched out his arms to my ten-year-old sister, who was still young enough to be hugged. Wicincala, little girl, he greeted her, and then collapsed. He had fainted. Mom and I carried him into her sewing room, where we had a spare bed. After we had Grandpa on the bed, Mom stood there helplessly patting his shoulder. Shouldnt we call the doctor, Mom? I suggested, since she didnt seem to know what to do. Yes, she agreed, with a sigh. You make Grandpa comfortable, Martin. I reluctantly moved to the bed. I knew Grandpa wouldnt want to have Mom undress him, but I didnt want to, either. He was so skinny and frail that his coat slipped off easily. When I loosened his tie and opened his shirt collar, I felt a small leather pouch that hung from a thong around his neck. I left it alone and moved to remove his boots. The scuffed old cowboy boots were tight and he moaned as I put pressure on his legs to jerk them off. I put the boots on the floor and saw why they fit so tight. Each one was stuffed with money. I looked at the bills that lined the boots and started to ask about them, but Grandpas eyes were closed again. Mom came back with a basin of water. The doctor thinks Grandpa is suffering from heat exhaustion, she explained as she bathed Grandpas face. Mom gave a big sigh, Oh hinh, Martin. How do you suppose he got here? We found out after the doctors visit. Grandpa was angrily sitting up in bed while Mom tried to feed him some soup. 3
Tonight you let Marie feed you, Grandpa, spoke my dad, who had gotten home from work just as the doctor was leaving. Youre not really sick, he said as he gently pushed Grandpa back against the pillows. The doctor said you just got too tired and hot after your long trip. Grandpa relaxed, and between sips of soup he told us of his journey. Soon after our visit to him Grandpa decided that he would like to see where his only living descendants lived and what our home was like. Besides, he admitted sheepishly, he was lonesome after we left. I knew everybody felt as guilty as I didespecially Mom. Mom was all Grandpas had left. So even after she married my dad, whos a white man and teaches in the college in our city, and after Cheryl and I were born, Mom made sure that every summer we spent a week with Grandpa. I never thought that Grandpa would be lonely after our visits, and none of us noticed how old and weak he had become. But Grandpa knew and so he came to us. He had ridden on buses for two and a half days. When he arrived in the city, tired and stiff from sitting for so long, he set out, walking, to find us. He had stopped to rest on the steps of some building downtown and a policeman found him. The cop, according to Grandpa, was a good man who took him to the bus stop and waited until the bus came and told the driver to let Grandpa out at Bell View Drive. After Grandpa got off the bus, he started walking again. But he couldnt see the house numbers on the other side when he walked on the sidewalk, so he walked in the middle of the street. Thats when all the little kids and dogs followed him. I knew everybody felt as bad as I did. Yet I was proud of this eighty-six-year-old man, who had never been away from the reservation, having the courage to travel so far alone. You found the money in my boots? he asked Mom. Martin did, she answered, and roused herself to scold. Grandpa, you shouldnt have carried so much money. What if someone had stolen it from you?
Grandpa laughed. I wouldve known if anyone tried to take the boots off my feet. The money is what Ive saved for a long timea hundred dollarsfor my funeral. But you take it now to buy groceries so that I wont be a burden to you while I am here. That wont be necessary, Grandpa, Dad said. We are honored to have you with us and you will never be a burden. I am only sorry that we never thought to bring you home with us this summer and spare you the discomfort of a long trip. Grandpa was pleased. Thank you, he answered. But do not feel bad that you didnt bring me with you, for I would not have come then. It was not time. He said this in such a way that no one could argue with him. To Grandpa and the Sioux, he once told me, a thing would be done when it was the right time to do it and thats the way it was. Also, Grandpa went on, looking at me, I have come because it is soon time for Martin to have the medicine bag. We all knew what that meant. Grandpa thought he was going to die and he had to follow the tradition of his family to pass the medicine bag, along with its history, to the oldest male child. Even though the boy, he said, still looking at me, bears a white mans name, the medicine bag will be his. I didnt know what to say. I had the same hot and cold feeling that I had when I first saw Grandpa in the street. The medicine bag was the dirty leather pouch I had found around his neck. I could never wear such a thing, I almost said aloud. I thought of having my friends see it in gym class, at the swimming pool, and could imagine the smart things they would say. But I just swallowed hard and took a step toward the bed. I knew I would have to take it. But Grandpa was tired. Not now, Martin, he said, waving his hand in dismissal, it is not time. Now I will sleep. So thats how Grandpa came to be with us for two months. My friends kept asking to come see the old man, but I put them off. I told myself that I didnt want them laughing at Grandpa. But even as I made excuses, I knew it wasnt Grandpa that I was afraid theyd laugh at.
Nothing bothered Cheryl about bringing her friends to see Grandpa. Every day after school started, thered be a crew of giggling little girls or round-eyed little boys crowded around the old man on the patio, where hed gotten in the habit of sitting every afternoon. Grandpa would smile in his gentle way and patiently answer their questions, or hed tell those stories of brave warriors, ghosts, animals, and the kids listened in awed silence. Those little guys thought Grandpa was great. Finally, one day after school, my friends came home with me because nothing I said stopped them. Were going to see the great Indian of Bell View Drive, said Hank, who was supposed to be my best friend. My brother has seen him three times, so he ought to be well enough to see us. When we got to my house, Grandpa was sitting on the patio. He had on his red shirt, but today he also wore a fringed leather vest that was decorated with beads. Instead of his usual cowboy boots he had solidly beaded moccasins on his feet that stuck out of his black trousers. Of course, he had his old black hat onhe was seldom without it. But it had been brushed and the feather in the beaded headband was proudly erect, its tip a brighter white. His hair lay in silver strands over the red shirt collar. I stared just as my friends did and I heard one of them murmur, Wow! Grandpa looked up and when his eyes met mine, they twinkled as if he were laughing inside. He nodded to me and my face got all hot. I could tell that he had known all along I was afraid hed embarrass me in front of my friends. Hau, hoksilas, boys, he greeted, and held out his hand. My buddies passed in a single file and shook his hand as I introduced them. They were so polite I almost laughed. How, there, Grandpa, and even a How do you do, sir. You look fine, Grandpa, I said as the guys sat on the lawn chairs or on the patio floor. Hanh, yes, he agreed. When I woke up this morning, it seemed the right time to dress in the good clothes. I knew that my grandson would be bringing his friends.
You guys want some lemonade or something? I offered. No one answered. They were listening to Grandpa as he started telling how hed killed the deer from which his vest was made. Grandpa did most of the talking while my friends were there. I was so proud of him and amazed at how respectfully quiet my buddies were. Mom had to chase them home at suppertime. As they left, they shook Grandpas hand again and said to me: Martin, hes really great! Yeah, man! Dont blame you for keeping him to yourself. Can we come back? But after they left, Mom said, No more visitors for a while, Martin. Grandpa wont admit it, but his strength hasnt returned. He likes having company, but it tires him. That evening Grandpa called me to his room before he went to sleep. Tomorrow, he said, When you come home, it will be time to give you the medicine bag. I felt a hard squeeze from where my heart is supposed to be and was scared, but I answered, OK, Grandpa. All night I had weird dreams about thunder and lightning on a high hill. From a distance I heard the slow beat of a drum. When I woke up in the morning, I felt as if I hadnt slept at all. At school it seemed as if the day would never end and when it finally did, I ran home. Grandpa was in his room, sitting on the bed. The shades were down and the place was dim and cool. I sat on the floor in front of Grandpa, but he didnt even look at me. After what seemed a long time, he spoke. I sent your mother and sister away. What you will hear today is only for a mans ears. What you will receive is only for a mans hands. He fell silent and I felt shivers down my back. My father in his early manhood, Grandpa began, made a vision quest to find a spirit guide for his life. You cannot understand how it was in that time, when the great Teton Sioux were first made to stay on the reservation. There was a strong need for guidance from Wakantanka, the Great Spirit. But too many of the young men were filled with despair and hatred. They thought it was hopeless to search 7
for a vision when the glorious life was gone and only the hated confines of a reservation lay ahead. But my father held to the old ways. He carefully prepared for his quest with a purifying sweat bath and then he went alone to a high butte top to fast and pray. After three days he received his sacred dreamin which he found, after long searching, the white mans iron. He did not understand his vision of find-ing something belonging to the white people, for in that time they were the enemy. When he came down from the butte to cleanse himself at the stream below, he found the remains of a campfire and the broken shell of an iron kettle. This was a sign which reinforced his dream. He took a piece of the iron for his medicine bag, which he had made of elk skin years before, to prepare for his quest. He returned to his village, where he told his dream to the wise old men of the tribe. They gave him the name Iron Shell, but neither did they understand the meaning of the dream. This first Iron Shell kept the piece of iron with him at all times and believed it gave him protection from the evils of those unhappy days. Then a terrible thing happened to Iron Shell. He and several other young men were taken from their homes by the soldiers and sent far away to a white mans boarding school. He was angry and lonesome for his parents and the young girl he had wed before he was taken away. At first Iron Shell resisted the teachers attempts to change him and he did not try to learn. One day it was his turn to work in the schools blacksmith shop. As he walked into the place, he knew that his medicine had brought him there to learn and work with the white mans iron. Iron Shell became a blacksmith and worked at the trade when he returned to the reservation. All of his life he treasured the medicine bag. When he was old and I was a man, he gave it to me, for no one made the vision quest anymore. Grandpa quit talking and I stared in disbelief as he covered his face with his hands. His shoulders were shaking with quiet sobs and I looked away until he began to speak again. I kept the bag until my son, your mothers father, was a man and had to leave us to fight in the war across the ocean. I gave him the bag, for I believed it would protect him in battle, but he did not take it with him. He was afraid that he would lose it. He died in a faraway place. Again Grandpa was still and I felt his grief around me. 8
My son, he went on after clearing his throat, had only a daughter and it is not proper for her to know of these things. He unbuttoned his shirt, pulled out the leather pouch, and lifted it over his head. He held it in his hand, turning it over and over as if memorizing how it looked. In the bag, he said as he opened it and removed two objects, is the broken shell of the iron kettle, a pebble from the butte, and a piece of the sacred sage. He held the pouch upside down and dust drifted down. After the bag is yours, you must put a piece of prairie sage within and never open it again until you pass it on to your son. He replaced the pebble and the piece of iron and tied the bag. I stood up, somehow knowing I should. Grandpa slowly rose from the bed and stood upright in front of me, holding the bag before my face. I closed my eyes and waited for him to slip it over my head. But he spoke. No, you need not wear it. He placed the soft leather bag in my right hand and closed my other hand over it. It would not be right to wear it in this time and place, where no one will understand. Put it safely away until you are again on the reservation. Wear it then, when you replace the sacred sage. Grandpa turned and sat again on the bed. Wearily he leaned his head against the pillow. Go, he said, I will sleep now. Thank you, Grandpa, I said softly, and left with the bag in my hands. That night Mom and Dad took Grandpa to the hospital. Two weeks later I stood alone on the lonely prairie of the reservation and put the sacred sage in my medicine bag.
Making Meanings
The Medicine Bag
First Thoughts 1. What thoughts and memories did The Medicine Bag call to mindof people, events, feelings? 9
Shaping Interpretations 2. How is Martins life different from Grandpas? What problems do these differences cause for Martin? 3. Why is Martin ashamed of Grandpa at the beginning of the story? 4. Why does Martin feel like crying after he greets Grandpa? (Can you think of more than one reason?) 5. Dynamic character. Draw a thought bubble. Fill it with words, sketches, and symbols that contrast what Martin is like at the beginning of the story to the way he is at the end, after he receives the medicine bag. You might focus on his changed feelings about Grandpa. 6. Martins friends are impressed by Grandpa. Describe how Martin might feel about Grandpa if his friends laughed at him instead. Do you think his friends opinion should make any difference? Explain.
Connecting with the Text 7. Describe what goes through Martins mind as he is about to receive the medicine bag. How would you feel if you were in his place? Extending the Text 8. What do you think Grandpa would do with the medicine bag if Martin were a girl? Why? 9. Compare the experiences of Martin and Cheryl.
Writers Notebook
1. Collecting Ideas for a Persuasive Essay Some people think that our society doesnt have ways of helping young people cross the threshold into adulthood. We need traditions and meaningful rituals for this important rite of passage, they say. In what ways do people today mark the passage into adulthood? Do you think there should be other ways of helping children to accept the duties and responsibilities of adult life? Do you think, instead, that things are all right the way they are? Write down some ideas supporting your point of view. Creative Writing 2. A Tough Decision 10
Grandpas fathers medicine bag contains several items of special importance to him (the iron and the pebble) or to his people (the sacred sage). Imagine that, like Martin, you have a pouch that you can open just once, to add one item to pass on to your own child. Describe the item, and explain why you chose it. You may want to make a drawing of the item to accompany your explanation. Research/Social Studies 3. Researching a Culture List everything you learned about Sioux customs and history from the story. Then, write down questions you still have about the Siouxperhaps about how they live today or their traditional religious beliefs. Choose one question to explore. Use resources such as history books and computer databases; if possible, consult knowledgeable members of your community. Share what you have learned with someone. Art/Critical Thinking 4. Whats in a Name? In some cultures, people are given one name when they are born and take another name when they come of age. Like the name Iron Shell in the story, the earned name reflects something about the persons character or life. Invent a name that says something important about who you are. The name could reflect your personality, cultural background, interests, or talents. On unlined paper, design a T-shirt or jacket with your new name, decorating it with an appropriate picture or symbol. Attach a note explaining what the name means to you. Style: Choosing Precise Words Which creates a clearer, more vivid picture in your mind? house or mansion? walk or shuffle? Choosing precise words when you write will help your reader get the picture, too. When you revise, make sure you havent used modifiers (adjectives and adverbs) to do the job of precise nouns and verbs. Sneve could have begun her story, My kid sister Cheryl and I always talked boastfully about our Sioux grandpa, but bragged says the same thing more efficiently. Add modifiers only when your nouns and verbs are already doing everything they can: part log, part tarpaper shack, for example, or beat-up old tin suitcase. Try It Out 11
Take out a piece of your writing, and circle four or five general words. Substitute precise words (or add well-chosen modifiers) to create a clearer picture. WORD BANK Tracing Word Histories: Word Origins and Roots stately stooped fatigue reluctantly confines You can track down a words origin by looking up its etymologyits historyin a dictionary. The etymology appears in brackets after the words pronunciation. The oldest known root is given last. (The root of a word carries its core meaning.) In the front of a dictionary, youll find an explanation of abbreviations and symbols that will help you to read the etymologies. Sometimes you have to look at other forms of the word to find an etymology. Below is a word web showing the etymology of stately. Use a word web to analyze each of the other words in the Word Bank.
Sample Use Grandpa was stately because he stood tall and proud.
1) What is the conflict in the medicine bag by Virginia Driving Hawk Sneve?
It is a Primary Conflict between Martin and his Heritage (mainly being ashamed of the truth behind it) 2) What is the external conflict in the medicine bag? The external conflict is character vs Nature Because Martin isn't sure if he wants the bag and doesn't want grandpa to die! But its nature that the grandpa is dying I mean You can't do anything about it!
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3) What is in the medicine bag in the story the medicine bag? a sacred sage 4) What is the theme for the medicine bag? One theme for the short story is "Death is a natural part of life." Martin must realize that it is time to let his grandfather go and accepts the medicine bag to help him live on in spirit. 5) What is in a traditional Sioux medicine bag? It is individual depending upon what animal came to them during their vision quest. 6) What are the benefits of traditional medicine? Traditional medicine in the United States is also known as allopathic medicine and is associated with reductionist (versus holistic) methods. Traditional therapies include medications which are tested objectively prior to reaching the market/population, radiation modalities which are also subjected to rigorous standards and surgical. In order to practice traditional medicines, doctors must study and pass difficult tests, certifications and educational/clinical challenges. The benefits are that standards have been set and doctors are held to practicing via these standards. That does not mean that you will receive exactly the same treatment by every traditional doctor by any means, but if you are seeing a Board Certified physician you can feel safe that he/she knows what he is doing. Alternative physicians have often the same M.D. or D.O. degree as traditional doctors, but they have furthered their education by becoming certified in chiropractic, acupuncture, hydrotherapy, naturopathy, herbology/phytopharmacology and/or homeopathy. Although some are schooled in scientific methods, many without MDs or DOs practice medicine using intuitive and subjective "skills."
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When I taught middle school English, one of my most memorable experiences was teaching Virginia Driving Hawk Sneve's short story "The Medicine Bag." Teaching the story was memorable for a number of reasons. My students connected with it and responded to it with very little external prodding from me. Teaching the story allowed me to address simultaneously content of a multicultural and universal 13
nature. The story bridged the experiences of my students (none of whom were American Indian) and those of the Lakota. Written in 1975, "The Medicine Bag" serves as a useful introduction to Sneve's thematic concerns. Early in "The Medicine Bag," Martin, the protagonist, admits to being ashamed of and embarrassed by his Sioux great grandfather who "...wasn't tall and stately like TV Indians, [whose] hair wasn't in braids but hung in stringy gray strands on his neck, and...[who] didn't live in a teepee, but all by himself in a part log, part tar-paper shack on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota" (74). When his great grandfather comes to visit Martin's family because "grandpa thought he was going to die, and he had to follow the tradition of his family to pass [a] medicine bag, along with its history, to the oldest male child," Martin must come to grips with his identity and his responsibilities to important aspects of his Sioux heritage (378). For it is Martin inherits the medicine bag, and its teachings from his great grandfather. In the course of learning the ways of the medicine bag, Martin learns to respect and love his great grandfather; Martin honors his great grandfather's memory and all his Sioux relations by following the teachings associated with the medicine bag: "That night Mom and Dad took Grandpa to the hospital. Two weeks later I stood alone on the lonely prairie of the reservation and put the sacred sage in my medicine bag". Thematically, "The Medicine Bag" focuses on the importance of culture in the formation of healthy identity. It speaks to the need for intergenerational harmony in healthy adolescent development. Fundamentally, it is a story about respect. As Martin learns respect for family and heritage, he learns ultimately to respect himself as an individual. Readers, too, engage in their own reflective search for self.
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