Wahnenauhi’s description of the removal crisis is poignant. She was eight years old when she had to go on the Trail of Tears.

This was a critical time for the Cherokee Nation, its very existence threatened, and all was to be determined by the Chiefs now in Council. How this great responsibility pressed on them! perish or remove! It might be,—remove and perish! a long journey through the Wilderness,—could the little ones endure? and how about the sick? the old people and infirm, could they possibly endure the long tedious journey; Should they leave?

This had been the home of their Ancestors from time out of mind. Every thing they held dear on earth was here, must they leave?

The graves of their kindred forsaken by them would be desecrated by the hands of the White Man! The very air seemed filled with an undercurrent of inexpressible sadness and regret.

They could almost hear the reproaches and wailings of the dear dead they were leaving.

How must these Chiefs decide for their people? No wonder it seemed that Despair in its thickest blackness had settled down and enfolded in gloom this assemblage of brave and true hearted Patriots.

But no time could they spend in regrets and for[e]boding, although their own hearts were torn with grief. Throwing aside their private troubles, they set themselves to the task of preparing the people for the inevitable journey. A Delegation was appointed and authorized to make arrangements with Major General Scott for Supplies required for the Removal.

For convenience in protecting, providing for and distributing to, so large a Body of people, they were divided into Companies, or Detachments, as they were called, each provided with a Captain, whose duties were to attend to the necessities of all in his particular Detachment.

Some of the Cherokees, remained in their homes, and determined not to leave.

For these[,] soldiers were sent, by Georgia, and they were gathered up and driven, at the point of the bayonet, into camp with the others[. T]hey were not allowed to take any of their household stuff, but were compelled to leave as they were, with only the clothes which they had on. One old, very old man, asked the soldiers to allow him time to pray once more, with his family in the dear old home, before he left it forever. The answer was, with brutal oath, “No! no time for prayers. Go!” at the same time giving him a rude push towards the door.

In many instances, the families of settlers were at hand, and as the Indians were evicted, the whites entered, taking full possession of everything left.

It is useless to attempt to describe the long, wearisome passage of these exiled Indians.

The journey had but just begun when sickness attacked them.

Many of the old people, already enfeebled by age, were unable to endure the fatigue and hardships of the way, and sank unresistingly.

Every camping place was strewn with the graves of the dead.

Not one family was exempted from the tax of the Death-Angel.¹

ENDNOTES

¹ The Wahnenauhi Manuscript, 206–7.