On the Crow Wing River
CHAŊKU WAŠTE
The canoes surrounded us as we entered the bend of the river. SápA Ziŋtkála went for his weapon, but I touched his hand and shook my head. “They’re friends, the Itázipčho (ee-dah-zeeb-koh: Sans Arc), from north of here. The Itázipčho are known to be very generous and never mark their arrows when hunting, enabling all to share in the bounty. Due to their generosity, the holy woman of our culture, Ptesáŋ Wí, gave them the sacred pipe because she knew they would share it with the other tribes of the Lakȟóta. Their name’s true meaning is “No Markings,” meaning no markings on their arrows.”
“I’ve heard of these men, Chaŋku Wašte,” replied SápA Ziŋtkála, “having met some the past few years, and as you say, they’re a very kind and open-handed people.”
“Chaŋku Wašte, it’s me, WičákȟA (wee-chah-kah: Speak True),” a voice piped up.
As I looked toward my old friend, I noticed that all the warriors with him, twenty in total, carried crooked lances wrapped in wolf skin and had otter fur around their wrists and necks. They were the Íȟoka (ee-hoh-ka: Badger Society), known for extreme ferocity in battle.
“WičákȟA, you’ve brought the best of the best with you,” I said. “Is this just a visit?”
“No, my people heard you might have troubles this summer, so we’re here to help our friends!”
“Many thanks, my friend. Please come to our village and we’ll find lodging for your stay. Your help is sorely needed.”
Once we reached the shore of the village on the east bank of the Wakpá Atkúku, my people came toward us whooping and singing to welcome our friends. The women, children, and warriors all had smiles on their faces. Knowing that the Itázipčho thought so much of their brethren that they sent their Badger Society warriors gave them a great sense of relief.
“WičákȟA, when the day comes for battle, I want your warriors to be the last line of defence guarding the women and children,” I said.
“I would expect nothing less in the battle than to do this for you. My warriors are war-hardened against the Ȟaȟátȟuŋwaŋ over the years and know the foe they face.”
The women fetched chunks of fresh venison and buffalo that had been brought in by hunters over the past few days. Then they built the fires up to cook for the visitors. Stories of past battles, drumming, dancing, and food kept everyone up until dawn. What fear the future would bring was put aside while we celebrated with good friends.