So Sioux Me
Disclaimer: I own nussink! Well, I take it back. I actually own Andrew's grandmother.
Andrew Carter was one of the most laid back, forgiving guys Kinch had ever had the privilege of meeting.
Carter was the youngest member of Hogan's core group, and the second youngest resident of Barracks 2, after Baker. Despite his age, he'd already made technical sergeant, making him the highest ranking non-com among the prisoners. Yet he never, ever stood on rank. This allowed lower ranking personnel such as Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau to frequently get away with teasing him, calling him names and berating him for his clumsiness. Fortunately all their teasing was harmless, done mostly in a form of camaraderie that had developed from working so closely together over the last year since the group had been formed. And Andrew never seemed to mind too terribly, acknowledging that his friends never meant anything by it.
Except lately. The Englishman and Frenchman had been mocking Carter relentlessly for his recently revealed Sioux heritage, and while Carter had tossed a snarky remark their way once or twice, he hadn't done anything to dissuade them from the teasing. And frankly, it was getting on Kinch's nerves. As a minority himself, he knew all too well the pain of being looked down upon because of his race. What he'd suffered at the hands of the Germans immediately after his capture wasn't worse than what he'd suffered from white gangs in Detroit, but his captors hadn't treated him with anymore dignity, either. So when he saw someone being mistreated because of their skin color, nationality or ethnicity, he was sure to put a stop to it. Most men in the camp listened to him, knowing he was Hogan's right hand man, and those who didn't soon found themselves on the receiving end of their CO's wrath. And in regards to racism, the colonel was anything but tolerant of such behavior.
Newkirk and LeBeau would not likely have to deal with Hogan, however, as they greatly respected their black friend and confidant. Kinch wasn't one to speak up often, but when he did, they regarded his word as law unless Hogan said otherwise.
And right now, it was time to lay down the law.
Carter was working on a project for Schultz, having procured a large goose feather, a strip of leather, and a package of seed beads from his cousin in North Dakota. He had built himself a loom and was finishing a beaded pattern, which he was then planning to sew onto the leather strip, making a colorful headband with a feather, just as Schultz had requested. Every time he brought the project out, the teasing from the non-American corporals began anew.
"Come on, Carter, are you sure you won't 'elp us with the rain dance?" Newkirk implored.
LeBeau paused in his dancing and whooping to add, "Or you can show us how to hunt buffalo like you used to do in North Dakota. Hey, you lived in one of those, eh...how do you say, tipi, non?"
Carter rolled his eyes. "I told you guys, the Sioux don't really do rain dances. We do grass dances, fancy dances and medicine dances, but not rain dances. And no, I didn't live in a tipi. Sure, I helped set up a lodge at a powwow one time, but I didn't live in it. Well, not for more than one night, anyway. And if you guys bothered to ask what it was like living so close to the reservation, I'd be glad to tell you, but you're obviously not interested. So just let me finish Schultz's present, for Pete's sake."
"So we don't know a lot about the ruddy Indians," Newkirk said with a shrug, then smirked at Carter. "So sue me."
LeBeau groaned, while Carter gave the Englishman a very pointed look.
"That's what General Custer said," the American deadpanned. "Right before his last stand."
Newkirk opened his mouth to respond, but Kinch cut him off.
"Guys, just knock it off already. Don't you think you've given Carter enough grief? So he's Indian. So what? I'm black, but you don't seem to be concerned about that. Why is Carter any different?"
Newkirk and LeBeau looked down at their shoes and stuffed their hands in their pockets.
"You know, you're absolutely right, Kinch," Newkirk said. He turned to Carter. "You know we don't mean nothin' by it, don't you, mate?"
"Oui, we're sorry, Carter," LeBeau added.
Carter shrugged. "Aw, it's not a big deal, really. I know you'd never mean to hurt my feelings. And it's really not the worst I've gotten. Not by a longshot."
"White folks back home make fun of you for being part Indian?" Kinch asked.
"No, not really," Carter said. "Most people don't know I'm a quarter Sioux until I tell 'em. Actually, the worst teasing I ever got was when my brother and I would visit our cousin on the reservation. He had some friends who were real bullies."
"Indian bullies?" Newkirk said in surprise. "I guess they thought you were just another white person till you told 'em you were part Indian yourself, eh?"
"No, they never tried to pick on whites, either on the reservation or off. They picked on me and Tommy because we're part Sioux."
"They picked on you for being one of them?" LeBeau asked, incredulous.
"Well, yeah," Carter responded.
"You're not makin' a lick of sense, mate," Newkirk chided.
Carter set aside his beadwork. "Well, ya gotta understand rez attitudes. See, the Indians are still sore at the government for forcing them onto the rez, and for good reason. So they don't generally like white folks, but they try to tolerate them. But when they met me and Tommy, boy, that was a whole other ball game..."
"Come on, Andy, we're gonna be late for the powwow!"
Andrew groaned as he meticulously tied his shoes. "Tommy, the powwow doesn't even start till tomorrow morning."
"Yeah, but we gotta make it to Uncle Bill's house tonight! He wants us to help set up for it, and I've never been on the rez before! It'll be so amazing!"
"You can see the rez from the front porch!" Andrew protested.
"But I still haven't ever been on the rez!"
Andrew shrugged as his eight-year-old brother continued bouncing up and down. "It's not that different from here. And Crabapple Junction is only a few miles away. It's not even sunset yet."
"Aw, you're just not excited 'cause it's not your first powwow."
"Hey, I'm excited," the 11-year-old protested. "I've never set up a tipi before, and Uncle Bill's gonna let us help him with that. I just don't think being too excited is gonna make it happen any faster."
"Yeah, you say that right up until the last week of June," Tommy teased. "Then you think Fourth of July can't get here any faster."
"That's different."
"How?"
"It just is."
A sly look crossed the younger Carter brother's features. "Mom says this year they'll have special rez fireworks. You know, the kind you can only get on the rez?"
Andrew was on his feet in an instant. "Well, what are you waiting for? We gotta get to Uncle Bill's!"
He dashed out the door of the bedroom, Tommy following behind, giggling.
When the family truck pulled into the driveway of Uncle Bill's, the boys couldn't bail out of the bed fast enough. They grabbed their backpacks and sleeping bags and ran into the house, where they were greeted by their enthusiastic aunt and equally excited dogs. Their mother exchanged greetings with Uncle Bill, then started rattling off information to Aunt Martha about bedtimes.
"I know just what these boys need," Aunt Martha said. "I raised three of my own. And what they need is fresh fry bread."
A cheer from the boys brought a smile to the adults' faces. Martha ushered the boys into the kitchen after a brief goodbye hug between the brothers and their mother, with a promise to bring their father as promptly to the powwow as possible the next day.
"Where's Jimmy?" Andrew asked as he took a mouthful of the warm flatbread.
"Out back with the lodgepoles," Uncle Bill answered in his heavy rez accent. "He's waiting for you, so finish your bread."
The boys scarfed their bread and bolted out the back door, where they met their cousin. The 13-year-old was surveying the poles and colorful canvas before him.
"Took you long enough," Jimmy said. The older boy then spread his arms. "Welcome to the rez!"
"You were right, Andy, it really isn't that different," Tommy said. "'cept for more Indians."
"Especially the best ones in the world, our cousins," Andrew said with a grin.
"Flattery won't get you nowhere," Jimmy said with a smirk, lightly boxing Andrew's shoulder. "Hey, guess what? Tomorrow, Grandma's giving me my Indian name."
"Neat-oh!" Andrew exclaimed. "Do you get a feather? I always wanted an eagle feather."
Jimmy shook his head. "Nah, you have to do something special for that. I'm just getting a name, but maybe someday I'll earn an eagle feather."
"Enough chatter," Uncle Bill called as he joined the boys. "You boys said you'd help me with my lodge, so if you want a place to sleep tonight, you need to get to work."
The boys laughed and joined their uncle in hefting the three main poles into position.
It being the Carter brothers' first attempt at setting up an 18-foot lodge, the job took over an hour, with their uncle doing more supervising than actual helping. But once the skin was on and the inside of the lodge furnished, Jimmy started a campfire in the middle of the lodge floor. The boys sat around it, telling stories and enjoying hot cocoa as it was brought to them by Aunt Martha. Before long, the boys crawled into their sleeping bags and drifted off to sleep—a surprisingly easy task considering their excitement for the next day.
The next morning found the boys up with the sunrise, which was easy to do when sleeping outdoors. For a moment, Andrew forgot where he was. Upon remembering that he'd spent the night in his uncle's lodge and that today was the powwow, Andrew scrambled out of his sleeping bag and dashed inside the house, where he was greeted by his brother and his cousin's family.
"Look who's finally up," Tommy teased.
"You only just woke up yourself a few minutes ago," Jimmy retorted.
Aunt Martha set a plate of scrambled eggs before Andrew. "Jim, your father would like you and your cousins to go into town and pick up a few things for the powwow."
Jimmy mumbled his compliance around a forkful of egg.
"Wow, I finally get to see Crabapple Junction!" Tommy cried.
Jimmy swallowed. "Crabapple Junction's nothin'. You should see Bismarck!"
"Is it bigger than Crabapple Junction?"
"Way bigger. And way off the rez, too."
"Someday I'll live in a big city like Bismarck," Andrew said around mouthfuls of breakfast. "Maybe I'll sell fireworks."
"Or somethin' that explodes," Jimmy teased.
The boys finished breakfast, and after being given a shopping list from Jimmy's mother, started down the road to the market in town.
"How big is the rez, Jimmy?" Tommy asked, skipping slightly ahead of the older boys.
"Pretty big. It goes all the way from the creek by our house to the Missouri River. Part of the rez is in South Dakota. Fort Yates is the biggest town, and that's where the powwows are usually held. But Dad's one of the tribal elders, so he got them to hold it here this year. There's a Yanktonai elder who doesn't like the powwow to be moved, but Dad convinced him."
The trip into town was punctuated mostly by Tommy's excited chattering about the upcoming powwow. Once they reached the general store, Andrew headed straight for the fireworks while Jimmy filled the list. Tommy preoccupied himself with the candy. Fortunately for the elder Carter boy, fireworks were on the list, and Andrew's excitement grew as the grocer bagged some of the largest Roman candles he'd ever seen.
Jimmy tasked the younger boys with carrying the groceries back to the house. Along the way they passed a driveway where three older boys were playing basketball.
"I'm gonna be a star basketball player someday," Jimmy said wistfully.
"Not if you can't ever beat me," Andrew said with a smirk.
"Oh, you just got lucky last time."
"Uh huh. And the time before that, and the time before that, and..."
Jimmy gave his smug cousin a playful shove.
"Hey, Jim," one of the players called out. "Who are your white friends?"
The trio approached the cousins. The boy who had spoken now held the ball under one arm. He was much taller than Andrew, the tallest of his trio, and he had a hard look to his eyes that the younger boy found quite intimidating.
Jimmy shrugged. "Just my cousins. They've hardly ever been on the rez before."
The tall boy gaped at the brothers. "These are your cousins?"
"You never told us you had white cousins," one of the other boys said.
"We're one fourth Sioux," Tommy said, puffing his chest out in indignation. "That means that we got four Siouxs in our family."
The teens laughed. The oldest boy lobbed his basketball at Tommy, hitting him hard enough in the chest to send him stumbling backwards. The little boy landed hard on his rear. The shock was enough to evoke a trembling lip as Tommy whimpered.
"Hey, you leave my brother alone!" Andrew snapped, helping Tommy up.
"What are you gonna do, whitey?" the oldest boy challenged. "Tell the Indian grandma you made up?"
"Yeah, you're no Indians," the third member of the gang said with a snarl. "You don't belong on the rez."
"We really are," Andrew said. "We have an Indian grandma, and she's gonna be at the powwow tomorrow. She's Jimmy's grandma too! His mom and our dad are sister and brother!"
"That true, Jimmy boy?" the leader of the gang asked, turning his hard look on Jimmy. The young teen stepped back nervously, but didn't say anything.
The leader turned his glare back on the brothers. "We don't like whites coming in and taking what belongs to us. But you know what we really hate? Liars and posers."
The trio closed in on Andrew and Tommy, who clung to each other as they tried to back away from the older boys.
"Looks like someone needs to be taught respect, rez style," the oldest boy said. He stepped back enough to let one of his buddies step in and shove both boys to the ground. The third teen grabbed the boys' bags, scattering most of the contents on the ground and pocketing the fireworks and cigarettes.
"Stop it!" Andrew spat. "Those are for the powwow! Our uncle is Bill Quiet Rattlesnake, and he's one of the tribal elders! He'll hear about this!"
The oldest boy hauled Andrew to his feet, grasping him by the collar. "No he won't," the teen hissed, his breath hot on Andrew's face. "Because you're not gonna tell him. Especially if you don't want to get your face beat in."
Andrew stared fearfully into his tormentor's eyes for a moment before gathering his courage and, his voice nearly a whisper, responding, "Yes. I will."
The teen set his jaw and drew back a fist. Andrew scrunched his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impending blow. Suddenly there was a yelp from his captor, and Andrew fell to the ground. He looked up to see the oldest boy holding his shin and glaring daggers at Tommy, who was now being held back by one of the other teens.
"You'll pay for that, you little half-bred runt!" Again he drew back his fist and swung at the boy.
Andrew acted on impulse, jumping between his little brother and the bigger Indian, taking the blow square on the jaw. He was knocked backward by the blow, landing hard on his back.
"Boys, teach these intruders a lesson they'll never forget," the gang leader said. "If I ever see their faces on the rez again, I'll destroy them."
The other two boys raised fists and feet to comply. Andrew, still dazed, watched helplessly as Tommy turned to him, the young boy's face full of fear.
Suddenly there was a blur of another figure cutting between the boys and their tormentors. A flurry of punches, kicks and yells followed, and it took Andrew a moment to realize Jimmy had jumped headlong into the fray. In mere seconds, the scene in front of the brothers was one of dirt, blood and chaos as the other two gang members tried desperately to pry Jimmy off their leader. The oldest teen held his arms against his face as Jimmy pummeled him with his fists. As the other teens tried to free their friend, Jimmy punched, kicked and bit at the two. The three fighters tumbled into a heap, Jimmy landing repeated blows on the teens, who struck back with as much fury.
Andrew was torn between helping Jimmy and guiding Tommy to safety. Fortunately he didn't have to choose, as the shouts of adults reached his ears. Andrew sighed with relief.
The general store clerk, an older woman and a police officer rushed to the scene and broke up the fight. As the woman asked the younger boys if they were alright and fussed over Andrew's split lip, the officer berated the teens. From what Andrew could discern, the officer was the father of one of the boys, or was at least related to him in some way, as the boy in question bowed his head in shame. The officer turned to the two youngest.
"You'll all come with me to the police station. We'll get you cleaned up and call your family, and you can explain what happened."
Andrew and Tommy nodded numbly and fell in line with their cousin and the adults. Andrew wiped blood from his lip, which had begun to sting. He glanced at his cousin, who sported a gash above one eye, a bloody nose and a rather defiant, triumphant grin. Andrew couldn't help but smile as well.
The older woman brought wash rags, cold compresses and candy from the store for the younger three boys while they gave their account of what happened. The officer's son sank lower and lower in his seat as the tale was related, while the other two gang members simply glared daggers at Jimmy. Before long, Jimmy's parents arrived, and his mother immediately began fussing over her son and nephews. Bill apologized to the officer on behalf of his charges.
"No apology is needed," the officer said. "From what your nephews tell me, Jimmy was only protecting them. I'm the one who should be sorry. I thought I raised David to be better than this." He shot a pointed look at his offspring; a look that said, "There will be severe repercussions for this." The boy in question whimpered in his seat, drawing looks of contempt from his accomplices.
The issue settled for the time being, the boys were escorted to their respective homes. Once out of the bullies' line of sight, Tommy began praising his older brother and cousin.
"You should've seen Jimmy move! He was like, whoosh, kapow, bam!" The boy jumped, kicked and punched at the air. "I never seen anyone move so fast, and I never seen Jimmy get so angry!"
Jimmy shrugged, keeping his gaze on the ground as he walked. "I couldn't do nothin' at first," he confessed. "I was too scared of Rodney and his gang. They're always up to no good, and I try to stay away from 'em. But when they was about to really start beating my cousins, I just got angry. Andrew was braver than me."
Andrew smiled. "Hey, I was just protecting Tommy. I was scared too."
"I don't like you boys fighting," Aunt Martha said, "but I'm also proud of how brave you were."
"You did very well, looking out for each other," Uncle Bill said. "But no more worrying about that. We have a powwow to put on!"
As evening approached, the plot of land that stood open near the Quiet Rattlesnake family house came alive with crowds of people. Cars from all over the county crowded the roadside. Andrew's help was enlisted for overseeing the firework display, which excited him greatly. Tommy watched in awe as the grass and fancy dancers twirled before the fire. Women passed around Indian fry bread and toppings. Aunt Martha had to fend Andrew and Tommy's father off multiple times as he reached for freshly baked bread before it had cooled properly.
Eventually the gathering grew quiet, and some of the younger tribe members were called up and presented with gifts. Jimmy was among those called, and Andrew and Tommy cheered for him as their Grandma Mina related the story of Jimmy's earlier bravery to the crowd. The audience laughed as the elderly woman embellished the story, causing Jimmy to blush. When the story was done, Mina christened the young teen Mastinca Chanzeya Pahin'el Sinte,* which the boys later found out roughly translated to, "Angry Rabbit with Thorn in Cottontail." This made them laugh heartily while Jimmy just glared at them.
"Wait till you get your Indian name, Andrew," Jimmy huffed.
The ceremony ended with the traditional round dance. Much to the boys' relief, their earlier tormentors had been nowhere to be found all night, allowing them to genuinely enjoy themselves as they joined everyone else in a happy, barely organized dancing circle around the fire. Uncle Bill and the other elders maintained a steady beat on the great drum, and the dance lasted for nearly half an hour before the revilers returned to their places, exhausted but happy. Andrew then joined in lighting the fireworks, watching with sheer delight as the colors burst in the night sky. His lip was still swollen, but by this time Andrew had forgotten all about it.
By the time the Carter family returned to their home in Bullfrog, Tommy was sound asleep. As the parents tucked the boys into bed, Andrew's father sat on the edge of his bed.
"So I know today started out pretty bad, but I hope you had fun anyway."
Andrew gave a small smile. "It wasn't too bad. There's gonna be bullies in lots of places. I know that. But Jimmy made up for it. And so did the powwow."
"That's very perceptive of you."
"But there's just one thing I don't understand, Dad. Those teenagers picked on me and Tommy because we're part Indian. I thought only some white folks with nothing better to do picked on someone for being part Indian."
Andrew's father sighed. "Folks are gonna find any reason to be cruel, son. And sometimes they're cruel even to one of their own. Problem is, you and your brother don't look very Indian, so folks on the rez won't always believe you when you say you are. But you can't let them get to you. You gotta be proud of who you are. No matter what anyone says. And if they make fun of you, ignore them until they're ready to be set straight. Lots of folks are just ignorant. They don't know better. You gotta be ready to teach them."
Andrew nodded. "I'll never forget I'm part Lakota. And I'll be proud of it always."
His father smiled at him. "That's my boy. Now, get some sleep. You've had a very long day."
When Sergeant Carter finished his tale, he looked around to make sure he hadn't lost his friends' attention. As it turned out, the whole barracks had become engrossed in Carter's story. Something that pretty much never happened.
"Wow," was all Kinch could say.
"Andrew, I had no idea," Newkirk said, thoroughly humbled.
"Did the boys on the reservation try to beat you up after that?" LeBeau asked.
"Oh, they threatened to lots of times," Carter said. "Whenever we went into Crabapple Junction. But we learned to stand up to them pretty fast. They never did accept us as being part of the tribe, even after Tommy and I each got our Indian names. They called us lots of names, and they called Jimmy an apple whenever they thought they could get away with it. But eventually they learned not to bother us."
"Why would they call him an apple?" LeBeau asked with a genuinely puzzled expression.
"It's one of the worst things one Indian can call another," Carter said. "It means they're red on the outside, but white on the inside. Jim had to learn to ignore them. He eventually began training to be a tribal elder, which means he has to learn Lakota—that's our dialect of the Sioux language—and all the dances. But those other boys washed out of high school, and I think that Rodney kid is in jail for drugs or robbery or something."
Kinch smirked. "So Jim is more Indian than the people who accused him of being too white."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"Just goes to show that anyone can be racist," Baker said. "Bigotry isn't exclusively white."
"We're sorry for making fun of you," LeBeau said to Carter. "We were really out of line."
Carter smiled. "Heck, I forgave you a long time ago, Louis. I know you guys never really mean anything by it."
"Still a matter of principle, though," Newkirk said. He sat up straight and held up his right hand. "And I swear on me honor that I'll never mock you for bein' Indian again."
"Oui, that goes for me too," LeBeau said.
"Thanks, guys," Carter said.
"So 'ow about teachin' us one of those dances of yours, then?" Newkirk said. "Somethin' like that medicine dance you mentioned. Bet it'd be good for me backaches whenever we 'ave to dig out another bleedin' tunnel."
"Well, I don't know the medicine dance," Carter said. "That's done by the girls in the tribe. But I can teach you a little bit of the grass dance and how to do a round dance."
"That sounds good," LeBeau said.
"Okay," Carter said, picking up his loom. "Lessons begin right after I'm finished with Schultz's feather headband."
The answer seemed to satisfy the corporals, and with the story ended, everyone returned to what they had been doing.
Kinch went back to the book he'd been reading, satisfied that everything had turned out so well on Carter's end. Newkirk and LeBeau seemed to have learned a valuable lesson. And while Kinch wouldn't dream of accusing his friends of racism, he was glad they could learn to see things from the perspectives of people not like themselves.
Now, if only the Germans could learn such a lesson, the war would be over.
*AN: I actually have no idea how the Lakota language works, as all my efforts to find decent online translation sources were completely fruitless. So I had to guess. I'm working off the assumption that Sioux, like many languages, places adjectives after the noun they are describing. I also used the word for a porcupine quill instead of thorn. I imagine they're about the same anyway.
Rez fireworks are renowned for being some of the best you can buy in America. Because Indian reservations are considered sovereign states, they are not subject to the same bans the rest of the country is. This means that when Roman candles and bottle rockets were outlawed, they were still legal on the reservations. They can also be sold year round on the rez, whereas most places in America can only sell them around Fourth of July and New Year's Eve.
There really is a rez accent, and it seems to be universal. It occurs on all Montana, Dakota and Idaho reservations, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn it occurs on every reservation in America. In my head canon, Carter can slip into the rez accent quite easily if you get him talking about it.