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This text has been proofread but is not guaranteed to be free from errors. Corrections to the original text have been left in place.
Title: The Sick Child.  A Story, an electronic edition
Author: Henook-Makhewe-Kelenaka
Publisher: Harper's New Monthly Magazine
Place published: 
Date: 1899
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De Cora, Angel (Henook-Makhewe-KeleNaka [sic])The Sick Child. A Story.Harper's Magazine98 (February, 1899): 446-48.IT was about sunset when I, a little child, was sent with a handful
of powdered tobacco leaves and red feathers to make an offering to the
spirit who had caused the sickness of my little sister. It, had been a
long, hard winter, and the snow lay deep on the prairie as far as the
eye could reach. The medicine-woman's directions had been that the
offering must he laid upon the naked earth, and that to find it I must
face toward the setting sun.I was taught the prayer: "Spirit grandfather, I offer this to thee. I
pray thee restore my little sister to health." Full of reverence and a
strong faith that I could appease the anger of the spirit, I started
out to plead for the life of our little one.But now where was a spot of earth to be found in all that white
monotony? They had talked of death at the house. I hoped that my
little sister would live, but I was afraid of nature.I reached a little spring. I looked down to its pebbly bottom,
wondering whether I should leave my offering there, or keep on in
search of a spot of earth. If I put my offering in the water, would it
reach the bottom and touch the earth, or would it float away, as it
had always done when I made my offering to the water spirit?Once more I started on in my search of the bare ground.The surface was crusted in some places, and walking was easy; in other
places I would wade through a foot or more of snow. Often
I paused, thinking to clear the snow away in some place and there lay
my offering. But no, my faith must be in nature, and I must trust to
it to lay bare the earth.It was a hard struggle for so small a child.I went on and on; the reeds were waving their tasselled ends in the
wind. I stopped and looked at them. A reed. whirling in the wind. had
formed a space round its stem, making a loose socket. I stood looking
into the opening. The reed must be rooted in the ground, and the hole
must follow the stem to the earth. If I poured my offerings into the
hole, surely they must reach the ground; so I said the prayer I had
been taught, and dropped my tobacco and red feathers into the opening
that nature itself had created.No sooner was the sacrifice accomplished than a feeling of doubt and
fear thrilled me. What if my offering sbould never reach the earth?
Would my little sister die?Not till I turned homeward did I realize how cold I was. When at last
I reached the house they took me in and warmed me, but did not
question me, and I said nothing. Every one was sad, for the little one
had grown worse.The next day the medicine-woman said my little sister was beyond
hope; she could not live. Then bitter remorse was mine, for I
thought I had been unfaithful, and therefore my little sister
was to be called to the spirit-land. I was a silent child, and did not
utter my feelings; my remorse was intense.My parents would not listen to what the medicine-woman had said, but
clung to hope. As soon as she had gone, they sent for a
medicine-man who lived many miles away.He arrived about dark. He was a large man, with a sad, gentle
face. His presence had always filled me with awe, and that night it
was especially so, for he was coming as a holy man. He entered the
room where the baby lay, and took a seat, hardly noticing any
one. There was silence saving only for the tinkling of the little
till ornaments on his medicine-bag. He began to speak:
"A soul has departed from this house, gone to the spirit-land. As I came I
saw luminous vapor above the house. It ascended, it grew less, it
was gone on its way to tbe spirit-land. It was the spirit of the
little child who is sick; she still breathes, but her spirit is
beyond our reach. If medicine will ease her pain, I will do what I
can."He stood up and blessed tile four cor-ners of the earth
with song. Then, according to the usual custom of medicine-doctors, he began
reciting the vision that had given him the right to be a medicine-
man. The ruling force of the vision bad been in the form of a
bear. To it he addressed his prayer, saying: " Inasmuch as
thou hast given me power to cure the sick, and in one case allowing me
to unite spirit and body again, if thou seest fit, allow me to recall
the spirit of this child to its body once more." He asked that
the coverings be taken off the baby, and that it be brought into
the middle of the room. Then, as he sang, he danced slowly around
the little form. When the song was finished, he blessed the
child, and then prepared the medicine, stirring into water some
ground herbs. This he took into his mouth and sprinkled it over the
little body. Another mixture he gave her to drink.Almost instantly there was a change; the little one began to breathe
more easily, and as the night wore on she seemed to suffer
less. Finally she opened her eyes, looked into mother's face,
and smiled. The medicine-man, seeing it, said that the end was near,
and though he gave her more medicine, the spirit, he said, would
never return.After saying words of comfort, he took his departure, refusing to
take a pony and some blankets that were offered him, saying that he
had been unable to hold the spirit back, and had no right to accept
the gifts.The next morning I found the room all cleared away, and my mother
sat sewing on a little white gown. The bright red trimming caught
my eye. I came to her and asked, "Please mother, tell me for whom is
that, and why do you make it so pretty?" She made no answer, but bent
over her work. I leaned forward that I might look into her face and
repeat my question. I bent down, and, oh! the tears were falling fast
down her cheeks. Then we were told that our little sister was gone to
the spirit-land, and we must not talk about her. They made us look
upon her. We felt of her and kissed her, but she made no
response. Then I realized what death meant. Remorse again seized me,
but I was silent.