When I Learned What It Means to be a Peace Chief

From an interview with Cheyenne Chief Lawrence Hart by Jerry L. Holsopple

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"Hart raged, “How dare they do that? How dare they salute one that their grandfathers had killed? And again all this time I knew that I should not harbor such feelings.”

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Lawrence Hart is a Cheyenne peace chief who has wrestled with how to forgive the murder and massacre of his ancestors. Does forgiving mean forgetting?

White Antelope, a Cheyenne peace chief in the 1800s, is a role model for Hart. White Antelope followed the teachings of Sweet Medicine, who said that chiefs are to be peacemakers. "They are not to engage in any controversy or use any violence. And peace chiefs are to do that no matter what the cost,” said Hart.

White Antelope was one of the first persons shot in the massacre at Sand Creek, in the southeastern portion of Colorado Territory in 1860. The troops shot indiscriminately--innocent women, children and even infants were slaughtered. Parts of the bodies, including scalps, were eventually paraded through the streets of Denver.

For Hart, one way to work toward healing these deep wounds and terrible wrongs is by caring for the bodies of his ancestors, people who were violated and slain. This process, called repatriation, involves taking bones which have been on display in a museum and returning them to their tribes for burial. “The whole process of repatriation was given the title, 'Naevahoo’ohtseme.' It means we are going back home,” said Hart.

Repatriation has become a meaningful way for Hart to work at healing—almost literally burying his anger and bitterness as he lays to rest the bodies of his people. But it was the commemoration of another tragedy that became even more personal for Hart.

The massacre at Washita River happened one dawn in late November, 1868, when Colonel Custer and 800 troops of the 7th U.S. Cavalry attacked the peaceful Cheyenne village on the banks of the Washita River. One hundred years later, the townspeople of Cheyenne planned a Centennial observance of their town’s history. They wanted the Cheyenne people to play the part of their embattled ancestors in a re-enactment of the Battle of Washita. Reluctantly, the Cheyenne agreed to participate if the town would give up bones of a Cheyenne victim they had on display in a museum, to be properly buried as part of the day’s commemoration.

Hart recalled the proceedings: “As the bugle sounded, I heard some commotion to my right and when I looked over there I saw a small detachment of troops. And it turned out that they were members of the Grand Army of the Republic, the grandsons of the 7th Cavalry. I had not known that they were coming. They were dressed in authentic 7th Cavalry uniforms, on horses, and firing blank cartridges from their rifles. I detested their presence. And I didn’t appreciate that they were shooting at our people, once again, 100 years later, and especially shooting at my own biological children. I almost had to regret that I had asked my two children, Connie and Nathan, to be there.”

The re-enactment ended. It was now time to bury the bones of the Cheyenne killed in the original battle. The soldiers saluted the coffin of the bones of the Cheyenne who was to be buried.

Hart raged, “How dare they do that? How dare they salute one that their grandfathers had killed? And again all this time I knew that I should not harbor such feelings.”

Then one of the Cheyenne women, as was traditional, took a beautiful blanket from around her shoulders to cover the coffin. It was also traditional to present such a coffin covering, as an honor, to someone at the burial.

“And I had in my mind, knowing who was there, that perhaps one of the dignitaries from our state government who were present would receive that blanket,” said Hart. He consulted with the chiefs and they told him they wanted the captain of the regiment to receive the blanket.

“I thought, ‘Wow. Why are they doing this?’” Hart said. “Nonetheless I obeyed my elders and I went back to the microphone and I called the captain of the regiment to step forward to receive this blanket.”

Lawrence took the blanket and placed it on the shoulders of the captain, a grandson of the original soldiers.

"That was just a most dramatic moment … and it was caught by other people as signaling a reconciliation that had been initiated by the elder peace chiefs who were there. It was a very emotional moment for many people,” Hart described.

Later, the captain thanked Lawrence and he took an oval pin off his uniform. It was the "Garryowen" pin worn originally by the members of the 7th Calvary. Garryowen was the music that was played to signal an attack, and it was played that morning 100 years ago. And he told me, “I want you to take this pin on behalf of the Cheyenne people, with the assurance that never again will your people hear Garryowen.” And that concluded our day, a day that I will always remember. A day that I learned what it means to be a Cheyenne peace chief.”

 

Excerpted from the video, "Journey Toward Forgiveness",
produced by Mennonite Media, Harrisonburg, Virginia, USA