Don't judge a book by its cover

The Trail of Tears was over, but never will be forgotten. In the outskirts of a small town in Virginia what used to be all their ancestral lands lived a small band of Nottoway Native people of the Turtle Clan. Most of their people living or visiting close to Tennessee and North Carolina borders had been stolen by the soldiers and volunteers representing a power that had become insatiable in its desire for land, not caring which Native tribes that crossed their paths they were forcibly relocating any that could stand in the way of that desire. Many of the royal family, the keepers of the healing stream were forced on such a journey, but they knew one day their descendant’s hearts would bring them back home to Virginia, but they would need a path to follow. So they willed their souls to the trees and the stones along the trail as their bodies lay down to unite back with Mother Earth. A trail that still bears their name to this day, awaiting their children’s return. And if you listen closely to the wind and the shifting of the stones on that trail you will hear their story.

The band of Nottoways always lived away from the town and its people. Their customs were strange and so different from their own. But, they saw the fascination and longing their children had with such modern ways and they knew it would be only a matter of time before their old ways would not be enough. Knowing in Native culture it is wise if you see how your actions today will effect and benefit 7 generations in the future and it did not take much to see that their culture might not exist 7 generations in the future if action was not taken now.

With the forced resettlement and their stolen people, the pain was still too fresh and wounds still open and that helped with the separation for the mean time. The town people understood, the tribe had seen time and time again so many wars involving and with the new arrivals to their land that giving each other space promoted necessary peace on both sides. The Nottoways lived and died as they have always lived and died. They did not involve themselves in the town’s peoples matters and were left alone. The few times that they were not left alone the intruders wish that they had.

Their ancestral land they called Ordinary, because there were not any words to describe such beauty, such peace and tranquility that would not cause envy to the other nearby creations. The Nottoways could still not understand this thought that one could own the land, so they never thought of laying any claims or getting a deed to claim ownership. The plantation owner who shared the rest of the land with them would give them a note of paper with his picture on it every year for 20 years until he died. He would call them his landlords. They did not speak the language, but felt the sadness in his heart and would accept his gift and put it in a little black book that he gave them, that he called a ledger notebook. Many years have passed since he died and now his sons were adults and that same insatiable desire for the land raised its ugly head again and this time in their direction.

Even though the Nottoways lived on only 20 acres of the 15,000 acres, it was secluded and had one of the most beautiful views of the ocean and most importantly is was something their neighbors did not own. Thomas the oldest son brought an interpreter to explain that they have been squandering on the generosity of their family far too long and would either have to buy the land or move.

There was much talk on Thomas’s side and much listening on the elder’s side. Thomas explained their family was growing and needed all the land now and that because of their friendship with his father, he would allow them to buy this land and their tribe would be allowed to live on it forever and ever without fear. The cost of the land is $10,000 and payable by the end of the month or the offer would be withdrawn. The elders showed their respect to the son of their friend and waited for him to leave and spoke openly with the interpreter.

The interpreter looked around the camp and saw the beauty in the lodges covered with bark and a general fire for everyone to get warm, no waste, nothing having monetary value, but sustained their very existence. Everyone having no more or less than the other and he wished that they had a fighting chance in court against the landowner’s injustice. The went into the sweat lodge and after the ceremonies one of elders speaking his thoughts out loud, could not believe that a man whose heart was so tender called them landlords and gave them pictures of himself on a note for 20 years generous spirit did not pass on to the next generation. The interpreter did not understand what he meant and the elder told him he would show him the ledger left by Thomas’s father. The interpreter held his breath as he opened the little black ledger notebook which contained 20 - $1000 gold certificate notes. The pages were empty except for a note that was handwritten on the back cover.

I wast a soldi'r of f'rtune and hath lived mine own life by the sw'rd. I hath left mine own family and title backeth in england to maketh something m're of myself and to findeth out who is't i very much am. Thy people has't shown me yond t is the inside, the heart and being gen'rous to each oth'r is the tru'r meaning of life. I wast given thy lands by someone whose landeth t wast not to giveth. Thy people cruelly being taken from thee and having to walketh 1000 miles, hast shown me yond i shall nev'r beest the sir i wanteth to beest without treating ev'ryone fairly. So, i shall giveth thee a $1000, f'r each mile in gold ev'ry year of mine own life f'r ev'ry stepeth thy family to backeth to thee.

at each moment thy friend, Thomas

And he closed the book after he finished translating - The interpreter William that Thomas found in haste was actually one of the grandchildren of the tribe that was forcibly moved to Oklahoma and he had become a lawyer and activist and took those steps back to them and from the trail found his way home.