The pushing of the Cherokees to move to the west was an inhuman action, which left most people homeless and others dead. Death was out of disease while on some occasions, it resulted from resistance from the natives who defied orders from the U.S government to push them from their lands. Just from the beginning of 1838, over 13,000 Cherokees were forced to march West in the dead of winter. This led to the deaths of close to 4,000 Cherokees as they marched to their new home in the west. Some of the emigrants died on their arrival to Oklahoma because of the strenuous journey and the bad weather, which met us. It was a removal of natives from their homes into completely new regions and that meant total readjustment. This condition led to physical, social and psychological trauma and I can only remember the pains we had to endure in the unfamiliar environments, where we had to start new lives. Being pushed to Oklahoma was not an easy aspect giving its eco-regions. A land full of hardwood forests, cypress swamps, rugged foothills and prairies became the new home for Cherokees (Nash & Strobel, 2006).
These people had to leave their homes behind and memories of their loved ones along the painful trails on their way to new homes. People lost property and land and had to start their lives from scratch. It was a painful ordeal, but without any substantial alternatives, we had to leave our homes and head for the west of Mississippi. The removals were the aggravation of bad blood among the natives. There was no concern for the natives and that created serious tensions, which eventually led to the Mexican American War. Before the war ensued, the American government had made an offer for purchasing the Mexican territory, but the Mexicans rejected the offer. After the war, Mexico became part of American territory and that gave an upper hand to the United States merciless overtaking of the region and driving us out of our homes (Nash & Strobel, 2006).
This was a pitiful experience as we were driven from our homes. Ross’s landing was one of the famous camps where we assembled before dispatch to the long journey through bad weather and the wilderness (Edmunds, Hoxie & Salisbury, 2007). Life had changed tremendously within a very short time and we lived in fear. It was a normal occurrence for Cherokees like us to face daily humiliation and those who fought back were sure to face the end of their lives. One of the evenings, soldiers came to our house where I lived with my parents. Father wanted to resist and fight them, but mother stood firmly against it and told him that they would kill him if he tried that. This led to our surrender and being driven away from our home. We were led to the camp where other prisoners stayed in anguish of their fate. That was the beginning of a night mere, which rocked my family and changed our lives forever. We were then forced to move out of the stockade where we had been held hostage to walk long miles to the Indian Territory leaving our homes in the Southeast.
We were lucky that my father had a wagon. Two spans of oxen pulled this with us in it. Those aboard the wagon were my six brothers and sisters. We managed to create room for two homeless widows and three children to ride with us. My older brother Warren walked alongside the oxen with a whip, which he used to flog the oxen as he drove them all the way. My parents also walked through the way. It was a tedious journey and people were hungry. The only thing that there was to eat was salt pork and soon people got tires of its taste. This forced my father to wander into the forest occasionally in hunt of deer and turkey, bringing them to camp for us to eat. While at camp, we managed cooking the food, and at least eating something different. We always camped close to water areas so we could be able to fill our kettles with water for the next stretch of the humiliating journey. Hard enough was for those who had no means of cooking as they may have been driven out without the opportunity of collecting any utensils. Incase of those who camped near our camp, we were always glad to share utensils with them so they could cook their food.
What I cannot fail to mention was the proneness of disease to emigrants. Many children died of whooping cough and the tracks formed the burial places for most of those who could not make it further. People were very sorrowful and tears became a usual sight in the eyes of those we were with on the journey. Two of my siblings were such who faced their fate on the long trail to the west. They succumbed to whooping cough and we had to bury them along the way. However, what hit us the most was the demise of my father. It was so hard loosing him because he was the strength to our journey. He guided us and fended for food to keep us going.
On one afternoon, one of the widows we had in our wagon was so famished and she could not eat the pork surplus we had in the wagon. We had run out of water and it was obvious hat if something had not been done soon, she would surely die. My father got worried and he had to go in hunt of food and water spot. When he came back, he had blood all over his shirt apparently from a fall. He could not explain much because he had lost so much blood and was getting too weak. He directed us in the direction where we could find water and mother and Warren brought him into the wagon where he stayed with us granting. When we got to the water point, Warren and mother brought him down and mother took to cleaning his wound. However, that was not enough because the wound looked deep and he kept deteriorating by the minute. This forced us to put camp for two days because his health was not good for travelling. Then father died and mother was left with five children to take care of throughout the journey. This is without mentioning the extra companions we had in the wagon. There was no time for mourning fathers’ death because we had to continue with the journey, and so amidst all the pain and regret he was buried along the river course.
References
Edmunds, R. D., Hoxie, F. E., & Salisbury, N. (2007). The people: A history of Native America. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co.
Nash, A. N., & Strobel, C. (2006). Daily life of Native Americans from post-Columbian through nineteenth-century America. Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press.
