The Last Sun Dance

It was my good fortune, while at Poplar River, Montana, in the early ‘80s, to witness the last unrestricted “Sun Dance” that the government allowed the Sioux Indians to hold.

It was to be a great affair, and as such, was widely heralded. At that time, there happened to be a steamboat stopping at the post, to unload stores and “wood up,” and as the news spread of the coming festival, the passengers seized the opportunity to witness the novel sight. A number of them attended it, gladly paying the one dollar admission that the Indians asked when they saw the crowd of prospective spectators. They knew that they could overtake the boat next day by driving overland a short distance, meeting it after it had made one of the wide bends for which the Missouri is noted.

The Sun Dance, “We tonka Wacheepy” as the Indians call it, was a half religious, half political rite, held annually to glorify the Deity; and to give the young men (and women) an opportunity to prove their bravery and endurance. By this rite or ceremony, the endurance powers of the young men were tested prior to their “coming of age.” If they withstood the ordeals without flinching, they were entitled to the appellation of “Braves,” and to take part in the councils of their people. But if they turned “jontay sutah wanitch” (weak hearted) and could not take the “medicine,” they were condemned to wear squaw clothes, and to associate with the women, if anybody, the rest of their lives – a disgrace greater than it is easy to describe.

For days before the big event, the Indians were busy building an immense semi-circular enclosure about a hundred and fifty feet across. For this they collected trees, brush and grass. From the trees were cut the larger branches, and these, leaves and all, were stacked to form a rustic wall of ten feet or more in height. This wall was then made more dense and impenetrable by interweaving among the branches, the lighter brush, long grass, hay etc., that had been accumulated.

As the time for the dance drew near the Indians began to gather. From Fort Buford, Standing Rock, Wolf Pond and from all their nearby camps and other agencies, they poured in, on foot, on horseback and on travois. It was a stream of gaily decked, sedate warriors, brightly blanketed, chattering squaws, and anxious excited young men. For days preceding the event, they came from far and near, until the entire camp became a babel of voices exchanging the gossip and history of the Sioux nation, for it was also the occasion for a tribal social gathering, and great was the feasting. Day and night one heard the ceaseless beat of the tom-tom. The small command of United States troops began to feel uneasy for fear that the quiet which had been enjoyed since Sitting Bull’s surrender, a couple of years previous, should be again broken. It was feared that, in the wild excitement of the dance and the ensuing mad carousal, the savage blood might again be roused, and inspire the Indians to commit fresh outrages through sheer bravado and a consciousness of overwhelming numbers. These fears, however, proved groundless.

At last the anticipated day arrived.

The Missouri River “bottom,” where the dance was held, was a vast flat plain, admirably adapted to such a drama as was enacted.

It was a brilliant sight, s the visitors appeared on the scene. The great crowd of Indians all decked in feathers, paint and the brightest of gay blankets, and with keen expectant faces, made not only a psychological study, but a kaleidoscopic appearance on the unbroken sage green plain. Old chiefs stalked about sedately, the coup feathers in their hair and bonnets as they waved, lending grace and dignity to their calm demeanor. Here a squaw, with a tiny papoose strapped to her back, hurried by, busy on some errand for her lord and master. Now and again a pale cheeked youth passed; his unnoticing eyes fixed on the ground as though in a mental trance. Now, a painfully ugly old man, his dirty blanket dragging on the ground, and carrying some hideous symbol moved by, s terror stricken individuals made way for him “Pajutah Wau kan” (medicine man) the Indians would murmur, as they glanced after him in evident fear and apprehension.

The handful of interested white visitors beheld the weird and unusual sight with wonder and almost awe on their intent faces. It was modern America gazing open mouthed at primeval America. But the latter, in its cool dignity and self-containment, appeared not to realize that strangers were present.

The visitors note dhow many of the Indian bucks were mounted on ponies, and soon they saw them start away to a spot several hundred yards distant. Here they formed in a close line facing the unfinished enclosure.

For a minute, there was absolute silence. The line, except for the occasional pawing of a horse, was as motionless and as quiet as though it were a panoramic painting. The braves were decked in their handsomest costumes, heavy with bead work; in their hair were feathers; knives flashed at their belts; the brilliant paint on their faces stood out vividly in the sunlight; and in his right hand, every man carried a green bough.

Suddenly, and apparently with an audible word of command, the ponies were put to a gallop; the branches were waved in the air; and the whole troop came thundering across the plain toward us; while from every throat was screamed the hideous war-whoop. The ground shuddered under the tread of the hundreds of hoofs; the air trembled with the savage cry; the wind whistled through the uplifting branches. It was like a diabolical human avalanche sweeping toward us.

On they came at top speed, until almost onto the partial enclosure that had been erected; then the horses were so suddenly checked in the mild rush, that they reared violently or were brought to their haunches. Another instant, and the whole line wheeled, and at a trot each warrior as he passed the half-completed structure, dashed his bough to the ground, and swept on to make room for the next. Horses of squaws rushed forward as the boughs were deposited, and built them up into a wall exactly similar to the other, thus completing the circle, save for an opening for entrance on one side.

In the centre of the circle had been planted a pole, really a tree, from which all but a few small branches at the top had been cut. It resembled a telegraph pole of about fifty feet in height. In the very top, was hung a bundle of herbs which had been “blessed” by the medicine men.

One side of the enclosure had been set apart for the visitor.

In another part of the theatre the young men who were to be tested took their places. We learned that they had had no nourishment that day except a cup of tea; and they would be compelled to fast until they had undergone their tests on the following afternoon. They were now given bone whistles, and, facing the sun, were set to dancing to it – a circumstance from which the rite takes its name.

The dance was merely a series of short jumps, the dancers always facing the sun; and as they jumped, they ceaselessly whistled the one monotonous note, over and over. They scarcely moved from their places, and the short springs barely cleared their heels from the ground, as they lifted on their toes. At intervals they blew a long note on the whistles, and extended their right hand appealingly toward the sun. It was almost incredible, the length of time they continued this dance without stopping for breath, and their rests were short and far between.

The young men danced this way from about two o’clock in the afternoon until sundown.

In the meantime, we noted the appearance of some old medicine men, in another part of the enclosure. To them were brought children and babies, to have their ears pierced. Some sort of savage method to partially deaden the pain was used; but soon the cries of the little ones almost drowned the insistent din of the bone whistles; the tom-toms; and the droning. It was a pitiful sight, and quite unbearable to some of the visitors.

For these services the medicine men reaped a rich harvest, for babies’ fathers paid, according to their means, to have the long slender knives or red hot needles run through the little ears. One very wealthy chief made the presentation of several ponies, with ostentatious display. The ponies were brought in by uncanny looking Indian men apparently dressed to represent “ghosts.” They wore nothing but their breech clouts; their bodies were whitened with some preparation resembling chalk, or plaster of paris. Their hair, too, was plastered over their heads to the back, where it hung in a single braid, covered with white plaster. The horses had been treated in the same manner, even their tails having become single stiff stalks of white plaster. The effect was startling, if not artistic.

Near the wall, and opposite the visitors, was stationed the “orchestra” composed of some ten or twelve Indian bucks presiding over the tom-toms. Now and again the muffled rumble of the instruments was broken by a chant from the “musicians,” that reminded one of Dante’s description of his visit to the place of lost souls. In its way, the song was as devoid of music as were the instruments, which accompanied the singers. And yet, its weird rhythm comes back to me from the distant past as a sort of doleful chant of mournful measure.

An unusual commotion, and our attention was attracted to some squaws near us, who were attended by medicine men. They had bared their shapely brown arms, and around them, above the elbow, were laid pieces of muslin. The men worked with each woman in turn. From the upper arm were cut small chunks of flesh; while the women endured and watched the operation without flinching. The pieces were then placed in the muslin, tied up like little balls, preparatory to being buried. The women displayed their bravery, and were assured, that by the time the pieces had decayed in the ground, the wounds in their arms would be healed.

The sights and sounds were rapidly growing too much for me, and I was glad when we went home that evening.

Had it not been that the affair was to be the last of its kind that would ever be held, I should have refused to return the next day. However, my husband and my friend, aided by my own curiosity, finally persuaded me to witness the ceremony of the great test day.

The youths had been dancing, as before, to the sun since early morning and about two o’clock in the afternoon they began to “take their medicine.”

A numb=er of medicine men had brought rods, to the ends of which were attached by a string, some kind of fancy tackle – resembling that used by the angler to lure his finny prey. This tackle was dangled before the dancers’ eyes just out of their reach. Each young man endeavored to follow it continually with his eyes, and apparently tried to catch it. And so, with heads thrown back at a break neck angle, they followed the medicine men around and around as they ceaselessly dangled the tackle up and down. Thus one led the dancers about, now causing them to turn one way, now another; now to whirl to the rear so quickly as to almost cause them to fall to the ground.

The evident purpose was to make the dancers so dizzy as to fall from exhaustion; thus rendering them less sensitive to pain – surely a heroic anesthetic, if such it were. As they had already been dancing with the sunlight blinding their eyes for several hours, it was not long before they succumbed to the “medicine.” Soon as they dropped, other doctors sprang upon them, and by different fiendish methods, prepared each for his special ordeal.

Several kinds of trials had been arranged, which were considered equally severe; and before the rites began, each you had been given his choice – a grim privilege.

Some were led to open pens, tow of which had been erected, at either side of the arena, opposite each other. They were formed by four strong posts about six feet high, firmly set in the ground at the quarters of a quadrangle about four by six feet. In these quadrangles the un-fortunate would-be braves were stood; and loops of the flesh on their backs and breasts were fastened securely by thongs to the four posts. There they had to stay, until they succeeded in tearing the thongs loose by frantic lunges of their writhing bodies. Their heroic efforts as they jerked forward and backward in the effort to break free, with the terrible laceration made a horrible and sickening sight, yet they was worse to come.

Some of the men had to walk (almost stagger really) around the ring with great buffalo skulls attached by cords to the flesh of their backs. The weight of the skulls and their hitching ad dragging along the ground, had to tear the thongs loose from the flesh before the mend could be relieved of their burdens, and their endurance powers be adjudged thoroughly proved. Not for a moment were they allowed to rest and their agony must have been dreadful.

I sank back in horror. At all the hideous sights and the flowing blood, I had become very faint. My husband saw it, and immediately applied the smelling salts he had brought for an emergency.

“Take me home, I cannot stand it. I don’t want to see any more,” I murmured faintly.

“I would not give up now,” he said. “It will not last long. You ought to see it. It is an event of great interest, and some day you will be glad to include it in the experiences of a life fast passing. If these people are foolish enough to do this sort of thing, you surely are brave enough to look at it.” I strongly suspect now, that for once he would satisfy his own curiosity than humor me – and I am glad he did.

However, I was revived somewhat by the salts, and again began to notice the sights about me.

The first thing I beheld was a figure hanging twenty feet or more from the ground, by the flesh of its back attached by a thong to the pole in the centre of the enclosure. The blood was streaming down his body, and dripping to the ground. Several more men were being put up in the same way. They were left to hang until the flesh by which their weight was suspended, ripped free. The thongs were fastened to the pole near its top and the bodies could swing to and fro past the pole – often bumping against it. One man I saw brace his feet against the pole and shove himself away from it! Swinging back and forth for several feet, like a human pendulum. At last he dropped, as they all did sooner or later, and upon being revived said his “heart was so strong,” and asked the medicine men to put him up again – which they promptly did.

I turned away from sheer weakness at the sight. More than one of the visiting women had fainted, but the Indian women watched the trials with expressions only of feverish interest. They seemed loath to lose one glimpse.

In one place there squatted a group of old squaws, and every few minutes they raised their voices in guttural unison, calling to the voluntary sufferers – “Ohetekha, Ohetekha. Cosha metowah” (be brave, my son, be brave). These cries were intended to cheer the “candidates,” or in Indian lore, to “make their hearts strong.”

Again and again, the orchestra chanted in a sort of wail; while the tom-toms kept up their dismal reiteration.

It was marvelous how the youths endured the pain. Not a cry or murmur crossed their lips. They seemed to vie with each other in showing much they could endure.

I felt relieved when the setting sun put an end to the affair, for I had seen enough of savage customs of torture; and was indeed glad that a continuance of such performances was forever prohibited from our country.

In a few days I saw the young men who had undergone the tortures, going about as if nothing had happened. I remember also that two of them, after having danced to the sun and been led around until dizzy like the others, backed out, when they saw how their companions were suffering – they had weakened at the last, refusing to “take their medicine.” As a consequence, they were doomed to associate with the women forever after. But the latter would have not more to do with them than would the men, for they had proved themselves cowards, weak hearts. Thenceforth they were practically ostracized from society; and a year later, when we left Poplar River, they were still wearing the squaw clothes, despised and shunned by the entire village.

[thanks to E. Elden Davis and Steve Soper for helping get my story published.]