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Description

This is me, He'heenóhká'e - or Blackbird Woman in your language. I am twenty-one summers old. I’m a proud Sutai. We’re not like any other band. In ancient times the Sutaioo’o brought Esevone, the Holy Buffalo Hat, and the Sun Dance to the Tsitsista - Ma’heos chosen people - and thus we became one with the People who most foreigners call the Cheyenne.

As you can easily see from my Thunder-Bow, I’m a Contrary Warrior. The old ones say that I am the first Contrary woman in living memory.

Nothing prepared me for this. Until two summers ago I enjoyed the life of a regular, good girl. I was happy and probably a bit spoiled. Spoiled by the praise I got for my beadwork, for my singing voice, for my fine dancing, for my looks. I’m also from a very respected and affluent family. You can imagine what a jolly gauntlet I had to run everyday when fetching water. Many boys who took a fancy on me didn’t even dare to court me. Yet, there were still more than enough who did. When it was raining I never had to worry about getting wet. There were always flocks of young men waiting to take me under their blankets for a little sweetheart talk. They outdid each other in daring horse-raids to get the bride prize together, and I know for a fact that two of them died trying.

I enjoyed every part of my life, and I didn’t fear anything much. I took comfort in the bravery and numbers of our warriors, the power of their weapons and their medicine. I refused to weigh down my heart fearing things I could neither see nor change, be it invisible sicknesses or the supposedly awesome power of the vé’hó’e. I didn’t fear much anything, except one thing: Thunder.

The sound of thunder, the unstoppable devastating force of lightning – these things have always terrified me! I had seen lightning strikes cause wildfires, and as a little girl, I had seen how cruelly the Thunder Birds had struck an old woman and burned her to death. Whenever there was a thunderstorm, nothing and nobody could console me! I always had the feeling that the Thunder Birds were coming for me! And one night, a dream confirmed my awful premonitions! I was about to be struck by lightning and burn to death! I woke up in panic – to a raging thunderstorm! Almost mad with fear, I rushed outside into the pouring rain! I staggered on until I suddenly stood in front of a red painted lodge – the lodge of the Contrary! He was sitting outside in the rain, huddled in a simple robe, for the thunder bow had to be left alone in the lodge during thunderstorms! I walked up to him and, with a trembling voice, told him about my dream. He looked up at me, gave me a long, solemn gaze through the pouring rain, got up and led me into his lodge. Inside, he handed me the sacred Thunder Bow! The thunderstorm ebbed down soon after! From that night on I was a Honuhka’he’e, a Contrary Woman.

All my friends were shocked. My family was mortified. Instead of a respected warrior from another band paying a handsome bride price for me and moving in with us, it was now me who payed off the previous Contrary in horses and other things and then moved out from home to wear men's clothes and live alone. But I was content. Looking back, it all made sense. I now had a pact with the Thunder Beings. I was still marked for a lightning strike, but the Thunder Bow would protect me, provided I followed the rules. The most important rule is, of course, that you have to walk backwards, ride a horse facing backwards, say the opposite of what you mean, all the time. This way, the Thunder Beings, can’t see you. I was somewhat used to being considered special. It took a lot of time getting used to being lonely. I can’t socialize with people. People respect but avoid me. Women make sure their kids don’t get close to me. During thunderstorms everybody avoids me like the plague.

Only when going to war, the rule of contrary is suspended. I have come to love going to war. I always go when the opportunity arises. War Parties always welcome me. Being a fighting woman is great medicine. Being a Contrary on top is overwhelmingly powerful medicine. I always pierce the tracks of enemies with my Thunder-Bow to render their horses lame. I use my powers to refresh the strength of our warriors. They know that I’m nearly invincible. My little sister, who keeps telling me to “quit” and return to my old life, loves to remind me that I may have been a favourite daughter of my father and thus somewhat trained in shooting arrows and riding, but that I never got the thorough training of a male warrior. She claims I keep winning because everybody expects me to be invincible. She has a point, somewhat at least. Enemies can hardly fail to notice my Thunder Bow or my red body paint with the black thunder-zigzags. I also make sure they notice my breasts. Many enemies simply run when they see what I am. But not all do. While enemy tribesmen know what I am, vé’hó’e, in their ignorance, never seem to get it. Occasionally an enemy even singles me out for a fight on the battlefield, obviously trying to prove his superior courage, strength or war medicine. Or to kill himself a “half-naked fighting squaw”, as the vé’hó’e would rather put it. I take pride in the fact that I have bested each and every one of them so far. I have counted many coups, I have killed and scalped enemies. I even once captured the medicine cloth of the vé’hó’e, and now I wear it in a fashion that insults and challenges them nicely.

Yet being a Contrary is not a gift. It’s a burden I didn’t choose. It chose me. It has changed me a lot. I will be a Contrary until someone comes and relieves me from this responsibilitry. That may be tomorrow or near my life's end. I sometimes wonder how life would be without being a Contrary. I miss my family and my friends. All my friends are married now, and most of them have a child or two. My sister always keeps me informed who of my former suitors is married now as well. Or dead. I don’t expect any of them to wait for me. I don’t even know if I would want them to. I wonder what it’s like to make love. See what an old spinster I am? I’m also confused sometimes. I don’t know who I should want to live with one day. Some of the woman warriors I go on war parties with live with other women. Nobody understands a woman warrior better than another woman warrior. They usually make very special couples. Could I picture myself being one of those? Or would I return to wearing dresses, beading robes and preparing meals for the men? I find that harder and harder to imagine. I sometimes wonder if any of my old suitors would still want me the way I’m now. I don’t know if I will walk my future path with a woman or a man. I hope that one day I’ll be free to find out. I will be free to live and love normally.

And I’ll have to be damn careful when going to war. Being nearly invincible is something you get all too easily used to…

_____________________

I'm thinking about adding He'heenóhká'e to the war party in "Why don't they write home?" What do you think?

_____________________

Poser Pro 2014 - Vue Xtrem 2014

Description

This is me, He'heenóhká'e - or Blackbird Woman in your language. I am twenty-one summers old. I’m a proud Sutai. We’re not like any other band. In ancient times the Sutaioo’o brought Esevone, the Holy Buffalo Hat, and the Sun Dance to the Tsitsista - Ma’heos chosen people - and thus we became one with the People who most foreigners call the Cheyenne.

As you can easily see from my Thunder-Bow, I’m a Contrary Warrior. The old ones say that I am the first Contrary woman in living memory.

Nothing prepared me for this. Until two summers ago I enjoyed the life of a regular, good girl. I was happy and probably a bit spoiled. Spoiled by the praise I got for my beadwork, for my singing voice, for my fine dancing, for my looks. I’m also from a very respected and affluent family. You can imagine what a jolly gauntlet I had to run everyday when fetching water. Many boys who took a fancy on me didn’t even dare to court me. Yet, there were still more than enough who did. When it was raining I never had to worry about getting wet. There were always flocks of young men waiting to take me under their blankets for a little sweetheart talk. They outdid each other in daring horse-raids to get the bride prize together, and I know for a fact that two of them died trying.

I enjoyed every part of my life, and I didn’t fear anything much. I took comfort in the bravery and numbers of our warriors, the power of their weapons and their medicine. I refused to weigh down my heart fearing things I could neither see nor change, be it invisible sicknesses or the supposedly awesome power of the vé’hó’e. I didn’t fear much anything, except one thing: Thunder.

The sound of thunder, the unstoppable devastating force of lightning – these things have always terrified me! I had seen lightning strikes cause wildfires, and as a little girl, I had seen how cruelly the Thunder Birds had struck an old woman and burned her to death. Whenever there was a thunderstorm, nothing and nobody could console me! I always had the feeling that the Thunder Birds were coming for me! And one night, a dream confirmed my awful premonitions! I was about to be struck by lightning and burn to death! I woke up in panic – to a raging thunderstorm! Almost mad with fear, I rushed outside into the pouring rain! I staggered on until I suddenly stood in front of a red painted lodge – the lodge of the Contrary! He was sitting outside in the rain, huddled in a simple robe, for the thunder bow had to be left alone in the lodge during thunderstorms! I walked up to him and, with a trembling voice, told him about my dream. He looked up at me, gave me a long, solemn gaze through the pouring rain, got up and led me into his lodge. Inside, he handed me the sacred Thunder Bow! The thunderstorm ebbed down soon after! From that night on I was a Honuhka’he’e, a Contrary Woman.

All my friends were shocked. My family was mortified. Instead of a respected warrior from another band paying a handsome bride price for me and moving in with us, it was now me who payed off the previous Contrary in horses and other things and then moved out from home to wear men's clothes and live alone. But I was content. Looking back, it all made sense. I now had a pact with the Thunder Beings. I was still marked for a lightning strike, but the Thunder Bow would protect me, provided I followed the rules. The most important rule is, of course, that you have to walk backwards, ride a horse facing backwards, say the opposite of what you mean, all the time. This way, the Thunder Beings, can’t see you. I was somewhat used to being considered special. It took a lot of time getting used to being lonely. I can’t socialize with people. People respect but avoid me. Women make sure their kids don’t get close to me. During thunderstorms everybody avoids me like the plague.

Only when going to war, the rule of contrary is suspended. I have come to love going to war. I always go when the opportunity arises. War Parties always welcome me. Being a fighting woman is great medicine. Being a Contrary on top is overwhelmingly powerful medicine. I always pierce the tracks of enemies with my Thunder-Bow to render their horses lame. I use my powers to refresh the strength of our warriors. They know that I’m nearly invincible. My little sister, who keeps telling me to “quit” and return to my old life, loves to remind me that I may have been a favourite daughter of my father and thus somewhat trained in shooting arrows and riding, but that I never got the thorough training of a male warrior. She claims I keep winning because everybody expects me to be invincible. She has a point, somewhat at least. Enemies can hardly fail to notice my Thunder Bow or my red body paint with the black thunder-zigzags. I also make sure they notice my breasts. Many enemies simply run when they see what I am. But not all do. While enemy tribesmen know what I am, vé’hó’e, in their ignorance, never seem to get it. Occasionally an enemy even singles me out for a fight on the battlefield, obviously trying to prove his superior courage, strength or war medicine. Or to kill himself a “half-naked fighting squaw”, as the vé’hó’e would rather put it. I take pride in the fact that I have bested each and every one of them so far. I have counted many coups, I have killed and scalped enemies. I even once captured the medicine cloth of the vé’hó’e, and now I wear it in a fashion that insults and challenges them nicely.

Yet being a Contrary is not a gift. It’s a burden I didn’t choose. It chose me. It has changed me a lot. I will be a Contrary until someone comes and relieves me from this responsibilitry. That may be tomorrow or near my life's end. I sometimes wonder how life would be without being a Contrary. I miss my family and my friends. All my friends are married now, and most of them have a child or two. My sister always keeps me informed who of my former suitors is married now as well. Or dead. I don’t expect any of them to wait for me. I don’t even know if I would want them to. I wonder what it’s like to make love. See what an old spinster I am? I’m also confused sometimes. I don’t know who I should want to live with one day. Some of the woman warriors I go on war parties with live with other women. Nobody understands a woman warrior better than another woman warrior. They usually make very special couples. Could I picture myself being one of those? Or would I return to wearing dresses, beading robes and preparing meals for the men? I find that harder and harder to imagine. I sometimes wonder if any of my old suitors would still want me the way I’m now. I don’t know if I will walk my future path with a woman or a man. I hope that one day I’ll be free to find out. I will be free to live and love normally.

And I’ll have to be damn careful when going to war. Being nearly invincible is something you get all too easily used to…

_____________________

I'm thinking about adding He'heenóhká'e to the war party in "Why don't they write home?" What do you think?

_____________________

Poser Pro 2014 - Vue Xtrem 2014