What Matters Most

My mother gave me the name, Runehu’hu, turtledove. I love the sound it makes as it rolls off the tongue, “Roon-eh-hoo’-hoo.” Clan leaders had urged everyone to take names of prestigious colonists, thinking this would ensure respect. Mine is Jane, just one syllable, plain.

Stunningly Elegant

People say I look like my mother. Her face was stunningly elegant. Not me, I thought as I traced the bridge of my wide nose and tugged at full cheeks. I looked more sturdy than beautiful.

My aunt thinks me attractive… and a woman. “Attractive young women, seventeen summers old, need to be careful. There is danger outside the village.” She has warned me, again and again. “Women and children disappear all the time… likely seized for the slave trade. Don’t go out alone.”

Despite her warnings, I could not resist the lure of wild flowers on the hillside. Sitting knee deep, I could see myself as a child, laughing with my mother and brother.

I pushed the worries out of my mind and picked flowers. The gentle aroma calmed my thoughts. We call these small purple flowers o-ah-wen’-sa. The center cone contains hundreds of smaller flowers, each producing just one seed. Large purple petals surround the yellow cone. I smiled and plucked petals, until I had a handful, and threw them high into the air. The swirling bits of color reminded me of how the English value their money.

What Matters Most

Like flower petals, their money blows away on the wind.

Put here by the Great Spirit, the land remains.

As long as the sun shines, it gives us life.

As long as the water flows, we drink it in.

Can the land be bought? Can we sell it for money?

They know nothing. It does not belong to us.

Note: Jane is my ancestor. In 1710, her world is about to change due to English greed. They valued money above all else. What matters most to you?

Also see Tuscarora Ancestors.

Chuck is a member of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolinia.