from Sarah Collins 1749. Turtle Woman advises the migrants. A Black Indian village. A lonely parting
On the right bank of the Monongahela, Turtle Woman sat on the high ground, facing the setting sun, overlooking the river crossing at Red Stone, the important crossroads where Nemacolin's Trail crossed at the only low riverbanks in the area. She held court in the ruins of a red stone building constructed by the People of Olden Times.
Koomhawkot and Pet-hawk-hon approached her and introduced themselves. "They told us to see you. We just arrived from the East. We need to settle around here. There are about fifty of us."
Turtle Woman looked them up and down for a while, frowning. "Your clan?" "Turtle." "Hm," she replied. "Your band?" "Kuwektepehele."
"Ah," she said and looked at them more closely. "Are you related to old Mamalis?"
Koomhawkot said, "Yes, she's my mother's great-aunt."
Turtle Woman smiled. "Then my folks know your folks somewhere back there. I think our great-grandparents lived closer together, back East, before we all got scattered over this way. So where are you thinking of settling?"
Pet-hawk-hon said, "We were thinking of a little ways down this valley, somewhere close to here."
Turtle Woman's smile faded. "Well, lots of people got here before you. If you go walking all down there, they'll tell you there's not enough room for everybody. And then you'll come to the Seneca sakimaxkwe Aliquippa and her people, and you really do not want to make her angry. This is why we all agreed to sit me here and help sort out where everybody's going. I know all the aunts and mothers in the different bands. Hope you don't mind traveling farther."
"To where?"
"Go another day's journey down the Monongahela, and on the right there's another river almost as big flowing into it. That's the Youghiogheny. Aliquippa lives across from there. Go up the Youghiogheny's left bank, and I hear there's a nice spot half a day's walk up there that hasn't been occupied yet. Where the river curves back on itself. Been saving it for some nice folks like you." Her smile won them over.
At this point she saw Kweku talking with Ahsennamenshi nearby. "Hey, black man! Are you with them?"
Koomhawkot said, "He doesn't speak Lenape. We'll have to teach him. He traveled with us here. When we met him, he was alone. Now he has to decide where he wants to go." She called him over and also called on her daughter Shela to translate for them.
Turtle Woman said, "These folks are going up the Youghiogheny to settle. Are you going with them? Or what did you have in mind coming to this place?"
Kweku replied, "I was held as a slave by white men. I escaped and crossed the mountains to be free with the Indians here. I intend to be a Black Indian: to live the Indian way, to worship your gods, and to join my strength to your strength. Please, madam, I need more information about this country before I can decide where to go."
Turtle Woman looked him square in the eye and held his gaze for some time. He looked back softly, steadily, and with neutral expression. She seemed to like what she saw in his eyes and said, "Well, we can tell you what you need to know about the country. But you won't know where you're going until you're sure of who you are. Who your people are."
"The Indians are my people now! I am as sure of that as I am sure that my heart beats in my chest!"
"Hey, calm down there, wildcat. I'm glad you want to be Indian. Now, listen, there are lots of different kinds of Indians in these parts. We aren't all just the same, you know. If you know your own self, then you will know your people. It looked like you made friends with Koomhawkot's people, so that's why I asked if you were going up the Youghiogheny with them."
He turned to Koomhawkot and made eye contact, suddenly bewildered and at a loss for words.
She smiled quizzically at him, tilting her head to the side. "Well? Have you thought about it?"
"What is this place where she is sending you?"
"A day and a half's journey from here. Down this river and up the next one. She says it's a good spot. You can come with us if you want."
"Or," said Turtle Woman, "since you said you want to be a Black Indian, why not go to the Black Indian village near here?"
Astonished, Kweku gasped, "Really? You mean there is a whole village of Black Indians here?"
"Sure is. It's up river from here. They call it Deer Skull. Lots of folks who escaped the white men just like you. I guess they like it here."
All the new information whirled in Kweku's head. "Let me think about it. We need to make camp for the night soon. May I think about it overnight and tell my decision in the morning?"
"Sure, no hurry. See you then." She smiled.
That night Kweku dreamed he was back in his home village of Essiama, at the harvest feast when everyone got together. He looked around for his family and friends, but everyone was different. Even though all the places were the same, he couldn't find a single person he recognized. This made him so upset he woke up.
What could that dream have meant? Perhaps his native village symbolized home. It had all different people in it. But they were all African, of course. So with the African village nearby, would making it his new home fulfill his dream? And was it a dream to be fulfilled? It was hard to think of all the ramifications of his choice now, but he had to decide soon, as his Lenape friends were leaving first thing after breakfast. They were all packed up. He finally settled on the idea that his dream was a signal to move to Deer Skull.
Turtle Woman used her chin and mouth to point upriver. "About a third of a day's walk up the right bank of the Monongahela. On your left you'll see a really big oak. There's a trail that climbs up the riverbank. Be careful, it's steep. Then take that trail upcountry for… oh, for a man your size, must be about a thousand paces. There'll be a trail branching off to the right. A little ways ahead is Deer Skull."
Kweku thanked her, and shouldered the bag Shela had given him, with his few provisions that he had worked for along his journey. He said goodbye to the Thundercloud family and to Aunt Annie and Ahsennamenshi, and turned his steps southward, alone and afoot again. He didn't remark how Shela gazed after him, her face washed with sudden sadness, her moist eyes glinting in the early morning light.