by Helen Frost
the chickens used to be, and over to the garden to see if there’s still
any food there. It’s stripped clean except for a small patch of parsley.
I keep looking at the road from Piqua. Hey—is that them? Yes! Women,
children … and Pa is right behind them! I run back in the fort to tell Ma.
She splashes water on her face, like she’s washing off the worry lines.
We go meet them—Pa swings down from his horse, hugs Ma and Molly,
roughs up my hair. Looks like you took care of things around here, Son, he says.
Isaac runs over. Hey, James, he hollers, we won the war! He looks at the burned
ground where the forest was: Good job clearing out those bushes! How come
seeing Isaac makes me feel more lonesome than I did when he was gone?
ANIKWA
Mink and Toontwa
are twisting strips of linden bark,
making twine to sew new cattail mats. Father and I dig
holes to set the sapling posts, while Grandma
teaches Rain Bird how to sew
the mats together. If we
keep on
working hard like this,
we’ll have shelter by tomorrow night.
I hear someone coming—speaking English. James?
Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Gray, and Molly. They tie their horses to a tree.
Mr. Gray lifts down two big saddlebags, and looks around the clearing
till he sees us. We stop what we’re doing. Mink glances at Grandma.
Rain Bird looks at me. What do they want? James looks around
with wide-open eyes. Hasn’t he seen a family make a house
before? Grandma motions to them: Come near the fire.
James is holding something odd-shaped,
wrapped up in a blanket.
Father’s fiddle.
He hands it to Father,
and Mr. Gray opens up a saddlebag,
takes out nine dried fish and a small bag of corn.
I saved what I could, he says. A gift—that was
ours to begin with.
JAMES
Anikwa looks at me like he’s forgotten who I am, his eyes so sad
and angry I don’t know what to say. I made him a new whistle, but now
it seems like it belongs someplace we can’t go back to. I keep it
in my pocket. We give them a ball of twine, a new blade for their saw.
Ma says, This is not on credit. It’s a gift. Pa looks surprised to hear that,
but he doesn’t disagree. A few leaves are turning yellow, falling
from the trees into the river. When I do offer the whistle to Anikwa,
he takes it, but he doesn’t smile. He looks older. He looks hungry.
They all do. Mink spreads out her hands and speaks to us. Old Raccoon
repeats her words in English: Please sit with us and eat. He goes away and
comes back with a roasted rabbit. Mink holds out a small gourd bowl to Pa.
He turns red and looks down at the ground before he dips his fingers in. Salt.
Thank you, he says softly. I whisper to Ma, They hardly have any food. Why
are they feeding us? She answers, You should know by now. This is who they are.
ANIKWA
If we
sit down to eat with James
and his family, will he and I be able to play
a song together on our whistles?
That’s what he hopes for,
the question I see
in his eyes:
Are you still my friend?
Last night Father said, There will be
more settlers. Everyone who is here now will invite
friends and relatives from the places they came from themselves.
Soon there will be more of them than us, and they will tell us where
we can and cannot live. Is it already too late to prevent that?
I listen to the river, to the fire at the center of our circle,
two coyotes howling back and forth, and people
talking softly as they make a wiikiaami.
I keep listening until I find my own
music, and then I lift
the whistle
to my mouth and play.
Father joins in on his fiddle; James
adds a tune that moves in and out of ours. We send
our music out into the darkening sky
and let the river carry it.
NOW THE SUGAR MAPLE
Now the sugar maple
draws water through deep roots
up into branches.
Deer come to lick a wound
scraped into bark,
taste the tree’s sap seeping out.
More deer gather.
As they once led us to salt,
now they show us
how to find this small sweet taste,
moving up and out
into new buds, each branch
offering to sky
a gift of light and shadow.
NOTES
Form
Salt
Names
GLOSSARY OF MIAMI (MYAAMIA) WORDS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
BONUS MATERIALS
NOTES
Form
Anikwa’s poems are shaped like patterns of Miami ribbon work, a traditional art form created by sewing different colors of ribbons in patterns layered on top of each other to form diamond and triangle shapes. James’s poems began as an image of the stripes on an American flag. As I discovered the two voices, the pulse-like shape of Anikwa’s poems wove through the horizontal lines of James’s poems, and the two voices created something new that held the story as it opened out.
Poems about salt are placed throughout the story to allow readers to pause between one event and another.
Salt
People and animals everywhere need salt. In 1812, it was used in food preservation as well as being eaten for flavor and health. The poems about salt tell how it was formed, discovered, and used in the place known as Myaamionki, the land of the Miami.
Names
As far as I know, these are not the names of real people, living now or in the past. I am grateful to Miami friends who helped me name the fictional characters; we agreed that it was best not to try to follow the complex traditions of Miami naming, and that some of the characters would be known by English translations of their Miami names.
Miami Name
Meaning in English
Anikwa (ah-NIK-wah)
squirrel
Eehsipana (ay-SIP-ah-nah)
Old Raccoon
Kwaahkwa (KWAHK-wah)
pileated woodpecker
Piitilaanoonhsa (pee-tih-lah-NOON-sah)
cliff swallow or “Rain Bird”
Šinkohsa (shing-GOH-sah)
Mink
Toontwa (TOON-dwa)
bullfrog
Wiinicia (wee-NICH-ya)
box turtle
Names in other languages*
Meaning in English
Shawnee
Piyeeto (pee-yay-TOH)
He Brings It
Ojibwe
Waaseechkang (wah-SAYCH-kahng)
Brings In Light
Ottawa
Warrior
Wedaase (weh-DAH-say)
*Suggested by tribal members who speak each of these languages
GLOSSARY OF MIAMI (MYAAMIA) WORDS
To listen to these words (and many more) spoken by Miami speakers, go to the online Miami dictionary: myaamiadictionary.org
Miami (Myaamia)
Meaning in English
amehkwa (ah-MEH-kwa)
beaver
aya (EYE-yah)
hello, greeting
iihia (EE-hyah)
yes
kiihkoneehsa (kee-ko-NAY-sa)
fish
maalhseenhsi (mahl-SAYN-si)
pocketknife
m
akiinkweemina (mah-king-gway-MI-nah)
blackberry
makiinkweeminiiki (mah-king-gway-mi-NEE-ki)
blackberries
mihŠi-maalhseensa (MI-shi-mahl-SAYN-zah)
American boy
mihŠi-neewe (MI-shi-NAY-weh)
thank you very much
miililo (mee-li-LO)
give it to me
moohci (MOO-chi)
no
moohswa (MOOS-wah)
deer
myaamiinse (miahm-MEEN-zeh)
Miami child
Myaamionki (miahm-mee-OHNG-gi)
land of the Miami
neewe (NAY-weh)
thank you
niihka (NEE-kah)
friend
noohse (NOO-seh)
grandchild
paapankamwa (PAH-pahng-GAM-wah)
fox
siipiiwi (see-PEE-wi)
river
waapanswa (wah-PAHN-zwah)
rabbit
wiihkapaakani (weeh-KAH-pah-KAH-ni)
salt
wiikiaami (wee-kee-YAH-mi)
house
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve been learning about this history for over twenty years, and could never thank everyone who has helped me discover and write the story, but I will mention some people and organizations without whom the book could not have been written.
Friends in the Miami Tribe of Oklahoma and the Miami Nation of Indiana have always been helpful and encouraging. Special thanks to George Ironstrack, Laura Nagy, Scott Shoemaker, George Strack, Dani Tippmann, and all the children, parents, grandparents, teachers, and counselors at the Miami Language and Culture camps. Warm gratitude to Catherine Nagy for her suggestion to “end it with music.”
MihŠi-neewe to the Myaamia Center (myaamiacenter.org), at Miami University, in Oxford, Ohio—a source of maps, language, and historical and cultural information.
I thank the children I knew in Telida, Alaska, in the early 1980s, adults now, who answered such questions as “How long can you leave a rabbit in a snare?” My friendship with their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents also finds a place in this story.
Thanks to Reta Sands and Howard Kimewon, who suggested names for the Ottawa and Ojibwe characters.
A number of scholars generously offered their expertise. I thank Ted Bartlett, chemist; Tim McCoy, geologist; and Daryl Baldwin, David Costa, and Chad Thompson, linguists.
I found helpful historical resources at the Allen County Public Library; the IPFW Helmke Library; the Allen County–Fort Wayne Historical Society; the Eteljorg Museum; and OYATE. Special thanks to historians John Beatty, Todd Pelfrey, Stuart Rafert, Clifford Scott, Peggy Seigel, and Eric Vosteen.
Although I have not named the historical figures who were important in the events this story portrays, I would like to acknowledge one person whose name often came up in my research. Angeline Chapeteau Peltier was a peacemaker in her time, and an inspiration and comfort to me as I imagined my story.
I am grateful for financial support from the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Foundation.
Thank you to the Authors Guild and the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, especially the Indiana listserve and the Fort Wayne writers group.
Karen Baldwin, Monica Edinger, Carol Roberts, and Margaret Steen offered helpful comments, as did young readers Julia Beatty, Zachary Herbert, and Clark and Harrison Webster. Thank you.
Thanks to Ketu Oladuwa, Sox Sperry, and Lisa Tsetse, who have shared a profound interest in this story for many years. To other friends who encourage me in so many ways: you know who you are—I appreciate you.
Many thanks to my editor, Frances Foster: what a privilege to work together on this, our seventh book. I also appreciate Susan Dobinick, Karla Reganold, Jay Colvin, and others at FSG and Macmillan, and Ginger Knowlton at Curtis Brown.
I have a large and rather amazing extended family—thanks, everyone! And a big thank-you to Chad, Lloyd, and Glen, whose suggestions are always thoughtful, specific, and helpful. I couldn’t be luckier.
A CONVERSATION WITH HELEN FROST
How did you come to write this book?
When I moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana, twenty-five years ago, I was interested in the history of this place where three rivers meet. I learned that about two hundred years ago, there was a huge transition, in a very short time, from when it was a Myaamia (Miami) community to when it was a military fort, then a frontier town, and then an American city. As was true throughout the North American continent, such change did not happen easily. History books are full of war stories of that time, and sometimes that is all we learn about.
I was interested in the relationships among people of different groups, and I found much evidence of friendship and intermarriage woven with the stories of fighting. I thought about what it may have been like for children who were friends when these changes were taking place. As I learned more, I looked for a way to tell the story I imagined.
What sparked your interest in the War of 1812?
The events that occurred in Kekionga/Fort Wayne in the late summer of 1812 sparked my interest, and then as I tried to understand the larger context of what happened here, I learned more about the War of 1812.
What sort of research did you do while writing Salt?
I walked along the rivers.
I went to the library.
I read journals of military men and pacifists from the early 1800s.
I waded through the difficult stories, and learned what I could from people whose points of view are different from my own.
I visited museums.
I listened to Myaamia elders, historians, and storytellers.
I attended Myaamia cultural events and academic conferences.
I thought about how I came to know my Native American friends and considered why cross-cultural friendships have been easier for me as an adult than they were when I was a child.
I learned who to ask for help when I got stuck.
How did you decide on the poetry structure for this book?
I wrote the story in several different ways before finding the poetic form that allowed the two voices to ring clear and weave together as the story took shape.
What would you like readers to take away from Salt?
When we learn history, we sometimes think the outcome was inevitable, but it was not. This part of our history could certainly have turned out differently. What if everyone had refused to be led by fear, and had treated one another with respect?
We may not be able to change what happened in the past, but we can gain wisdom from our study of history that will help us make good choices as we shape our present and future.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Why is it important that the story is told equally from both Anikwa’s and James’s perspectives?
2. What do the different styles of James’s and Anikwa’s sections say about the two characters?
3. What do you think of the short poems about salt between each section? How do these poems add to the story?
4. Despite many differences between their cultures, James and Anikwa become good friends. Why do they get along, and what makes their friendship so strong? How did Isaac’s interactions with the Miamis differ, and why?
5. Both British and American armies fight for the land. Even Native American tribes from other parts of North America join the struggle, but the Miami natives who have lived in Kekionga all along just want to keep the peace. Who do you think the land should belong to? In the end, a war decides who gets to stay and who has to go, but is there a better way to resolve a conflict?
6. When Isaac is trapped in the forest and the Miami natives shoot down a bobcat, why is Isaac so sure they were trying to shoot him? Why does everyone listen to him, instead of to the truth—which is that the Miamis were trying to save him?
7. Even after the Americans close the trading post and the siege begins, both James and Anikwa
think about each other’s safety. What does this say about their friendship? Do you think it’s possible for a friendship like theirs to survive a war?
8. Why does James’s ma want to stay at home in the stockade at first? What changes her mind?
9. Anikwa’s grandma says, “Grief gathered kindling. Fear struck the flint. Anger fans the flames” (p. 86). What do you think this means? When does grief and fear turn into anger, and why is this dangerous?
10. Why does Anikwa’s family offer James’s family food even when they have so little of it? Why might it be important for them to extend this gesture?
WRITING FROM TWO POINTS OF VIEW
Think about something that really happened,
involving two or more people.
or
Imagine something that might happen.
Write the beginning of the story from one person’s point of view.
Then switch to the other person’s point of view, and continue the story.
Go back and forth like that four or five times.
You can write in poems (free verse, or in a form of your choice).
or
You can write in prose.