Demersseman
Chief Seattle's Letter to President United States. President of the United States, Franklin Pierce, in 1854 submitted an offer to Chief Seattle, of the tribe Suwamish to buy the Northwest Territories of the United States now forming the State of Washington. In return, promises create a "reservation" for indigenous people. The Seattle chief responds 1855.El Great Chief in Washington has ordered us know that we want to buy the land. The Great Chief also sent us words of friendship and goodwill. We very much appreciate this kindness, because we know that makes little need our friendship. We will consider your offer because we know that failure to do so, the white man may come with their guns to take our land. The Great Chief at Washington can rely on the words of Chief Seattle as surely waiting for the return of the seasons. Immutable as the stars are my words. How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the earth? That is for us a strange idea. If no one can own the freshness of the wind or the glare from the water, how can you propose to buy? Each piece of this land is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every handful of sand from the beaches, the gloom of the dense jungle, every ray of light and humming insect is holy in the memory and life of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the history of the red. The white man's dead forget their homeland when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters, the deer, the horse, the great eagle are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony and man all belong to the same family. Therefore, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great Chief sends word he will reserve a place we can live comfortably. He is our father and we will be his children. Therefore, we will consider your offer to buy our land. But that will not be easy. This land is sacred to us. This shining water that is drained by streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and should teach their children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories of the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my ancestors. The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember and teach their children that the rivers are our brothers, and yours. Therefore, you must give the rivers the kindness that you would devote to any brother. We know that man White does not understand our ways. For him a piece of land has the same meaning as any other, it is a stranger who comes at night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves. Leave behind the graves of their ancestors and do not worry. Steal of the earth what would be their children and do not mind. The burial of his father and the rights of their children are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth, leaving behind only a desert. I do not understand our customs are different from theirs. Maybe it's because I am a savage and do not understand. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in the spring or the rustle of insect wings. But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand. The noise only seems to insult the ears. What remains of life if a man can not mourn alone hear a bird or night croaking of frogs around a pond?. I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind ruffling the surface of the lake and the wind itself, cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with pine. The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same air, animal, tree, man, they all share the same breath. It seems that the white man does not feel the air you breathe. As a dying person is numb to the stench. But if we sell our land to the white man, he must remember that the air is precious to us that the air shares its spirit with the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. If we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, a place where even the same white man can taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers. Therefore, we will consider the offer to buy our land. If you decide to accept, will make one condition: The white man must treat animals in this land as his brothers. I am a savage and do not understand any other form of action. I saw a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot down from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to survive. What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, men would die from great loneliness of spirit, for what happens to the animals soon happen to men. There is a union at all. You should teach their children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. To respect the land, tell your children that is rich with the lives of our people. Teach your children what we teach our children, that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the soil. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves. This is what we know: the earth does not belong to man is the man belongs to earth. This is what we know: all things are connected like the blood which unites one family. There is a union at all. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the soil. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand. Whatever he does to the web, he does himself. Even the white man, whose God walks and talks like him, from friend to friend, can not be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We'll see. One thing we are sure that the white man may one day discover: our God is the same God. You may think you own Him as you wish to own our land, but it is not possible, he is the God of man, and his compassion is equal for the red man to man as white skin. The earth is precious, and contempt is contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass, perhaps sooner than all the other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. When you strip us of this land, you shine brightly, fired by the strength of God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over the earth and the red man. That destiny is a mystery to us, do not understand when the buffalo are slaughtered, the wild horses are all tamed, the secret corners of the dense forest are impregnated with the scent of many men and the view of the mountains blocked by talking wires. What happened to the wild wood? Disappeared. What has happened with the eagle? Desapareció.La life is over. Now begins survival. http://www.ciudadseva.com/textos/otros/seattle.htm
