On the final day of a Sun Dance in the late 1960's, a lone cloud appeared, in an otherwise clear blue sky, far to the south as eight dancers waited to be pierced.
Chief Eagle Feather and I were the first to be pierced. The large Sichangu Sioux holy man stood next to me urging me to watch what was happening far away to the south. A distant growing puff of white cloud was the only image in the hot August sky. I was honestly too tired to offer it much attention. I was also thirsty and hungry, mostly thirsty from four days, long days of fasting and fulfilling my sun dance pledge along with the other seven pledgers. I have to be honest. At that particular moment in my life, I was simply counting off the final hour of the grueling sun dance. I imagined the relief I would soon be feeling when the ceremony and my four day vow would soon be over.
The cloud seemed to be approaching. It was a vast western sky with no other clouds visible. The dry Badlands air was still, yet the cloud seemed to be moving toward us. I could feel a dull throb where I had been pierced in my chest. I held my rope's weight in one hand to ease off the pain. After a few minutes the pain changed my chest to numbness. I eased my grip on the rope and let it hang freely while shuffling a slow dance step to the drum beat coming from the drummers at the edge of the sun dance arena. We watched each dancer lie on the bed of sage face upward at the base of the sun dance tree and be pierced by the sun dance Intercessor, the Sun Dance Chief. Chief Fools Crow would push his sharp awl in and through the chest skin and back out again, then insert a smooth wooden peg into the first cut and tunneling under the skin he would push the tip back out. Onto this hardwood skewer he would tie the pledger's rope to the peg with a leather thong. The other end of the rope was attached high up on the tree implanted at the center of the sun dance arena.
Surrounding the arena was a pitiful crowd numbering maybe only several hundred or so traditional believing Sioux. This was not a large number coming from the Oglala tribe that numbered at least 25,000 people. The neighboring Sichangu tribe of Sioux - representing some of the pledgers, including Chief Eagle Feather – were also sparsely represented, although they numbered approximately 20,000 in those days. Hiawatha Federal Insane Asylum (Canton, South Dakota) no longer existed but the fear of ‘The Ban’ lingered. The last embarrassing brick of the asylum had been carefully removed almost overnight by the federal government several decades before.
The numbers of the traditional faithful was pitiful in those days. The reservation missionaries with the unconstitutional help of the federal government had done their job well - from their viewpoint. Little did we know or realize that the return of Native Spirituality would build like a tremendous storm.
Thousands would return to the way of their ancestors and our lone Sun Dance would become a hundred in but a few decades. Thousands of new pledgers would arrive. One Sun Dance would not be able to fulfill their four day vows.
"It's coming closer," I remember Eagle Feather's awed tone. The cloud about the size of a football field approached slowly. I should have been in dead earnest awe but I was so weak and tired from the four days fasting. I have to be honest. I simply wanted the ceremony to be over. I was now pierced and all would be over in a matter of minutes.
Fools Crow came toward me after the last dancer was pierced. "Hau, Nephew." Bill Eagle Feather exclaimed. "That cloud is coming right at us!" The cloud was approaching the edge of the campground which was full of teepees, tents, and trailers; all surrounding the circular Sun Dance arena with its lone cottonwood tree at its center, decorated with colored prayer cloths. The drums were throbbing seeming to speed their hypnotic crescendo; that pulsating, haunting tone which one hears only at a Sun Dance. As a Sun Dancer you will hear it for an eternity. It is so powerful; the pain in your chest seems to be carried away with its soothing, magical tone. Fools Crow took me by my sage gauntlet tied around my wrist and walked me inward toward the tree. All the dancers came inward, dancing a slow shuffling gait to the heavy rhythm of the drums, blowing their eagle bone whistles. We touched the tree and blew our shrill whistles. The tree shrilled back!
We danced backward to the end of our ropes. The ropes tightened and our thongs held firm. The drums throbbed as if we were standing before a gigantic, singing waterfall. Fools Crow signaled with a nod and we all danced back toward the tree, our eagle bones shrilly tweeting. Again the tree sang back! Four times in all we would dance inward. After the fourth touching of the tree we danced slowly outward, then leaned backward at the end of our ropes. The silent on-looking crowd would send up their prayers to Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit whom we assumed was watching from somewhere.
The cloud was directly above as we touched the tree for the final time. It sent down soothing, light rain on the dancers and the praying crowd. We went back to the end of our ropes. Some sun dancers would have visions as they leaned back against their bond with Mother Earth. Eventually all would break free and the ceremony would be over.
Was Creator watching over that particular ceremony; the people together? Who controlled that cloud or rather, What controlled that moving billowing object of Nature which purposely made such a timely appearance on a windless day? There was no fearsome, rolling thunder or terrifying lightning, no punishing hail stones; just pleasant, soothing, cooling, rewarding light rain. Is that a sign that whatever controlled that cloud, might be somewhat pleased?
Lone Cloud Sun Dance
By Ed McGaa (Eagle Man)
Copyright 2009
