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Tag: 인디언

인디언의 감사 기도

인디언의 감사 기도

We return thanks to our mother, the earth, which sustains us.

We return thanks to the rivers and streams, which supply us with water.

We return thanks to all herbs, which furnish medicines for the care of our diseases.

We return thanks to the corn, and to her sisters, the beans and squashes, which give us life.

We return thanks to the wind, which, moving the air has banished diseases.

We return thanks to the moon and stars, which have given us their light when the sun was gone.

We return thanks to the sun, that has looked upon the earth with a Beneficent eye.

Lastly, we return thanks to the Great Spirit, in whom is embodied all Goodness, and who directs all things for the good of his children.

<Iroquois Prayer, adapted Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace>

인디언은 사라졌지만, 그들의 정신은 바람과 함께 다시 이 땅에 찾아올 것이다.

씨애틀 추장의 편지

씨애틀 추장의 편지

미국 원주민 얘기가 나오니 자연히 씨애틀 추장의 편지가 떠오른다. 미국 정부가 인디언들에게 그들의 땅을 팔라고 강요했을 때 수쿠아미쉬 인디언 추장 씨애틀은 미국 대통령에게 편지를 보낸다. 이 편지는 미국 원주민들이 얼마나 자연을 사랑하고 신을 섬기며 정신적으로 훌륭한 삶을 살았는지 보여주는 좋은 증거다.

150여년이 지난 지금의 우리들도 그들의 경지를 따라갈 수 없을 정도이다. 좀 길지만 편지 전문을 여기에 싣는다. 이 편지를 읽으면서 우리의 물질에 찌든 삶을 반성해본다.

The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of the earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.

We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the dew in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man all belong to the same family.

The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each glossy reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s father.

The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give the rivers the kindness that you would give any brother.

If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.

This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

One thing we know: our God is also your God. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.

Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted with talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is to say goodbye to the swift pony and then hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.

When the last red man has vanished with this wilderness, and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?

We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it, as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children, and love it, as God loves us.

As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you.

One thing we know – there is only one God. No man, be he Red man or White man, can be apart. We ARE all brothers after all.

<Chief Seattle, Chief of the Suquamish Indians>

추수감사절에 읽은 Celebrating Genocide!

추수감사절에 읽은 Celebrating Genocide!

추수감사절은 미국의 가장 큰 명절 중의 하나이다. 그들의 선조인 청교도 이주민들이 처음 미국 땅을 밟았을 때, 원주민들은 그들을 따뜻하게 맞이하며 칠면조를 비롯한 여러 가지 음식을 그들과 나누었다. 이것이 약 400여년 전의 추수감사절의 기원이다. 그 후 청교도 이주민들이 원주민에게 어떻게 은혜를 갚았는지 아는 사람은 안다. 원주민들의 땅을 빼앗고, 그들을 학살하면서 그들의 피 위에 세운 나라가 미국이다. 이것이 오늘날 미국인들이 감추고 싶어하는 그들 선조의 원죄이다.

4년전 Dan Brook은 추수감사절을 맞이하여 Celebrating Genocide!라는 글을 counterpunch에 올렸다. Dan Brook은 Columbus가 미국 대륙을 발견했을 때부터 지금까지 미국인들이 저지른 학살들을 추억하면서 부끄러워한다.

We do not have to feel guilty, but we do need to feel something. At the very least, we need to reflect on how and what we feel. We should also review our history and what it means to us and others, while we must rethink our adopted traditions, including our Thanksgiving High Holy Day. My personal (and therefore political!) resolution for the new year is to stop celebrating genocide. American Thanksgiving may be sacred to some, but it’s utterly profane to me.

그들의 뒤틀린 역사를 되돌아 보고, 그 역사들이 그들과 또 다른 이들에게 어떤 의미인지 되새겨 보면서 적어도 추수감사절이 부끄럽지 않게 되길 바라는 미국의 한 지식인의 생각을 엿볼 수 있다. Dan Brook의 글은 학살을 경축하는 미국인들이라는 제목으로 GEOreport에 번역되어 있다.

우리는 잘못에 대해 적어도 반성하고 회개하며 부끄러워할 줄 아는 사람이 되어야 한다. 잘못을 왜곡하고 덮는다고 가릴 수 있는 것이 아니다. 양심을 피해갈 수는 없다.

미국인들은 그들 선조의 원죄를 (물질적으로) 갚기 위해 생존한 원주민의 후예들에게 카지노 운영을 허락한다. 그래서 몇몇 주에서 적어도 한두개의 카지노가 아메리카 원주민에 의해 운영된다고 한다. 지금 남아 있는 원주민들의 후예 중 60% 이상이 마약과 도박으로 피폐한 삶을 산다고 한다. 정말 선조의 원죄를 씻기 위한 방법이 그것 밖에 없었을까. 그들의 정신적 빈곤이 안타까울 뿐이다.