That days adventure took us to a mountain range with twists and turns and thrills…
rising from the great plains of South Dakota…they’re known as the Black Hills.
They’re called the Black Hills…(Paha Sàpa to the Lakota if you please)
because from a distance they look black due to an abundance of evergreen trees.
In 1868 the US government signed the Fort Laramie Treaty
(Pardon me a moment for this historical endeavor)
establishing the Great Sioux Reservation and ensuring
the Black Hills would remain in Sioux hands forever.
But when gold was discovered in the Black Hills
the US government tore up the treaty and showed the Lakota the door….
meaning forever lasted 6 years…until 1874.
This was an injustice the Sioux nation couldn’t…would not ignore…
leading the Sioux in 1886…into the bloody Black Hills war.
The Black hills remain sacred to the Lakota today
It is the land of their deaths and births
It has ceremonial significance…
they consider it the womb of Mother Earth.
The Black Hills is where every Lakota baby born is given a spirit from a star…
It’s not just central to their spirituality…
It’s central to who they are.
As we drove around admiring the majesty of the Black Hills…
and thinking of the Great Sioux nation…
Around every corner…thoughts like these…found their way into our conversation.
Lies told…injustices done…treaties signed then taken back…
Wars and killing and mistrust…
perhaps there’s another reason these hills are painted black.
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