Nagamo--A Day in the Life of an Algonquian Girl
Read the story below to learn about life in an Algonquian tribe.
Goal:
Goal:
NAGAMO
A Day in the Life of an Algonquian Girl
My name is Nagamo. In our language this means "to sing." It is said that my mother, who is slow to speak, sang out loud the day I was born. She has not stopped singing since that day. Together, we sing songs of thanksgiving for each day’s work, for our loving family, and for the safety of our tribe. Though my mother still does not speak often, she smiles with the dawn, and I have always known what is on her mind--though she chooses to keep her silence.
Not long ago, my little brother was born into our tribe. My mother carries him on a cradleboard on her back as we go out to work in the fields. This morning brought the sun, bright and golden, into our wigwam. It was not long before my mother softly spoke, and I rose to begin the day’s chores. We cooked a sturdy breakfast for my father, for he joined many other men on a long hunt that would keep him far in the hills until nightfall.
When we finished our chores, my mother and I went to the fields to help with the village harvest. We will bring in many baskets of squash and beans, as well as corn for our bread. It is said that some of the men of our tribe caught many fish in their nets this day. When this happens, the village shares in their good fortune. My mother will trade her finely decorated leather skins for dried meat and fish when my father has brought home less than he wished. Often, though, my father comes home with meat for the entire village! On those days, my mother sings even louder than usual.
My moccasins softly meet with the earth as we walk. I am no longer afraid of the coming of winter. My family stays warm in our wigwam, and this summer has been fruitful. We have already stored much food for the colder months. I know that I will be cared for in our tribe, for we are all one family.
There are rumors now from the men who have come back from fishing.
They say that they have seen strange boats, not like our dugout canoes, but giant ones with clouds that catch the wind. The men say they have seen people living on these boats, men who look pale and wide-eyed. I have heard from my wise sister-friend, Pocahontas, and she intends on visiting these boats and seeing for herself. She says that I should not be afraid of new things--we might learn much from these newcomers.
I must be going home now. There is meal to grind and food to prepare, for my father will be coming home tonight! If I have time, I might play with the others this evening when it is cool. We will pretend to be great warriors and powerful maidens. Inside our wigwam, my mother will sing to my little brother and nighttime will fall softly on our tribe.