Union Tribune

April 6, 2008

Trail of Tears

There were ten million Native Americans on this continent when the first non-Indians arrived. Over the next 300 years, 90% of all Native American population was wiped out by disease, famine, or slaves imported by the whites.

By 1840 all eastern tribes had moved or had been forcibly removed to Indian Territory west of the Mississippi river. European’s caused endless problems for the American Indians. The Natives homelands were gradually taken from them and their cultures were dramatically altered if not destroyed.

The French bought Native American Louisiana Territory, so the Natives had to go. In 1825 the government formally adopted a removal policy, which was carried out in 1830 by president Andrew Jackson. The five tribes that were forced out of their homes were the Cherokee, Chickasaws, Choctaws, Creeks and Seminoles. Only some of these tribes moved with their own will. The Cherokees did not.

The Cherokees were taken from their homes, herded into camps, and moved forcefully to a strange and unknown land. Along their journey 4,00 out of 15,000 Native Americans died of hunger, disease and exhaustion.

This unfortunate event is now referred to as the Trail of Tears. We found a dairy entry (below) of a young Native American girl who was forced from her home.



December 15, 1838,

I watched as my helpless family and friends were dragged from their homes, and driven away. And in the heat of a summer morning I saw them loaded like cattle or sheep into hundreds of wagons that started toward the west. I was one of those sheep. We were treated and looked upon as animals. I will never forget that day.

We had converted to the ways of the Europeans. We created a written language, a newspaper and our own constitution. Apparently taking our traditions and the ways of our ancestors wasn’t enough. They had to take our land, lives and dignities.

One man refused to go with them, and they killed him right there and then. I watched as his crimson blood spilled out onto the invaded soil. From then on no one has argued their decisions, I know I never will.

Right now I am sitting in the freezing snow. There is a brutal snowstorm, and many of my people don’t have shoes or blankets. I can hear the cries of pained children in the harsh wind. The red snow screams at me in a desperate attempt to live. I look out amongst the vast amount of graves, in which pneumonia infested corpses lay crying.

Will I become one of those people? Will I soon be underground in unknown soil? Will we all?

The sharp wind whips me in the face and burns my eyes. The snot under my nose has hardened. My legs are so sore; I don’t think I can walk much longer. My toes are slowly becoming frost bitten and I’m afraid what might happen if this weather continues.

I can see people as far as the eye can see. Stretched out among deserted land, waiting for morning to come, and the tortuous walk to continue.

I feel horrible for the mothers with small children. I have been switching off taking care of my younger brother with my mother. My only hope is that I will be strong enough to care for him and my mother, who is having a very hard time facing the endless march towards depression.


What happened to everyone is created equal? Do only whites have rights? They have treated as much less that human, and thus forth, should be taken under law.

I hope that the actions of these soldiers will be realized and they will be punished. I hope that they will live in agony and regret of the innocent lives they took from the earth.