PART 2

He Walked the Americas
A story about Christ in America

("He Walked the Americas" by L Taylor Hansen)

The legends that follow are the legends of the Healer. These legends were told by the fireside of a "saintly white teacher," who performed miracles with healing and control over the winds, waters, and other natural items. All describe his eyes as gray-green like the ocean and told stories of the future. His symbol has been woven into blankets, carved on canyon walls, put on pottery and danced in dances. His name has been given to mountains and rivers.

Though the stories are many and spread throughout the Americas, they are broken into bits and pieces, hard to follow and piece together into one tale. His name varied, most names were reflective of his control over the wind and water, as he would request each tribe to name Him as they wished, stating there was no value to a name.

The information I give here is just to let you see the legends for yourself. To determine within your own heart if this prophet was actually Jesus~ Sananda or some other.

Is this where Jesus was going when He talked to his Apostles about going to tend his other sheep? 

 John 10:16 (KJ)  " And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.."

In August of 1918, the chief of the Chippewa, Dark Thunder, once was talking with a college student whom the tribe had affectionately adopted. He, the student, had learned to look through the tribal eyes on the reservation, as the Ancient Ones and keepers of the Olden Knowledge.

The chief told the student of a prophet that had come long ago and had asked the tribe to name him "for to Him names meant nothing." They named him Wisahco and always covered his paths with flower petals.  The Prophet had told their people that He would do the same for the spirits who left them-"for those beyond the sunset." To use the old chief's answer of what He was like:

"He was bearded, and pale of feature-without doubt a White Man. His eyes were as gray-green as still green water, and just as changeable in their color. He came to us one day at dawning and the light touched His hair with the sheen or red-gold until it shone like newly-mined copper. Yet He was not as the men of your people. This one was a god, with high soul-stature. If He touched a man who was wounded, that one became healed.

"His robe was long and white down to the hemline which almost hid His golden sandals. Everyone wished to make Him white robes, for then He would leave behind the old ones, and all that He touched was enchanted with His god-like power of healing.

"He came alone. He organized the churches, changed the temples, taught the priesthood. Some say He taught them a secret language with certain signs of greeting. I know not.

"(when asked why He was called a prophet)] Because He not only walked among us, He also walked the realms of the future.

"(when asked why He couldn't have been a Black  Robe) I am sure. He came to us when we had cities more than a thousand winters before the days of the Black Robes and the Long Knives. (where are the cities?) Below the cover of the forest...”You do not believe what I am saying. You think I speak to you with a forked tongue."

"(asked to tell of the location of one city) The which we call the Sacred is not far from here. Its history is longer than that of England's London."

The student asked to find one who would tell him more of these cities. But the chief was afraid the white men would just laugh and speak lightly of the things that they didn't know of. However, the student assured him that he just wanted to write it down so the stories would not be lost forever. The chief's reply:

"My child, you speak with the tongue of the Red Man, and knowledge beyond your number of winters shines from your words. Once we had books and priests to read them, but those were times long distant in the past. Books are of stuff which can be swept to oblivion. Since then we have placed our stories in the chants of our people, but now even these are being forgotten. Your oldest books to us are but of yesterday, and how long may last these papers of your people?  Yet, you are right. The chants are dying. I too would like to reach other tribes of our people and share with them our ancient history... This is one (chanter of legends still alive) ... there may be more than one, and then there will be translators so that you may not miss the beauty of the language."

The student was new to the lore, but he found out quickly that 13 was the number of the Prophet, twelve disciples plus Him, and eight and five were also important. Soon the chanting came about. Many proud old men were there, of different languages, their names long forgotten but the drama of the movements and poetry were remembered. Following are their stories, thought in poor translation, as told to this young man (also the Dakota had helped with putting together the stories of the Prophet)---

*Marksman, an old Chippewa warrior was the first to tell his tale. He was almost eighty at this time, however it is said his body was still as a young man and his hair still had the dark sheen. Here are his some of words:

"It is well tonight that we speak of the Pale God, and fitting as well that we council with others, greeting our enemies as brothers, for such would have been the wish of the Prophet. I have heard some talk among the lodges that the Lord of Wind and Water was but a myth brought down by the old ones from times beyond our present reckoning. That is true, but it is a strange legend!  If the youth among our people doubt the wide-flung strength of this ancient story, look about at His symbols from tribe to tribe across the broad land.

"Have you ever wondered about the cedar...every tribe revere it...high priests mix its shavings with the leaves of our tobacco? And why do we blow smoke across our bodies, when we are returning from the war trail? Is it not to ask His forgiveness, as was once taught by the Pale Prophet? Why do we plant these trees upon the Great Mound-those ancient histories of our cities? Was it not to warn all men that once He walked here; the Sacred One, the Miracle Worker?

"And the color of snow: among all the nations it stands for peace. Why is this so?  Because He wore it., as he traveled from nation to nation He taught the people to live in peace and to speak in council, thus settling all their problems. This was His way and the way of His Father.

"Why do we raise our hands up in greeting?  Because that was His sign, a tradition which we still follow.”

"Why do we use the Cross as a sacred symbol? Was it not because He wore it about the hem of His full white garment, and carried the sign on His two hands, those hands so gifted in healing?...In the Wisacoo Lodge and many others there are some who still know His secret language, but those things are being fast forgotten.

"Yet to Him who walked away through the silver moon-frost, across the winter's snowy blanket, toward the North where now is Canada and many other tribes of our people, I bid you see Him as we saw this man. From the pines dripped ice like unlit candles, as He walked away. His snowy garments made Him seem wraith-like, while His long hair was silvered by His frost-breath. Two wolves followed behind Him; one of dark fur and one of silver. We knew that they would not harm Him for He had a strange power over the animals; the fiercest seeking the touch of His fingers.

"Thus He left us, and to Him I raise the Peace Pipe, the tobacco mixed with cedar shavings, and blow the smoke to the four directions, thus making the sign of His Cross. For tonight, I have spoken."

Next to speak was a Dakota Sioux. He commented on how he never remembered when the Sioux have ever been invited by the Chippewa for council. He said they all originally came from the same homeland. Here is his story:

"I was invited here to speak of Wacoma tete, the Fair God who ruled the ocean and spoke in whisper to the wind storm. Our name is not the one you gave Him, for when He came, we lived far to the southward, where the sun makes shorter shadows and our cities were built on islands, many of which have since gone down into the ocean. After He left we forgot His teaching and we returned to the ways of the Fire God.

"As our land became scarcer, due to storm and great earth shaking, one tribe among us sought to be master. They began conquering city after city. We, the dispossessed who would not live in slavery to those who had our same heritage, sought the mountains, many tribes in council. From our traders, we knew of the Mississippi, and so in our long canoes, carrying our Sacred Fire, we began our migrations. We of the Turtle, keepers of the books and learning, led the many tribes of the Serpent up the great  Father of Waters. To commemorate that we built the Great Mound of the Serpent led by the Tortoise.

"It is too bad that we had to take your cities. Many years had we lived in peace and traded, but sometimes we move but to fill the belly. Such was our move into the woodland among the herds which were to be had for the taking, and when one had hungry children those herds meant life. Such was our move up the Mississippi.

"Near white man's town, St Louis, where stood your great Capitol City, we built our Capitol. We did not destroy the crests of your building where you had written your history, we but added to them. White man was the destroyer of both your histories and ours also. You realized our need and you moved northward; and there was peace between us.

"Then there grew up in the Capitol City of the Black Tortoise, Dakota who sired our tribe. He had a great dream for the Red Man.  He dreamed of a mighty kingdom, solidly one from the Sea of the Sunrise to the Sea of the Sunset. Now, though you had been a peaceful nation, his pleadings, did not go unattended. Ears were opened to what he was saying. 'In the west there is much fighting. Fierce warriors come from the Northland, bringing great war-dogs with them. We call them the Men of the Coyote. They burn and plunder and carry away the women.

“Now I would force them into cities. I would conquer them and make them peaceful. I would build one mighty nation. As in the Old Red Land which we both remember, which was ruled by two together, so I would have you rule with me this mighty country.'

"In your cities of the Northland, you listened to the Voice of Dakota. You gave him armies to train and your sons to learn the arts of warfare. Dakota was a mighty general. He conquered the Tortoise Empire, and made his own mound after the Tortoise Mound of Extinction.

"He might have succeeded in his dream except the more of the hordes of the Norsemen coming afresh down the West Coast decimated his armies, and then civil war broke out over the Dakota Empire. Cities were abandoned and each tribe took to the forest, to raid and pillage and play at war games like naughty children.

"And remembering back, our wise men told us that once Great Wacoma tete predicted that it would be so, even to the final coming of white man. Now when it is too late, we remember.

"You ask me to tell you of Great Wacoma tete. Our memory of Him is greatly garbled for so long ago was He living. We know that He prayed to the Dawn Star, and today, in His memory, our most sacred lodge carries that name. To the memory of Him, I make His symbol, and for this night-I have spoken.

 (Confirmation of this migration legend is to be found in Traditions of Dakota.)

One who spoke English stood to talk next. He spoke slowly and was dressed as a white man. Here are his words for you to hear:

"We are the Southerners. Formerly we lived on the lower Mississippi; we, the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw and Creek. When white man came we had log cabins built around our wooden temple raised on a high mound. We were the last to come up the Mississippi, except for the Natchez who no longer walk the green earth. Over the Trail of Tears we were deported westward to the land of Oklahoma and there we met the men of the Osage. Our memories of the Prophet are dimmed by the ages. Among the Choctaw, He was known as Eemeshee, the Wind God, for strange are the tales which are told of His power over the heavens, and the winds which speak with the breath of the spirits.

"It is said that He told us of White Man's coming, and when He did His eyes had a sad look as if seeing about Him the scenes of the future. Once He said: 'All my life have I struggled against this thing called the Law of the Jungle. Are these bearded ones who are still my children going down war's trail to final destruction, and thus give the last human victory in death to the Law of the Jungle?'

"He was sad that day as He spoke unto us, for He was leaving us to travel northward; perhaps to you, the Chippewa Nation, for this was before our migrations when we, too, lived far to the southward where the sun makes shorter shadows... We would find out much more about Him if like this we had many councils tribe to tribe. We would learn more about ourselves also. This I know: we, too, once had had secret languages, but I know not if they are still remembered. The women had a secret language among themselves. It was not taught to captive women. Then there was the language taught in certain lodges. That was the one He taught us.  It would be interesting to study this language if this were possible, between tribe and tribe. It might tell us from whence He came to us, and how long ago He walked among us.

"In our land of Oklahoma where our plows turn the good earth, and our cattle graze on the brown hills, I have often seen His symbol among the women's work (who still weave baskets) as I ride to other camps trading. Sometimes it is woven with the Star of the Morning, or the Cross of Four Directions or the symbol for the Cedar, sacred Tree of Ceremony.

"Not only this, but something else comes to my mind. Once when riding my pony to another camp, I saw some old pottery shards sticking out of the earth on top of a large hill. There was a cedar on the hill. I walked up and smoked a cigarette rolled with cedar shavings. Then I picked up the shards. One them was drawn winged beings. Carefully I put them back and then I made inquiries to all the wise old men of different tribes. They told me that the Healer had said something about winged beings singing at this birth. Do you have this memory of the Prophet's teaching?

"This is about all that I remember. Except one thing. Even today, when we hear the weird music of the wind, we whisper to one another;

"'Be quiet and chant the old prayers, the Peace Chants with which He opened the councils, for that is the great Eemeshee chanting with the singing spirits in the Wind-song.'

"To His name, still unforgotten, still beloved among the people, I too, take the Pipe and send the smoke to the Four Directions where His feet trod over the wide land. For this night, I , too, have spoken."

One more than one hundred years stood next to speak. His age was known due to "almost certainty" that when white hair is attained, that person was at least one hundred. He was a high-priest of some northern tribe (unknown by the interpreter), thought to might have been Fox, Sac or Menominee. His words are as follows:

"You asked me here to speak of the Healer, and the ancient days of our people's greatness. I was surprised to receive such an invitation. Are our young men having a change of spirit? Since when have they listened to the chanting? Have they ceased their love of White Man whiskey, truly known as Devil-Water, which looses their tongues and makes them foolish?

"Yea, it is true my heart is bitter, but I came not here to give a lecture. Let White Man keep his reason-stealer, for in time it will bewitch him. I came to take you back to the ancients and to the times of our people's greatness. I have thought of taking the legends with me even unto the Land of Shadows, but the young man who came so far to seek me, reasoned well before the fire. He said I had no right to take them, for they belonged to all our people as long as one Red Man walked the planet. They must go on past this generation and to that unborn soul who might be listening and wishing to walk back to the Ancients.

"Therefore tonight I am here to take you walking back through the Dawn Star cycles to a time long distant when the land was not as you see it; past the memories of our grandfathers' grandfathers. I take you with me to the days of the Healer, and the times of our people's greatness. These were the days when the crests of our histories whorled through many cities, always near the mighty rivers, avenues of ancient commerce.

"Coming north from our Capitol City, where the Mississippi meets the Missouri, in the longboats of the traders, the Prophet made His journey toward the city we called Sacred. This was an ancient metropolis. Before we built its Mound of Extinction, after the Great Civil War of the Turtles, ninety-six dynasties of rulers had lived their long and eventful history.

“Like the Capitol, it too had strawberry carpets about all the buildings built upon the Great Crests, and from them the streets radiated outward among the dwellings of the people. This city was called Sacred because it was in the center of the Cross of Waters from whence ran the rivers to the Four Oceans. East to the Sunrise ran the waters, and Northward to the Sea of Dancing Lights; to the West beyond the Great Divide the waters ran to the Sea of the Sunset, while the Missouri and Mississippi ran to the Southern Sea, the Sea of the Karibs.

To this, the City of the Great Cross of Waters, up the river called the Father of Waters, one golden morning, came the Healer. The dawn cascaded down upon Him as He left the ships of the merchants, painting His hair and beard with beauty and lighting up His lofty features.

"The streets were mosaic of flowers strewn in homage to the path before Him as He walked toward the Temple. Greatly beloved now was the Pale God, known as the Lord of the Wind and Water. His every move bespoke His kindness; His very touch revealed His divinity; and before Him all the people bowed down.

"Through rows of worshippers He moved to the Temple, in quiet solemnity, holding up His hand in blessing-that hand with the strange palm-marking, for through it was engraved the True Cross which He had taken as His Symbol.

"There at the Temple He abode among us, though He often rode away with the merchants, or more often walked to distant villages, holding in His hand His great staff, and stopping to speak with all the people, from the aged to the children.

"Once there was a great stir among the villages.  Messages had been flashed with obsidian mirrors and the smoke-puffs of more distant signals.  They spoke of an array of nobles who were coming to the Sacred City from a land called Golden Tollan. At first the people were much frightened, for though long had we traded with distant Tollan, yet if these emissaries were to be followed by their mighty metal-clad armies, the Puan Cities would be lost!

"The Prophet was the least disturbed. He gathered about Him a council of the merchants, and soon had mastered the Toltec language. These men in peace were coming northward, He told the frightened people, and shortly the messages confirmed His story.

"Before long well confirmed were His statements. Indeed they were coming to take back the Healer to the city of Golden Tula, a fantastic place of magnificent beauty. Grand preparations were made to receive the emissaries. Long were the lines of chanters; the dances most elaborate; and much practice went on with conch shell trumpets, flutes and tom-toms for the grand celebration.

"Then at the last day dawned and the long boats were sighted coming up the river. In the lead, as was proper, came the ships of the Puans, laden down with goods of commerce, and following them the ships of the Mayans and some other forgotten peoples. At last came the beautiful ships of Tollan. From that first ship came the guards all clothed in metal, and then a ship load of glittering musicians playing upon many strange instruments of music [harps and guitar-like instruments were pictured in Yucatan-Bancroft] The last two ships were filled with emissaries. Most lordly-stepping were these nobles, as they came down from ship's houses, and all the people were hushed with admiration.

"Long and thick were their emerald feathers, unlike any seen by the Puans, flowing backward like rippling water; their costumes were made of colored cotton embroidered with gold, with pearl and emeralds and even their sandals were shining with beauty. Proudly they walked behind their honor guard as they made their way to the Great Temple, where framed in the painted great-log doorway the Prophet stood quietly waiting with His shining hair and wearing His snow-white mantle embroidered with crosses about the hemline.

"It is said that the strangers brought many presents, among which were snowy garments and a pair of golden sandals, which indeed He wore forever after. The Mayans, too, laid gifts before Him and received from Him the Blessing.   However, when after four days passed, the ships departed without the Prophet, the joy of the people was tempered with sorrow when they learned that the Pale God had given His promise to go one day soon to Tollan, after He had visited first with other nations.

“The Mayans, too, and the other peoples, all returned happily down the river, for they all carried back a promised visit. For them this was a thing for rejoicing, for it was a well-known fact that the Healer never broke a promise.

"The Prophet went both north and west with His long staff, in His golden sandals and His snowy garments, and nevermore was seen by the Puan Peoples, but word came back some four years later that He was on His way to Tollan where a kingly reception awaited His coming.  He went by the way of the Chihuahua Valley, which means the Highway of Ancient Power. Then came the fabulous tales of the merchants of His entrance into Tollan, when on a day that has never been equaled since among all the nations, the earth stood hushed and breathless when that wondrous divinity we call the Pale God walked down the highway into Golden Tollan.

"It is sad for me to retell this story, for the memory of the present comes through to haunt me as if in terrible mockery. Yet I chant it for you, the young men who listen and for generations will again retell it, on into the cycles of the future as long as a son of our blood still walks the planet.

"Thus for you of this night, and for those even more distant in time from those living this hour, I have spoken.  In bitterness had I sworn that these pictures would fade with the mind which carried them forward, but it is true that I had no right to think that. 

“And so I release them into the future, to that perhaps unborn soul who will listen and love them, as I when a boy would crouch listening about the firelight, and walk enraptured in spirit through a day so long vanished. I too have spoken."

The last to speak was a man from the Cheyenne. Here are his words:

"Like my brother from the Dakota, too seldom is seen the Cheyenne costume in the lodges of the Chippewa. We too look back through the vistas of history to the days of the Old Red Land when there was peace and commerce on the Mighty Father of Waters, known to men as the Mississippi.

"Like the Dakota, we use 26 poles in our teepees, which in our language means mountains, for we too think of ourselves as Men of the Mountains, who anciently brought their water from the snows of the high peaks in conduits down to our cities. The 26 poles are for each of the twins of the morning-evening star, giving each thirteen, which is its number.

"Like our brothers we remember the Fair God who foretold the coming of the White Man.  Yet so long ago was He living that like the Dakota, our memories are garbled.

"Four years ago I went to the West Coast to seek work in the motion pictures where they were filming. There I met Indians from many nations, and all were courteous, and more or less friendly. One particular man, a Yakima from Washington, told me this about the Fair  God.

"When he came to the Yakima people, they called Him Tacoma, and so greatly did they pay Him reverence that they renamed their highest mountain in honor of His coming.

"My friend said that when Tacoma left them, He promised the sorrowing people that one day through the light of the dawning, He, Tacoma, would return to them. Through the long vistas of the moon, the sun and the dawn star, the people still remembered this promise and always faithfully watched for Tacoma, and dying told their children to keep on watching.

"Then one time a great ship came into the harbor. On the deck were men who were bearded, carrying rods which killed at a distance. The people were alarmed and amazed, but their chief, who was named Chief Seattle, reminded them of the Fair God who had not told them the manner of His coming. So to the ship they brought presents, food of all kinds and cool fresh water, carved work and other trinkets. The bearded ones took the presents, smiled and were friendly, but they sailed away without remaining.

"Many years later the people learned that this was not Tacoma, but Sir Francis Drake of England.

"As my friends listened to this story, there was among them a man from Hawaii. He told a similar story. Once there came to them the Fair God whom they called Wakea. This god-like one healed the injured, raised the dead, walked on water and taught the people. When Wakea left, said the Polynesian, He promised that some day He would come back to them through the dawn light.

"Through countless generation cycles the people still remembered, teaching their babes and then their grandchildren to keep watching the dawn for Wakea's coming.

"One time a great ship came to them. The people met it with rejoicing, bringing presents to the bearded White Men, fruits and food and entertained them with feasting.  Yet the White Men did not remain among them. They sailed away and the people, embittered, wondered if Wakea had rejected His people. True, they had not entirely lived up to His teachings. There had been some war and fighting, but on the whole through the long, long years, they had tried to remain faithful.

"That night a great storm struck the island. Was this another sign of Wakea's displeasure? The people were hurt as they thought upon it. Then they saw the ship returning. It was running like a frightened dog for cover, heading back to the safety of the harbor.

"Now the people knew this was not Wakea. The Fair God had full command of the sea and windstorms. He had but to hold high that slim hand and the mightiest storms obeyed Him. These men were but imposters pretending with their beards to be Wakea! So the surprised White Men met an army fo warriors who swarmed over the ship and killed the explorers.

"It was years later that the Polynesians learned the truth of this story of misunderstanding. These men probably had never heard of Fair Wakea. This was but James Cook, the explorer, trying to map the wide Pacific for a distant island named England. For this night, I have spoken."

Dark Thunder then arose and looked outside as the wind was singing through the trees. He finished the evening with these words:

"My heart is heavy to hear these stories. The feathers of my soul are drooping. Yet almost a if foretelling the present is the manner of the Prophet's going. He left our people one night when it was snowing.  He was to go on to the Cree northward to Canada, and after seeing the People northward, would turn toward the sunset and the Western River running toward the Sunset Ocean.

"They say that as He walked onward, the snowflakes danced through the skies in patterns. There were two wolves, which were always with Him, and now they followed His footsteps.  One was white and one was dark silver.  He had laughed when they had offered to guide Him, for He had often gone with the merchants and He knew the country well. Thus the People saw Him leaving in an aura of dancing snowflakes where was before a living forest-like ours tonight. He faded into the whiteness like a wisp of smoke is lost in the snowstorm, leaving only millions of moving snowflakes swirling about in fantastic patterns.

"Remembering this and how He predicted the distant coming of White Man 'like the snowflakes which blow in from the ocean', I am suddenly stricken with sorrow. Once we lived in the wild free forest on a planet just as the Great Spirit made it. Now that world is changed and sullied, and the Red Man walks away sadly through millions of engulfing snowflakes-lost like a wisp of smoke in the snowstorm. For this night I have spoken."

(CONTINUE ON TO PART 3)