I have been reading a lot of Native American literature this week for both of my literature classes and I was fortunate enough to have a guest speaker in one of them. This man's name is Horace Axtell and he was invited to speak to our class about his book, "A Little Bit of Wisdom." I found this man to be fascinating to listen to and memorable for several reasons. The main and most profound one was for a statement that he made about forgiveness. He stated that the Nez Perce people have a word for this (he didn't say what) and that through his experiences he has achieved forgiveness of what has happened to his people. Speaking to a small group of primarily white students, this was a touching statement for each of us to hear. As one of my classmates stated, we all feel the burden of guilt for what has happened to the Native American, and to hear him tell us he forgives us was an honor.

We have read a variety of Native American authors over the past few weeks and many of the stories were similar. They told of a Native man coming back emotionally scarred by the war, coming to terms with not only the sadness and loss of war but also with the sadness and loss that the Native people have suffered for so long. We read these stories and went along with the characters as they struggled for identity and meaning in their lives. Then we meet Horace Axtell who is all of these characters come to life. He is the conclusion to their stories, or at least what I hope would become of the characters in these stories. He has lived this life and had these struggles and come to terms with it all and found peace and forgiveness in his heart.

I can't say that I have never been one of those white people who said, "It happened so long ago, can't we all just let it go?" Now, I feel shame for ever having felt this way. Reading and learning have brought me closer to an understanding of the price the Native people have paid for me to sit where I sit, at this moment, typing this blog, in the comfort of my home that sits on what used to be Nez Perce land. As I listened to Horace tell stories to the class about his life I couldn't help but drift off to the times I sat and listened in this same way to my own grandfather tell stories. It touches me and I think about how much I loved my grandfather and how much he taught me about life and people. Then I listen to Horace and think about what he has also taught people, and the tragedy of the way his people were treated sits behind him like a shadow, casting a shame on the white man as he tells our opaque faces that he has forgiven all. I remember all the stories of the broken people who have suffered and struggled with their identity and the loss of their culture and religion. I understand now that we took the soul of these people when we took the land and they have been lost ever since, trying to find their way back to where they belong and their identity. The kind of forgiveness Horace speaks of is so huge that I don't know if I would ever be deserving of it, but I hope to someday be.