We have all heard the white man’s version of Thanksgiving but as the Indians well know, the white man sometimes speaks with forked tongue. Here is the red man’s version.
“Looking back now,” said the chief to his tribe, “it is easy to see that we native Americans should have had much tougher immigration laws.”
The whole tribe stood on their feet and yelled in unison “Hoya, Hoya, Hoya”
“Prior to that first Thanksgiving we had much to be thankful for in this land of ours. There was no such thing as taxes, bankers or debt. The women did most of the hard labor and it was the man’s job to go hunting or fishing all day. At night we danced. We had no pollution and we knew that the land was to be cherished and preserved. Our old people lived with the family and the tribe never took any action unless everyone agreed. Then the white man came and “discovered” this country that we had all been living in for thousands of years. The white man “discovered” this new country by walking over trails that were made by our forefather’s moccasins.”
Again the tribe all stood as one and yelled, “Hoya, Hoya, Hoya.”
“The white man promised great progress,” continued the chief. “He cut down our trees and planted telephone poles in their place. He promised us all an Apple I-phone despite the fact we had no cell towers and our smoke signals worked just fine. We never got a wrong number, never got a phone bill or a robo-call. We couldn’t be put on hold either. They replaced our medicine man with Medicare. But our medicine man made house calls and never charged for his services. Now the white man cannot afford to get sick. He practices very bad medicine.”
“Hoya , Hoya, Hoya” screamed the crowd.
“The white man brought with them their own religious ideas which they said were superior to ours. They told us that our spirit was not the real one and they brought forth something they called televangelists. And they broke down our customs. It was always an Indian custom that the husband showed respect for the mother-in-law by never meeting her face to face or speaking to her. Now we are forced to live in the same hogans with them.”
The crowd grew especially violent and again cried out “Hoya, hoya, hoya.”
“Even after the colonists had only been in this country of ours for two years our forefathers could see that they were a bad lot. Eighty Indians were invited to that very first Thanksgiving celebration, which lasted three days by the way. The white man said he invited the Indian in appreciation for helping the colonists to survive, but the Indians could see that these ignorant ill-bred foreigners just wanted more of our secrets to survival.”
Again a resounding “Hoya, Hoya, Hoya.”
“Those Indians at that first Thanksgiving were not that stupid. Sure, we were forced to bury the hatchet temporarily because all the warpaths had been paved. But we would someday get even with the palefaces. And it wouldn’t just be by making the last few minutes of General Custer’s life uncomfortable either. It was at that very first Thanksgiving that those Indian dinner guests would get even with the white man on behalf of all our succeeding generations.”
“For it was at that very first Thanksgiving,” continued the chief, “that the red man taught those illegal aliens how to smoke tobacco and how to eat poultry! Don’t you see my friends, turkey meat is the Indian’s ultimate revenge. White and dark meat, turkey giblets and turkey leftovers will be our vengeance. Someday my bronzed skinned friends all this land will belong to the Indians once again.”
And the Indians cried out one last time, “Hoya, Hoya, Hoya”… the Indian word for revenge.
