Corn Spirit: The Importance of Respect

[Guest guest]

Dear All,

Here is a Tuscarora Legend that is applicable for all

humanity.

Warm regards,

Gerlinde

GSM

 

 

Native American Legends

The Corn Spirit

A Tuscarora Legend

Long ago, they say, there was a village of people whose cornfields

were blessed with good harvests, year after year. They had so much

corn each year that they began to take it for granted. They stopped

weeding the fields and the children trampled the cornstalks as they

played.

 

When harvest time came, the people picked, but they did not do it

well.

 

Much of the corn was left unpicked and only the birds ate it. The

people wasted more than they ate. They threw ears of corn to their

dogs. As they had always done, they dried some of the corn to eat in

the winter and use for seed corn the next spring. They placed this

corn in storage baskets to bury for the winter, but they did

everything carelessly. The corn baskets were not well made. The

storage holes were not dug deeply or well covered.

 

" There is much game in the forest, " the people said. " We can always

hunt to survive, even if the stored corn spoils. "

 

So the people went on without showing respect for the corn that gave

them life. They even forgot to say thanks to the Creator for their

good fortune.

 

Only one man remembered to show respect. His name was Dayohagwenda.

Dayohagwenda cared for his fields and weeded them. He harvested his

corn carefully and gave thanks for his good harvest. He stored his

corn with great care. He was sad about the way the others acted.

 

That autumn, after the harvest moon, the people went hunting. But

the hunters had bad luck. Animals were hard to find. It seemed that

the deer and moose and even the rabbits had all disappeared from the

forest.

 

The people tried to fish, but the streams and lakes were empty.

 

Finally, the people dug up their stored corn. But the poorly made

baskets had fallen apart. Much of the corn had been eaten by mice.

The rest had rotted away.

 

" What shall we do? " the people said. " We will starve. "

 

Meanwhile, Dayohagwenda was walking in the forest. He was thinking

about the way his people no longer showed respect for the corn or

gave thanks.

 

As he walked, he found an old trail. It led to a clearing in the

forest. In that clearing was a lodge made of elm bark and built on

top of a mound of earth. Weeds grew all around the lodge. In front

of the lodge, an old man dressed in torn clothing sat weeping.

 

" Grandfather, " Dayohagwenda said, " why are you weeping? "

 

" I am weeping because your people have forgotten me. "

 

" Why are your clothes torn? "

 

" They are torn because your people threw me to their dogs. "

 

" Why are you so dirty? "

 

" I am dirty because your people let their children trample me. "

 

" Why are there weeds around your lodge? "

 

" Your people no longer take care of me. Now I must go away and I can

never return again to help them. "

 

Now Dayohagwenda knew who the old man was. He was Corn Spirit.

 

" Grandfather, " Dayohagwenda said, " do not leave us. I still respect

you. I will go back and remind my people how to treat you. "

 

The old man stopped weeping. " Grandson, " he said, " I will stay with

you. If your people show me respect, I will not leave them. "

 

Dayohagwenda went back to the village. " We are going to starve, " the

people said. " Our corn is gone and we have no other food. "

 

" Listen, " said Dayohagwenda, " I have been in the forest. There I

found a lodge surrounded by weeds and an old man wearing torn

clothing the color of corn husks. He said his people deserted him

and he was going to leave forever. "

 

The people understood. " It is Corn Spirit, " they said. " He has left

us and now we will surely die. "

 

" No, " said Dayohagwenda, " I spoke with Corn Spirit. I told him we

would treat him with respect. He said that if we respect him, he

will help us through the winter. "

 

Then Dayohagwenda dug up his own stored corn. His baskets had been

well made. He had dug his granary deep and covered it properly. All

of his harvest was there.

 

There was more than he had remembered storing, much more. There was

enough to feed the whole village through the winter. There was even

enough left to use as seed corn for planting in the spring when the

leaves of the maple tree were the size of a squirrel's ear.

 

From then on, Dayohagwenda's people always showed respect for the

corn. They planted with care and hoed and weeded. They sang songs of

thanksgiving as they harvested. They made strong baskets and deep

storage pits for their granaries.

 

Most of all, they remembered to give thanks for the blessing of corn

and all of the other good things they had been given. They taught

their children and their children's children to do the same.

 

So it is to this day.

 

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