Why do people hate?
Because they fear.
Why do people fight?
Because they are afraid to love.
***
In the Lakota world-view gift-giving was an important custom. A warrior, a hunter, scout, tool-maker, all had their place in the tribe. Yet obviously a powerful chief could be chintzy, while the lowliest brave, a boy, or even a woman, might lay down their own life to save a loved one, a friend or a stranger.
When struck a mortal wound the Lakota man would sing his death song, a song of defiance.
And a singular act, a man might be so esteemed and honoured that he might be chosen, permitted to stake himself down.
To stake himself down to the earth with his weapons beside him, exposed to the enemy.
Naturally, this infuriated his foes. His fellow warriors allowed him this privilege even as they fought to avenge their injuries, defend their territory, and protect their families and villages.
When the Lakota captured a coward, he was tortured over a slow fire, a lingering and gruesome death. Because he earned it.
If you must, do me the honour of a quick and merciful death. I am not a Lakota warrior. I’m just a guy, a plain and ordinary guy. But I feel that I have earned it.
I ask only one thing from my enemies. (No, I don’t expect forgiveness.)
Before drawing the obsidian blade across my throat, ending my death song in a jagged rattle; ask yourself why this is what you want, ‘wintke,’ a good-for-nothing individual with the soul of a man and the soul of a woman trapped within.
And why this should be so.
Enjoy the gift. And for Christ’s sakes, promise you won’t bore me to death.
***
We despise what we don’t understand.
Be wary of the stranger.
Laugh at the unexpected.
Discard that which is useless.
‘It is indeed a good day to die.’