November drabbles - 28
“The land is the land’s; it’s not ours to divide; not ours to say who lives or dies.”
“Still, so many have died...”
“…leaving space for us all, and the white man has paid with his beads, coats and shovels and spades…”
“…shoes, a pot, and some cloth for a robe with fur sleeves...”
Those who paid for the land, that still wasn’t theirs, sold it on, growing rich on the spoil.
Those who sold squeezed their people to forest and shore, rich in beads while their tribesmen grew poor, while they toiled to survive on that portion unfairly divided.
“Still, so many have died...”
“…leaving space for us all, and the white man has paid with his beads, coats and shovels and spades…”
“…shoes, a pot, and some cloth for a robe with fur sleeves...”
Those who paid for the land, that still wasn’t theirs, sold it on, growing rich on the spoil.
Those who sold squeezed their people to forest and shore, rich in beads while their tribesmen grew poor, while they toiled to survive on that portion unfairly divided.
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