Page 193 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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CHALLENGE BY TORTURE

‘You see, when men and women from many different Indian nations sought
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permission to come and live here, adhering to the old ways, there were many
things we had to decide as a community.’ Brokenclaw still maintained that

perfectly composed manner, his voice never once indicating emotion.
They sat on skins in his teepee, with a young Indian woman serving them
with a kind of stew made from rabbit, wild onions and other root vegetables.
They ate with spoons, from bowls, both fashioned from wood.

‘It was necessary for us to have a mutual understanding regarding things like
our religious beliefs, and the ways in which we chose our leaders. We had to
agree on ritual and etiquette,’ Brokenclaw continued. ‘One of the terrible things
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the white man has done to those I regard as my people, is to introduce a

different way of life – a way alien to our forefathers and a way which has
brought great degradation on the proud Indian nations. You see it on the
reservations, you see it in disease and the horrors of alcohol. This was one of
the reasons I was a prime mover in bringing strong people from various tribes

together.’
‘I understand that.’ Bond tried to remain calm in the presence of this man
who sat patient, soft-spoken and reasonable. It was difficult, for he knew that
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here was evil personified, a monster who claimed two sets of ancestors, two
traditions and could slip between them like someone inflicted with a multiple
personality. He was a man who had held together the San Francisco
underworld and ruled through brutality and fear. Listening to him talk, it was
difficult to accept the truth about this appalling aberration locked within a

human body.

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