ISHI
THE GREAT LIGHT ALMOST LOST IN THE SHADOWS BETWEEN TWO WORLDS ~ Anthony Sullivan
The story of Ishi, the last of the Yahi Indians, is one sure to touch the hearts of all who are naturally inclined towards caring for those they share this increasingly small and fragile world with. More even than just that, I'd go as far as to say that given the sheer scale of it's emotional impact, there actually exists a very real duty of responsibilty on all who are aware of his story, to in turn pass it on to those for whom we hope the footprints we leave behind us today, can help guide those who will follow our footsteps on this trail of life, to a better, more compassionate, tolerant and inclusive world, for every race, culture and creed.
I say this with a conviction born of the profound effect the story of Ishi had on me while I researched my poem, "The Prayer Of Ishi." His is a tale of such staggering sorrow that I often had to pause for a moment or two simply to attempt to contemplate the enormity of the tragedy Ishi faced in his lifetime. To consider also, how I might, although heaven forbid I should ever come even close to discovering the answer in reality, cope with such levels of extreme adversity and often cruelty, were I to come face to face with such worldly demons in my own lifetime. That I might emerge from the undoubted and impossible to imagine trauma of such trials with my spirit as strong and still infused marrow-deep with the dignity and grace always maintained and displayed by Ishi, is of course, what I'd like to think would happen. But in truth, such courage is rare indeed, and seldom summoned in the modern age, save for the exception of moments when disaster or war call forth the very best a human soul can give of itself. But even occasions such as those are, for the most part, confined to very brief periods of time. For Ishi, his battle, his struggle, was a lifetime long.
I should make it clear at this stage that the purpose behind my writing this piece is only for it to accompany my poem, "The Prayer Of Ishi" and hopefully, outside of the poem itself, to provide a glimpse of how deeply moved I've been by my discovery of this great man. A man who was great in both the most extraordinary of extraordinary ways and yet, at one and the same time, in the most ordinary of ordinary ways. Much has been written about the life of Ishi, and even a quick twenty minute search while at your computer will lead you to and through a life-story that will leave you as awe-struck, humbled and inspired as it has left me. My intention here is not to provide any overview of his life in any historical context or otherwise, but more to speak to your soul, my friend, of how Ishi's soul has spoken to mine.
Outside of Native-American culture, Ishi may never be regarded as a hero of any kind, let alone one comparable to the status afforded so many figures in American, and indeed, world history. And yet, I would argue that few , if any, of those more well-known and loved "heroes" could stand tall and proud when placing their lives and achievements next to those of Ishi. I say that with no intention whatsoever to demean or belittle anyone at all, only to emphasize the true stature in which I personally believe Ishi should, and one day, must be held.
Ishi, let us not forget, and in large part due to the bloodthirsty and greed-driven actions of those who proclaimed themselves "civilized," walked this Earth as the VERY LAST of his people. For many of his final years, did so without even the comfort of any human contact at all, as he remained hidden, while fearful for his own life, in the shadows between two worlds. Oh what a light was almost lost forever there in that cold and lonesome darkness.
Thankfully, upon his eventual emergence from hiding, Ishi found his way into the care of anthropologists Alfred Kroeber and T.T. Waterman. From here, from Kroeber, comes the greatest possible testament to the kind of man Ishi truly was. Writing to a friend while he himself was in New York, but aware of Ishi's worsening health and possibly imminent demise, Kroeber said, "As to the disposal of the body, I must ask you as my personal representive on the spot in this matter, to yield nothing at all under any circumstances. If there is any talk about the interests of science, say for me that science can go to hell. We propose to stand by our friends." Not only did these words demonstrate a very clear and compassionate understanding of the importance of Ishi's wishes upon his death, but more tellingly, they served as an equally clear and passionate declaration of Kroeber's unwillingness to sacrafice or compromise the bond that had grown over time between he and Ishi.
That, for me, sums up the terrible totality of the tragedy that was the life of Ishi. As the single remaining vessel of the Yahi spirit on this Earth, Ishi had, in just a few short years, proven beyond doubt to men of intelligence and wisdom, that he, Ishi, was at the depth of his soul, just such a man also. How heartbreaking a thought then, that more men like Ishi and Kroeber could not have found each other in this world in circumstances far, far removed from the point where the world of one of them, stood on the very edge of extinction.
Editor's Note: The author's poem "The Prayer of Ishi" can be found on the Poetry Pages of this issue of Whisper n Thunder.
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