Native Americans had myths, legends, and stories to explain virtually everything in nature. Although most of them surrounded animals or plants some also dealt with natural catastrophes like high winds, thunder storms, and tornadoes.
Growing up in Oklahoma, in the midst of Tornado Alley, I learned about the deadly storms at an early age. The first one hit new our hometown when I was about four years of age.
As my family and I hid under mattresses in my grandmother’s garage, my grandfather would tell me stories about the storm. One of my favorites was how the tornado came to be.
As the story goes, a young Indian brave was shunned by his people for his volatile temper. He made no attempt to control it. In his daily rage he would lash out, hurting anyone and everyone he found along his pathway.
The tribal council met to try and determine how to handle the misbegotten youth. Some wanted to banish him from the village. However, his mother’s cries for mercy stopped others from allowing that to happen.
The medicine man tried to help the young brave, teaching him meditation techniques and using herbs to calm his unbridled anger. Alas, nothing worked.
Eventually, the tribal elders decided that the boy must be confined; locked away from everyone so that he could not hurt anyone else. Together, the people built a strong prison of wood, brick, and metal. Once finished, they locked the boy inside.
The brave begged to be let out, promising to be good, but the elders knew that they could not risk it. Although they continued to try and find a way to cure the boy of his temper tantrums, nothing helped. With each passing day his anger continued to mount.
Having nothing else to do in his small prison, the brave spent the days circling his cell, getting angrier and angrier with each turn he took. Before long, he was moving so swiftly around the cell, that he looked like cloud of dust as he circled.
Faster and faster he went, until it seemed that his power grew exponentially. The faster he went the angrier he got. The angrier he got, the faster he moved. Before long, he was moving faster than anything ever seen before. And his power was pushing apart the walls of his prison. Finally, they exploded under the pressure and speed of the boy’s twisting movement.
Loose again, the brave laughed at those who had imprisoned him. “Who has the power now?” he cried as he ran even faster forming a huge cyclone that barely danced upon the ground. “You will be sorry for locking me up,” he screeched as he jumped high in the sky.
The funnel danced up and down; darting to and fro and hitting the village’s key structures, decimating them with its sheer power. First, he destroyed the medicine man’s tent, killing the man and his family. Next he hit the tribal council’s meeting place. Finally, he touched down and grabbed the chief, throwing him and all of the other tribal elders across the sky like rag dolls.
Everywhere he touched down, the land and people perished. It seemed there would be no way to stop him. He laughed maniacally as he twisted away to wreak damage somewhere else.
The young brave’s mother, in anguish and shame, prayed to the Great Spirit for help to stop her son and save what was left of her people. “Creator of all and keeper of our hearts and souls,” she whispered. “Only you can stop my son now. He is lost to all of us on earth but not to you. I beg you, Great Spirit, to help us.”
As the mother’s tears flowed into the earth, she noticed a lizard catching them. “Your son’s anger cannot be stopped altogether,” the lizard warned. “His wrath comes from a place that is dark and full of destruction,” he explained. “However, it can be controlled. It will not be allowed to flourish all year long. It will be contained to the seasons of growth and prosperity.”
“But he will kill many,” cried the mother. “My people will perish in his midst.”
“Yes,” said the lizard. “Some death can’t be avoided. But your son’s anger will subside long enough for the Creator to catch and hold on to him for part of the year. Your people will be safe until his energy builds once again. I will teach your people how to recognize the signs that he will be coming once more,” promised the lizard. “That will help you find a way to protect yourselves until his anger once again subsides.”
True to his word, the lizard remained with the people and taught them how to read the signs that would let them know when the brave was once again on the warpath. He also showed them how to protect themselves during the storm.
Each spring, the brave once again made his way back to the village; whirling and twirling at enormous speeds and destroying everything within his path. But his people protected themselves as lizard taught them and fewer died at the angry brave’s hands.
The cycle continues today. Part of the year the Creator holds tight onto the boy, not allowing him loose to wreak havoc. However, eventually the brave’s strength grows strong enough to break loose and he dances across the land, destroying everything in his pathway.
He is known by many names – – tornado, twister, and cyclone – – to name a few. His fury remains unbridled and uncontrolled. He destroys without thinking or caring; demolishing buildings, uprooting trees, and causing death. But he cannot destroy the spirit of his people. He cannot decimate that which encourages them to rebuild and move forward. He cannot take away their eternal hope. It is the one thing in the world that is even stronger than he is.
