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Essays on thre amish communities
Writing about amish culture
Writing about amish culture
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Narrative: Sacagawea (Dani E.) “Everything I did I did for my people” Bird woman I was born in May of 1788 in Lemhi County, Idaho into the Shoshone Tribe. My dad was the chief of the Shoshone Tribe. At around the age of 12, I was captured by the enemy Hidatsa tribe during a buffalo hunt. I was traded to a French Canadian fur trader, Toussaint Charbonneau, who made me his wife in 1804.
The Indians saw this, and brought venison, wild geese, and turkey back from their camp. The two cultures feasted together, and thanked God for their good fortune. Since then, this event has been declared as, “The First
The Moua journey began thirteen years ago, fighting to hold the tears back. People said, coming to America will change the life of Hmong families. Many different people, from many different countries, with different communication styles are all over the world that immigrated to America, one of those people are Hmong, they speak two dialects of a language. These dialects are known as Hmoob dawb (Hmong white) and Hmoob ntxhauj (Hmong green). Along twenty-three-hour fight lay ahead of them, as they realize it was time to say good-bye to their native family and home as tears rolled down their eyes.
It was only eight o’clock, but the sky was as dark as night when the cold and rocky bus ride I had endured for more than three hours finally came to an end. I traveled to Alaska with my mission team hoping to learn about the Iñupiat tribe and to evangelize about the gospel. Deeply buried near the edges of the Bering Sea, the Iñupiat tribesmen fish, farm, and hunt daily to provide for their families. They surprised our mission team by welcoming us with two large pots; one filled with walrus meat and another filled with their traditional dish of shimmered and shredded fish mixed with berries. Their hospitality was unexpected and helped me to experience their culture from the inside—something that I could never have experienced from a National
y Culture My culture is very average like a lot of other people who live in Louisiana. Food is a part of my culture because, in Louisiana is some of the best food in the world. My age has a lot to do with my culture too because my generation uses a lot of technology. Music has impacted my life because I am in band.
If I were a plain’s Indian living in the 1900s my reservation would be the Choctaw reservation. I would explain to my grandkids that us as plains Indians we were great wanderers, travelers but we did not like farming. We were greatly known for being great warriors and fighters by using the tactic of gorilla warfare as a sneak attack.
I live in a minuscule town in Western North Carolina, where southern traditions are very important to the majority of the population. Such as drinking sweet tea, eating biscuits and gravy, and going to church. Here within one of those important traditions lies why I had to take such a significant risk. At the beginning of my eighth grade year of middle school, only a mere thirteen years of age, I knew I was different. However, what made me different would surely turn many against me.
We are often told that it’s ok to be different. My younger version would definitely agree. Growing up Indian, I had the benefit of teachers repeating instructions a bit louder and slower. I never worried about getting injured on the baseball field, because I got to sit on the bench. My parents never had to worry about driving me to sleepovers, though I was seemingly friends with everyone in school.
The American experience is not unfamiliar to me, I have been visiting America since I was a child and as a child I always wanted to move to America. My first visit here I fell in love with the culture specifically the freedom of expression. However the opportunity did not emerge for me to move to America legitimately and as promising young child, I did not want to damage my future by moving to a country illegally where I could not live to my full potential. I stayed in Jamaica and I completed my University education as a registered nurse and had become comfortable with my life in Jamaica. I started working the spring of 2013 and upon receival of my first paycheck, I was reminded that this is not the place I wanted to be.
For my first diversity event I decided to attend the 43rd annual Mankato wacipi (Powwow). I chose this event because I attended some like it when I was younger. I always have admired Native Americans and their deep connection with their spirituality. I remember in fifth grade my elementary school hosted a Powwow that my mother and I attended. This was the first time I have ever been exposed to the Native American culture and the memory has stuck with me till now.
Debate I believe the colonies and everyone living there should remain loyal to England. Many close people in my life agree with me, such as my husband, Sir William Johnson, a British official. My brother, Joseph Brant, a Native american who was with the British government. I belie the colonists will take our land, and England would never take our land.
My father, Chingachgook, my brother, Uncas, and I were visiting our friends on the Frontier. Life on the frontier was hard, and days were constantly filled with fear and hard work. People living on the frontier grew their own food, and lived in log cabins. The French and the Indians constantly would attack because they wanted everyone to fear them. While we were on the frontier, we learned that John, the father of the frontier families, did not want to volunteer in the war because he feared Indians would attack his family.
Over the last fifteen years, I have grown mentally and socially. I credit my growth to my ability to analyze and understand the world for what it is. Social imagination is the use of information to understand the world and ourselves for who we are. Possessing the quality of mind that can develop reason and the capacity to shift perspectives are the basis of social imagination (Mills 2000). As I mentioned in reflection one, I came to realize that my way of thinking is what helped me overcome living a poor lifestyle.
Life as a Native American sucks. I realized this when I was a little kid. I’ve come to accept that what other people label or describes us as are true. I’m not happy to admit this they are right. My people don’t do anything to prove these people’s claims, or better known as stereotypes, about Native Americans wrong.
In my life the places I have been carry the most memories with them. One place that I have my earliest memories is my family cabin. On the north shore of Lake Audubon, sits a grey modular home with a large garage and two well used sheds, tying the whole place together is a falling apart red well. This is the place that I call home for most of my summers, spending more time here then I do anywhere else. I have many memories in each room is this cabin some good and some bad.