Legend

Legend

Once, long ago, two girls were born to the chief’s wife. The lady had not been able to bear any children until then. The whole Comanche tribe rejoiced at the birth of the twins. One was named Taima, meaning thunder, and the other Chilaili, meaning sun. As the girls grew, it became apparent that they were the most beautiful in the tribe. Which of the two was prettier? None could decide.

Both girls had an aptitude for fighting and leading. Chilaili was always mischievous and the better at fighting. She was soon the best fighter in the tribe. Taima was calmer, shyer, and thought things out more. This made her much better with strategic thinking.

All the young men wanted to marry the girls but only a man who could stand it if his wife’s work always exceeded his own could marry either. Neither of the young women really wanted to marry. Chilaili decreed that she would marry the man who bested her with a weapon, and that solved her problem. Taima had more trouble than her sister. Finally, she settled in with a man that she could stand and who had a natural propensity toward leadership.

One night, there was a raid. No one was prepared for the Shoshone and many died. This included the twins’ father. Others were taken captive- mainly children. However, Chilaili was also taken and the whole tribe mourned. Taima’s new husband, Igasho, became the chief.

Taima was often dismal and she took up wandering far from the camp. On one of these outings, she found Chilaili! Her sister was wounded and tired but still alive. Taima brought her back. After recovering, Chilaili told her full story of her escape from the Shoshone.

Both girls were fully women now. Chilaili was no longer boyishly playful and mischievous; Taima had lost her shyness. The Arapaho raided the diminished tribe next.

Not as many people died this time but many were wounded. Igasho was killed. To avenge her sister, Chilaili started training the men. She trained them to do sentry work, she trained them to have quick reflexes, and she even trained them to get out of bed and onto their horses with weapons quickly. Raids on the Comanche became scarce. The men became better fighters but never as good or fast as Chilaili. Life was peaceful for the two female chiefs for a time.

Taima was startled awake with the sounds of fire and screaming. She rushed outside to see crying children, frantic women. No men were to be seen except old ones. Her mouth tightened. This was more than a raid; it was a battle!

Her warrior side screamed to go fight with the men, where Chilaili must be, but she fought it dutifully and began to lead the women and children to safety. After what seemed like hours, Taima had all her people on a hill, safe from the fire. No one was left in a tipi. Now she could fight. She had no horse and was forced to run barefoot to the battlegrounds with her spear and carving knife. Ha! What pitiful gear for the one of the best fighters. She had no armor, no shield, not even a proper knife. Yet she still fought well. She killed many men but wounded even more, as was tradition. To kill would be to commit the same crime as the Shoshone were. Besides, prisoners were always useful.

Taima immediately started thinking about how to win, although they were greatly outnumbered. Suddenly, she realized the obvious. She had to kill the chief, or the leader. Finding her was easy. She was fighting the best, she was the only female, and she was yelling orders. The hard part was accepting. The woman standing upon the crest was one she had known and loved since her day of birth. She was beautiful, and yet fierce. It was Chilaili. Chilaili. Chilaili.

A single tear trickled down Taima’s soft cheek. A tear of rage and sorrow. A tear of love. Taima’s first duty was to her tribe, her people. “Let the Shoshone hear what I say now! My father lie dead, and my sister deceived, because of you and your foolish bloodlust! The day will come when you and your own family will fall to the hand of your enemy! Hear me! Hear me and weep for fear of your life.”

Then, with a wild war cry, she ran to meet her sister. All fighting stopped. None came to help their leaders. It was as if tension built a wall between them and the warriors. Chilaili was caught by surprise but Taima was not as good as her sister. The fight was even. Taima saw the beads of sweat rolling down her sister’s face, smearing her war paint.

“You imbecile,” Chilaili growled quietly, “I am going to unite these tribes, bring strength and courage together under one banner and I will rule all. You oppose me and for that, you will fall.” Taima studied the rage etched on the once beautiful face, it looked as if it was meant to be there. With one last surge of strength, she lunged at Chilaili and took her life.

The spell was broken and the now-leaderless Shoshone fled. Tired and wounded, the Comanche warriors took Taima back to the women and children and counted their dead. Taima was alive but just barely. Many others were not as lucky. The tribe eventually recovered from its loss and entered a new and happier era but the twins were not forgotten. Neither was Taima’s promise to the Shoshone. Never again would the two tribes be friendly. Never.

Poem

Quanah Parker

Brave, respectful

Riding, fighting, succeeding

Fought in the Buffalo War

Chief