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Articles / The Pequot Holocaust

The Pequot Holocaust
by Ruth Thunderhorse

Woodcut
Woodcut by James Underhill, one of the colonial militia captains who, on May 25, 1637, lead the massacre of the Pequot town of Sassacus on the Mystic River in what is now called Connecticut
Through Indian Eyes, The Reader's Digest Association, Inc.,
Pleasantville, NY, 1995, p. 129

The sleeping Pequot town of the Grand Sachem, Sassacus, located upon Connecticut’s Mystic River, was viciously attacked before dawn on May 25, 1637. While the people slept, the Pequot’s stockaded town had been surrounded by approximately 1,250 well-armed colonial militia and allies. Although taken by surprise, the Pequot men rallied quickly and bravely defended their homes, businesses, and families.

Outnumbered two to one and armed only with bows and arrows against the European-manufactured guns and ammunition, the Pequot fought bravely and protected their wives, children, and homes from the repeated assaults by the militia, led by Captains Underhill and Mason.

Finally the colonial troops succeeded in setting fire to Pequot buildings and homes. Soon the entire town was ablaze.

Any Pequot man, woman, or child who attempted to escape from the blazing cauldron was immediately shot down in cold blood. The European colonists stood looking on, without any mercy whatsoever, as little children screamed in torment. A multitude of women and children were burned alive. An English colonist recalled later, “It was a fearful sight to see them thus frying in the fire, and the streams of blood quenching the same.” (Ibid)

The few survivors who were not home at the time of the attack were tracked down and either shot or sold into slavery. The year before the English arrived in the New Haven area and began their confiscation of Quinnipiac land, every attempt was made by the English settlers to totally exterminate these indigenous Pequot people. Even the name “Pequot” was banned throughout the territory controlled by English colonists. (To give perspective, considering the relative world populations, the Pequot holocaust in Connecticut far exceeded the proportions of the tragedy of 2001 in New York City and the Pentagon.)

It would be difficult to imagine the horror that was felt by other indigenous people, such as the Quinnipiac, who witnessed or heard about such atrocities as the Pequot Holocaust. The following poems reflect, in some infinitesimal degree, a few of the feelings which perhaps our people felt at that time as their land was taken away, their young men were forced to go to wars for the English colonists, and, later, as those who lived through it all were often sold into slavery or maneuvered into servitude, until finally all our people were forced to hide or walk their “Trail of Heartaches” westward. For over 12,000 years this had been the Quinnipiac home, but these “strangers” took away their beloved homeland as mercilessly as they had watched the Pequot children burn to death. Imagine, with me, how our people coped.

MOUWUN RAKQUE EWOJEK

TO MOURN AFTER THEM

Nematog,
wah peeouchaukaog
pazouhikqun
squarrug ruht. 		My dear brothers,
the strangers
bring you
blazing fire.
Uttajauche toopku,
sakkepompomantammokq',
cutisheepsin gukwi,
webe kenayeu
uttenoquomoungansh
wutche nompung
moh wah paddaquahum
wutche nuppoungano
quah wah
konkejappeunaiwunk
wutche ruht. 		Last night,
while we live,
you lie down to sleep,
but your
dreams
of tomorrow
became the thunder
of death
and the
torment
of fire.
Wah peeouchaukaog
peauwun
askam pawtumpung. 		The strangers
come
before daybreak.
Nejek peauwun
weeche paddaquahamasak,
weeche ruht,
quah weeche squarrug
kattauchossowawungansh.
Nejek peauwun wuhnsa
wame ren, wame wenih,
quah nux wunnejannak
wutche Eansketambough. 		They come
with thundersticks,
with fire,
and with blazing
lusts.
They come to kill
every man, every woman,
and even the children
of the Indians.
Nejek peauwun matta
kittematcherachan. 		They come without
showing mercy.
Kenayeu negonnijek
menuhkenum,
kenayeu assagasowunk,
kenayeu wuskio tapasuk,
wame mammachewahuwa wejo,
quah wah
momarrawassowunk
aiakquiiks
neh wah wunnejannak
ahanuog kenawmen,
— wame
mutche oauquatazzous. 		Your ancient
fort,
your industry,
your new hotel,
every comforting home,
and the
play
things
that the children
laugh to see,
— all
are destroyed.
Ruht, aiskomhittawunk,
nuppoungano, quah
wez-sassawungansh, —
yous mutche
wah tanseunganak
teous wah peeouchaukaog
akkossissoak quah
soenummis quinnuppe. 		Fire, destruction,
death, and
fears, —
these are
the seed
that the strangers
sow and
spread round about.
Nenomequinnaman ne hok
micheme tanhich
paquodjok kenau.
Webe, nematog,
neetompaog,
wanishi
skeje
Mayarraksak. 		I feel myself
utterly lost
without you.
But, my dear brothers,
my dear friends,
may your path be
beautiful upon
the Star Road.
--- Ohomousiz --- Little Owl

NEEN BITCH KOMMEQUANTUSH

I WILL REMEMBER

Wame wutche wah toueukomuk
mutche poquata'haman
quah wah seepus
mutche matta kitzsimmoden;
wah wososhquit quah tummunk
mutche oauquatazzous
quah wah Eansketambough
matta horn eo nauwit. 		All of the forest
is being cut down
and the river
is no longer clean;
the marsh and the beaver
are being destroyed
and the Indians
are no longer seen.
Wame aiakquiiks
assowunnamanoosh;
atta querauhikkowunk wutche
tatabrawahittewunk,
quah neen matta waughtawn
tah ruwamo youh, 		All things
are changed;
there is want of
contentment,
and I don’t understand
what that means,
webe neen bitch kommequantush
neh, negonne ux utta,
Shittawoonghua
bitch pasukut wonk
mutche ashkashki. 		but I will remember
that, sooner or later,
the Great Tree
will once more
be green.
--- Ohomousiz --- Little Owl

from
Wah Quinnipiac Arkeis (wunnonkou, ea kesuk, quah nompung)
The Quinnipiac Nation (yesterday, today, and tomorrow)
Poetry and Art
by Little Owl / Ruth Thunderhorse
Written in Wampano / Quiripi, the language of the Quinnipiac,
with English translation. ©ACQTC, Inc. 2000-2009

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