Tag Archives: historic fiction

The Tragic Story of the Womapog Tribe

23 May

Headdress

In 1951, deep in the wilds of the Adirondacks, in upstate New York, researchers made an almost miraculous discovery. Almost 50 years after the industrial revolution took place in the United States, an uncontacted tribe of indigenous people was observed for the first time. It would be last time a new indigenous people would be contacted in the country.

Immediately after discovery, a fierce debate arose. Over the course of two years, two sides fought it out in the press and in the courts if the tribe was to be contacted or not. In 1953, the former won and researchers descended upon the tribe.

The tribe was very receptive to the researchers. There was no hostility, in fact, the opposite was the case. The tribe was hospitable to the outsiders. At first, the natives mistook the researchers for a displaced tribe. Not only did the tribe take them in as a rescue mission, daughters were offered to the researchers in marriage to strengthen the newly formed bond.

The tribe, at the time of first contact was as primitive and self-reliant as could be. They were primarily hunters and gatherers, though they practiced a good bit of agriculture. It was observed that they had no contact with other tribes so there was no trade practiced.

The tribe quickly adopted many features of modern life that the researchers unintentionally introduced. The first was modern clothes. The tribespeople appeared to have had an insatiable appetite for garments with colors and patterns.

The next feature adopted worried researchers. The tribe migrated from hunting and gathering and moved towards more of a typical “American” diet. The change was very quick as was the adoption of the use of electricity. The researchers tried not to change the Womapog way of life, but failed. The Womapog were practically modernized in a matter of three years. They eventually gave up hunting and gathering all together. They grew very few crops. Some of the food crops that they were cultivating when the researchers made contact made way for tobacco and marijuana, both accidentally introduced by the new guests.

This shift caused a great conflict for the researchers. In very little time after discovery, the tribe was completely dependent on them. Funds started to run out quickly. Supporting the tribe was not in the budget. Furthermore, as the tribe modernized, interest in them waned. The more they looked like the rest of the country, the less compelling they became.

A few members of the Womapog tribe broke off. They were never seen or heard from again. After the fiasco the researchers caused, they were reluctant to follow deserters. It has been rumored a few survive today, deep in the forest. Sightings of them have become almost as mythicized as those of Bigfoot.

In little less than one decade, the grant was almost gone with no perspective of being renewed. Few researchers were left. In 1962 a team of five remaining researchers were on site and they were not so much researching as playing the role of social workers to keep the tribe alive.

Late in March, 1962, a two hundred years storm was forecasted to come suddenly and violently. Researchers were advised to evacuate immediately. They were to be helivaced out and there was only room for them. In later interviews, it was said, with heavy hearts they made promises of returning and said their goodbyes. Little did they know at the time, it would be forever.

The storm lasted over a week. Heavy snow, Arctic temperatures and hurricane force winds caused massive destruction. All roads that led even near the site of the tribe were decimated. The last five researchers, who barely escaped, raised funds privately to make a rescue attempt. A month and a half later, they acquired the necessary funds. It would take another two and a half weeks to get to the tribe. It was too late.

The researchers, now a rescue team, descended upon a horror movie scene. Not one Womapog tribesperson survived. There was evidence of cannibalism. Womapog oral tradition stated that cannibalism was never practiced and in fact was a major sin in their belief system. Mothers were frozen in place trying to warm their children, who shared the same fate.

This was the last time an indigenous tribe was contacted on the North American continent. The case has been studied all over the world and has spawned new protocols for contacting indigenous peoples. In the 1990’s, a monument was approved in the New York State Senate to erect a monument at the site of the tragedy for the Womapog people. Until today, the project has not been started. Works are in the way to make a movie about their story.

Serfs Up!

7 Feb

serf

 

Merek was a serf that lived in what is today a suburb of Munster, Germany. He was tied to an estate owned by Lord Althalos where he had to work the land and hand over around 25 percent of what he produced. If you look at today´s tax rates, that´s not so bad, but it is beside the point. Merek was married to the beautiful Ryia. She was one of the most beautiful serfs in all the land. Her beauty transcended her poverty in a way that female beauty has a tendency of doing.

But like most men, 5 years after taking the nuptial nose dive, Merek grew tired of performing his husbandly duties with Ryia and his eyes grew for Duraina, the wife of his boss and essentially owner, Althalos. Merek knew that the feeling was mutual. Many hints were given. At the same time, there was a lot of social upheaval going on. They didn´t know it at the time, but the end of an epoch was upon them and the birth of another was awaking. Serfs were breaking their chains and going onto other fiefdoms in search of better conditions. In the way Merek was tired of making love to Ryia, he was tired of making such low wages.

He was being courted by the land owner Xalvador who was not only offering a more fertile land to work, but would ask for a lower percentage of the yield making the deal extremely attractive. Merek not only wanted to go to Xalvador´s land, but he wanted to do so alone. He knew what he would have to do. Althalos would never let him go and neither would Ryia without a really good reason. Merek thought he knew what would motivate them to let him move along.

Summer came and went and autumn gave way to a brutal winter. Spring offered much relief. As the land was thawing and Merek was preparing his tools to work the land a messenger came on horseback.

“Merek, you presence is being demanded in Lord Althalos’ main quarters” the messenger said gravely.

Merek prepared a snack for the day long journey, gave a kiss on the cheek to Ryia and was on his way.

He was met at the front door by Althalos who was red in the face from drink and rage.

“You bastard, lowly serf!” Althalos said. “I should have you burned at the stake!”

“Whatever is this all about, my lord?” Merek asked, faking ignorance.

“My eyes are blue and my hair, golden blond! The baby…well the baby has black peasant eyes and the dark locks of poverty!” Althalos was stumbling as he spoke. “You are to get off my land by sunset or you shall meet they maker”

“I am sure you are mistaken, my lord, but as you wish” Merek said, faking concern.

“As you wish” Merek thought to himself and had to turn his back quickly as to hide his grin. Both his feudal boss and faithful wife never wanted to see him again.