Question

*****FAN AND MEDAL******
Which aspect of the excerpt from The Way to Rainy Mountain best exemplifies how American Indian culture and themes can be passed down and changed over time?

Answer 1

A) the American soldiers destroying the ancient Kiowa Sun Dance site

B) Momaday seeing his grandmother standing at the wood stove on a winter morning and turning meat on a skillet

C) Momaday watching and evaluating his grandmother praying in the traditional Kiowa manner

D) the slaughter and loss of the buffalo on the American plains

E) Momaday admiring his grandmother sitting at the south window, bent above her beadwork

Answer 2

The Way to Rainy Mountain
by N. Scott Momaday (excerpt)

She was ten when the Kiowas came together for the last time as a living Sun Dance culture. They could find no buffalo; they had to hang an old hide from the sacred tree. Before the dance could begin, a company of soldiers rode out from Fort Sill under orders to disperse the tribe. Forbidden without cause the essential act of their faith, having seen the wild herds slaughtered and left to rot upon the ground, the Kiowas backed away forever from the medicine tree. That was July 20, 1890, at the great bend of the Wapelleta. My grandmother was there. Without bitterness, and for as long as she lived, she bore a vision of deicide.

Now that I can have her only in memory, I see my grandmother in the several postures that were peculiar to her: standing at the wood stove on a winter morning and turning meat in a great iron skillet; sitting at the south window, bent above her beadwork, and afterwards, when her vision failed, looking down for a long time into the fold of her hands; going out upon a cane, very slowly as she did when the weight of age came upon her; praying. I remember her most often at prayer. She made long, rambling prayers out of suffering and hope, having seen many things. I was never sure that I had the right to hear, so exclusive were they of all mere custom and company. The last time I saw her she prayed standing by the side of her bed at night, naked to the waist, the light of a kerosene lamp moving upon her dark skin. Her long, black hair, always drawn and braided in the day, lay upon her shoulders and against her breasts like a shawl. I do not speak Kiowa, and I never understood her prayers, but there was something inherently sad in the sound, some merest hesitation upon the syllables of sorrow. She began in a high and descending pitch, exhausting her breath to silence; then again and again--and always the same intensity of effort, of something that is, and is not, like urgency in the human voice.

Answer 3

what up

Answer 4

Im so stumped!

Answer 5

lol want help?

Answer 6

omg yes pleeeease

Answer 7

ok roger

Answer 8

uhh its too hard fr mr srry but if u need something else ill be right here

Answer 9

okay. tag someone who might be able to help :)

Answer 10

I think c

Answer 11

*hugs* omg thank youuuu :)

Answer 12

hey @raiders88, medal Owen

Answer 13

uh ok ig

Answer 14

so its fair :)

Answer 15

:)

Answer 16

*high fives* i am so happy to close this question :) been staring at it for too long XD