Some journeys are measured not in miles, but in tears. In 1864, more than 10,000 Diné (Navajo) people were forced to walk over 300 miles from their homeland to Bosque Redondo in eastern New Mexico. History calls it “The Long Walk,” but that sterile phrase barely hints at the profound trauma of a people being marched away from their sacred mountains, watching their world disappear step by painful step.
Before the Walk
First, we need to understand what was lost. Picture a homeland defined by four sacred mountains, where each family knew exactly which valleys were best for grazing sheep, which canyons held the most reliable springs, which cliffs contained the stories of their ancestors. This wasn’t just land – it was a living geography of cultural memory.
The tragedy began with a scorched earth campaign led by Kit Carson under orders from General James Carleton. Through 1863 and early 1864, U.S. troops destroyed Diné crops, orchards, and hogans. They killed livestock and poisoned wells. Imagine watching everything your family had built over generations being systematically destroyed, all to force you from your homeland.
The Journey of Tears
The walks – there were actually multiple forced marches – began in winter. Think about that timing. Winter in Navajo country means bitter cold, snow in the mountains, icy winds. The military chose this season deliberately, knowing that cold and hunger would force people to surrender.
Those who survived described walking through snow so deep it reached their hips. Pregnant women gave birth along the trail. Elders who couldn’t keep up disappeared into the darkness, never to be seen again. Children who slowed the group’s pace were shot. One survivor recalled how his grandfather, too weak to continue, asked to be left behind under a tree. “I will wait here for death,” he said, not wanting to slow his family’s chance for survival.
What Was Lost Along the Way
But the physical hardship was only part of the trauma. With each step, the Diné were moving further from their sacred mountains, further from the lands where their ceremonies had meaning, further from the places where their ancestors’ stories lived in every rock and stream.
Think about what that means spiritually and culturally. It’s not just leaving home – it’s walking away from the center of your universe. Traditional prayers reference the sacred mountains. Stories are anchored to specific places. Even the plants needed for ceremonies were being left behind. It was as if the entire foundation of their world was disappearing with each step.
Bosque Redondo: The Prison Camp
After weeks of walking, the survivors arrived at Hwéeldi (Bosque Redondo) – a place so foreign to them it needed a new name in their language. The military called it Fort Sumner. (Billy the Kid and Pat Garrret would make this place famous later) The Diné called it a prison.
The numbers tell a devastating story: of the approximately 11,500 people who were marched to Bosque Redondo, over 2,000 died during the journey or in the early days at the fort. But statistics can’t capture the reality of life there: inadequate food, contaminated water, unfamiliar corn that wouldn’t grow in the alkaline soil, diseases that spread through crowded conditions, wood that had to be gathered from 12 miles away (under guard) just to cook meals.
Resistance and Survival
But here’s what’s remarkable – even in these conditions, the Diné maintained their identity. Women continued weaving rugs using whatever materials they could find. People continued telling stories of home to their children. Prayers were still said facing toward the sacred mountains, even though they could no longer be seen.
This wasn’t just stubbornness – it was survival in its deepest sense. By maintaining their cultural practices, they were keeping alive the knowledge they would need when they finally returned home.
The Return
In 1868, thanks largely to the persistence of Barboncito and other leaders who convinced General Sherman of the experiment’s failure, the Diné were finally allowed to return home. The Treaty of 1868 established a smaller reservation, but it was within the four sacred mountains. The return journey, though still difficult, carried a different energy. People were walking toward home, not away from it.
Imagine that moment of return – seeing the sacred mountains appear on the horizon after four years of imprisonment. One survivor described how people wept at the sight of Dibé Nitsaa (Hesperus Mountain). Children who had been born at Bosque Redondo saw their homeland for the first time.
Image of Barboncito 1865 from Smithsonian Institute’s Anthropological Archives Link
The Scars That Echo
The Long Walk left scars that echo through generations. Today, many Diné families still have stories passed down from ancestors who survived the march. Some details are too painful to share outside the family. Some survivors refused to speak of it at all, taking their memories to the grave.
This intergenerational trauma isn’t just history – it’s a living presence in many Native communities. When modern Diné leaders negotiate with the federal government, the memory of Bosque Redondo influences their determination to protect tribal sovereignty.
Remembering and Healing
In 2024, as we see movements worldwide addressing historical traumas, the Long Walk offers important lessons about both human cruelty and resilience. The Bosque Redondo Memorial, completed in 2005, stands as a place of remembrance and healing. It tells the story not just of what was lost, but of what survived.
Modern Diné artists, writers, and filmmakers are finding new ways to process this historical trauma. They’re proving that remembering doesn’t have to mean being imprisoned by the past – it can also mean drawing strength from those who survived.
The Journey Continues
Perhaps the most powerful legacy of the Long Walk is this: it didn’t break the Diné. They returned home and rebuilt. Today, the Navajo Nation is the largest tribal nation in North America. Their language, customs, and ceremonies have survived. Their connection to the land between the four sacred mountains remains strong.
When young Diné students learn about the Long Walk today, they’re not just learning about tragedy – they’re learning about resilience. They’re learning how their ancestors maintained their essential identity even when everything familiar had been stripped away.
The Lessons We Must Remember
So why tell this painful story in 2024? Because understanding the Long Walk helps us understand both historical trauma and cultural survival. When we see modern forced migrations, when we hear about people being driven from their homelands, the echoes of the Long Walk remind us of what’s really at stake – not just lives and property, but entire worlds of meaning.
Most importantly, it reminds us that survival isn’t just about physical endurance. It’s about maintaining your cultural identity even when the sacred mountains disappear from view. It’s about holding onto your stories so you can pass them on to the next generation. It’s about remembering who you are, so you can find your way home again.
Written in memory of those who never made it home, and in honor of those who carried their stories forward.
This post is part of a series where I look at and provide resources for classrooms relating to Native American Heritage. Read more by following this Link
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