My daughter and I traveled by wagon train and foot. Mostly the elder and the small children were in the wagon trains and the rest of us walked. My other daughter died of small pox while crossing the Mississippi river. I would get such bad chills I want sure if I was even moving anymore, it was just one foot in front of the other. I was separated from my husband and traveled this with my daughters. From day to day the little ones piteously cried form weariness, hunger, and illness. We were forced to walk. We would all sing songs that sang “We are going to our homes and land; there is One who is watching above and ever watches over us, He will care for us.” None of us had proper attire and my feet would leave bloody foot prints in the snow after me. The Government men in charge of this journey promised me my claims and my money on their way over, but it never showed.
We called this trail Nunna- da- ul- tsun- yi, meaning “The place where we cried”. Many of our people died. We were forced to leave our homes because the whites had struck gold in Northern, Georgia. We lacked food, water, and the essential clothing needed to for the cold, winter weather. So many people were dying of starvation, exposure to the cold, and disease.
In this picture I am the older woman telling the journey of the life I lived while being forced to travel The Trail of Tears.