A Choctaw Tale November 1, 1831, Memphis My name is Chakel and I’m part of the Choctaw nation, or at least I was. To be honest none of us know what we are anymore. If you read this, you probably know more about this that I do, all I know is their government didn’t listen to us; didn’t care. So we leave our lands, forced by white men. Along with our lands, we leave our nation, our unity, our people. But I don’t plan to leave myself, I intend to leave an imprint of the situation today, so that what is left now is never lost. I thought it would be appropriate to start writing some memories; we are defined by memories, and without them we are nothing. I hope that by writing memories of the Choctaw Nation, it will not be forgotten, and therefore will always be. Hoping for the best, I expect that someone will read this and know, so that this call, these memoirs, and this last hope is not lost, so that when I ask you to read this, I am not talking to a piece of paper, and you will know, and not all will be lost.
Native’s Diary Entry During the Trail of Tears