The First Story of Texas
Before any roads or tall buildings, I was here. I was the whisper of the wind across the grassy plains, the cool water in the winding rivers, and the shade of the tall pine trees. My footprints were the first to walk this land. Some of my families followed the great, shaggy bison, living in homes that could move with the herds. Others built sturdy houses from earth and wood, planting gardens of corn, beans, and squash. I am the spirit of the first people, the first families, and the first stories of Texas.
I am not just one story—I am many. In the east, my Caddo people were expert farmers who built huge earthen mounds for their leaders and ceremonies. Along the coast, my Karankawa families were tall and strong, fishing in the Gulf and traveling by canoe. On the great plains, my Apache and Comanche people were amazing horse riders, swift and powerful. For thousands of years, my many tribes lived in ways that fit the land they called home. Then, new people started to arrive. In 1528, a Spanish explorer named Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca came ashore. More followed, and life began to change in big ways. These were difficult times, full of challenges and sadness, but my story did not end. My people were strong and found new ways to survive.
Guess what? I am still here today. My people, the American Indians of Texas, live in cities, towns, and on reservations. Three of my tribes are officially recognized here: the Alabama-Coushatta, the Tigua of Ysleta del Sur Pueblo, and the Kickapoo. We keep our traditions alive by telling ancient stories, singing songs, dancing at powwows, and creating beautiful art. My story is one of strength and survival. It reminds everyone that the heart of Texas beats with the history and vibrant culture of its very first people, today and always.