The Demise of Chief Thunderhead, Chapter One: Birth of a Medicine Man

A Warrior Named Thungwa

In 1857, Thungwa was a young Southern Paiute warrior, proud and fierce, his name whispered in reverence among his people. By the time he had completed seven raids and taken fourteen scalps, he had earned a reputation as a formidable force. But with glory came consequence, and in 1870, when he contracted malaria, some in the tribe believed it was punishment for his last raid in 1857 attack on an unprotected Baker wagon train, where among the nine scalps taken were those of women and children.

On the Brink of Death

The medicine man, with all his wisdom and sacred knowledge, tried every remedy known to their people. Roots were ground, herbs boiled, chants whispered into the wind. Yet, despite all efforts, Thungwa lay on the brink of death. Desperation drove the tribe to an unfamiliar path, seeking the aid of the white man’s doctor in St. George. It was an act of surrender and trust, an acknowledgment that perhaps there was knowledge beyond their own that could save him.

Healing Hands and Shared Knowledge

For nineteen days, Dr. Ivans worked tirelessly, his hands steady, his heart patient. He was astonished when, against all odds, Thungwa not only survived but regained his strength with remarkable speed. As soon as he could stand, he made an unexpected request, to learn how the tincture that had saved him was made. Dr. Ivans, rather than dismissing the warrior’s curiosity, saw an opportunity for healing beyond just one man. With patience and kindness, he taught Thungwa (who he called Thunderhead) everything he knew about crafting medicinal tinctures—not just for malaria, but also for measles and other diseases that plagued the land.

From Warrior to Medicine Man

Thungwa returned to his people not only as a warrior but as a healer. His hands, once accustomed to wielding weapons, now measured and mixed remedies that could save lives. His status shifted, and soon, he became the head medicine man of his tribe. It was in this newfound role that he heard whispers of a Northern Paiute shaman, a man named Wodziwob, who had received a vision unlike any other. Wodziwob preached of renewal, of a time in just four years, when the world would be restored, when the ancestors would return, the whites would disappear, and the land would once again teem with buffalo and abundance. All the Paiute had to do was believe and perform the sacred Ghost Dance.

The Ghost Dance and a New Prophecy

The tribe, yearning for hope, danced. They twirled in circles beneath the vast desert sky, their feet stirring the dust, their voices lifting prayers into the night. But as time passed, the prophecy remained unfulfilled. Instead of renewal, a new darkness crept upon them.

In 1888 there was an outbreak of measles. One by one, members of the tribe fell ill, fevered and weak. Thungwa worked relentlessly, using all he had learned, but the sickness spread faster than his hands could heal.

Bridging Two Worlds

Desperate to save his people, he made a bold decision—one that challenged the deep-seated tensions of the time. He led the entire tribe to St. George, to the very doorstep of Dr. Ivans. Together, the Paiute medicine man and the white doctor set aside history and prejudice, working side by side to battle the disease that threatened to take them all. The streets surrounding Dr. Ivans' home became a place of healing, where tradition and modern medicine converged in an unlikely alliance.

Legacy of the Ghost Dance

Some whispered that it was a miracle, that the Ghost Dance had summoned unseen forces of protection. Others credited the hands of Dr. Ivans and the knowledge he had shared with Thungwa. Regardless of belief, the outcome was undeniable—the tribe suffered only a handful of losses, while neighboring tribes lost half, if not more, of their people to the same disease. In the face of devastation, healing had emerged, not just in bodies, but in the bridging of worlds that once stood apart.