Spirit Horse Falls

An excerpt from The Shamanic Drum by Michael Drake

 

Jade Wah'oo Grigori, my mentor and teacher, stood before me. "Find Spirit Horse," he exclaimed! The shaman vanished from my dreams as quickly as he had appeared. I awoke in the morning with the words "find Spirit Horse" indelibly etched in my mind. I had not seen or spoken to Jade in over four years, but I remembered full well his teachings of Spirit Horse. Jade had taught me that, through sacred drumming, one could ride Spirit Horse for personal empowerment and healing the land.
 

I contemplated this dream throughout the day, trying to discern its meaning. I was finally drawn to a stack of back issues of Shaman's Drum magazines in my office. I fervently leafed through the magazines with no idea of what I was looking for. Midway through the stack, I opened the winter 1990-91 issue to an article titled "Native Americans Join Efforts to Preserve Sacred Ridge on Mount Hood."

Enola Hill, a densely forested, pristine watershed ridge on Mount Hood (Oregon), was under the threat of logging operations. A coalition of Native Americans, historians, and environmentalists appealed and delayed the U.S. Forest Service's timber sale, pending ethnographic studies to determine the area's cultural significance. The ethnographic studies revealed that Enola Hill is a tawyash, a Sahaptin Indian word for a place where spiritual power can be obtained and maintained. In fact, there is no other site in the Pacific Northwest with such great cultural significance. For thousands of years, Enola has been a Native American Mecca -- a revered and sacred place for pilgrimages, ceremonies, and vision quests.    

As I continued to read the article, I came across a reference to a spectacular waterfall known to natives as Spirit Horse Falls (Devil Falls on USDA maps). The falls got its name from vision questers who saw a spirit horse rising from the mist. As I read these words, I was overcome by a profound sense of euphoria and resolve. I knew that this sacred waterfall was the "Spirit Horse" that Jade had told me to find. I expressed my gratitude for this gift in a prayer to Creator.

Two weeks later, I stood for the first time on Enola Hill, overlooking Spirit Horse Falls. The power of the roaring falls and the beauty of the rain forest filled my senses with a lucid-like awareness. I felt a holistic connection to my Earth Mother. In my heart I felt that I had finally come home. I drummed and performed a ceremony for the protection and preservation of this sacred place that provided spiritual power for this region. I prayed that this nerve center in the web of life would continue to distribute vital energy throughout the surrounding natural systems.

Afterwards, I made the three-hour drive back to my home in Bend, Oregon. That night, and for many nights to follow, my dreams were filled with drums, Enola Hill, and Spirit Horse Falls. In my dreams, I saw myself drumming at all the waterfalls around Mount Hood. I was told that the rivers that flow from this mountain are sacred. These rivers feed the spirit. This water will awaken the people when you drum at the falls. All who touch this water will be awakened. I was told that a home would be provided from which I will go out to drum the sacred places. It is time to consecrate these sacred places. The time has come to awaken them.

Three months later, a friend contacted me regarding a caretaker position in the Mount Hood area. I soon relocated to a community near Enola Hill and Spirit Horse Falls. I spent the entire summer, hiking to waterfalls and drumming the sacred waters. By the end of the summer, I had completed a circuit around Mount Hood. Having completed my mission, I sensed that my work there was done. I moved back to Bend, Oregon, yet Spirit Horse Falls will always be a significant power place for me. I still make pilgrimages to the falls to drum and pray.

Unfortunately, the threat of logging persists at Enola Hill. Though ethnographic studies reveal otherwise, the Mount Hood Forest Supervisor has determined that there are no traditional cultural sites on Enola Hill. The Forest Service contends that Indian cultural use of the site was transitory and doesn't qualify for the National Register of Historic Places. The U.S. Forest Service hungrily eyes the mature forests on Enola. This greed for more timber to cut makes the agency loath to acknowledge the native cultural and religious value of the area. The continuing degradation of sacred sites stems not only from colonial attitudes about the lands where native people live and worship, but also from prejudice and disrespect for native religions. Indian religious freedom is an environmental issue, and the destruction of sacred sites is the ultimate environmental racism.

Rare White Bison Spotted in Ozark Mountains

A surprising new guest has arrived at Dogwood Canyon Nature Park in Missouri's Ozark Mountains: a rare white bison calf. Named Takoda, a Lakota word meaning "friend to everyone," he was born on a private ranch and came to live with the herd of bison currently roaming Dogwood Canyon earlier this year.

A white bison's birth was once a very rare occurrence, with some estimates stating that only one in 10,000,000 bison were born white. However, you may now encounter one of these majestic creatures thanks to the work of conservationists. Though still rare, the phenomenon is more common due to crossbreeding as a result of attempts by ranchers to save the species from extinction after original populations plummeted to only a few hundred between 1830 and 1900.

According to traditional Native American teachings spanning thousands of years, the white bison is a sacred animal that promotes prayerful communication between Indigenous people and the Great Spirit, while also serving as a sign of peace and good fortune. The legend goes likes this:

 
Long ago during a great famine, a Lakota chief sent two boys to hunt for food. While searching, they came across a beautiful holy woman, who gifted their tribe the first sacred pipe: the White Buffalo Calf Pipe. Over a period of four days, White Buffalo Calf Woman instructed the people in the Seven Sacred Rites: the seven traditional rituals that use the sacred pipe. When the teaching of the sacred rites was complete, she told the people that she must return to the spirit world. She asked them to honor the teachings of the pipe and to keep it in a sacred manner. Before leaving, the woman told them that within her were four ages, and that she would look upon the people in each age, returning at the end of the fourth age to restore harmony and balance to a troubled world. She said she would send a sign that her return was near in the form of an unusual buffalo, which would be born white.

The prophecy of the White Buffalo Calf Woman is of great spiritual significance to the Lakota and many other tribes. Lakota holy man John Fire Lame Deer once said, "A white buffalo is the most sacred living thing you could ever encounter." Lakota people see the birth of a white buffalo calf as the most significant of prophetic signs. Some Lakota equate the birth of a white buffalo calf to the second coming of Christ. As Oglala  Lakota medicine man Floyd Looks For Buffalo Hand puts it, "The arrival of the white buffalo is like the second coming of Christ. It will bring about purity of mind, body, and spirit and unify all nations--black, red, yellow, and white."

Native American Vows to Decolonize Native Burials

Robert Gill of Buffalo, Minnesota is a member of the Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate tribe and among only a few Native American morticians in the country. A hero to many tribal members, Gill has made it his life's mission to restore Native burial customs and to "decolonize," as he calls it, the process of honoring and burying those who die on Indian reservations. Since the arrival of the pandemic, death has become an all-encompassing specter of Gill's daily life, consuming his days and even his nights. He travels hundreds of miles each week to remote tribal communities as far west as the Crow Indian Reservation in Montana and as far north as the Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation near the Canadian border. 

 

Before the pandemic, Gill arranged three to four burials a month for Native families. Now he is receiving that many funeral requests every week. Even with a punishing work schedule, he sometimes struggles with guilt over his inability to meet the surging demand for traditional burial services. He knows that many tribal families are being left with no choice but to turn to white-owned funeral homes with morticians who do not understand their language and customs. Without ceremonies rooted in their culture, Gill argues, tribal members are disconnected from their history and unable to mourn properly.
 

The dearth of funeral options, some tribal leaders argue, is a legacy of America's dark history of racial subjugation of American Indians and their religious practices. Until 1978, when Congress passed the American Indian Religious Freedom Act, spiritual ceremonies like the sweat lodge and drum dances were still technically illegal. The prohibitions enabled Christian churches to establish deep footholds on reservations and further restrict Indigenous customs--including their ceremonies for honoring the deceased.
 

Determined to bring more dignity to the burial process, Gill enrolled in the Worsham College of Mortuary Science in Chicago, where he graduated in 2012. He is believed to be the only licensed mortician of Dakota heritage in the country. Today Gill is virtually alone in the funeral business for his willingness to make long-distance house visits--sometimes driving entire days, through sleet and snow, to meet with tribal families in their homes. Each visit carries the risk that he will contract the virus still raging through Indian Country. Gill is the only one of five morticians who work at Chilson Funeral Chapel in central Minnesota who has not been sickened by COVID-19.
 

"You've got to have nerves of steel to do this work in a pandemic," Gill said.

 

A version of this article first appeared in the "Minneapolis Star Tribune."

Native Americans Welcome Shutdown of KXL Pipeline

The newly inaugurated US president has issued an executive order to cancel the Canadian pipeline project approved by his predecessor. Joe Biden has said climate change will be a big focus of his presidency. Biden's executive order reverses former President Donald Trump's revival of the pipeline. Trump in 2017 reduced regulations that would otherwise slow building projects. Former President Barack Obama rejected the pipeline in 2015 saying it would "undercut" American leadership in the fight against global climate change. The completed segment of pipeline was to cover a 1,179-mile route from the province of Alberta, Canada, to Nebraska where it would have connected with the existing pipelines leading to the coast. It would have transported up to 830,000 barrels of heavy crude oil a day. 

Montana tribal members, fearing water contamination, are relieved as the Keystone XL pipeline is blocked. When Cheyenne Foote heard that President Joe Biden blocked the Keystone XL pipeline permit on his first day in office, she cried. Foote, 68, is an elder of the Fort Peck Assiniboine and Sioux Tribes, and she feared the pipeline, which passes through a portion of Montana near the Fort Peck Reservation, would contaminate the tribes' water supply. "Water is life," she said. "You can't live without water. The Creator gave it to us, and it's our job to take care of it."

Tribes in South Dakota have been opposed to and protesting the pipeline's construction for more than a decade. President of the Oglala Lakota Nation, Kevin Killer, said Wednesday night the cancellation of the pipeline permit "sends a strong message to tribal nations, and symbolizes a willingness to build on government-to-government relationships established through our treaties," referencing the 1851 and 1868 Fort Laramie treaties of the Great Sioux Nation.

Chairman of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, Harold Frazier, said the project posed a danger to tribal land and people. "This project has scarred our territorial and treaty lands with its presence and threatened our people like a dagger to our throats," Frazier wrote Wednesday night. "We have witnessed the invasion of our land and the genocide of our families -- this project is an extension of the racial, environmental and social injustices we have suffered." 

Indigenous justice organizer for the South Dakota chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, Candi Brings Plenty, said Wednesday night Indigenous people have been at the forefront of the "fight for environmental justice and protection." The ACLU South Dakota intervened in a "riot boosting" bill last year. In March, Gov. Kristi Noem signed a revised version, which revived the state's criminal and civil penalties for rioting and inciting a riot. A federal judge said part of the state's laws were unconstitutional because they targeted those protesting the Keystone XL Pipeline. 

The Lakota People's Law Project said Wednesday the decision to cancel the pipeline is a "pivot point" to recognize "the health of our Earth." Rescinding KXL's permit is a promising early signal that the new administration is listening to Native American concerns and will take issues of climate and Indigenous justice seriously. We have to insist that it not stop there. It's also high time to shut down the Dakota Access pipeline (DAPL). Tell president-elect Joe Biden to stop DAPL once and for all. Protect the planet and the Lakota people. No destruction of the earth. No endangering our water. Mni wiconi -- water is life. Sign the petition.

Jim Pepper's Classic Peyote Song "Witchi Tai To"

Jim Pepper (1941-1992) was a jazz saxophonist, composer, and singer of Native American descent. Born in Salem, Oregon, Pepper grew up in Portland. He moved to New York City in 1964, where he came to prominence in the late 1960s as a member of The Free Spirits, an early jazz-rock fusion group that also featured Larry Coryell and Bob Moses. His primary instrument was the tenor saxophone (he also played flute and soprano saxophone), and his characteristic incisive, penetrating tone and soulful delivery was unique for its time. A similar timbre was taken up by later players such as Jan Garbarek, Michael Brecker, and David Sanborn.

Of Kaw and Muscogee Creek heritage, Pepper also achieved notoriety for his compositions combining elements of jazz and Native American music. Jazz trumpeter Don Cherry and saxophonist Ornette Coleman encouraged Pepper to reflect his roots and heritage and incorporate it into his jazz playing and composition. His "Witchi Tai To" (derived from a peyote healing chant of the Native American Church which he had learned from his grandfather) is the most famous example of this hybrid style. The song first turned up in 1969 on an album by the band he was playing with at the time, Everything Is Everything. But it's the 1971 version from his own solo album Pepper's Pow Wow that's the definitive version. The song has gone on to be covered by numerous artists including Harper's Bizarre, Ralph Towner, Jan Garbarek, and Brewer & Shipley.

 
Over seven minutes in length, "Witchi Tai To" is beautiful, powerful, and very moving. Assisting Pepper in the recording studio were guitarist Larry Coryell, bassist Chuck Rainey, pianist Tom Grant, drummers Spider Rice and Billy Cobham, and then wife Ravie Pepper on flute, shakers, and vocals. The song begins with the peyote chant plain and unadorned, and slowly segues into Pepper's beautiful, flowing sax line that sets the tone for the rest of the tune. When Pepper begins to blow his sax, there is so much raw emotion and power packed into his delivery it can still bring chills decades later. Pepper died on February 10, 1992 of lymphoma. Listen to Jim Pepper's "Witchi Tai To".

"Witchi Tai To" Lyrics:

Witchi-tie-to, gimee rah
Whoa rah neeko, whoa rah neeko
Hey ney, hey ney, no way

Witchi-tie-to, gimee rah
Whoa rah neeko, whoa rah neeko
Hey ney, hey ney, no way

Water spirit feelin'
Springin' round my head
Makes me feel glad
That I'm not dead

Witchi-tie-tie, gimee rah
Whoa rah neeko, whoa rah neeko
Hey ney, hey ney, no way

Witchi-tie-tie, gimee rah
Whoa rah neeko, whoa rah neeko
Hey ney, hey ney, no way

Six Native Candidates Elected to Congress

The 2020 general election has been a historic one in terms of "firsts" for more diverse lawmakers -- it also saw a record-breaking number of candidates of Native American heritage win their congressional races for seats in the U.S. House of Representatives. Six Indigenous candidates won their House races, which means the chamber will now have the most Native lawmakers ever serving at a time. Four of them are returning members.
 

Democrats Deb Haaland, a Laguna Pueblo member representing New Mexico, and Sharice Davids, a Ho-Chunk Nation member representing Kansas, both retained their seats after becoming the first Native American women elected to Congress, in 2018. Rep. Tom Cole (R-Okla.) of Chickasaw Nation also won reelection on Tuesday, as did Rep. Markwayne Mullin (R-Okla.) of Cherokee Nation.
 

New members will include Republican Yvette Herrell, who unseated Democratic Rep. Xochitl Torres Small in New Mexico's 2nd Congressional District. It's the second time they've competed for the seat; Herrell ran against Torres Small in 2018 and narrowly lost.
 

The other new member is Democrat Kaiali'i "Kai" Kahele, who won his race for Hawaii's 2nd Congressional District. The seat was vacated by former Democratic Rep. Tulsi Gabbard, who launched an unsuccessful bid for president. Kahele is only the second Native Hawaiian to represent Hawaii in Congress since it became a state in 1959. The first was the late Sen. Daniel Akaka (D). Kahele has served in the Hawaii Senate since 2016.

Anarchism Has Indigenous Roots

Across the United States, activists are responding to the pandemic crisis with anarchist strategies, like mutual aid. In Window Rock, Arizona -- the seat of the Navajo Nation -- the K'é Infoshop is one such group, and has been providing food and medical supplies to elders, families, and those infected with the virus. In a recent article in "The Nation," the Infoshop's members said their style of autonomous organizing has distinctly Navajo roots.
 

Just a few minutes from the Navajo Nation government offices, the K'é Infoshop opened its doors in April 2017 in a vacant coffee shop. Inside, early collective members painted each wall to correspond with the sacred Navajo colors -- black, white, turquoise, and yellow -- and began stocking the space with Native American books and magazines. Near the entrance, they hung a painting of a women's turquoise-ring-clad hands wrapped around jail bars -- a piece by a member who the group says was unjustly arrested in a police raid of the nearby flea market while she shared her lunch with a group of homeless people. Across the back wall, they put up red stenciled letters that spelled out, "K'é does not discriminate."
 

Anthropologists frequently describe k'é as the Navajo kinship system, but Infoshop members say it's much more than that. "It's our theory of everything," K'é co-founder Brandon Benallie declared. "It's our string theory. It's how we're connected to everything -- but specifically how that kinship is reciprocated and maintained. K'é is this huge overlapping philosophy that the whole universe is interconnected. But it's also these relationships that we have with one another and with the elements that exist in the world, whether that be the weather or the water or the animals."
 

Although there is a markedly European jargon to describing contemporary anarchism, the movement has long been influenced by Indigenous ideas. Being Navajo could be considered anarchist because they never had chiefs; they didn't have a hierarchy. It was always horizontal. Socialism and anarchism derived ideology from Franciscan missionaries who came to the Navajo Nation in the 1500s and 1600s and studied Indigenous societies. And later you have notable activists like Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, and Mikhail Bakunin reading the journals of these religious figures and how they describe Indigenous societies at that time.
 

As soon as the pandemic hit the Navajo Nation, K'é's members decided they had to help. K'é utilized the food pantry it had stocked for weekly solidarity meals with homeless community members. They gave away a years supply of food in just two weeks. At first the Infoshop was alone in its relief efforts in Navajo Nation, but by April and May, other mutual aid projects began to emerge. The youth-led Navajo & Hopi Families COVID-19 Relief project raised funds to place large orders and organized teams to distribute upwards of 10,000 pounds of food each week across the 27,000 square miles of the reservation.
 

As the Navajo government struggled to control the spread of the outbreak, it established curfews and stay-at-home orders that no doubt saved lives, but made it more difficult for families to travel to any of the reservation's 13 grocery stores. Mutual aid groups obtained essential worker passes to distribute food after curfew, but organizers still faced resistance from the government. They were harassed on many occasions by Navajo police pulling them over and telling them that their authorization letters were not valid.
 

Commenting on the impacts of the pandemic and rapid growth of mutual aid groups across the country, Benallie noted, "Every time capitalism fails, we land on socialism, we land on anarchism, to take care of us. I hope it makes people question who is there for them. Was it the $1,200 stimulus check or six months of unemployment? Or was it the good people of the earth who were organizing resources and material needs to make sure that you don't go to sleep hungry or that your children don't go to sleep hungry?" he said. "Capitalism fosters this unhealthy, highly individualist view of oneself. People began to forget their responsibilities to each other, to the land, and began to only worry about how much they can benefit from the imbalance from broken kinship."
 

As organizers contemplate strategies to take care of their communities in the absence of government support, Benallie urges them to remember their relationships to one another and to the planet. "We can't do this alone. We need all of the good people of the earth to come together."

Pre-Columbian Council Circle Discovered in Kansas

Archaeologists using new drone-sensing technology have found evidence of an enormous, horseshoe-shaped trench hidden beneath a Kansas ranch. The rounded earthwork, which may be part of the largest pre-Hispanic settlement north of Mexico, appears to be what's known as a council circle. To date, researchers have identified five such structures across 22 sites in the area. Ancestors of the modern Wichita and Affiliated Tribes lived in what is now southeastern Kansas between about 900 and 1650 A.D. They lived in grass-roofed pit houses; hunted bison; and farmed crops like squash, beans and corn.
 

Over time, erosion filled the newly discovered earthwork with topsoil, concealing it from view. But modern sensors can detect subtle differences in temperature and foliage between the filled trench and the earth around it. The researchers located the ditch through a combination of drone surveying and LiDAR, infrared and thermal imaging.
 

Relic hunters who looted the region in the 1800s gave council circles their name, but the earthworks' actual purpose remains unclear. Researchers have previously posited that the structures served as the site of ritual ceremonies, housed community elites or offered protection from invaders. Archaeologists now suggest that sites including the just-detailed trench were part of Etzanoa, a population center dubbed the "Great Settlement" by Spanish conquistadors.
 

Spanish colonizers first encountered Etzanoa in the 1590s, when an unauthorized group traveled north in search of Quivira, a mythical city of gold. Though the expedition ended violently, one survivor managed to return and inform the Spanish of what he'd seen. In 1601, conquistador Juan de Onate marched to the settlement, captured a resident and tortured him until he revealed the city's name.
 

Archaeologists first excavated the site of the newly discovered council circle more than 60 years ago. But by 1967, they felt that they had discovered all of the mounds and earthworks located along Walnut River. Thanks to new technology, contemporary researchers have proven these predecessors wrong. Led by Dartmouth anthropologist Jesse Casana, the study's authors used nighttime thermal imaging to measure how daytime heat dissipated from the soil. The ancient ditch, which measures roughly 165 feet in diameter and 6.5 feet thick, is filled with looser soil than the tightly packed prairie around it; as a result, it holds more moisture and radiates less heat at night.
 

Casana and his colleagues identified the ditch as a cooler, darker horseshoe shape in a warm landscape. They then followed up during the day with photography and infrared imaging. The team also reviewed previous aerial and satellite images, spotting the circular formation in photos taken in June 2015 and July 2017. Researchers plan to continue exploring the site with remote-sensing techniques, which will hopefully enable them to develop precise targets for future excavations.
 

This article first appeared in the September 2020 issue of Smithsonian Magazine

Decolonizing Indigenous Cultural Protection

In 2016, the Standing Rock Sioux and legions of their allies protested the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline, which would carry Bakken crude oil from North Dakota to Illinois, crossing underneath Lake Oahe, the reservation's water source. Tribal members opposed the pipeline over fears of water pollution and climate impacts; it also crossed their ancestral lands, and they argued that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers had not adequately surveyed the burial grounds in its path. But because the pipeline wasn't on tribal lands or under tribal jurisdiction, there were few legal options. As Indian law attorneys Hillary Hoffmann and Monte Mills write in their new book, A Third Way: Decolonizing the Laws of Indigenous Cultural Protection, after almost 200 years of treaties, court cases and federal infringement, "The tribe had lost almost every source of legal authority to regulate or stop it." The pipeline was ultimately constructed, though its legality is still in court over potential environmental violations.

The battle over the Dakota Access Pipeline exemplifies how difficult it can be for tribal nations to assert their sovereignty within the existing legal structure to protect culturally important land, water, wildlife and ancestral objects. Over the last decade, however, Hoffmann and Mills argue that a new era of Indian law has emerged that protects Indigenous cultures based on Indigenous value systems. This "third way" -- neither solely Indigenous nor European, but rather both -- shows tribal nations working within those legal constraints in novel ways, or changing them altogether, to better reflect their values. This could mean different outcomes in future cultural protection conflicts.

In A Third Way, Hillary Hoffmann and Monte Mills share what they've learned over their combined 31 years of teaching Indian law and working with tribal nations. They explore the myriad ways Indigenous people are decolonizing laws around cultural protection. The book details the history, context, and future of the ongoing legal fight to protect indigenous cultures. At the federal level, this fight is shaped by the assumptions that led to current federal cultural protection laws, which many tribes and their allies are now reframing to better meet their cultural and sovereign priorities. At the state level, centuries of antipathy toward tribes are beginning to give way to collaborative and cooperative efforts that better reflect indigenous interests. Most critically, tribes themselves are building laws and legal structures that reflect and invigorate their own cultural values. Taken together, and evidenced by the recent worldwide support for indigenous cultural movements, events of the last decade signal a new era for indigenous cultural protection. I highly recommend this important book to anyone interested in the legal reforms that will guide progress toward protecting indigenous cultures.

Honoring the Birth of a White Buffalo Calf

About 30 people, including members from all seven tribes in Montana, gathered Aug. 29 in Lolo, Montana to celebrate and honor the birth of a white buffalo calf. The female calf was born about two months ago at the Bitterroot Valley Bison Ranch. At the ceremony, tribal members named her the Creator's White Buffalo Maiden. Experts say the birth of a white buffalo is "extremely rare," and for many tribal members, the extraordinary animal holds spiritual power and cultural significance. Lakota holy man John Fire Lame Deer once said, "A white buffalo is the most sacred living thing you could ever encounter."
 

Blair Gopher, member of the Blackfeet and Ojibwe tribes and pipe server at the ceremony, said a white buffalo is symbolic of a message from the Creator, or Great Spirit. "We are thankful to the Creator for sending the calf. It's seen as a warning and a blessing," he said.  
 

Many tribal members who attended the ceremony said the calf is symbolic of widespread unrest. "I think the reason the Creator sent this calf here is because of all the injustice that's been done," said Glenn Gopher, who conducted the ceremony. "Our country is in serious chaos. We have this virus and we have racial injustice. Our world is corrupt."
 

But Glenn added that the buffalo is also a blessing, as she symbolizes hope for a better future. "She shows that we need to love and respect one another. Refrain from hatred and racism. Love and respect are what's missing in this country; our lawmakers are out of hand. We prayed for peace and harmony for all of mankind," he said.
 

Carol Dubay, matriarch of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai and Pend d'Oreille tribes, said the calf looked "strong." "She was so happy. She was frolicking and dancing. The buffalo are calling, and we are honored," she said.
 

Jimmy StGoddard, member of the Blackfeet Nation, said he'd "never seen such enlightenment." "Everything shook when she was born," he said of the calf.
 

Frank LaPier, who serves on the Little Shell Tribe's Cultural Committee, said he attended the ceremony to heal. "I had a stroke a few weeks before, and if it weren't for the prayers and the support from the tribes, I wouldn't be here. It was such a unique moment," he said.
 

Richard Parenteau, vice-chair of the Little Shell Tribe's Cultural Committee, added that he couldn't help but notice the buffalo was born the same year the Little Shell Tribe gained federal recognition status. "It's really beyond words. It's just amazing," he said. "It was a spiritual awakening to see her."
 

Because the buffalo calf is female, many who attended the ceremony said her birth is a sign that more women should hold positions of power. "Our women have been abused, and we need to pray for better leadership in this country," said Blair Gopher. "Women will lead, and we must respect them."
 

Mary Gopher Parenteau, who led the women's pipe ceremony, said she brought her 12-year-old daughter to see the buffalo to instill in her a sense of pride. "(My daughter's) spiritual name is The White Buffalo Woman, so it was wonderful for her to be connected to this moment," she said.
 
How rare is a white buffalo? Historically, white buffalo appeared once in every five million births. Since people have started breeding bison, in the last 20 years or so, more white calves have been born. Experts now estimate a white buffalo is born once in every one million births.

Standing Rock Developing Wind Farm

The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe is developing a wind farm, the first of its kind on an Indian reservation in North Dakota. About 60 turbines are slated to dot the Porcupine Hills between Fort Yates and Porcupine. Tribal leaders have nixed moving ahead with a wind farm in the past, reaching the conclusion that they would have little ownership of such a facility if a developer were to build one on Standing Rock.

To aid in that effort, Standing Rock over the years has secured small grants from the U.S. Department of Energy to study wind development potential on the reservation, as it's long been something the tribe has wanted to pursue. With that work done and with the right approach moving forward, the tribe now hopes to attract a developer aligned with its values to build the project.

Standing Rock is pursuing the idea amid its fight against the Dakota Access Pipeline, which has spurred efforts to harness renewable power on the reservation. A small solar farm already exists in Cannon Ball. Standing Rock is working with advisers, including LIATI Capital, Connexus Capital and Hometown Connections, to make the wind farm come to fruition.

The wind farm would be named "Anpetu Wi," which in Lakota means "the breaking of the new day." The Lakota people traditionally have prayed at that time, SAGE General Manager Joseph McNeil said. "You're praying for guidance, you're praying for wisdom, you're praying for what's best for the day for your family, for the people," he said. "This is really how we look at this project, as a prayer to guide our people into the future, into the new day." 

The wind farm would have a 235-megawatt capacity with the potential to expand down the road. SAGE recently filed an interconnection request with the Southwest Power Pool, which oversees the power grid in a number of central states, including in parts of North Dakota. McNeil said he anticipates the interconnection process to take at least two years as the grid operator studies plans for the wind farm. In the meantime, SAGE plans to work on other aspects of the project, including building access roads through the area this year in an effort to make use of the Production Tax Credit, a federal wind incentive expiring at the end of 2020.

SAGE also intends to do other work, such as identifying the exact location for each turbine with the help of Standing Rock's Tribal Historic Preservation Office, which will survey the area for any cultural resources that should be avoided. The project also will need various environmental analyses.

Philanthropic foundations already have contributed nearly $2 million toward those efforts, and SAGE is launching a crowdfunding initiative at www.anpetuwi.com to raise another $1.5 million to complete the work. SAGE is seeking donations as the tribe's resources have been drained amid the coronavirus pandemic and a drop in revenue from Prairie Knights Casino following the pipeline protests in 2016 and 2017. The total project cost is estimated to be $325 million. SAGE plans to secure that funding through additional crowdfunding and by partnering with a developer and investors. SAGE also hopes to court an entity to purchase the power generated by the wind farm. SAGE leaders envision that the wind farm, once built, eventually would generate revenue for the tribe, as well as provide construction and maintenance jobs for tribal members.

Hydropanels Bring Water to Navajo Nation

In the Navajo Nation, sometimes a single spigot on an empty road is the only water source around for hundreds of residents. Others have to drive from their rural homes into towns miles away to buy all the water they need for cooking, drinking, cleaning, and livestock, because there's no infrastructure to bring it through pipes. About 40% of households in the Navajo Nation live without running water. But now, at a few houses, panels positioned on the ground pull moisture from the air, connecting to a tap inside the home and providing up to 10 liters of water -- or about 20 16-ounce bottles -- a day, at no cost to the family.

The panels come from Zero Mass Water; the company's Source hydropanels use sunlight to absorb water vapor from the air, even in arid climates. Zero Mass Water partnered with local Navajo governments and Navajo Power, a public benefit corporation working to install solar panels on tribal lands, for an initial demonstration project in which 15 homes received two Source panels each, for a total of 30 panels. Those initial panels were funded by Barclays and The Unreasonable Group, an accelerator for socially minded startups.

Each Source hydropanel can make up to 3 to 5 liters of water a day; with two panels, a home can get up to 10 liters a day, and each panel can store 30 liters of water, or 60 16-ounce bottles of water, for when cloud cover may affect production. The panels last for 15 years.

The Navajo Nation has at points during the pandemic had the highest COVID-19 infection rate per capita in the U.S., worsened by the fact that residents can't easily access water to wash their hands and have to make frequent trips into town to buy water. Zero Mass Water first started communicating with the Navajo Nation about three years ago, but the pandemic has heightened the urgency for this partnership. The company worked with chapter leaders -- the Navajo Nation has 110 chapters, which are geographical divisions like counties -- to find the people most in need.

"Rhythms Within A Turquoise Dream"

"Rhythms Within A Turquoise Dream" is the latest music release from Native American artist Louie Gonnie. Gonnie is Dine from the Navajo Nation in New Mexico. Gonnie admired his father and uncles and wanted to be like them so he began to sing in the Native American Church. He is also a well rounded artist, expressing himself in music, art and writing.

Gonnie started singing for family and friends. Eventually, people were recording his music and he realized that he could have a career as a recording artist. His albums started out as Peyote songs of the Native American Church. Since then he has created a more contemporary style.

Gonnie is the exemplar of a creative artist. While very much a part of Dine traditions and very much living its values, Gonnie has an artist's desire to find personal expression within the world of his community. His first two recordings -- Sacred Mountains and Elements (my personal favorite) -- were explorations of the music of the Navajo people in which traditional experience was the foundation for this artist's unique music.

Gonnie's latest album, "Rhythms Within A Turquoise Dream," is a direct return to his roots in the Native American Church. The recording of peyote songs is always a controversial issue within the Native American Church. Some practitioners feel that the songs, as they are intrinsic to a sacred ritual, should never be recorded, while many others feel that recordings are important for disseminating their songs throughout the community.

Even as he lives in respect for NAC values, Gonnie takes the songs for the peyote ritual to a new place. While his song forms are very traditional, the means of producing those songs (extensive studio multi-tracking) is not. Nonetheless Gonnie's compositions and layered harmonies are reverent, spiritual, and achieve transcendence. Anchored by a water drum and sustained by waves of his flowing vocals, Gonnie leads an inner voyage from dreams to actuality, from earth to sky and from the past to eternity.

Major DAPL Victory for Standing Rock

A message from Madonna Thunder Hawk, The Lakota People's Law Project

On July 6, District Court Judge James Boasberg ordered the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) to be shut down within 30 days! In this momentous ruling, Judge Boasberg found that the Army Corps of Engineers failed to fully consider the environmental impacts of Energy Transfer's crude oil pipeline, and that there were too many safety concerns to allow its continued operation. While this order only shuts DAPL down for 13 months while the Army Corps completes additional environmental assessments and safety planning, there is a good chance that when the oil is drained in 30 days, that oil will never flow again!

We commend the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, and their legal team at EarthJustice for years of dedication and persistence in this struggle to defang the Black Snake. And we are proud of the amicus brief that our legal team submitted in the lead up to this decision. We're also elated that Judge Boasberg cited many of the questions we and our allies have raised since the beginning of the NoDAPL struggle. First, that it's simply wrong to conduct an environmental assessment of a pipeline after it's already been built. Second, that DAPL's leak detection abilities are so poor it could be leaking more than 6,000 barrels of oil every day without detection, and Energy Transfer's abysmal pipeline safety record raises that risk even further. Third, that there is no proper cleanup plan for a wintertime spill, when freezing Dakota winters make response the most difficult. Boasberg even went one step further, concluding that the drop in oil demand due to the COVID-19 pandemic makes shutting down the pipeline now less harmful to North Dakota's economy.

So what comes next? First, Energy Transfer has to drain and shut down DAPL by August 6th. The Army Corps of Engineers then has 13 months to further study potential pipeline leaks and the dangers they pose. This ruling could still be appealed in the Federal District Court of D.C., but our analysis tells us that such an appeal is unlikely to succeed. Thank you to each and every one of you for your tireless support, and for staying with us throughout this journey.

Wopila tanka -- Thank you for standing with us to protect our water, our land, and our families!

Madonna Thunder Hawk

Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe Victory in US Court

The Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe, the very tribe that welcomed the Pilgrims in the 1600s, is at risk of losing what is left of their homelands due to a determination made by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. On June 5, the U.S. District Court in Washington, D.C., blocked the federal government from revoking the Massachusetts tribe’s reservation status, ordering the Department of the Interior (DOI) to reexamine a decision that sought to take the tribe’s 300+ acres out of trust. The judge hearing the case called the efforts against the Tribe as "arbitrary, capricious, an abuse of discretion, and contrary to law."

While this decision is an important step toward righting centuries of wrong against the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe, our collective work is not finished. Many who stand in solidarity with the Tribe await a final positive determination on Mashpee’s homelands once and for all. We must stay vigilant to ensure that the Department of the Interior recommits itself to the restoration of homelands, the trust obligation, and Tribal sovereignty. What Can You Do To Help? Sign the petition to protect the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe's reservation land.

Every Step You Take is a Prayer

The coronavirus has now arrived in many Native American communities. In an online strategy, Native women are working to heal their communities through virtual jingle dress dances. Umpaowastowin -- or Pat Northrup, as she's known in English, arranged an event and someone posted it on Facebook with the hashtag #jinglehealing. "Wear your jingle dress at home and be connected," the posting said. "Remember the reason we were given this dance."

According to Dan Kraker's coverage on Minnesota Public Radio, Native American women from Pennsylvania to Nebraska to Ontario to Northrup's apartment in northern Minnesota joined in. "This isn't just an Anishinaabe prayer. This is an "all-people-prayer," said Northrup, 70, who is Dakota, widow of the late Ojibwe author Jim Northrup. "The virus isn't going to have prejudice," she said. "It will affect all people. So that's what the prayers are for." 

Michele Hakala-Beeksma also danced, but in Duluth. "We literally say that dancing is prayer. That every step you take is prayer," she said. Hakala-Beeksma, a member of the Grand Portage Band of Lake Superior Ojibwe, started dancing about 15 years ago. She sewed about 150 copper cones on to her purple dress herself. "That tinkling sound, that kind of sounds like water, like rain -- that's the healing part that comes in. When you become a jingle dress dancer, there's a responsibility that comes with it. You're dancing for the healing of your people," she said.

The jingle dress dance originated with the Ojibwe people, or Anishinaabe, during the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic. There are different versions of the story about how the dance began. But they all include a little girl who was very sick. Her father had a dream about a dance that would make her better. She wore a dress lined with rows of silver cones. The sound of the jingles healed her. The sacred dance has since been taken up by women throughout Indian County, after it spread through the pow wow circuit in the 1980s.

Ojibwe women were defying the U.S. government when they developed the dance. At the time, the government forbade ritualistic dancing on reservations. So a century after that first pandemic when they danced as a prayer for healing, women from Minnesota and Wisconsin, Utah and Colorado, Kentucky and all around Canada -- danced again, praying for healing. 

Photo by JMacPherson

The Navajo Nation COVID-19 Fund

The Navajo Nation has surpassed New York and New Jersey for the highest per-capita coronavirus infection rate in the US -- another sign of Covid-19's disproportionate impact on minority communities. The Navajo Nation, which spans parts of Arizona, New Mexico and Utah, reported a population of 173,667 on the 2010 census. As a result, with 4,002 cases, the Native American territory has 2,304.41 cases of Covid-19 per 100,000 people. By contrast, New York state now has a rate of 1,806 cases per 100,000 and New Jersey is at 1,668 cases per 100,000, according to data from Johns Hopkins University.

The nation has one of the strictest stay-at-home orders in the country, mandating that residents not leave their homes unless there is an emergency or they are essential workers. Even those who leave home for work must have documentation on company letterhead with a verifiable contact number for a manager in order to go. For the last few months the nation has been on weekend lockdowns to prevent members from being out and risking infection but case numbers have continued to rise.

The Navajo Nation COVID-19 Fund has been established to help the Navajo Nation respond to the COVID-19 pandemic. This is the Navajo Nation's only official COVID-19 fundraising and donation effort. The Navajo Nation is accepting monetary and non-monetary donations to address immediate medical and community needs. Charitable donations to the Navajo Nation are deductible by the donor for federal income, estate, and gift tax purposes. Click here to donate.

Coronavirus Moves Powwows Online

The names pop up quickly on Whitney Rencountre's computer screen, and he greets them as he would in person.

He spots someone from the Menominee Nation, a Wisconsin tribe that hosts competitive dancers, singers and drummers in traditional regalia in late summer.

"Beautiful powwow there," he says.

The emcee from the Crow Creek Sioux Tribe in South Dakota typically is on the powwow circuit in the spring, joining thousands of others in colorful displays of culture and tradition that are at their essence meant to uplift people during difficult times. Amid the coronavirus pandemic, the gatherings are taking on a new form online.

"Sometimes we have this illusion that we're in total control, but it takes times like this of uncertainty and the challenges of the possibility of death to help us step back and reevaluate," said Rencountre, a co-organizer of the Facebook group Social Distance Powwow, which sprung up about a month ago as more states and tribes advised people to stay home.

Normally this time of year, a string of powwows hosted by Native American tribes and universities would be underway across the U.S., with tribal members honoring and showcasing their cultures -- and socializing, like family reunions. The powwows represent an evolution of songs and dances from when tribal traditions were forced underground during European settlement, Rencountre said.

The pandemic has canceled or postponed virtually all of them, including two of the largest in the U.S. -- the Denver March Powwow and the Gathering of Nations in Albuquerque, New Mexico, held in April.

Social Distance Powwow has helped fill the void, quickly growing to more than 125,000 members.

Members from different tribal nations post photos and videos of themselves and loved ones dancing, often in their regalia. The page has become a daily dose of prayer, songs, dances, well wishes, humor and happy birthdays.

In one video, Jordan Kor sits in his vehicle after a shift at a San Jose, California, hospital emergency department. An old Dakota war song he learned as a child that can be a rallying cry was bouncing around his head. He pulls off his mask and cap and sings, slapping a beat on the steering wheel.

"The biggest ones, social distance, keep working in whatever it is that brings you joy and helps you keep connected," said Kor, who is Tarahumara and Wapetonwon Lakota. "And wash your hands!"

The page also hosts a weekly, live powwow with the organizers -- Rencountre, Stephanie Hebert and Dan Simonds -- assembling a lineup of volunteer drum groups, singers and dancers for the hours-long event. This past weekend, Rencountre patched people in from across the country on the live feed.

A marketplace on the site lets vendors showcase their paintings, beadwork, jewelry, basketry and clothing.

An online powwow lacks some of the grandeur of being in person and seeing hundreds of performers fill an arena for the grand entry. It doesn't have a roll call of tribal royalty, singers and champion dancers. And it doesn't have categories for competitive dancing.

But it offers a way to keep people connected.

"When we dance, we are dancing for prayer and protection," said member Mable Moses of the Lumbee Tribe in North Carolina. "No matter what we do, may the Lord always protect us whether we're living or dying."

Moses learned to dance later in life and now competes in the "golden age" category at powwows. In a video of her Southern Traditional dance, she moves around a dogwood tree in her yard slowly but with high energy.

"Even though I'm 72, I'm like 29," she said.

Moses said the dance meant to calm people helps her cope with the fear surrounding the coronavirus, and the difficulty of staying away from others.

Tribal members also are posting elsewhere on social media, including youth hoop dancers from Pojoaque Pueblo in New Mexico.

For those viewing for the first time, Rencountre encourages an open mind.

"We ask them to break down the wall, to feel the dances, to feel the songs, as you're watching," he said. "Don't think about it from a technical point of view. Understand the creation of these songs and dances comes from a place of uplifting."

Leiha Peters grew up doing jingle dress dance meant for healing. The dress is characterized by cone-shaped jingles typically made from the lids of tobacco cans. Now, she does beadwork for her children's outfits and is a Seneca language teacher.

She recently posted a video of two of her children and their cousins doing smoke dance in the living room of her home on the Tonawanda Indian Reservation northeast of Buffalo, New York. Its origins are mixed as a dance for men to bless themselves before they went to battle and a way to clear smoke from traditional homes called longhouses, she said.

Her children grow up knowing the respect and the protocol that accompany the dance and its songs. They also have fun with it, sometimes competing in the family's backyard to win cups of Kool-Aid or bags of candy, Peters said.

"For them, dancing is medicine on its own. It's everything to us," she said. "It's energy, it's athleticism, it's staying healthy and living a better life with food choices. It's not easy doing what they do."

Stand with the Lakota on Giving Tuesday

Though we're separated by circumstance, we can still stand together in spirit. As the novel coronavirus dominates our focus and draws us apart, it also unites us as relatives. That's why I want to invite you to join the Lakota People's Law Project for Giving Tuesday Now, a global fundraising event scheduled for this Tuesday, May 5.

Dedicated to reversing the slow genocide of the Lakota People and destruction of their culture, the Lakota People's Law Project partners with Native communities to protect sacred lands, safeguard human rights, promote sustainability, reunite indigenous families, and much more.

Beginning today, everyone who donates to their #GivingTuesdayNow campaign will receive an invite to join Chase Iron Eyes and Lakota People's Law Project chief counsel Daniel Sheehan for a live, interactive online talk on Saturday, May 9 at 5 p.m. PDT!

Right now, your love and support mean more than ever. Only by working together during these uncertain times can we win justice for the Lakota People. Use this link to donate. After you contribute, you'll get the details for the online chat with Daniel and Chase. Thank you for standing with the Lakota!

Stand With the Mashpee Wampanoag

A Message from Chase Iron Eyes, Lead Counsel, The Lakota People's Law Project

Anpetu Waste (Good day)! I hope you are staying well, and I want you to know that we're praying for all our relations impacted by the ongoing COVID-19 outbreak. One benefit of sheltering in place is that we're able to keep our eyes peeled for important news. In case you missed it, I wanted to highlight a recent attack on Indigenous sovereignty and ask for your solidarity for our Mashpee relatives.

At the end of last month, the Department of Interior announced that 321 acres of land will be taken out of trust, effectively revoking the reservation status of the Mashpee Wampanoag people of Massachusetts. For those who learned the Thanksgiving story in elementary school, the Wampanoag people broke bread with the Pilgrims in Plymouth colony, and it was Wampanoag land that the Pilgrims took. And now, in the middle of an unprecedented global pandemic, President Trump's cabinet is moving to rescind the sovereign status of these people.

President Obama placed the land in question into trust in 2015, but that decision has been reversed under Trump. A reinterpretation by our executive branch of a 2009 Supreme Court decision now only grants trust status to tribes recognized before 1934, when the Indian Reorganization Act was signed. Because the Mashpee weren't federally recognized until 2007, they've now lost their status. As Jessie Little Doe Baird, vice chair of the tribe, said "they came for our children and took them to Carlisle because we were 'too Indian.' Today, they tell us we are not Indian enough."

The Mashpee, who have lived in the Massachusetts area for over 12,000 years, are being denied their right to autonomy. With federal trust status comes the right to manage, develop, and tax a parcel of land. This "disestablishment" of the Mashpee reservation will likely force the closure of the tribal court and police department; it will cost Native people their livelihoods in an already barren economic landscape.

This blatant land-grab isn't even court-ordered -- the directive came from Trump's Department of the Interior. Now, the Mashpee have asked a D.C. court to issue an emergency restraining order to prevent the dissolution of trust status, and Massachusetts senators Elizabeth Warren and Ed Markey have vowed to combat this assault on the tribe's self-determination, saying "We will not allow the Mashpee Wampanoag to lose their homeland."

We Native people have struggled to retain less than 2.5 percent of our lands since European contact. The Indian Wars, in essence, have never truly ended. The United States' long history of systemically suppressing Native rights continues, and in 2020, land trust removal is the latest iteration of that same legacy of colonialism. We are disheartened, but as Indigenous people and allies, we have each others' backs in the face of adversity. You can stand for sovereignty by standing with the Mashpee people in their time of need.

Wopila -- thank you. Solidarity forever,

Chase Iron Eyes
Lead Counsel
The Lakota People's Law Project