Native Americans from all over the U.S. and Canada gathered this weekend to sing, dance and renew thought about the old ways at the 41st annual Mother’s Day pow wow at McArthur Court.
The celebration began Friday night, went all day Saturday and ended with a barbecue on Sunday at the Many Nations Longhouse. The celebration began with a grand entry parade, in which the dancers honor the eagle and tribal flags. Dyed feather-bustles, moccasins and buffalo designs all moved to heavy drum beats. Other regalia was more intricate, including head-pieces with spinning feathers stretching out two feet in all directions, and faces painted white with black dots. Some kneeled close to the ground, wildly swinging their feathers as they moved clockwise in a circle. Others stood solemnly, lifting just their heels to the wailing singers and rattling dresses. Toddlers danced with impressive skill, and those who were too little were carried along. Vendors offered a variety of homemade jewels, beads, sea shells and dream catchers, each family representing their own unique design.
Co-directors Roschelle Nieto, Emmilee Risling and Charlene Moody of the Native American Student Union spent more than six months fundraising and booking drum groups. Nieto, a University graduate student of the Modoc tribe, estimated that 2,000 people attended the event, and nearly every Native American tribe was represented at the pow wow. “It’s really a celebration time for native people to come together. It’s a way to let people know that we’re still here,” she said.
But on any given weekend there could be 150 pow wows happening, each going until 4 a.m., and some lasting up to a week. “It’s hardcore,” said vendor Chauma Jansen. These days, pow wows incorporate competition, and the biggest pow wows have $300,000 prizes that are funded by casinos. The elite groups that consistently dominate the national arena are the heroes of pow wows.
“(Those groups are) famous, like, rock stars, dude. They’re getting huge money,” said Noly Chouinard of the Kree tribe, who’s been dancing since he could hold a stick, and began singing competitively when he was 17. If you ask any Native American, they would know the Back Lodge drum group from Washington, he explained, pointing them out at the pow wow.
Before the European invasion, the American Indians did not see themselves as a single entity. Lifestyle varied immensely among tribes, and many were traditional enemies. The impoverished, rights-deprived reservation, where they were told they couldn’t practice their religion and cultural traditions anymore, is what tied them together.
“I could have lost purpose and easily been on the wrong road. It’s like a way of life; it’s like a religion. It really gave me a sense of purpose,” said Chouinard. Language and religion are becoming more difficult to preserve, explained Dusty Jansen, saying youths often don’t realize they already have an identity, and instead flip on MTV in search of one.
“Living on the reservation is pretty harsh. There is a lot of poverty,” said Don Moccasin, a Northern Plains Indian of the Nokona tribe who comes from a long line of medicine dancers and attends most of Oregon’s pow wows. Moccasin’s friend, Lee Sorrelhorse of the Northern Cheyenne tribe, held a staff with the real head of a bald eagle attached to it. In the 1950s, when many tribes were terminated and rights were taken away, new laws required permits for obtaining eagle feathers and prohibited sharing them. But eagle feathers are an important symbol that were traditionally given away as gifts.
It is difficult to know where the pow wow found its origins, but it was certainly reinforced when American Indians were forced onto the reservations and have dances for the public to see. This is how songs called “vocables,” which do not have lyrics, were popularized. “Someone from Oregon who pow-wows can go to New Mexico, enter a contest and know exactly what’s going on,” said Chauma Jansen.
Chouinard, who has also judged competitions, pointed out immediately when the first few notes were uttered that the song was a modern song from the Great Lakes area, when an outsider could hardly tell its difference from the previous number. “You can’t just pick up drum, start hitting it and go wa ye ya ye ya,” Chouinard said. It was a sobriety dance, and the women in the dance all had shiny metal tubes hanging from the dress that were made from chewing tobacco cans. There were 365 of them on each dress, representing days of sobriety. “You have to make your regalia dance,” he said.
Each drum circle had three to 12 members who each need to know at least 300 to 400 songs, and must be able to perform within a minute’s notice. There are songs about everything, and their purpose can range from religion, war reenactments or entertainment. Northern songs tend to be high-pitched and southern songs low-pitched. There are many unwritten rules, and when a song suddenly stops you are expected to stop with it. The various dances include the men’s and women’s traditional, “jingle and fancy,” slip-and-slide and the three-man hand contest.
“It was a really good turnout. We want to make people feel good and lift their spirits,” said Tom Ball, a University Ph.D., of the Klamath and Modoc tribes. He and his wife were honored as the head man and woman of the pow wow. He has been dancing since 1986, when the Klamath was restored. “The songs kind of take you. The drum takes you away. You lose everything. You lose the stress from your job.
It’s a high.” “Its the best feeling in the world. It’s a gift to celebrate walking this Earth. A lot of the older people in the room couldn’t do this when they were our age,” said Chouinard.
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