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Showing posts with label preserving culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preserving culture. Show all posts

Friday, September 20, 2024

Historic Fort Wayne to host Indigenous wild rice camp

 Preserving culture, reconnecting and ricing is a very good thing... TLH

Rosebud Bear Schneider and her son, Sonny, use a push pole to harvest rice. Credit: Antonio Cosme

Along the shores of the Detroit River and in almost every Michigan waterway,  manoomin, or wild rice, used to grow abundantly. 

Sacred and central to Great Lakes tribes’ origin stories, manoomin has largely disappeared due to development, pollution and other factors. But Indigenous people remain and they are bringing wild rice traditions back to Detroit. 

On Sunday, Historic Fort Wayne is hosting a rice camp where participants will craft wooden sticks for wild rice harvesting, “dance” on the rice in moccasins to remove the hulls and share a meal, among other activities. 

Rosebud Bear Schneider, a Southwest Detroit native and member of the Lac Courte Oreilles Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Indians, has been working for 10 years on cultivating Indigenous food sovereignty in Detroit. In the past, she would cook and serve wild rice at events to reconnect people to their traditional ways. 

“You would see a full room of people light up and get really excited, like, ‘I haven’t eaten that in a long time,’” said Schneider, who is a co-director of education and engagement at local farming nonprofit Keep Growing Detroit.

Teaching people how to process the rice will deepen that connection even further, she said. It’s the first time she can think of that the teaching was offered in Detroit during her lifetime.

“It’s another step to this path that we’re on to connect to this food, connect to our ways, connect to our spirit and connect to the land,” said Schneider, who will process manoomin for the first time this weekend. 

Teachings say Ojibwe people migrating from the East were told to establish where they found food that grew in water. They found wild rice in Lake Superior and made the region home. The rice grew abundantly along the Detroit River and in other parts of the city before 97% of the city’s coastal wetlands were destroyed for development in the late 20th century and 85% of the city’s inland streams were buried. 

The decimation has contributed to a disconnect between local tribes and the sacred grain, according to rice camp organizers.

“Manoomin, the food that grows on the water – it’s the whole reason that we Anishinaabe are even here,” said east side resident Jared Ten Brink, a member of the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi and one of the event’s collaborators. “It’s so important to who we are, but I talked with my own family members, and most of them don’t know anything about it.” 

Manoomin harvest. Credit: Antonio Cosme

The closest place to Detroit where traditional wild rice harvesting occurs is several hours up north, creating a barrier for Detroit Natives to reconnect to their traditions. The wild rice camp hosted by the Detroit Indigenous People’s Alliance, Black to the Land Coalition and the Ecumenical Theological Seminary seeks to close the gap. 

“We want people to be able to experience wild rice here in Detroit,” said Antonio Cosme, co-founder of Black to the Land Coalition, a nonprofit that helps Black and brown people return to the land. Just a few weeks ago Cosme traveled to Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, to learn traditional manoomin harvest methods. 

Fort Wayne, the induction center for soldiers for every conflict from the Civil War to Vietnam, is the site of Native burial mounds and where members of the Potawatomi tribe once lived. On Sunday, attendees will smell the toasted rice, feel it beneath their feet and see it with their eyes. 

“It’s hard to really understand something if you can’t actually get your hands into it and do it, so this is a great opportunity where we can bring this to people who wouldn’t otherwise necessarily be able to have this experience,” said Ten Brink. 

Regrowing wild rice

At the state level, efforts are being made to regrow wild rice and recognize its importance.

Last year, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer signed legislation making wild rice the state’s official native grain, the first state to designate a native grain. In November, more than 70 groups from across the state gave input on a draft of the Michigan Tribal-State Manoomin Stewardship Plan, a joint partnership between the Michigan Wild Rice Initiative and U-M Water Center, funded with a $100,000 state grant from 2022.

The plan is still being finalized, said Ten Brink, who worked on it as a PhD student at U-U-M. Reseeding Detroit and Michigan with manoomin is complicated for a number of reasons, he said. 

“You can’t just harvest manoomin seeds from some place and go out and start tossing them,” he said. 

Jared Ten Brink harvesting rice at Tawas Lake in Michigan. Credit: Nigora Erkeava

Specific varieties need to be used for different locations. Reseeding can be made challenging by water current speeds and temperature, pollution, and species like phragmites, which take over an ecosystem and make it hard for native species like wild rice to thrive. It’s even harder in an urban setting like Detroit, where many waterways have been buried, said Ten Brink, including Bloody Run on the city’s east side near where he lives.

“It’s enclosed in a storm drain, it doesn’t exist as a river,” he said.  “Those are places where river rice would have been growing, but we don’t even have the rivers to restore it.” 

Another challenge is figuring out how to work together on the plan, he said.

“Wild rice restoration – a lot of the knowledge is held within the tribes, but a lot of the resources are with the cities, counties, states and the federal government.” 

And, climate change is an increasing threat. In Lac du Flambeau, the rice was struggling, Cosme added.

“You go to a rice bed and you’ll see that it’s a lot of water, there’s not much seed to harvest,” he said. “You start knocking the rice, and it’s not much coming into your boat.” 

The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources confirmed in September that the wild rice production this year was significantly lower than average due to a warmer winter and heavy June storms. Factors that are made more likely due to climate change, which Ten Brink hopes to educate people about at Sunday’s rice camp. 

“In Southeast Michigan, we will see more and more severe weather as a result of warmer temperatures and that severe weather has a couple of big impacts for wild rice,” he said, primarily increased water levels and water temperatures. 

For non-Natives interested in the camp and the topic, Schneider wants them to know that Indigenous people still exist in Detroit and need support. 

Since 2018, when the city of Detroit had its first Indigenous Peoples’ Day, on what is alternatively considered Columbus Day, Schneider said the relationship between Indigenous people and the city has been growing, like District 6 representatives supporting the traditional maple sugarbush in Rouge Park. 

“We are still very much a thriving community and we still very much need that solidarity and support when it comes to these huge issues like feeding ourselves, having our neighbors recognize that we are still here and that Indigenous People’s Day is an actual and important day,” she said. 

The Sunday camp runs from 1-6 p.m. Registration is required and urban Natives will be prioritized.

SOURCE: https://www.bridgedetroit.com/historic-fort-wayne-to-host-indigenous-wild-rice-camp/

Thursday, August 15, 2024

Manitoba: Brandon's Eagle Healing Lodge strengthens Dakota, Cree, Anishinaabemowin and Michif speakers at 3-day camp

'It feels like home': Southwestern Manitoba camp connects language to land

A woman sits in front of a teepee.
Brandon Friendship Centre’s Eagle Healing Lodge program co-ordinator Denise Sinclair says the camp is helping people reclaim their Indigenous languages through land-based activities. (Chelsea Kemp/CBC)

Nestled in a ceremony site east of Southwestern Manitoba's biggest city, a group of language keepers is working to strengthen and grow fluent Dakota, Cree, Anishinaabemowin and Michif speakers.

They're part of the Brandon Friendship Centre's Eagle Healing Lodge's first land-based language camp.  Four teepees have been set up between the forest and prairies, each home to an Indigenous language in Westman.

"Language has always been connected to the land," says Denise Sinclair, program co-ordinator for the healing lodge. "Everything that we're doing here is specifically land-based ... in the language so that you can hear it [and] you can pass that on."

The three-day camp, held Tuesday through Thursday, was an opportunity for participants to learn and speak Dakota, Cree, Anishinaabemowin and Michif, she said.  They would speak their languages for different activities like setting up tents, smoking meat or medicine picking.

Two women kneel on the ground crushing choke cherries.
Julia Brandon, left, and Martina Richard crush chokecherries as a way to learn Anishinaabemowin. (Chelsea Kemp/CBC)

It's powerful seeing connections forged as people learn and speak their languages, Sinclair said. It's important work that has to carry on to help with language revitalization.

"Whatever you're learning you're going to remember … you're building that core memory with the language, that you needed growing up," Sinclair said.

Language as strength

The healing lodge has been cultivating a community centred on strengthening Indigenous languages since 2021, Sinclair said. It began as a program for Sixties Scoop survivors and grew to include residential school survivors and others.

Language serves to reconnect people with their culture and identity in a safe place centred on healing, Sinclair said.

"We have to remember that there's still that sense of …. something being taken," Sinclair said. "Now they feel safe to talk to us as learners because they feel that importance of passing on that language."

Martina Richard, from Waywayseecappo First Nation, camped out at the site for two days to immerse herself and her family in language and culture. Participants could choose to camp, or to go home for the night.

A woman sits in front of a teepee.
Eagle Healing Lodge Cultural support worker Lacey Hotain says she wants to strengthen her Dakota to pass it on to future generations. (Chelsea Kemp/CBC)

Richard's focus was on learning Anishinaabemowin. As she gets older, Richard says, she feels the need to be a fluent learner to help strengthen the language for future generations.

"Just like how it was spoken around me, I'm starting to use the language more around my children and they're starting to understand and use the words too," Richard said.

"It feels like home ... It's good to be around what feels like family."

Julia Brandon, also from Waywayseecappo, was one of the language helpers at the camp. She teaches Anishinaabomowin through cultural activities like smoking moose meat, beading and crushing chokecherries.

It's exciting getting out of the classroom and onto the land, Brandon said. It's a more hands-on experience for everyone involved no matter their language skill level.

She still considers herself a learner, because other women are expanding the words she knows in Anishinaabemowin.

"I'm getting strength from being around the other speakers to keep going," Brandon said.

Building Community

Lacey Hotain from Sioux Valley Dakota Nation is a Dakota speaker who works as a cultural support worker at the healing lodge.

Hotain visited each of the teepees to participate in different cultural activities and learn about different Indigenous languages.

"I definitely feel a sense of importance here because everybody who comes here has a role," Hotain said. She says she's always felt "a calling, of an obligation" to go back to language as a priority.

Hotain wants to help teach Dakota to young people in the future. She says her knowledge is being strengthened by working on the land at the camp.

A woman sits in front of a teepee making a beaded necklace.
Brandonite Shirley McKay beads a wolf willow necklace. (Chelsea Kemp/CBC)

The Eagle Healing Lodge is planning on hosting a second language camp in the spring. It's important to keep activities like this accessible – through being welcoming and available – for those struggling with their identity and their connection to language and culture, Sinclair said.

Brandon hopes the next camp will be fully immersive for participants, with Indigenous language spoken the whole time, to help keep languages thriving in the community.

She wants her grandchildren and the next generations can help carry the language forward, Brandon said. But, it's challenging because she wants them to be engaged and curious about Anishinaabemowin, but doesn't want to force them to learn the way she was forced to learn English.

This means they need more language options outside the camp so First Nation children can stay connected to their culture and traditions.

"The First Nations, we don't have our language because it's not promoted," Brandon said. "How do you promote your own language if you're if you're not talking it yourself?"

Brandon camp connects language, culture and land

VIDEO: Duration 1:55
The Brandon Friendship Centre's Eagle Healing Lodge hosted its first three-day language camp this week. The camp's goal is to help people reconnect to their Indigenous language through land-based and cultural teachings.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Indigenous man credits powwow for helping step away from addictions

Gabriel Whiteduck shares his story through song and dance

By Terrence Duff and Corinne Smith, CBC News 
Gabriel Whiteduck shares his experience with First Nations youth through workshops.
Gabriel Whiteduck shares his experience with First Nations youth through workshops. (Supplied)
"When I first came into powwow, I was suffering from addictions - drugs and alcohol," said the 33-year old, in a recent interview with the Cree Radio CBC.
"It was a way to put that down and take up something. I picked up the drum and dancing, I was able to really apply myself positively."
Whiteduck is a powwow teacher, dancer, drummer and singer. Algonquin and Plains Cree, he's originally from Prince Albert, Sask., and is now based in the Algonquin First Nation of Kitigan Zibi, Que.
Gabriel Whiteduck dancing at a powwow
Gabriel Whiteduck dances traditional men's style. (Supplied)

For Whiteduck, powwow culture has been a powerful force of change in his life. While becoming a father was a defining turning point in his adult life, he credits powwow dancing and drumming as a source of renewal. He wants to share that personal experience with other First Nations youth, through his workshops and teachings.
"The odds are against our young Native men and women, unfortunately," he said.
"My story is a celebration. I really celebrate that gift that was given to me, that was given to us, the gift of being able to move and speak freely."
He started travelling in the James Bay area of Northern Quebec a few years ago, visiting communities to lead powwow workshops and attend gatherings. Last summer he took part in the first ever powwow in Ouje-Bougoumou, a predominantly Christian Cree community that has in the past resisted that kind of gathering.

Cultural identity

Powwows don't have the same long history in Eeyou Istchee as they do for other First Nations, but the practise is spreading fast. Whiteduck believes it's important for people to remember that they have a distinct aboriginal cultural identity, whether or not they participate in powwows.
As "intertribal events" they simply add another dimension to First Nations cultural expression, he said. "It's a subculture underneath who we already are."
Whiteduck says when he visits communities, he's not there to tell people how to be Aboriginal. But he believes the powwow is a way to express your culture.
"I was once a person like that, I was very shy and nervous and I think about those people in the audience, so when I dance I try to give some of my confidence off towards them as much as I can," - Gabriel Whiteduck, powwow dancer
He dances and teaches traditional men's dancing, but says everyone's style is very personal. What he keeps in mind in the powwow circle is to connect and relate to his audience.
"I like to dance for the people that are watching, the people that feel they have barriers, they want to dance but they have the confidence or the courage to get up and dance," he said.              
"I was once a person like that, I was very shy and nervous and I think about those people in the audience, so when I dance I try to give some of my confidence off towards them as much as I can."
Whiteduck says it's very important to encourage youth to find a way to express themselves and tell their story, and he hopes powwow culture is one means to do that.
He wants to meet more youth and encourage them to bring their own songs and stories, of their lives and the land, to his workshops.

Listen to the interview: https://soundcloud.com/cree-radio-cbc/gabriel-whiteduck-turned-his-life-around-from-addiction-7-years-ago

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