Moses Road

The setting sun as seen from Moses Road on Sunday afternoon. 

Scalp Dance

In my dream last night, I traveled back in time to witness a scalp dance, like the one depicted by Paul Kane in 1847 (see above). In my dream, a recently widowed woman wailed and danced in the center of a group of other women from the community. They all sang, danced, and cried together. As the intensity increased, several of the women swooned and fell to the ground. I never saw a scalp, but somehow I knew it was a scalp dance. In any case, the feeling in the air was charged with raw, visceral emotion.

Clearly, I witnessed something powerful, but I didn't understand my relationship to the event. I finally asked my dream guide, "Why are you showing me this?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he waved his hand, and the scalp dance faded away into nothing. More than a hundred years passed in the blink of an eye, and suddenly we were standing in the exact same location, but then we saw the site as it appears in the present day. Where once there was a field, pine trees grew in abundance. A dirt logging road passed over part of the old ceremony grounds, and several HUD houses stood within a half mile of the old dance site.

Based on the landmarks in my dream, I got the impression that the scalp dance occurred near the present-day location of Elijah Road on the Spokane Reservation. 

sxaslqs

wičn sxaslqs č čsaxm łuʔ sčecuweʔ.
I saw a moose near Wellpinit. 

That moose was looking kind of mean in this picture, but I don't think I was in any danger. My camera has a pretty decent zoom lens, so I was actually quite far away. 

The Spokane Reservation

My view of the Spokane Indian Reservation this afternoon. 

Bad Fog

Years ago, Martin Louie took my father as a son. As a result, we usually called him Grandpa Martin, but sometimes we affectionately called him “The Old Man across the River.” Martin was an elder and spiritual leader who lived at Inchelium, near the western shore of the Columbia River. He was a colorful character, often remembered for his wisdom and humor.

From time to time, Grandpa Martin shared the most profound sayings. Recently, I found a partial transcript of his stories. The following paragraph contains an excerpt. He said:

inxaʔcin, isx̌ax̌paʔ, inqaqnaʔ, istəmtima, ink'ík'waʔ, kʷu c'q'misəlx, kʷu nc'q'mnitkʷsəlx iʔ k̓əl saʔtitkʷ, məł kʷu cusəlx, ‘lut aksk'əłʔitxm i təmxʷulaʔxʷ. k'əłʔitxməntxʷ iʔ tmxʷulaʔxʷ, məł yaʕyaʕt way' suxʷxʷ iʔ skəkʕakaʔ iʔ kəl wist. yaʕyaʔt way nłxʷtl'ilx, mi kʷ xʷt'i…lx, məł iʔ skəkʔakaʔ wikənts t'i kʷ xʷʔu…l ixiʔ t astk'síc'aʔ.’

In English:

My ancestors, my paternal grandfather and grandmother, my maternal grandfather and grandmother, they threw me out of bed, they threw me into the river, and they said to me, ‘Don’t sleep while the world goes by. If you sleep while the world goes by, all the birds will leave and go to the mountains. They will be gone into the bushes before you wake up, and the birds will see you as a bad fog surrounding your body.’

This was a story I had never heard before. In particular, the words ‘bad fog’ caught my eye as an enigmatic or mysterious phrase. I wondered about the meaning, so I decided to ask sʕamtic'aʔ – one of our fluent speakers of the Okanagan language.  

She said, “xʷʔul is like steam that might come up from a boiling pot, but it’s also like what people say nowadays when they talk about an aura – it’s your energy.” In that exact moment, a two-year old boy bounded into the room and pounded a drum with a stick. sʕamtic'aʔ pointed to him and said, “x̌ast i sxʷʔuls. His power is good.”

*

Notes:

The Salish text from: i‿ƛ'ax̌əx̌ƛ'x̌aptət i‿scm'iʔm'ay's.

The photograph from: The Grand Coulee: Savior For Whites, Disaster For Indians by Blaine Harden (http://aliciapatterson.org/stories/grand-coulee-savior-whites-disaster-indians). 

The Salish text in this post is not 100% correct. The blog font prevents an accurate writing of the font. For a correct version, click here. 

Earth Oven

Many years ago, our Indian ancestors survived by harvesting wild foods like camas, wild onions, and black moss. They often spent weeks in the field digging, cleaning, and processing the foods, then they baked the foods for several days in a traditional earth oven. Nowadays, we can easily buy all our food from the supermarket, but many of us maintain the old food gathering as a way of keeping our ancestral connections alive. 

When we cook traditional foods in the ground, we have to tend the surface fires for at least two or three days. During that time, friends and family gather to visit and tell stories. 

Francis is my fellow cook. A long time ago, only women were allowed to cook the Indian foods, but the grandmothers in our family have given their blessing for us to cook. 

Sunset during one of our cooking days. 

One of the best parts of cooking food in the ground is when the elders of our family come to watch. They sit around the fires and tell stories from their personal histories. They're such beautiful people! I feel blessed to have such wonderful elders.  

This year the camas came out of the oven just right. 

A cross section of camas showing all the layers.

My niece and nephew always help with the baking. 

The brown camas just as it came out of the oven.

The black moss was flavored with wild onions. 

Wellpinit Sunset

During our pit bake this year, we experienced the full range of June weather: thunder, lightning, and torrential rain, followed by clear blue skies and a resplendent sunset.   

Yarrow.

Yarrow amid the leaves of arrowleaf-balsamroot.

Brown-eyed Susan...

New Wardance Hall

A new wardance arbor is going up in Wellpinit, so last Saturday, I stopped to see the progress for myself. It's kind of a minor historic event, especially since I remember the last two or three buildings before this one. Of course, most of us will remember the old red barn that hosted our wardances for many years, but I also remember an old white building with dancers painted on the side. Does anyone else remember that building? Does anyone have pictures of that old building? 

If I remember correctly, the old white building was converted into a modern dance hall for a few years. Eventually, it was demolished, and the space was cleared for vendors. 

qeqs npiyelsi

A couple nights ago, I heard the rain falling outside my window, and I thought for sure that our white Christmas was doomed to melt. But then we awoke this morning to see the world glittering and white. All the trees, plants, and branches were covered with beautiful, needle-like ice crystals. 

After opening presents this morning, we drove to Wellpinit and enjoyed Christmas dinner with my father's side of the family - the first time in many years.

Just before dinner, my uncle prayed for the food in the Spokane language, and then sang an old Christmas hymn in Salish: 

   qeqs npiyelsi šey' qeqs nkʷnem.

   qeqs npiyelsi šey' qeqs nkʷnem. 

   k'ʷl'ncutn sqʷseʔs, 

   xʷl qʷn'qʷin't łuʔ sqelixʷ. 

   tl nwist cwamist.

   cwełkʷp, xest yesu. 

Roughly translated:

   Let us be happy and let us sing. 

   Let us be happy and let us sing. 

   The Creator's son,

   Because the people were pitiful,

   Came down from up high. 

   Come down, good Jesus.   

He talked about the elders from fifty years ago and before; how they believed in our traditional ways, but they also believed in the church way. With our communities divided, it is difficult to imagine people nowadays walking more than one spiritual path, and yet my uncle holds both realities in his spiritual life. 

His compassion is an inspiration to me. 

As we drove away, I reflected again and again on his prayer. I found myself filled with gratitude, and then to add perfection to inspiration, we witnessed one of the most spectacular sunsets in my life. It was like his prayer for happiness spilled into nature and filled the sky. It was a beautiful day, blessed with family, spirit, and love. 

Following are some pictures of the day (click to see a larger version of each):

The early afternoon sun 

shone beautifully over the 

frozen landscape. 

A farm road near Charles Road.

The plants were frosted white. 

An abandoned house in the fog. 

Even the trees were frosted white. 

The sunset behind frozen tree branches. 

The road below Coyote Spring.

Ice crystals everywhere...

The sun setting over 

the Spokane River valley.

As I was taking pictures, 

the sky erupted into a blaze 

of golden light. 

It was one of those moments 

that took my breath away. 

It almost made me want to cry. 

The abandoned house, 

now bathed in the 

pink light of sunset. 

The last golden band of light

at the end of a beautiful day.

Clouds on the River

My friend and I drove home from Wellpinit this afternoon, and just as the sky grew dark, we saw the clouds beginning to rise from the river. It was an amazing sight, even if the photograph does not fully capture the beauty of that moment. 

nspoqišcn snm'eʔm'ey'eʔtn

ye sčluxʷ u čn xʷuy č' sč'ecuweʔ u čxʷuymn łuʔ nspoqinišcn snm'eʔm'ey'eʔtn. felicia łuʔ suxʷm'eʔm'ey'eʔm. unexʷ xest łu sckʷuls. qe memscut u qe axilm łuʔ nk'ʷuʔcin, kʷen't taqstam u qe č'łʕawʕawm. qecyaʕ' u qe xʷaʔxʷʔey, unexʷ kʷtunt u čn xstmelsm! lemlmtš felicia. 

hes č'łʕawʕawi t nk'ʷuʔcin.

hac itši...?

i qim u qmqemt. 

Poison Ivy at Little Falls

This post is for Tim, since he is the one who first gave me some awareness regarding the poison ivy plant. Some time ago, we stopped to see the dam at Little Falls when he looked down the embankment and said, "Hey, there's some poison ivy growing down there." In hindsight, it's just a little bit strange that he was able to identify the plant with such certainty, considering that he only saw the plant at a distance, and especially considering that he still refuses to give me more than 90% certainty after providing multiple close-up shots of my own poison ivy plant. But that's another story. For now I am content to give the benefit of the doubt to our own master tracker and plant enthusiast. ;)

By the way, when I got these pictures home, I was surprised to see a green grasshopper in the lower middle leaf of this first picture. 

The point of the story is that I recently went back to check on Tim's poison ivy plant, and I was surprised to discover that the rocky point at the end of the trail was completely overgrown with vines. Maybe that was intentional. It makes me wonder if Avista planted the vines to discourage people from approaching the edge of the water. After all, it seems that people like me tend to ignore the sign to "Stay Out and Stay Alive."

It also surprised me to see that the poison ivy was growing much closer to the trail than before. It seems to be expanding its territory somewhat. Seeing these plants growing so close to the trail makes me wonder if other people in the community know how to recognize them. I always see people stopping at Little Falls. Do they know how close they are to poison ivy?