We couldn't go up to our ceremonial grounds in Dekkas. The rains had turned the road into slick mud that only a tractor could get us up to the grounds -- and the tractor tracks would ruin the road. When we sat around the Prayer Fire that rainy night, the Chief had told us we were going to support the Spiritual Encampment to bring attention to what damage development would bring to Glen Cove near Vallejo if the city went forward with their plan to spend federal monies on a park there. The city was in the process of securing support from three other tribes whose new city councils were willing to reverse their former leaders' position to protect the cove. It was only ten years before that all the tribes had convinced the city to agree that the cove, the shell mounds, all the evidence that that area was Home for tribes for generations before contact, was an important historical place. Condos were built around the area -- a pricey sight to look out onto the cove. Perhaps it bothered the city politicans to still see tha anise blooming, the willow just because of a ten year old agreement made with tribes. Perhaps the original grass did not go with the palms imported and planted there, the eucalyptus trees. It didn't go with the theme, perhaps. And it may have seemed to be a good idea, a rolling lawn out to the bay, designed by putting people to work with new jobs provided by federal funds digging out what grew there as medicines and food, replacing it with something else that needed pesticides to be lush, pesticides which would wash into the bay -- a bay which is the estuary for the very Chinook runs the Winnemem are trying to bring home from New Zealand. This estuary is where our Chinook would grow until they were ready for life in the salt waters of the Ocean, and strong enough to make that journey. This estuary is also where the salmon would return to acclimate to the sweet waters of the river for their long and arduous journey back over the falls, back to their spawning grounds to complete their cycle, spawning, then dying, then feeding and nourishing all that lived and grew in and out of the waters.
The Chief watched the rain for the next two days. She had told the Glen Cove people we would be there but the outfits could not be worn if it were raining. It was touch and go. Sunday morning, the leaden sky didn't really give us clues but at least it wasn't raining. "We're going!" she announced when I went up to her trailer to check. She was plaiting her long hair into braids.
"We're ready!" I replied and headed down to give Will the go sign. By then other plans had been made by many. Some had to return to work. The small respite in the weather was not promising, but by faith, a small group piled into a small van, followed by a couple of cars and we headed off on a four hour trip to the bay.
This video will show you how small our group was, but it was enough. The Chief was there and the next Chief was there. The Sacred Fire was there placed by the few dancers who did come. Several singers were there. We had a fire to pray at. We could sing our songs that the waters there and the fish, the trees could hear and know that there were still people who knew their way of life. And there were still leaders who were connected to the ancestral ways and knew the way of these trees, the water, the old rocks and were still teaching the old ways, who could still speak for the salmon at such an important place for them. There was still a doctor there to help out the leaders of the encampment, and take the difficulties and chaos off their weary shoulders.
I thought you'd like to hear what our Chief said and how important the message she brought there was to the committed tribal people who were going into the 50th day at the encampment. Those words gave great support, to understand that not only were they standing for old agreements manipulated by politicians, both municipal and tribal, not only were they standing for the protection of a valuable historical site, but they also were standing against a crisis of global significance right now, this very moment, the preservation of Life on this Earth, represented at this stage by whether or not salmon will survive -- salmon, the climate changers, salmon who cleans and purifies the water, salmon who knows the rivers and the oceans, salmon who, even in death nourishes all that lives in the water and out.
This is a spiritual cause. I remember Emerson, the elder and Granny's translator, saying to me that the human being's purpose was to "support Life, help Life." I remember Granny saying the world was about 97 percent evil. She had it down to a percentage. Putting the two together I thought to myself it is probable that only about 3 percent of us are engaged in life supporting, life helping work. The small group of Glen Cove protectors, the small group of Winnemem gives me hope of what 3% can do against such odds, if we all did it.
The Chief answered the question WHY do this -- Why do we even show up when 97% are bent on destroying Life. Why do we do anything? She answered that omnipresent question when she said that we must teach the young ones that although it is not in the books they read, they must learn from the water, the ancient rocks and the trees to protect the earth. We do this because "it can't ever end."
No matter how small a group becomes, no matter how huge the challenge, even if the world as Granny described it became 99.999 percent destructive, Nature and the few human beings who still hold to their spiritual responsibility can make the difference for Nature. That is what is most important that Nature sees and the Great Olelbis knows and the ancestors have people who are with them -- that we still stand, sing, pray, learn and support Life. We must still be counted like all the rest of Nature does automatically, no matter how bad it gets. Otherwise, as Granny says, the human being becomes a big zero.
So today, I am thinking of all the good people going into their 100th day of the spiritual encampment at Glen Cove very soon, I am thinking of the Winnemem, especially our Chief who will always follow Nature and leads her people to do so -- and I am particularly thinking of the Salmon. Sawal mai u mu's baales bom! Sacred is the teacher. That is the way it will be forever.
I am a citizen of the Winnemem Wintu Tribe. I am a Nikkei descendant sansei (third generation);retired teacher, involved in the Winnemem tribal responsibility to Water, Salmon, and our belief that the Sacred is our Teacher. Working locally for human rights and supporting youth leadership.