WW/ Chief Caleen Sisk Franco Speaks on the Rakaia, Pt. 2

WW/ Rising Up Time

The first night of Ceremony was bitterly cold on the Rakaia River. Down bag, tent, thermals, thick hoodie, but still very cold. The next morning after Sunrise Ceremony, the Chief put down a prayer at the Fire for us, and as it is during ceremony, the other nights were almost balmy. People could sleep with their tents open.

That was not the only prayer made on sacred ground. There were many. The dance itself, the fasting, the songs were prayers too.

The second day, a salmon leaped out of the water right in front of Caleen's eyes. They knew we were there, that the next generation of Winnemem were dancing hard for them to return home to the Winnemem River. There is no question that everyone in the circle, Maori and Winnemem, felt strong. There is no question that we understand how important this relationship is. And there is no option to quit.

On the fourth day of ceremony, although we did not know it at that time, the federal court dealing with a lawsuit regarding what was happening to the Sacramento Delta declared that there was negative effect on the culture and spiritual beliefs of the Winnemem Tribe and that this was just as serious as the negative effect on the economy. That is quite amazing news, for the judge to mention the tribe, acknowledge the importance of culture and spiritual beliefs.

I was napping in the Rehua Marae the last day we were in New Zealand, pooped from ceremony, and woke up to interesting conversation. I peeked over my sleeping bag, and saw a circle of people including the Chief and Head Man. The upshot that this was an important conversation between the Winnemem and parties interested in working with the tribe, seeking them out with some very interesting ideas.

I won't go into it anymore but just to say, things have changed a lot. The Fish and Game of New Zealand uses language like "we were helped in the past by these people; and it's our turn to return the favor" quite willing and ready to send the salmon eggs back to the McCloud or Winnemem River. The Maori people have said, "you are like us. We will stand with you." They have shown that. They have scolded the press for printing insulting racist articles before the Winnemem arrived. They have promised to talk to customs about the damage to the outfits. And some of them have said, you'll have the eggs even if we have to bring them ourselves.

Admittedly, after waking up at 4 am, and being taken to the airport by our intrepid Maori family at 5 am (yes, they had time to send us off the Maori way, with prayer, song, and greeting), we flew to Sydney and were STUCK in the airport until 10 pm, five hours longer than planned -- but that's the only inconvenience we faced. We spent the time sleeping. I remember Dance Captain Rick telling Will and me of a nicer lounge with soft chairs, quieter, we could sleep in and we started to go to check it out, but I'd been sleeping with 29 people every night, and thought I'd rather sleep where I could hear soothing voices. So I returned to my little seat, shut my eyes and listening to Weegie and Helene put me right to sleep again. It reminded me of my growing up days. I always fell asleep hearing the familiar murmur in the frontroom -- Grandma, Mom, Uncle Bill.

We came home to Pauline's email. Then Barry's. Then Wendy's. Then Tia's. And Coral's. Still connected!!!

I went to the naturopath for my coughing. Just a mild case of non-contagious bronchitis. What a relief and then she said, "your eczema has cleared up. The remedy must have worked." I told her "no, it didn't work at all. It was bad for the whole time I was in New Zealand. I felt badly for the Maori friends who had to greet me with eczema on my eyebrows. It was embarrassing." I told her I finally prayed hard at ceremony for it to go away. She looked at me harder. I said, "anyway, it cleared up just the last day we were there. Maybe the New Zealand sun burned it off." She said with finality, "It was probably the prayers."

I am expecting good things. I am expecting the salmon will return. I know that life will start being more normal for the Chief and Headman. They will be getting good news and good help. I know that the salmon and the eel have Guardians on both sides of the Great Pacific Ocean who are now connected with one another in a way distance doesn't matter and each of us are twice as strong. I know that the Pacific Ocean and the Rivers are now connected in the way the Maori and the Winnemem are. My belief that the Winnemem will be recognized has been strengthened by Rick Tau's response when he heard about the "unrecognized tribe designation", a snort and "Where do they think you came from" as well as with ceremony. I know Mt. Shasta and Mt. Aoraki are communicating.

I know there will be Maori and New Zealanders at ceremony at Coonrod. I know that good things will come from the visits back and forth.

I have enough hope that the little cloud which passed over me just an hour ago has dissipated. I'd delete the gloomy blog, but the feelings were real, although fleeting. I needed to give myself a kick and remember, the Chief took us half way around the world to get something done, and it got done.

The last night we were at Rehue Marae, several of the Maori stood up and said some words to us. They talked about first learning about the Winnemem, hearing that Caleen had contacted her UN connection, Karan, and asked to be able to come, and that the Ngai Tahu response was, "we knew this was something we must do." Originally, it was John and Al's brother who answered the call. It made us sad to know that he died between the year Caleen first contacted them and this year when she said we would be coming (in three months). John and Al and their wives Gloria and Tia picked up the responsibility. "We knew this was something we must do."

We all joined in the laughter when Gloria said each time she emailed Caleen, Caleen would respond and say a few more people will be coming. At fist they thought, maybe twelve people, but the numbers rose. Gloria said, "I began to think, I believe she intends to bring the whole tribe." and then Gloria added, "And then you got here and we thought everything was quite settled, and then, of course, there was one more."
New Zealander humor is so fun! We all laughed remembering Gloria leaving early in the morning to pick up Chris at Christ Church airport, our drummer, who was not able to leave work until the first weekend. He came just in time for ceremony. Bless Gloria!!

The Maori friends used words like honored, and family, and stand together. I know from our side we felt so grateful -- but they would say, "no we thank YOU." I know we felt honored, and we felt they were like family and we would stand always with them. There is nothing which feels more complete than two peoples who feel this way about one another.

At the very end on top of all that the Maori people did for us, there was still one thing more. We learned during our vist what the Greenstone meant to our Maori friends. We knew that Maori gave Greenstone as gifts and never purchased it for themselves. We knew that Ngai Tahu region was known for Greenstone. And along the Rakaia where we had held ceremony, when the sacred fire was out and the authority transferred back to our hosts, they performed a ceremony where trees indicating the time it was ok to gather Greenstone were planted on two corners of the four directions of the sacred circle. A third tree which symbolized our friendship was planted on the third. And the fourth was left open to the river and the mountain, and buried there was a hawk which had died, commemorating the ceremony for the salmon. We knew that Greenstone was part of the story of our meeting, and the story of the ceremony for the salmon and eel.

The richness of what we were taught about Greenstone meant even more as each of us travelers were given a Greenstone pendant to wear on which was embossed a Maori symbol. Lindsay, our friend who welcomed us straight off the plane in Christ Church when we first arrived, and stayed with us throughout ceremony said that symbol was very special, usually only for Maori.

I wear my Greenstone pendant with my outfit, and will wear it in ceremony, praying for the Longfin Eel and our Maori family, for the Rakaia, the Nur, and Mt. Aoraki. I will wear it with the anticipation of Good things. And when I feel cynical, I will take the Greenstone in my hand again and refocus.

I'm quite lucky, really. Raised as I was, my upbringing would have been wasted if not for the circumstances which led to being offered the opportunity to be tribal. To be tribal with a tribe which stayed real through extermination policies of all kinds and continues to do so no matter what barriers, like dams, are put before them is a great fortune and not to be met with cynicism. To have the good fortune to follow good leaders during critical times, and to be with good people is to be celebrated and appreciated. From inside the Monster, there's no better view of its belly than to be Winnemem. The tribe is not one to be "digested," in the belly of the beast, but to be free and outside of it, no matter how hard life might be. Thank you, Great Olelbis. Thank you, my ancestors. Thank you, my Granny. Life is good.

I hope someday our Maori family, and our New Zealand family will come to ceremony so we can welcome them and so they can meet all the Winnemem Sacred Places and be known by the spirits of those places. That's when the circle will be complete and even more Goodness will happen.

I wish I could capture how Richard would end his prayers, all the other Maori joining in, and by the last week, I distinctly heard some of the Winnemem dancers joining in too. I'll have to ask some of the young men I heard chanting to teach me to say it. I think the words express that we are together. I can hear it in my head but it won't come out of my mouth. I miss it.

If you want to read the other New Zealand blogs it begins April 4, and with the older posts. I will be returning from time to time to New Zealand memories. I will try to learn how to post Ruth Koenig's beautiful photos and let her tell her story. And I will will post Will's videos and he will tell his. Thank you for reading. These were my impressions, and others may find the flaws. And those are all mine.

Down Time

Today Ruth Koenig was kind enough to help us out. Winnemem Support Group will be presenting at the Human Rights Summit which is attracting people all over the state. We have just gotten back and don't have the video ready, we're all down with allergies, but we do want to tell the story and attract more supporters to the work. I asked photos from one person, but he's sick and concerned about where the photos should be shown so could give us only very few, not enough or even the kind of photos to tell a story -- New Zealand, salmon, ceremony. So Ruth came over with a CD full of all of her photos. The cool thing is we could take our time going through it, remembering New Zealand, our new friends, the bold landscape, the good memories but something else stood out. It was striking.

One was a picture of Caleen, and another of Mark their faces more relaxed than we've ever seen them. They probably didn't know they were being photographed. And for sure, someone else (our Maori hosts) was taking care of the business of transportation, cooking, scheduling, everything. They were surrounded by their favorite people -- their family, their kids -- and they were in a country where they were listened to and accepted for who they are -- tribal leaders. I remember saying at the Marae the night we all said our goodbyes, treated like we were normal.

This is something to consider since the Headman thinks it's his responsibility to take care of us all. And in New Zealand, it wasn't the load it could have been in a less safe place.

There was lots to be done, great responsibilities, but without the conflict, it was different.

The two photos told the story, what it must be to be just in a normal situation.

What can I say.

We got quiet for a moment.

I had just browsed the internet today. I do that when I'm homesick for Winnemem. Sally had made a film -- the mudball race -- something she shot at Coonrod last summer. Check it out. There they were -- Michael, Marine, little Aurora, and joined by others one by one, constructing ways in which a mudball could roll, zig zag, and stop short of Ash Creek, maybe even cross it? Thinking, imagining, completely intrigued,testing, engineering, re-doing, cooperating, all ages.

I had other choices of videos. There's a lot of video about the Winnemem. But today, just today, I decided not to be reminded through videos about the necessities -- lawsuit, fighting for the water. However, I did spend a moment to click on the invitation to Michelle Obama and her daughters to Puberty Ceremony for Nina, Jessica and Winona. Check it out. It's so beautiful -- clips of Marine's ceremony, clips of the three girls giggling, holding puppies, friendly. It's sad for me because of course the girls did not get any reply. They received no short note of "thank you for the invitation, we wish you well although we can't come." Not a peep from the White House. I guess non-recognized tribal youth don't get responses to their heartfelt invitations.

As it was, there was no puberty ceremony because the Forest Service does not have the will, the language, to honor the Winnemem's freedom to exist and practice their traditions and the tribe didn't want the girls swimming across the river, cut down by a jet boat exercising their freedom to have fun yet another weekend on the river. We will have puberty ceremony this summer no matter what -- no choice -- but one of the girls has opted out. That's a big deal. I'm saddened as I remember how excited she was, working on her regalia last summer.

Hmmmmm. Today is Thursday. I've been home from New Zealand only six days, and my bad attitude is creeping back. I think I need to watch the mudball race one more time.

WW/ Winnemem Youth Carrying it On

It was on the second day of ceremony that the curtains parted for me. Raised as I was by my grandparents,and Nihonjin, as a tribal member, I would stand behind, follow. As a singer, I would stand in the second row to sing the best I could. Someone had to be in the second row, correct? If I happened to be in the "front row" someone would remind me by standing in front of me. Everyone was used to it.

But on the second day of ceremony I got it. There wasn't a first row, a second row, a third row in Winnemem. This wasn't a choir. There was a frontline. A frontline of battle is a comfortable place for me to be. I finally got it that there was a frontline, a line as long as the number of people who wanted to stand in it. No one had to stand behind in work as important as this. It was revealed to me, on the frontlines, that that's where you felt the dancer you were supporting, felt all that was happening and could play your part in it. I wasn't the only one. Let's not forget our Maori friends. At first they held back unless told, "we're having sunrise ceremony. Want to come?"

That night, the Maori supporters who had, like me, respectfully come down the first day, stood to the side, held back until they were told by the Head Man to come to the other side, extending that frontline, "to get a better view." But one thing I learned about our Maori friends, they're not there for the view. They're there to "stand with." So there we were all on the frontlines, singing and jumping to the beat, all around the circle where the Sacred Fire blazed and the dancers danced their hearts out. I looked across at Tia, Pauline, on the last day also at Mareke too, dancing hard for the warriors.

I say often to Headman Mark Franco and Chief Caleen Sisk Franco, from my 30 plus years of experience teaching middle and high schoolers, I have never met young people as those in the Winnemem tribe. Mostly homeschooled, the youth are very comfortable around parents, uncles, aunties, adult guests. No generation gap. Lots of playfulness in the adults view. No embarrassment between them. When Caleen and Mark bring their daughter Marine and visit, I've seen Marine hug her mom in the stores. I've even seen her drop to her knees to tie her mother's shoes on her own, not being asked to but just because it felt right to her. On the New Zealand trip, often I would see Marine rubbing her dad's tired stiff shoulders, and braiding his hair. I told her brother Michael who represents his tribe with such dignity with his natural ability to speak publicly -- like his mom -- that I wanted to thank him. I always pray for my Chief and Headman, that their burden will be lightened, that there will be significant help, and I realize on the two week trip, that Michael and Marine are an answer to my prayer in themselves. They are such a comfort to their parents.

I see the Winnemem young men and women, without being told, carry the big things, give up their chairs, play with the little ones. I've seen them take care of the ongoing Sacred Fire at the ranch. I've seen them jump off the first waterfalls on the McCloud over and over and make sure others feel safe and can jump themselves, clamber up Dekkas Rock (a mountain) to put up the flag and pray for their people.

In New Zealand, Jessie and Nina never ever let me stand behind them in the dinner line, or stand while they sat. They always gave up their chair. They may be shy, but there's nothing shy about their resolve. And always with a smile.

I was so proud of Nina. She has really stepped up to being what we've referred to as "our little Chief," the next one in line after her Aunt Caleen. She will be going through her coming of age with her sister this summer. She should have been able to do it last year, but the Forest Service leader stubbornly holds to her racist position and will not allow the four day ceremony to go on by guaranteeing safety of the young women who will be swimming across the river on the fourth day from speeding jet boats -- the Freedom to have Every Bit of Leisure Time Whenever the Individual Wants To takes precedence over a whole tribe's Freedom of Religion.

Caleen called Nina to the circle and asked her to sprinkle river water from the Winnemem on the ground all around the circle which she did while we sang. She did so, with no remnant of girlhood shyness. It's as if she had grown up overnight. Caleen had Nina do this so that the Rakaia and the Winnemem River will know each other, the people will know each other, they will know Nina, and she will come back again as an adult and as the Chief and bring her people again to keep the relationship going the next generation with the Ngai Tahu, Waitaha Mamoe Fisher People.

It was day two of Salmon Ceremony for the young dancers, the second day of fasting, of keeping the Fire going all through the night, the second day of dancing hard, taking turns sleeping through a frigid New Zealand night on the river. It could have been a hard day for a teenager to keep up a great attitude. But there they danced, harder than they danced the day before. Marine, her cousins Marissa, and Jesse, little ten year old Aurora, still uncomplaining, in outfit, singing the songs.

I know why I am on the frontlines. It is for my Chief and Headman, always. It is for the sacred work in front of us. But those who know me well, my heart just bursts with joy to see these young Winnemem men and women growing up strong following their Winnemem Path of Life with all their heart, growing up without the all too typical embarrassment of having parents, but instead having affection, pride and TRUST, for heavens sake, for their parents, uncles and aunts, growing up forging strong bonds with their cousins, growing up to be warriors, tribal advocates, guardians of the Earth and Salmon, growing up to be good Dads, Moms, Uncles and Aunts themselves, growing up Winnemem so that this goodness carries on.

I do want to take this moment to say that among the youth dancers was David Martinez, about my age, white hair, also fasting, also dancing all four days with all his heart, representing. I hope he knows when I refer to our young dancers, he is included in my heart -- his heart always young.

No words can fully describe the dancers, the dances, the songs, the singers, the prayers. Video might convey the spirit of what happened there but Will will never put together a video with songs, prayers intact out of respect for the Winnemem. So many who have lost their way or for whom this is a hobby capture the songs, and the tribe hears their sacred songs playing in the most unlikely places. Will and I know that what we are lucky to be part of is not a performance of a memory, but the real thing. And there are no words which can express the real thing. Imagine all the realness which is no longer practiced. Imagine all the prayer fires which no longer burn. Imagine those ancient connections between nature and human, from elder to grandchildren which have gone dormant and cannot be replaced by word or by film. That is how precious those four days of ceremony were, everything connected -- generation to generation, fish, river, mountain to the tribes, that moment of ceremony to the future with the past, the connection to ancestor spirits forged by those who still carry it on with such heart that they bring the Head Man to tears, Maori and Winnemem, Nur and Tu-Nah.

Dedicated to: Michael, Chris, Jesse, Arron, Jamie, Ben, James, Jared, Robbie, Nick, Kayla, Marine, Nina, Jessie, Aurora and the ever youthful Dance Captain Rick, and David and those young ones who kept the home fires going.


The last night at Rehua Maraem, as we all stood to speak individually, I remember Tia's words. She said that she got emotional at the airport when we first arrived. She admitted that for some reason she thought we would be 29 "old people." We all had a big laugh. But then she went on to say, that as she saw the young people filing into the airport lobby and she realized this was a tribe which would go into the future and this was a relationship which would go on another generation and another, it made her heart fill. Exactly. I know exactly what she means. It is, as she said, beautiful.

WW/ NZ news story on Winnemem at the hatchery

Check out this site. You'll see how wonderful being in New Zealand was, how we were treated, and you'll see why it was so important for the tribe to go across the Pacific to do ceremony for the Nur. The video I had placed here ran out, but look what I found! The same story but in Maori!!! Twice as good!!

WW/ Preparing for Ceremony

The day had finally come -- the day we would go to the Rakaia and set up the area for the Nur Win yu pus and Hee chala Olelbis Ceremony. We all rode in four wheels, vans and trucks to the Glenthorne region past the dam on a gravel road to the Rakaia River. The Ngai Tahu elder, Rick Tau was there to greet us and through the Maori Whakanoa ceremony to turn the authority of the area to the Winnemem.

We walked down toward a river to a wooded and shrubby grass knoll, a small cozy little place surrounded by green. This was to be the place. After the "turning over" ceremony, then Caleen was able to do whatever she wanted. When the Maori say she could do whatever she wanted, they meant it. The young dancers and Maori friends including Tall Joe, a favorite of everyone with tousled red hair and a warm smile, began to chop away the bushes opening the space to the river beyond. Then Caleen noticed glass in the grass, so the grass was removed by hand. As the young men crawled on their hands and knees pulling grass, one of them was heard to say, "Where are the fighting women when we need them, the ones who pull hair." In place of grass, the boys climbed down to the river's beach and brought sand to make the dancing circle.

Willow branches were cleared and we all stopped to breathe in the view of the river, the beach and the bold mountain behind it. The scene reminded me of Eastern Oregon or the Columbia Gorge -- just wilder, not developed, free. No wires or wind towers, no dam, a barely perceptible road across the broad river cutting out of the mountain. It was a perfect place. Up above was the parking lot where the kitchen would be set up -- but not for the dancers who would be fasting. Gloria, Al, Tia had already thought about that. All the food cooked on site would be wrapped so the scent did not overpower the area and waft down to the ceremonial grounds. Gloria made us promise that if we smelled food at all, to let them know. She did not want to make the fasting harder. Our hosts set up some tents both on the parking level, and on the level of the ceremony, one big easy up with sides for the dancers to rest in.

Caleen, Sarah and I started working on a willow lean-to-wall to put against the easy up, but the willow bark was not very strong, and did not come off in the nice strips as expected. I looked up from tying one to see Pauline, Tina's husband, and a couple other of the Maori in a line stripping away flax leaves without saying a word industriously. Wonderful! The flax strips were strong and easy to tie. Tina's husband and Caleen finished off the other ties -- cross cultural sharing coming very naturally. "No workshop needed!" we observed. Leaning up against the easy up with full view of the fire, it made a perfect place for the Fire Tender through the night.

We couldn't help but take a look backward at the changed space, no longer a nice little deer bed of a place surrounded by thicket, but a ceremony circle, in the center, a Sacred Circle of stones for the Fire, the Winnemem box drum in place, the River and Mountain in clear sight. It felt good.

We got into the vehicles to spend another night at a luxurious Sheep Camp turned retreat which the Maori hosts had leased for us, an extravagantly luxurious evening with individual bathrooms, showers, a bed, and the very generous meals which Gloria, Tia,Pauline and the hosts at Glenthorne provided -- Carole and Makere.

That night we opened the packages sent from customs which held the feather bustles and head gear, the bows, arrows, spears, and ankle bracelets of deer feet. It's a good thing Richard Tinkersley from the New Zealand Human Rights Commission suggested we eat a good meal before the Winnemem sat down for this task. In opening the boxes, Caleen found much damage done by the poor repacking and the toxins used to fumigate the articles by the customs staff. From where I sat on a couch, watching my Winnemem family -- Chief, headman, dancers, mothers of the dancers, the Dance Captain -- I could see their faces fall, and their shoulders sag. It became very quiet.

One by one, each dancer opened their case and took out their bustles, ankle bracelets, and other regalia pieces to be examined and to be taken care of. Feathers were broken having been re-packed with the heavy ankle bracelets on top of them, which, in moving back and forth as each suitcase was moved, damaged the feathers underneath. The sheen of life had disappeared from the feathers. It felt like the dancer-warrior spirit of the regalia was present, but worn and battered. The night was solemn as our Maori friends and we sat in silent witness. The bows, arrows and spears were examined. Sad to say the custom officers did not bother to rewrap the points, instead tossing the extra foam back into the package. Both points were damaged. One of the points were actually loosened from the spear.

The Chief made a good point. Customs is very familiar with handling "museum pieces" very much like the regalia which are actively used by the Winnemem tribe. The regalia was no less valuable, no less old than those exhibition pieces. Certainly a tribe's sacred regalia should receive the same treatment as museum pieces or the Pope's vestments, for that matter.

The Chief talked to us about next steps, toxins would have to be washed off of things which could be laundered, the feathers washed. The spear would need to be attended to. Nothing could be done about the points. Nor could anything be done, we learned later during ceremony, about the deer hooves which became rubbery and broke apart as the dancers danced, we assume, due to the toxins used on them.

At some point after that Makere came up with a package in her hand and said there was something she would like to give if this would be an appropriate time. I remembered Makere and I had a conversation earlier regarding difficulties with regalia. I told her at the last minute customs would not allow migratory bird feathers so we had to leave the flicker feather pieces at home. She brought the package to the table which Caleen opened. Caleen's face brightened as she held up a single flicker feather, and said how good it was their relative would be present at the ceremony after all, explaining that all the flicker feathers were left at home but this one would represent. Then she reached in and brought out a hawk wing. The hawk was very important to the Maori also. Each dancer would dance with one of the hawk feathers tied onto his regalia. Finally Caleen brought out the eagle feathers from the package. Somehow, every bent feather could be replaced because of this gift of eagle feathers, as well as smaller eagle feathers and fluff. There was even one white feather to replace the injured white feather in our Chief's headpiece. The spirit of the ceremony and the sacred infused the evening with the gift of feathers -- it seemed like a circle was completed. The damage and hurt was temporary because what was meant to be would be.

There isn't a doubt that these valuable pieces filled with spirit were more ragged, more spent than they were --- just as we are with the uphill challenges of dealing with non-recognition and abuse of sacred lands and water -- and at the same time, there is no doubt that all will carry on.

The hardest thing was to know that the little doctoring basket which Granny used, and her mother before that which Caleen might need to use had had all the feathers taken off of it by customs. Why would customs feel they needed to desecrate it? What damage could the feathers have caused the health and safety of anyone? During the ceremony, there was need to use the little basket, and, as it was, things were fine, after all. I was relieved. I could not help comparing -- the people of the tribe -- their feathers and baskets -- the salmon -- the river -- the quality of air and Ocean -- the security of the Mountain -- the earth itself. What is of value now in this time? what is respected?

It was of some comfort that this all happened with people who cared, who respected, stood beside and of course, that the "one who had something to give" also had the kind of heart that understood that feathers were meant to dance and not to be kept in boxes OR museums. It was comfort and it was enough. Thank you, Great Olelbis.

Next day, the ceremony would go on!

WW/ Those Letters Behind a Name

Babers was feeling emotional, head buried in her mother's shoulders. Her mother, Chief Caleen Sisk Franco comforted her 19 year old daughter, speaking softly. Babers and her cousins, the Winnemem youth, had just released the small salmon into the stream to swim on the way down the river on their long journey to the ocean. Each of the youth had touched the small fish as they released a bucket full into the stream. No one said, "let's touch the salmon." It's just the way they do it. The Dance Captain also released the fish, the Chief, the Head Man, all of us took a turn. It was a beautiful sight to see after seventy some years of separation, Winnemem and their Nur together in one place. It was a unplanned ritual moment.

One could call this a miracle since for decades the Winnemem grieved for days gone by, believing their salmon were gone forever, victims of the Shasta Lake Dam. Now today, the tribe was in New Zealand at a hatchery releasing a seventh generation of salmon into the river.

I looked over. Caleen was still comforting Babers but I suddenly got this flash of insight. Babers was expressing her mother's heart. Caleen was both feeling the very emotions her daughter expressed while, at the same time, comforting her. She probably would like to weep right now, but Babers did it for her.

I had heard the report of the long trip Caleen made to the recognized tribes asking for support for the New Zealand trip. After all, bringing the McCloud salmon back would help all the tribes. I heard the sad story that for some of the tribes the taste for fish had all but disappeared as did their will to help the Winnemem make this historic journey to bring the salmon home. So it made an impression on me -- this tribe, separated from their salmon for two generations still having such a strong connection that they had such strong emotions reuniting with their fish, touching the fish and watching them begin their difficult journey to the ocean, perhaps anticipating leaving them in a few days when returning home to California. Where are such teenagers anywhere else. How were the Winnemem able to keep their strong connection to the Nur inits absence over the generations when other tribes had lost their taste for fish, and without the need as a food, so went their will to help the fish survive.

I will leave it this way for the time -- a question not answered, a snapshot moment of a mother and a daughter -- a daughter who loves her cell phone like anyone else her age but who also has ancient deep emotions for the salmon -- so deep that at 19, she needs to be held and comforted by her mother.

I leave you with the ramifications. Whom can we most likely count on to continue the guardianship of salmon, of river and ocean the next generation? And who is the fish expert? The PhD or the Winnemem mother. Caleen Sisk Franco, WM.