Amottkn Kaseschnme

Amottkn Kaseschnme ~ Yvonne Swan

Between the lines in the following article, my heart goes out to the family of Joseph “Little Joe” Killsright Stuntz. Little Joe, his wife Ida and their children were guests in my home at the time of the following event. Little Joe was later shot and killed during the June 1975 incident at Oglala. He was about 21 years old and to date no one was prosecuted for his death. Instead, Leonard Peltier, was railroaded in the courts and blamed for killing two FBI agents in the same incident. He has been in federal prison for 34 years.

Yvonne Swan, November 2010

Amottkn Kaseschnme 

Human rights for original people of the Americas were historically trampled on. Today they are being pompously thrown out the colonial window, but the Creator is watching. Knowing that, I trust the original design of life on earth will be restored.

The desperate stand at Wounded Knee 1973 by courageous brothers and sisters to bring attention to this inhumane treatment was a timely catalyst that gave much needed encouragement to individuals facing similar violations in outlying communities in America.

After the 71-day siege at Wounded Knee federal agents spent months looking for people to pin charges on. To hold up the shield raised at Wounded Knee, people in the Northwest responded without hesitance to a call for greater spiritual awareness. It was as though a blanket woven with answers to collective prayers floated gently over the minds and hearts of indigenous people. Under this cover a time of great spiritual resurgence took place.

Most of those indicted won their cases and I can imagine the fury it caused within the FBI ranks. We were under surveillance for our affiliation with the American Indian Movement (AIM), but we pushed it away by keeping our eyes, ears, and hearts open to the Great Spirit and, at a moment’s notice answered calls to circles of prayer, not in churches or cathedrals, but outdoors nearest our allies, the elements. Most ceremonies were brief. Some were held by the river where the wind watched our backs as we enlisted strength from the rising sun. Others were at sundown near the streams and forests where the sun and wind stepped back allowing the moon and stars to give us strength.

Although we disagreed with the downhill direction our tribal leaders were taking us and raised our voices in protest, we kept in mind that Earth was our Great Mother and it felt good to be in her magnificent arms. We were encouraged to learn that similar gatherings for divine intervention were taking place on the West Coast. People were weary from defending water, land, salmon, and life against corporate greed, FBI harassment, sportsmen theft, and corrupt tribal government. Like a breath of fresh air and welcomed sunshine, good words resounded through the distance about a powerful gathering at a sacred site in the Cascade Mountains.

          It was in that era that I met Steve Robideau, Ojibwa/Lakota and Roque Duenas of the Yaqui Nation who responded to a call for help by Ella McCarty Butcher, an elder of the Spokane Tribe. Steve was young, energetic, tall, with brown eyes and long, black wavy hair that almost reached his beaded belt buckle. He lived in Seattle with his wife, Teko, and their children. Roque was around Steve’s age and a little shorter. He had lighter curly hair that hung loosely around his shoulders. Both were advocates of the people—not just for their families; circle of friends, and community, but in support of all people of color. Their mannerisms were gentle, their dispositions calm and in control. When they spoke they maintained eye contact, chose their words carefully to be sure you understood, and they listened carefully to what you had to say.

          Ella was a pleasant woman, short, and had beautiful deep-brown skin. Her hair was dark with soft curls that framed her gentle face. Her eye sight wasn’t good and she wore eye glasses that were extremely thick, but she had a far away dream that she could see clearly, one to preserve the old ways that she felt were under threat of being lost. She owned land on the Spokane Reservation thirty miles northwest of the city and asked Steve and Roque to help her set up an outdoor learning center, a spiritual camp, where invited elders could teach the old ways to the young. Later participants could spread the knowledge in their communities.

The land in the forested mountains west of Little Falls Dam was about three miles south of the Spokane tribal agency at Wellpinit. At the time, there was no traditional spiritual gathering place on her reservation and, some day beyond her immediate dream, Ella hoped a Longhouse could be built on her property. The dream was in line with Steve’s and Roque’s wishes to learn the old ways and they agreed to help make the spiritual camp a reality.

I was temporarily living in Spokane and quickly got involved with helping coordinate a four-day dedication ceremony on Ella’s land to be held in October of 1974. Word traveled fast and others started coming from all directions. I opened my home on West Broadway where there was plenty of room for visitors who trickled in on a daily basis with their sleeping bags. They used the phone and shower on the way to and from the camp site. At Ella’s suggestion during one of our meetings we named the camp Amottkn Kaseschnme which in Spokane means ‘The Great Spirit We Follow.’ Volunteers went into the community and collected donations of food, clothing, and blankets from churches and social organizations.

We contacted Indian spiritual leaders and transported the donated supplies to the group of men, women, and children staying at the camp getting it ready for the dedication gathering.

          Our home was a busy place—swinging doors and wall to wall Indians of all nations. I had to laugh when someone said people it called the AIM house.  We were definitely Indians on the move, but, contrary to what the government’s FBI agents may have imagined, our meetings were not to plan militant actions.

          When I realized my phone was being tapped, it occurred to me some of our visitors may have been involved in the Wounded Knee action the previous year, but I didn’t worry about it nor did I ask questions.

I went to the camp now and then, but mostly stayed home and helped with the paperwork, producing maps to the site and sending out information about the four-day ceremony.

We were able to cover expenses to bring in Thomas Banyacya, a Hopi seer and interpreter of the prophecies from Oraibi, Arizona and Beeman Logan, a Seneca medicine man from Basom, New York. They and Janet McCloud, a vociferous Indian rights activist and spiritual leader from Yelm, Washington, arrived at my home early. This was nice because I learned a lot in the brief time I listened as they caught one another up on their individual work experiences.

Including me in the conversation Banyacya told me that around 1959 he and other spiritual leaders became concerned about the spiritual instability of Indian people and, in order to strengthen it, they formed the North American Indian Spiritual Unity Movement. For fifteen years they traveled the world meeting with other spiritual leaders who had similar concerns. They found they had many similar beliefs,

His words gave life to an ancient being that until then I could only imagine how supreme. I wanted to know more about this great mystery who created and designed original life on earth. The truth being revealed through this Hopi seer could not have come at a better time.

During a break, I told Banyacya, “Thomas, I see American Indian Movement in the name of your spiritual unity organization.” He looked at me through his almost transparent blue gray eyes and nodded his head and smiled. Knowing I was transparent to a person who could so powerfully see, I made sure I worked harder at having good thoughts. I was so thankful we had spiritual leaders like Banyacya and his peers who despite their ages traveled the world to help the people and enlist more prayers for Mother Earth.

We were all at camp as time drew near for our dedication ceremony when I realized our presence created a controversy on the Spokane Reservation. We weren’t imposing on anyone. Our camp was off the main road, well out of the way and back into the trees on private property; but, it became evident that some people wanted us to leave. When we found that someone had taken down our sign near the turn-off I got a can of white spray paint and painted the unity symbol on a tree. Visitors recognized the symbol and had no problem finding us.

It was reassuring to have a Spokane medicine man, Gib Eli, join us.

Banyacya became our spokesperson and in his introduction he said the definition of “hopi” means peaceful people. Before he explained the ceremony about to take place he shared a teaching about why it is important to maintain the spiritual ways. This instruction was given to the Hopi for all people and he said it is important that we pass the following message along wherever we go. He said, “The Creator gave four worlds to the people. During the first three worlds man did not follow his spiritual path and caused the worlds to be destroyed. We are in the fourth world now and it is our last chance to follow the Creator’s original instructions. We must remain close to our culture and spiritual ways in order to maintain balance and save ourselves and Mother Earth from destruction.”

As he spoke Banyacya held up a brightly colored cloth of shades of yellow. It was bordered neatly with blue material and in the center and across the banner was a diagram painted in white. The straight line going from left to right toward the bottom of the banner depicted the past, present, and future spiritual path designated by the Creator for all people. The diagram showed three upward paths that ended to depict how man’s mentality veered from the spiritual path three times. He pointed to a fourth line that heads upward and stops in mid air. This is the dangerous direction that in this world shows how human beings have left the God-given path. These people were pursuing technology, science, and space exploration, and it is a road to destruction.

He pointed to the straight line below to reiterate this is the path we must stay on and not allow ourselves to be distracted from the road of the Creator. The people on the destructive path are depleting the resources of Mother Earth and it is important that we be strong to maintain balance. When he finished with this, Banyacya described the discussions he and others had with spiritual leaders around the world with similar concerns.

Getting back to the ceremony at hand, Banyacya said ceremonies usually take place with a sacred fire and that is how we were going to have our dedication ceremony. With good thoughts for the future the fireplace would be prepared and kept clean. The fire would be built with a prayer and watched over carefully and constantly for four days. It will be kept burning day and night and, if we wanted to make a prayer, we could go and talk to the fire at any time.

As he was talking, some of the men prepared the spot for the fire in a large clearing amid the forested hilltop. They raked away broken branches and dry pine needles and cones clearing ample room for the fireplace and the crowd of people. They measured a circle over twelve feet in diameter and carefully swept it clean. They gathered rocks and placed them all around marking the circle. The men set up their shifts to watch over the fire and keep it burning and they were the only ones who would be allowed inside the circle. 

On the morning of October 21, 1974 the ceremony began and the fire was lit. We barely got started when there was a brief pause.  We had a troubling visit by BIA police officers and they told Banyacya that our open fire was creating a hazard and we must put it in a barrel and cover it with a screen. Banyacya replied that we could not do that. When the officers left, Banyacya told us they will return and for us to let them do what they must. He told us not to worry, they can never put out the fire and that we would see.

When the BlA people returned to our camp, the older officer made a younger officer take a fire extinguisher to douse the fire. When he stepped into the circle to spray the chemical onto the fire, I instinctively tried to move to stop him, but I couldn’t; my feet felt glued to the ground. I recognized the young man from the Colville Reservation and, not wanting him to desecrate the fire, I tried to stop him saying in a low tone, “Think about your family.” He said “I am” and turned on the fire extinguisher. After spraying the chemicals onto the fire he stood back, but the fire kept burning. One of the older officers brought another extinguisher and hesitated outside the rocks then he put one foot inside the circle and handed it to the young man and stepped back. The young man emptied the chemicals onto the fire and it, too, failed to extinguish the flames. Finally, two men carried over a container of water and had the young man pour it over the fire. After the smoke and dust settled, the officers were satisfied they’d put out the flames and the group left the camp.

Thomas knew we were disheartened.  He encouraged us to trust in the Creator’s ways and reminded us they can never put out the fire.

I was still searching for personal spirituality and struggled with what I’d seen and what he was encouraging us to believe. We took a break and I walked to a spot closer to the edge of the hillside and sat on a large rock. I began to write down some notes when suddenly, I heard breathing. It became stronger. I wanted to remain seated, but the breathing was so powerful I became frightened. I couldn’t even think of how to pray and I got up and joined the others in the camp.

Later, I wondered if it was the spirit of the mountain letting me know she appreciated what we were doing. I wondered if it was the spirit of Mother Earth, I did not know. For certain, the experience humbled me. It let me know how weak and cowardly I really was. It also told me I had much, much more to learn to strengthen my spirituality.

We had dinner and later as we slept the fire keepers continued their watch. At dawn the next morning, I struggled with inner feelings of sadness over what the BIA had done. Times have changed so much since the days of old and I tried not to blame them for not understanding the importance of what our gathering was about. I looked around at the colorful clothing as people joined the circle and saw the strength in their expressions and tried to match it with my own.

Banyacya opened the ceremony with a prayer and as he spoke, I got a glimpse of a smile on the face of one the people across from me. Then the person next to me touched me with her elbow. All eyes were on the fire as Banyacya’s words were spoken. We were elated to see little wafts of smoke begin to slowly billow out from the ashes, and soon the fire was burning once again.

We finished the dedication ceremony with renewed faith in the Creator’s original design.

Colonial interference may have thrown our rights out its windows of control, but the Creator is all around.

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