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About Smoke signals. (Grand Ronde, Or.) 19??-current | View Entire Issue (Feb. 1, 1994)
Smoke Signals February 1 994 Page 8 CULTURE AND HISTORY The Give-Away Generosity is a highly esteemed virtue among all tribes. Many tribes have carried this virtue to a high degree and take every opportunity to express it. The give-away is a form of generosity and thanks. Some variations of the give-away seen to day in gatherings include: NAMING: One or more people receive their Indian name. Gifts are exchanged from the relatives of those named, and non-relatives (especially the poor, orphans, widows, mourners, visitors, elders, etc.) in honor of those being named. MEMORIAL: Memorial give-aways held at pow-wows are usually in the honor of a deceased singer, dancer, or warrior. This type of give-away has an especially religious connotation in that it is a final prayerful act to help the soul of the deceased in its spiritual progress on the "other side". VETERANS: There are many veteran's honor songs and whenever one is sung for an individual (dead or alive) gifts are given to the singers in honor of the veteran. FIRST DANCE: Often, when a youth under 1 8 starts dancing, the family will have a public give-away to the other dancers in order to "make room" for a new dancer. At this time, an honoring song is sung for the new dancers. THE WHISTLE MAN: When exercising his duties, prolonging a song or riding herd on the singers, this individual will give-away in honor of the dignity of his office. SINGERS & DANCERS: Often these individuals are recipients of gifts for outstanding performances. A VETERAN: When given the honor of retrieving a fallen eagle feather, this individual will often give-away for his honor. Also the party who dropped the feather must give-away in order to reclaim his feather. From Pierre Indian Learning Center Traditionally, some give-aways occur when a Royalty Queen or Princess has completed their year representing their Tribe. They may have a give-away as an expression of thanks for the honor of serving as a member of Royalty. Some couples have give-aways after they have been married for one year, also as an expression of thanks to those family and friends who helped them prepare for their new lives together. i - . V" J i testis; Ul , aWoi Pauline Warren, now a Grand Ronde Elder living in Warm Springs, is pictured here as ayoung girl in 1921 with her petdeer. The little boy next to her is Don Gatewood. Chief Seattle's Oration This year marks the 140th anniversary of Chief Seattle's famous speech at the historic Northwest Gateway in Washington. Partsof this oration has been quoted many times in Native publications and journals. It Is reprinted here in Its entirety, the same words he used in 1854. Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow h may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can with the return of the sun or the seasons. The White Chief says that the Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. That is kind of him for we know he has little need for our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers the vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume good. White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our lands but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of extensive country...I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach our paleface brothers with hastening h, as we too have been somewhat to blame. Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and then they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has even been. Thus it was when the white men first began to push our forefathers further westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better. Our good father at Washington for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries furthernorth our great good father, I say, semh us words trurtifwefo as us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors so that our ancient enemies far to the north ward the Hydas and the Tsimpians will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. Then in reality will he be our father and we his children. But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine. He folds his strong and protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads hu mfait son but He ha forsaken His ndcM Our Ood, the Great Spirit, also seems to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax strong everyday. Soon they will fill the land Our people are ebbing away like a vastly receoude that wiU never return. The white man's Ood cannot love our people or He would protect them. Trjey seem to be orprarawno can look nowhere How then can we be brothers? How can your GwlbecorMcw Ood and renew our prosperi to greatness? If we have a common heavenly father, He must be partial for he came to his paleface children. We never saw Him. He gave you laws but He had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent u stars fill the firmament No; we are two distinct races with separate origin There is littk in common between us. Toiutheashettfourancsetortareiacred,aiidtheff You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret Your religion was written upon tables of stone by the iron finger of your Ood so that you could not forget The Red Man could never conipreherdnorrerremberit Our religion is in the traditions of our ancestor! the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems; and it is written in the hearts of our people. Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander way beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget the beautiful world that gave them being. Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair, and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness. It matters little where we pass the remenant of our days. They will not be many. A few more moons; a few more winters and not one of the decsendants of the mighty hosts that moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see. We will ponder your proposition, and when we decide, we will let you know. But should we accept h, I here and now make the condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at anytime the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished..The very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than to yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors and our bare feet are conscience of the sympathetic touch...Even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children will think of themselves alone in a field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone...At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.
