Post by blackcrowheart on Nov 29, 2005 22:41:55 GMT -5
Tribe renews heritage through rice
Harvest is tradition, help to local habitats
By KARI LYDERSEN
The Washington Post
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November 27. 2005 8:00AM
T
he green, flat-bottomed wooden boat cuts slowly through the marshy water of Rice Bay in northern Wisconsin, and Waabanookwe gently slaps the stalks of wild rice that rise out of the water with a tapered pole so that thousands of grains cascade into the bottom of the boat.
Waabanookwe, a Native American who recently started using her Ojibwe tribal name, is harvesting the gently waving acres of wild rice protruding from the murky waters.
"We're trying to do all the things they used to do before," said Waabanookwe, whose name means "power from the land of the rising sun."
"We're doing the ricing - that's a big thing. We did maple sugar this spring, we're collecting berries, I'm learning beading from my mother, I'm going to learn the loom. I want to learn these traditions before walking on."
The reintroduction of wild rice, which once flourished in the area, is a way for Waabanookwe to connect with her heritage and is also part of a water-management experiment. It is an experiment, though, that has sharply divided the tribe and environmentalists from local landowners and hydropower and pulp mill interests.
---ADVERTISEMENT---
Tribal leaders and government scientists say the rice died out by the 1950s because of dams and reservoirs constructed on the Wisconsin River, which flows through Lac Vieux Desert. The dams were built in the late 1890s and modernized in 1937 to create even water flow for pulp mills and electric plants along the river. They made the lake level rise by several feet, drowning the rice.
But a little more than a decade ago, a tribal government agency called the Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission asked that water be lowered to help wild rice flourish again. After a legal fight with the power companies and dam owners, the tribe won. The rice is back. But after 50 years of deeper water, Lac Vieux Desert now looks very different.
Many houses were built along the lake in the past half-century. Once, water lapped gently against their banks; now, several feet of mud lead up to the receded waterline.
"There is a lot of damage to the propellers on boats, damage to the shoreline, extra costs to riparian owners," said Ken LaCount, president of the Lac Vieux Desert Lake Association of homeowners. He grew up fishing on this lake, and his grandfather built one of the first modest resorts here.
"People used to have nice shorelines that they'd built for years and years, and now it's turned to mud and muck," he said.
The Lac Vieux Desert Ojibwe ended up in this part of the Midwest specifically because of wild rice, called manoomin in their language. They left their original home on the East Coast based on a prophecy that they would walk until they found a place where "food grows on water." The wild rice that grows reedlike for acres and acres in Lac Vieux Desert fit the bill.
Now, biologists also know that the restoration will help animal habitats, including those of black terns and trumpeter swans.
Along with using the rice as a way to recapture their traditions, the Ojibwe are hoping to earn money by selling it. But that may not be easy.
The texture and taste of this rice is very different from that of store-bought wild rice; it is fleshier and blander. LaCount suggests that the tribe could buy paddy-grown wild rice, but tribal members point out that the issue is about much more than food.
"This is an endangered species, something we're fighting to save, like the eagle," Labine said. "If they take away the rice again, it's like they're taking away part of us."
------ End of article
By KARI LYDERSEN
The Washington Post
Harvest is tradition, help to local habitats
By KARI LYDERSEN
The Washington Post
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
November 27. 2005 8:00AM
T
he green, flat-bottomed wooden boat cuts slowly through the marshy water of Rice Bay in northern Wisconsin, and Waabanookwe gently slaps the stalks of wild rice that rise out of the water with a tapered pole so that thousands of grains cascade into the bottom of the boat.
Waabanookwe, a Native American who recently started using her Ojibwe tribal name, is harvesting the gently waving acres of wild rice protruding from the murky waters.
"We're trying to do all the things they used to do before," said Waabanookwe, whose name means "power from the land of the rising sun."
"We're doing the ricing - that's a big thing. We did maple sugar this spring, we're collecting berries, I'm learning beading from my mother, I'm going to learn the loom. I want to learn these traditions before walking on."
The reintroduction of wild rice, which once flourished in the area, is a way for Waabanookwe to connect with her heritage and is also part of a water-management experiment. It is an experiment, though, that has sharply divided the tribe and environmentalists from local landowners and hydropower and pulp mill interests.
---ADVERTISEMENT---
Tribal leaders and government scientists say the rice died out by the 1950s because of dams and reservoirs constructed on the Wisconsin River, which flows through Lac Vieux Desert. The dams were built in the late 1890s and modernized in 1937 to create even water flow for pulp mills and electric plants along the river. They made the lake level rise by several feet, drowning the rice.
But a little more than a decade ago, a tribal government agency called the Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission asked that water be lowered to help wild rice flourish again. After a legal fight with the power companies and dam owners, the tribe won. The rice is back. But after 50 years of deeper water, Lac Vieux Desert now looks very different.
Many houses were built along the lake in the past half-century. Once, water lapped gently against their banks; now, several feet of mud lead up to the receded waterline.
"There is a lot of damage to the propellers on boats, damage to the shoreline, extra costs to riparian owners," said Ken LaCount, president of the Lac Vieux Desert Lake Association of homeowners. He grew up fishing on this lake, and his grandfather built one of the first modest resorts here.
"People used to have nice shorelines that they'd built for years and years, and now it's turned to mud and muck," he said.
The Lac Vieux Desert Ojibwe ended up in this part of the Midwest specifically because of wild rice, called manoomin in their language. They left their original home on the East Coast based on a prophecy that they would walk until they found a place where "food grows on water." The wild rice that grows reedlike for acres and acres in Lac Vieux Desert fit the bill.
Now, biologists also know that the restoration will help animal habitats, including those of black terns and trumpeter swans.
Along with using the rice as a way to recapture their traditions, the Ojibwe are hoping to earn money by selling it. But that may not be easy.
The texture and taste of this rice is very different from that of store-bought wild rice; it is fleshier and blander. LaCount suggests that the tribe could buy paddy-grown wild rice, but tribal members point out that the issue is about much more than food.
"This is an endangered species, something we're fighting to save, like the eagle," Labine said. "If they take away the rice again, it's like they're taking away part of us."
------ End of article
By KARI LYDERSEN
The Washington Post