Post by blackcrowheart on Nov 7, 2006 15:23:58 GMT -5
A wild rice tradition continues
Posted: November 01, 2006
by: The Associated Press
AP Photo/Jim Mone -- Joe Hoagland pushed a canoe through a wild rice bed in White Earth, Minn., Aug. 30, as 14-year-old Chris Salazar, of White Earth, learned how to harvest the rice by knocking the grain off the stalks with two sticks. The rice harvest was part of a weeklong camp to reconnect young people with their Ojibwe culture.
By Amy Forliti -- Associated Press
WHITE EARTH, Minn. (AP) - For Victor Burglund, the hardest part of harvesting wild rice isn't the painstaking task of knocking the grain off the stalk, or the exhausting job of pushing a canoe through shallow water.
''I think the hardest part is actually when you go out there to get it,'' the 14-year-old said seriously. ''Because if you tip your canoe, it's all gone. You lose it all.''
Renee Swan, 9, had other concerns.
''When you have a whole bunch of rice, there's going to be spiders in there, and rice worms,'' she said. ''You cannot wear sandals. You cannot wear shorts.''
With summertime on the wane and the wild rice moon on the rise, Victor and Renee were among Ojibwe who gathered on the White Earth Reservation to learn about the rice harvests of old - when American Indians would set up camp along the water and spend weeks collecting rice and preparing for winter.
In a weeklong camp, the goal is to re-connect young people with their culture and teach them how to rely on the earth to meet their needs, just as their ancestors did.
''A long time ago, we did this as a way to survive, survive through the winter,'' said Kathy Hoagland, who started the camp about six years ago with her husband, Earl. ''Now, we are doing it to strengthen our culture, bring it back - not that it's gone, but we need to start practicing it for our own self, for our own survival today.''
Wild rice grows mainly on lakes and rivers in central and northern Minnesota, though it was once found throughout the state. It's been the official state grain since 1977 - but it occupies a special place for American Indians, who consider it a gift from the Creator.
According to Anishinaabeg lore, as glaciers melted and the oceans rose on the East Coast, the Anishinaabeg, also known as the Ojibwe or Chippewa, were told through a dream to migrate west until they reached a place where food grows on water.
They found the manoomin, meaning wild rice or ''good berry,'' flourishing in the pure waterways of the Great Lakes region, where freezing winters give the grain the period of dormancy it requires.
''The manoomin means so much to Indians because [it is] able to sustain us with food. With the money that we make off the sale of it, we're able to clothe our kids,'' said Ray St. Clair, a 38-year-old member of the White Earth tribe who lives in Ann Arbor, Mich.
He added: ''Without the rice, there would be no Anishinaabeg, I don't believe.''
But ricing is hard work - especially this year, when low levels on waterways around the reservation produced a good crop but made it difficult for harvesters to reach it by boat, said Mike Swan, the tribe's director of natural resources.
Some harvesters used snowshoes and trudged into the muck to reach the rice stalks. Instead of collecting the rice in canoes, some carried totes or spread tarps on the water, Swan said.
''The rice is out there, but we just can't get it,'' said Swan.
State law requires native wild rice be harvested by hand, whether it's on or off a reservation. Perhaps because of the difficult hand labor and low profitability, the number of ricing licenses has fallen sharply over the decades, from some 12,000 in 1980 to an estimated 1,000 now.
Competition from paddy rice has also played a part, said Rod Ustipak, coordinator of a wild rice management program run by the state Department of Natural Resources and Ducks Unlimited Inc.
In White Earth, ricers typically get $1 per pound of green rice, though that's been doubled this year because of the short supply.
At the rice camp in White Earth, 28-year-old Joe Hoagland, of Nett Lake, demonstrated the ricing to a small group. After placing tobacco in the water to offer thanks, the group divided so two people were in each canoe.
One person, the ''poler,'' stands in the back of the canoe and pushes the boat through the water with a long pole. The other person, the ''knocker,'' kneels in front of the poler, using two cedar sticks to reach out and sweep the long stalks of rice over the canoe's bottom. The sticks are then knocked together.
''The Anishinaabeg way is to knock the rice three times,'' said St. Clair. ''As you knock it three times, only the ripe rice will come off.''
The rice is brought back to camp, where it is processed by hand. It's first parched - dried by stirring in a kettle over an open fire.
The hulls are then removed by ''jigging,'' when a tribal member lightly dances on the rice with a pair of moccasins. The final step is winnowing, when the rice is tossed in the air and the bits of hulls blow away in the wind, leaving only the rice grains behind.
Young people at the camp enjoyed the chance to try rice harvesting.
''I was having a really good time,'' said Renee, of Cass Lake. ''I had a really big pile in the back where I was, but I wasn't that very good at knocking because it was hard.''
She had some tips for other beginners: ''Always bring gum; just in case a rice barb gets in your eye, put the gum in your eye.''
When the campers weren't out ricing, they were studying other traditional crafts. Elders showed how to bake bannock, a bread made of flour, baking powder, dried milk and water, over an open fire. Groups of all ages picked berries and learned how to make apple butter and jellies, including canning them for the winter. Children learned how to fish and make clay pottery from the light-colored clay that gives the reservation its name. Spontaneous drumming and singing was heard from time to time.
''Families working together - that's real healing,'' said Kathy Hoagland. ''They are learning their culture. That builds up their self-esteem; that builds up their identity.''
Meals were designed to be learning experiences, too. Dishes such as enchiladas or breakfast sausages were made with venison instead of beef.
''That's the other part of why we are doing this, is to teach people how to eat their native foods,'' she said. ''It's a way of life.''
At night, families gathered around the fire. Kids played games aimed at teaching the Ojibwe language. Elders told stories. Women sewed moccasins or made earrings out of beads and porcupine quills, while men gambled for sticks in a game known as the moccasin game.
''I like learning all about the old ways and listening to the stories that they tell us ... learning about the history of our culture,'' Victor said. ''It's important to learn because there's not that many people out there that will teach you the old ways.''
Other cultural programs available for youth
The wild rice camp on the White Earth Reservation is just one program to teach American Indian youth about traditional ways. Others include:
* In Red Lake, the court system sponsors restitution programs where young people make crafts with beads or porcupine quills. The program is designed to teach the culture, and also to compensate a crime victim; whatever item is made is given to the victim, said Michael Meuers, who does public relations for the tribe.
* At Little Earth, an American Indian housing community in Minneapolis, a language immersion program is run through its early childhood learning center. Children spend part of their day immersed in either Ojibwe or Dakota language and culture. A drum group meets weekly to practice American Indian drumming.
* At the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe's language and culture center, band members can participate in Ojibwe ceremonies, seasonal tasks such as rice harvesting and sugarbushing, building wigwams and other cultural activities. At the band's schools, Ojibwe speakers are brought into classrooms to apply the language and traditions to many subjects.
* The Mille Lacs Community Youth Services also gives young people a chance to participate in activities such as drumming and dancing, and storytelling by elders.
* Each spring, youth in the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community participate in the Young Native Pride cultural program, where they make their own regalia, learn dances and perform for families and the general public.
* The Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community education department also has a Culture Camp, where children learn beading and other crafts, as well as how to tan hides, make drums and erect a tipi. During other programs, the tribe's youth tap trees on the reservation and make maple syrup, learn to pick sage the traditional Dakota way, or cultivate bees for honey.
Posted: November 01, 2006
by: The Associated Press
AP Photo/Jim Mone -- Joe Hoagland pushed a canoe through a wild rice bed in White Earth, Minn., Aug. 30, as 14-year-old Chris Salazar, of White Earth, learned how to harvest the rice by knocking the grain off the stalks with two sticks. The rice harvest was part of a weeklong camp to reconnect young people with their Ojibwe culture.
By Amy Forliti -- Associated Press
WHITE EARTH, Minn. (AP) - For Victor Burglund, the hardest part of harvesting wild rice isn't the painstaking task of knocking the grain off the stalk, or the exhausting job of pushing a canoe through shallow water.
''I think the hardest part is actually when you go out there to get it,'' the 14-year-old said seriously. ''Because if you tip your canoe, it's all gone. You lose it all.''
Renee Swan, 9, had other concerns.
''When you have a whole bunch of rice, there's going to be spiders in there, and rice worms,'' she said. ''You cannot wear sandals. You cannot wear shorts.''
With summertime on the wane and the wild rice moon on the rise, Victor and Renee were among Ojibwe who gathered on the White Earth Reservation to learn about the rice harvests of old - when American Indians would set up camp along the water and spend weeks collecting rice and preparing for winter.
In a weeklong camp, the goal is to re-connect young people with their culture and teach them how to rely on the earth to meet their needs, just as their ancestors did.
''A long time ago, we did this as a way to survive, survive through the winter,'' said Kathy Hoagland, who started the camp about six years ago with her husband, Earl. ''Now, we are doing it to strengthen our culture, bring it back - not that it's gone, but we need to start practicing it for our own self, for our own survival today.''
Wild rice grows mainly on lakes and rivers in central and northern Minnesota, though it was once found throughout the state. It's been the official state grain since 1977 - but it occupies a special place for American Indians, who consider it a gift from the Creator.
According to Anishinaabeg lore, as glaciers melted and the oceans rose on the East Coast, the Anishinaabeg, also known as the Ojibwe or Chippewa, were told through a dream to migrate west until they reached a place where food grows on water.
They found the manoomin, meaning wild rice or ''good berry,'' flourishing in the pure waterways of the Great Lakes region, where freezing winters give the grain the period of dormancy it requires.
''The manoomin means so much to Indians because [it is] able to sustain us with food. With the money that we make off the sale of it, we're able to clothe our kids,'' said Ray St. Clair, a 38-year-old member of the White Earth tribe who lives in Ann Arbor, Mich.
He added: ''Without the rice, there would be no Anishinaabeg, I don't believe.''
But ricing is hard work - especially this year, when low levels on waterways around the reservation produced a good crop but made it difficult for harvesters to reach it by boat, said Mike Swan, the tribe's director of natural resources.
Some harvesters used snowshoes and trudged into the muck to reach the rice stalks. Instead of collecting the rice in canoes, some carried totes or spread tarps on the water, Swan said.
''The rice is out there, but we just can't get it,'' said Swan.
State law requires native wild rice be harvested by hand, whether it's on or off a reservation. Perhaps because of the difficult hand labor and low profitability, the number of ricing licenses has fallen sharply over the decades, from some 12,000 in 1980 to an estimated 1,000 now.
Competition from paddy rice has also played a part, said Rod Ustipak, coordinator of a wild rice management program run by the state Department of Natural Resources and Ducks Unlimited Inc.
In White Earth, ricers typically get $1 per pound of green rice, though that's been doubled this year because of the short supply.
At the rice camp in White Earth, 28-year-old Joe Hoagland, of Nett Lake, demonstrated the ricing to a small group. After placing tobacco in the water to offer thanks, the group divided so two people were in each canoe.
One person, the ''poler,'' stands in the back of the canoe and pushes the boat through the water with a long pole. The other person, the ''knocker,'' kneels in front of the poler, using two cedar sticks to reach out and sweep the long stalks of rice over the canoe's bottom. The sticks are then knocked together.
''The Anishinaabeg way is to knock the rice three times,'' said St. Clair. ''As you knock it three times, only the ripe rice will come off.''
The rice is brought back to camp, where it is processed by hand. It's first parched - dried by stirring in a kettle over an open fire.
The hulls are then removed by ''jigging,'' when a tribal member lightly dances on the rice with a pair of moccasins. The final step is winnowing, when the rice is tossed in the air and the bits of hulls blow away in the wind, leaving only the rice grains behind.
Young people at the camp enjoyed the chance to try rice harvesting.
''I was having a really good time,'' said Renee, of Cass Lake. ''I had a really big pile in the back where I was, but I wasn't that very good at knocking because it was hard.''
She had some tips for other beginners: ''Always bring gum; just in case a rice barb gets in your eye, put the gum in your eye.''
When the campers weren't out ricing, they were studying other traditional crafts. Elders showed how to bake bannock, a bread made of flour, baking powder, dried milk and water, over an open fire. Groups of all ages picked berries and learned how to make apple butter and jellies, including canning them for the winter. Children learned how to fish and make clay pottery from the light-colored clay that gives the reservation its name. Spontaneous drumming and singing was heard from time to time.
''Families working together - that's real healing,'' said Kathy Hoagland. ''They are learning their culture. That builds up their self-esteem; that builds up their identity.''
Meals were designed to be learning experiences, too. Dishes such as enchiladas or breakfast sausages were made with venison instead of beef.
''That's the other part of why we are doing this, is to teach people how to eat their native foods,'' she said. ''It's a way of life.''
At night, families gathered around the fire. Kids played games aimed at teaching the Ojibwe language. Elders told stories. Women sewed moccasins or made earrings out of beads and porcupine quills, while men gambled for sticks in a game known as the moccasin game.
''I like learning all about the old ways and listening to the stories that they tell us ... learning about the history of our culture,'' Victor said. ''It's important to learn because there's not that many people out there that will teach you the old ways.''
Other cultural programs available for youth
The wild rice camp on the White Earth Reservation is just one program to teach American Indian youth about traditional ways. Others include:
* In Red Lake, the court system sponsors restitution programs where young people make crafts with beads or porcupine quills. The program is designed to teach the culture, and also to compensate a crime victim; whatever item is made is given to the victim, said Michael Meuers, who does public relations for the tribe.
* At Little Earth, an American Indian housing community in Minneapolis, a language immersion program is run through its early childhood learning center. Children spend part of their day immersed in either Ojibwe or Dakota language and culture. A drum group meets weekly to practice American Indian drumming.
* At the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe's language and culture center, band members can participate in Ojibwe ceremonies, seasonal tasks such as rice harvesting and sugarbushing, building wigwams and other cultural activities. At the band's schools, Ojibwe speakers are brought into classrooms to apply the language and traditions to many subjects.
* The Mille Lacs Community Youth Services also gives young people a chance to participate in activities such as drumming and dancing, and storytelling by elders.
* Each spring, youth in the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community participate in the Young Native Pride cultural program, where they make their own regalia, learn dances and perform for families and the general public.
* The Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community education department also has a Culture Camp, where children learn beading and other crafts, as well as how to tan hides, make drums and erect a tipi. During other programs, the tribe's youth tap trees on the reservation and make maple syrup, learn to pick sage the traditional Dakota way, or cultivate bees for honey.