Guest Author - Linda J. Paul
The town that I live in is bordered by two giant casinos, Mohegan Sun and Foxwoods. While I may not agree with the materialism that is expressed by gambling, I do appreciate the opportunity to share in the rich and colorful history and traditions of the Native Americans.
Today I ventured out to a Wigwam Festival. Up until recently, the festival was known as a Pow-Wow, but according to a spokesperson at the festival, that name was not historically correct. This ancient ritual of the harvest was known as a Wigwam gathering.
Spread out over a couple of acres were Native American crafters, food vendors offering such delicacies as buffalo burgers, frogs legs, mussels with potatoes and onions, gator bites, venison, and sassafras tea. And, in the center was a giant tent in which the ceremonies and dancing competitions took place.
We arrived by shuttle bus, because the state park where the festival was being held didn’t have enough parking spaces to accommodate the anticipated hundreds of people who would be arriving for the two-day event. The trip on the limousine bus was a fairly short one, and our bus was packed with tourists, locals, and visitors from different tribes.
The first thing I noticed as we disembarked was the smell. The air was scented with the smells of white sage, sweet grass, and numerous incenses. I could feel my spirit lift from the fragrance alone. As I wandered from booth to booth, touching the buckskin clothing, admiring the turquoise jewelry, and standing awestruck before the artwork, I felt a feeling of humility at being allowed to be a part of something so very sacred and beautiful. People from tribes all over the world were present, and the variety of artwork and crafted items was totally incredible!
Eventually, we arrived at the food booths. I wasn’t quite sure if buffalo burgers or gator bites would settle well with my digestive system, so I opted for a plate of savory vegetables and rice and sassafras tea. My husband ordered the mussels with potato and onion. The food was incredibly good. We sat on a wooden fence and watched the parade of dancers wander by. Some were in buckskins, other wore bright, neon colored costumes and elaborate headdresses, and others were in jeans accessorized with turquoise and silver jewelry. I felt as if I had stepped back in time and was privy to a time when nature ruled humankind and not the other way around.
The call for the grand entry came over the loud speaker, and we made our way to the tent. The first to arrive were the Taino dancers. The Taíno are subdivided into three main groups: Classic Taíno, from Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, Western Taíno or sub-Taíno, from Jamaica, Cuba (except for the western tip) and the Bahamian archipelago, and Eastern Taíno, from the Virgin Islands to Montserrat.
The male dancers whirled and twirled around a center fire. The women stood in a circle around them with rattles, swaying to the drumbeats. At the end of the dancing, everyone in the crowd was invited to go forward and dance. A massive chain of Taino, costumed dancers from other tribes, and visitors began to snake dance through the tent. As the drum beats became more rapid, the circle of dancers began to tighten into the center, ending with everyone coiled together into a spiral at the end of the music. It was a mystery to me how everyone seemed to just “know” the steps. Many of the visitors who had joined the dance stood in wonderment, including me.
The next to arrive was the Mohegan honor guard, comprised on mainly veterans from the wars. They led the way into the tent, followed by the dancers. In they marched, a colorful array of patterns, feathers, jingle bells, moccasins, blankets and braided hair. They ranged from infants to elders, all decked out in their ceremonial best.
After the honoring of the flags and the prayer to the Great Creator, the dancing began. The first on the floor were the toddlers. I cried as I watched them dance, spinning and jumping, falling and getting back up. I glanced at my husband and noticed him wiping away a stray tear of his own. After the dance, all of the young ones were given a gift for their efforts.
The dancing progressed from the young girls doing the traditional, dignified, walking dance, the bright colored whirling and twirling of the birdlike fancy dance, the bell adorned costumed dancers of the jingle dance, and ending with the graceful blanket dancers.
The young men took the stage next. As they entered in their brightly colored headdresses and costumes, they reminded me of peacocks. They strutted and bobbed, nearly touching the ground with their heads at times. They leaped, ran, and moved in perfect rhythm to the drums.
The ladies and men’s competition was next, with more experienced and complex versions of their younger counterparts.
I sat enthralled though four hours of dancing, yet it seemed like much less time had passed before the final dance was announced.
As I boarded the bus back to the casino, I felt a peacefulness in my soul which I have not felt for a very long time. It was the feeling that perhaps humankind could find a common point of unity after all. And, leading the way, as they most likely always have, are the indigenous people, who still have an inherent love and respect for the Earth.
To find out more about Native American spirituality visit DawnEagle Summers at her Native American Bellaonline site:
http://www.bellaonline.com/site/nativeamerican
