Pine Ridge - a visit to Wounded Knee on 9-11

One my first trip to Pine Ridge, I drove up the hill to the Wounded Knee cemetery.n the center of a standard cemetary was a chain link fence with a locked gate.  I was there alone and it all looked sad, neglected, unkept and full of "trash". 



I visited the place again just a few weeks ago. It was on 9-11- the day that Americans mourn the attack that killed so many of our innocent citizens.  At Wounded Knee our group stood on a grassy hill just beneath the cemetery and listened as a Lakota man pointed out where the teepee had been set up for the families. His ancestors had been escorted to that spot by the US Army.  







He pointed to the bluff above the meadow where soldiers waited with four light cannons. As soldiers moved among the men to disarmed them, a deaf Lakota's weapon discharged and chaos immediately ensued. One of the few Lakota eyewitness was our guide's grandfather. As a young teen, he hid on the crest of a nearby hill and watched with his grandfather while their people were slaughtered below.  From where we stood on a beautiful fall day, we looked down into the ravine where the women and children had fled.  More soldiers followed and massacred them. 

Wounded Knee is another nation's Ground Zero, this is their Pentagon and Pennsylvania field. This is where their dead lie buried in a crude, mass grave.  The gate was open this time and we entered sacred ground. Sage was burnt to ask for forgiveness and purification. We stood silent as our guide prayed in Lakota and we dropped small pinches of tobacco to remind us of the sacredness of creation.  Then, one by one, we filed around the mound covered with wildflowers and grasses.  The fence was strung with prayer clothes, some bright, some faded.  Bundles of tobacco in fabric had been left as an offering- a remembrance, a prayer for healing.  A water bottle wasn't trash, it was left for the journey. 






Outside the mass grave, gravestones from years ago to yesterday mark the resting places of the dead surrounded by the tufts of prairie grasses. Some are marked with red, white and blue. These American flags are on graves of those who had served in the United States military.  

Native Americans serve this country at the highest per-capita rate of all the races in the US. 

There are no fancy, expensive interpretive sites here. There isn't the manicured lawn of Arlington or a solemn soldier standing guard over the Grave of the Unknown Soldier. A non-native eye would dismissed the old cemetery, as I first did.  But here lie the finest native warriors and chiefs the Army ever faced. Chiefs who in desperation brought their women and children to the meeting fields for peace talks and were mowed down by superior military weapons, not by superior men. The white soldiers weren't content to use greater firepower- they chased down the women and children and used bayonets on them as well. 

One infant was found under her mother and anArmy officer claimed her as a war prize.  He displayed her as a savage and she died at a young age after what must have been a gruesome life. http://americanindiansandfriends.com/main-feed-news/lost-bird-the-sad-story-of-a-baby-taken-from-wounded-knee

We humans build monuments to remember our dead, 

we need to remember the stories that make up our identity.  

Most Americans would be up in arms if Al Qaeda or Isis told us to "get over the past, move on, 9-11 happened a long time ago". And many white Americans do consider the atrocities committed against the previous residents of this country as a long time ago.  After all, they lost the war. We say if not with words, with attitude- " Move on, forget the past, get an education, make something of yourself, follow the American dream."

The attackers, the oppressors don't get to say when the victims or the oppressed 

have had enough, have healed, have moved on.  

That's not he right of the "victors". 

The victims get to make the memorials and the pilgrimages. 

They get to say when their wounds are healed. 

Every war has its monuments but the genocide perpetrated on the indigenous people of North America has no visible monuments, only wounded hearts and scarred souls. Even at Wounded Knee, the granite monument with the names of the known dead  looks like it could be in any American cemetery. We were told they decided if they made something in a more traditional Lakota style, it would be vandalized. 

After 9-11, most Americans were shaken to the core but still alive. Most were able to return to their new normal or start new lives. But we still remember. If we compare what happened to us as a nation on that day to the years of interaction with First Peoples, we weren't subjugated, starved, or stripped of our children, our language or culture. Our children weren't forcibly removed to boarding schools- many who never saw family again.  We weren't sold alcohol that subdued our spirits but released our rage. We weren't given handouts for so long we didn't know how to live as free people. 

In this month, for me, the breaking of a nation's spirit didn't feel so long ago. As I drove past dilapidated trailers that speaks of the worst poverty in America, I felt despair.  It didn't feel like a healed nation as its ragged children played outside in the dirt and junk cars. It didn't feel like ancient history when you learn 80% of the current Lakota population still isn't employed.  And due to the complicated land policies set up by the conquerors, industry can't come in to build commercial infrastructure. Lakota people can rarely build or own houses since they don't own their own land.   According to some records, no one expected the natives to survive the reservation experiment so plans weren't made for the generations to come. Or even worse....

(A)young newspaper editor L. Frank Baum, later the author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, wrote in the Aberdeen Saturday Pioneer on January 3, 1891:

The Pioneer has before declared that our only safety depends upon the total extermination of the Indians. Having wronged them for centuries, we had better, in order to protect our civilization, follow it up by one more wrong and wipe these untamed and untamable creatures from the face of the earth. In this lies future safety for our settlers and the soldiers who are under incompetent commands. Otherwise, we may expect future years to be as full of trouble with the redskins as those have been in the past.^[37]

I know much good has been done on Pine Ridge and I know many of my fellow South Dakotans have tried and been disappointed in their attempts to help. I know my words may not make a difference but I need to say them for my own witness. What did make a difference for me in how I viewed Wounded Knee  this time. 

This time I visited with a man for whom this isn't ancient history. 

His grandfather witnessed this massacre happened. This is part of his family story. This is his 9-11. This is a story I want to respect and honor and witness to the truth of what one nation, my nation did to another.  

Forgive us, help us forgive ourselves 

and may we all move forward 

in wisdom and mercy. 

Pine Ridge- first look

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In the seven years I've live in South Dakota, I've put off going to Pine Ridge. I didn't want to be another do-gooder, white  and clueless American woman. I was nervous about going, reluctant to offend, unsure of my safety.  This past week I went to the reservation for a cultural immersion program and it was powerful.  We joined with a group from Colorado because only three of us, including our new pastor, wanted to go from our town just two hours from the rez. Sadly many South Dakotans want little to do with Pine Ridge- they've had years of frustration and many have washed their hands of the "situation". 

Once before I drove north from Nebraska on to a bit on the rez- it was windblown, brown and desolate. The housing is substandard to say the least and I remember lots of chain link fences around all the government offices.

Maybe it's all the rain we've had this summer but as we drove south and east from the Black Hills, the rolling hills as far as the eye could see were still green.  By September almost all of the west is dry and brown in an average year. The green is unusual but it felt like a sign of hope. Despite the obvious recent damage of a hailstorm, the whole ride had a feel of expectation, not dread.

There was the hard, bitter reality of the rez. It's in the poorest county in the United States and it looks like it. The shabby mobile homes looked even worse the closer we got to the town of Pine Ridge. A month ago,  golf ball size hailstones tore the siding off the north and eastern sides of most structures. It was all I feared- sadness, hopelessness, drunks and poverty.  

But we also met amazing artists like Joe Pullman who is maintaining the traditional art of leger painting on old ledger pages from the Army days and the Bureau of Land Management.  We heard elder Basil Braveheart say the most important duty was forgiveness and shared how he integrates traditional Lakota ways and his Christian faith. He has healing circles for addicts and vets with PTSD. Kevin Poor Bear sat in a wheelchair, his legs missing from the knees down.  As he told stories that made us laugh, he drew beautiful pictures with charcoal. He attends a gospel church and proclaimed his love.  Will Peters taught us games and laughed as we struggled- he teaches math at the high school. He started a flute group and they were just nominated for their first Native American Music Award.  Valerie wove porcupine quills around leather strips and told wild stories of storing dead porcupines in her apartment!  We played with children and they let us dance with them at a nursing home.

EVERY adult Lakota we talked with this week is a recovering alcoholic and told that part of their story with a dignity that comes from overcoming.  I have never met such resilient and ultimately hopeful people. Despite the despair and tragedy, I left Pine Ridge in awe of the people.  I have a deep respect for their need for healing in their own way, in their own time.   All our speakers honored their grandmothers and spoke with passion of protecting the next generation. It was powerful and full of hope for the future, despite the outward appearance.

I can't wait to go back and I'd love to take any and all who would like to join me. 

https://www.aaanativearts.com/pine-ridge-indian-reservation

 What are your thoughts and feelings on Native Americans? Mistreated or looking for handouts?  I'll add more stories of my week and let's see what we can learn together. Blessings, Kathryn

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