Reconciliation is beautiful and necessary work - but it is complex. Sometimes, the most challenging step is the first. And yet, that is where the transformation begins.​

Last Friday, the 2023 Indigenous Wisdom Gathering kicked off in Eagle, CO as part of the town's annual Flight Days celebration with a 4 Directions Ride. Riders from the Lakota Nation, the Diné Nation, Mountain Trekkers Back Country Horsemen and the local Colorado community came together to traverse mountain routes and engage with one another across lines of difference - and sameness.

Along the trail, barriers broke down and divisions melted away, and those first, brave steps of reconciliation were taken: A handshake with a new friend before checking saddle cinches for trail-readiness, a chat about best practices for crossing a creek on horseback, a laugh and a smile as a Pine Ridge youth wittily quipped "Shouldn't they be teaching you how to STAY on a horse?" after a Colorado rider fell gracefully, just like her trainer taught her - these are the humble first steps that move reconciliation forward.

Across generations and cultures, riders found a common sense of purpose, and rode as a united front into Eagle Town Park, welcomed in by the powerful sound of drumming and traditional singing shared by the crew from United Indigenous Dancers. Check out the livestream of the welcome ceremony HERE!

A similar story of connection and shared purpose followed during Saturday's Indigenous Wisdom Gathering festivities: in the small and friendly mountain town of Eagle, strangers came together to raise a 26ft council tipi in ceremony with Tipi Raisers' cultural and spiritual advisor Darryl Slim. See footage of the tipi-raising HERE!​

Other activities on Saturday included an appearance by the Tipi Raisers horse herd and a local youth rider in the Flight Days Parade alongside a float featuring United Indigenous Dancers (UID), a teaching session on Lakota horse-painting led by Joseph Medicine Robe, a showcase of traditional dancing by the team from UID, and storytelling in the tipi.
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We are immensely grateful to the local Eagle, CO community and the individuals from the Northern Cheyenne, Shoshone, Arapahoe, Anishinaabe, Oglala Lakota, Hunkpapa Lakota, Yaqui, Tlingit, Diné, and Apache tribes who connected with one another at this event and took the first, important steps towards reconciliation.

A seed sprouts, a leaf forms, a harvest arrives.​

And all the while, a child learns to lovingly tend to a garden; a family gains access to the tools they need to grow their own food; a mother sleeps a little easier knowing there will be homegrown fruits and vegetables to put on the table when the plants are ready.

This is our hope for the gardens planted at nearly two dozen homes on the Pine Ridge Reservation earlier this week. This labor of love is the result of months of community collaboration, planning, and a whole lot of sweetness between friends from Colorado, South Dakota, and beyond!

As it so often does, a need in the communities we serve found its way to the ears of folks with kind hearts and a desire to work together - in this case, the ears of our dear friends at Common Name Farm! After visiting Pine Ridge families in April, the Common Name farmers have worked continuously to create home garden plans, build planting boxes alongside tribal members, nurture seedlings, and gather materials in support of this garden initiative, which aims to provide the families we serve with the tools and skills they need to grow and harvest their own supplemental produce.

The installation process for each of the gardens was collaborative and joyful, with teams of volunteers and staff joining local community members, elders, and youth at homes across the reservation to plant tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, melons, and more!

On Tuesday, as we left Pine Ridge, we saw a familiar face from the road - a young Lakota boy who helped us plant five gardens earlier in the week, peeking up from his family's new garden and waving at us with his green watering can, his thousand-watt smile on full display. It is for kids like him and families like his that we do what we do - it is an honor to work alongside the youth planting these little seeds of hope.

​We’re holding deep gratitude for the farmers from Common Name, for volunteer Sven and his willingness to share his gardening skills and plant knowledge with our crew and the local community, for the Lakota youth leading their families’ gardening efforts, and finally for the plants themselves, and the food & hope they will bring.

What does it mean for the buffalo to come home? ​

This question reverberated through the steel frames of the horse trailers housing five buffalo for a cross-state journey on Monday.

The exchange of buffalo between the Laramie Foothills Bison Conservation Herd at Colorado State University and the Knife Chief Buffalo Nation, a Lakota-led herd on the Pine Ridge Reservation, began in ceremony on the morning of April 17th. Diné wellness educator Darryl Slim sang prayer songs in preparation for the arrival of the animals to their new herd. Lakota youth smudged the group gathered at CSU with sage, and friends from Pine Ridge laid tobacco offerings in the trailers that would carry the bison to South Dakota.

A sense of anticipation and comradery permeated the air as the CSU team worked with attendees to ready the animals for transport, signaling that their mission of restoring bison herds in the American West has a ripple effect which unites the Native and non-Native community members whom they bring together. We at the Tipi Raisers were honored to have played a small role in this exchange by transporting the five bison in our trailers to the Knife Chief herd on Pine Ridge.

The caravan journey was a spiritual and reflective one, anchored by the traditional prayer songs Darryl offered throughout the 6-hour trip. That evening, as the buffalo took their first steps on Lakota lands under a South Dakota sunset, deep gratitude washed over the group - made up of volunteers and tribal members who helped ensure a safe arrival for all five buffalo relatives. The buffalo will live out their days in the sage-covered hills of the Knife Chief Buffalo Nation's ranch, where they will serve a cultural role for the Oglala Sioux Tribe and help form part of ongoing food sovereignty efforts.

What does it mean for the buffalo to come home to the lands their ancestors roamed? Does it mean revitalization of the culture, language, and lifeways of a tribe still recovering from genocide and displacement? Will it send out a call for the reconciliation of the history that nearly led to the destruction of this species? Does it mean the start of a new chapter for a people on the cusp of transformation? Perhaps.

What we do know for certain is that each of us who witnessed this homecoming will be forever changed by what we saw: five sacred beings settling into a new home deeply familiar to their DNA, standing tall in the grass onto which their predecessors breathed life for thousands of years; a symbol of hope for the beloved community that surrounded them.

Coming home is a powerful act - the change that follows in its wake is up to all with the desire, means, and compassion to continue building that home up.

​The history of the grounds of a church and school site previously known as the Navajo Gospel Mission runs deep. From its origins as the home of Navajo families living traditionally in hogans, to its fifty years as a Baptist missionary-run boarding school, to its current presence in the Hard Rock, AZ community as a church and gathering place - its story is one that reflects the complexities of the twentieth and twenty-first century Indigenous experience.

The deep history which permeates the walls of the nearly one-hundred year-old structures at the Navajo Gospel Mission is written on the faces of the Navajo elders and students depicted in photos that line the halls of each building. And just as these photographs have weathered and aged, so too have the buildings that house them. Leaky roofs and faulty shingles have recently threatened the integrity of several on-site buildings, prompting the site’s Diné caretakers to request the support of the Tipi Raisers and our volunteers with repairs as part of our March 12-17 Service Trip to the Hopi and Navajo Nations.​

Our volunteer crew, who were also lodging at the site and sharing cross-cultural connection and community meals under the roof of the main building, worked last week on the roofs of the three buildings in most need of repairs. After several days of removing aging shingles and exposed nails, installing new shingles and roll-roofing, and sealing up leaky areas, the three buildings are now prepared to more effectively withstand rain and wind for years to come. This project would not have been possible without the beautiful partnership that took place between local Diné friends who steward the site, skilled volunteers from Colorado, Texas, Pine Ridge and New Jersey who offered their expertise and heart work, and generous supporters from around the world whose contributions empowered us to obtain the materials needed to secure each roof. We remain committed to working with the stewards of this site to continue to restore these historic buildings.

For the Hopi People, corn is not just a staple food - it is the very bedrock of their culture, their spirituality, their lives.​

Tradition dating back millennia maintains that the Guardian Spirit Màasaw gave each of the different Hopi clans a water gourd, a bag of corn kernels, a planting stick, and an ear of Blue Corn. It is through these gifts that Hopi culture - and the farming of the corn which sustains it -  flourishes to the present day.

Corn in its various forms plays an integral role in Hopi ceremonies. It is present at the birth of a Hopi child and is prepared ahead of every Hopi wedding - and its varied colors each represent one of the sacred directions. It is also the key feature of many Hopi traditional foods, including mutton stew and the blue cornmeal-based bread called Piki.

The techniques used to grow Hopi corn are sophisticated, formed in symbiotic relationship with the land over the course of thousands of years. Dry-farming is the preferred method: corn of red, blue, white, gray and yellow varieties thrives even in desert soil as rain and snowmelt naturally dampen the earth in the valleys beneath the Mesas, the traditional dwelling place of many Hopi. Dry farmers employ traditional knowledge encompassing disciplines such as engineering, hydrology, and agronomy to work in concert with the land and ensure a harvest capable of sustaining their communities physically and spiritually.

One such farmer is Clark Tenakhongva, a Hopi community leader with whom the Tipi Raisers have worked during recent service trips to the Hopi Reservation. Clark, a member of the Rabbit-Tobacco clan, grows several varieties of heirloom beans and corn on his farmland beneath the First and Second Mesas. See this Inside Climate News article in which Clark was featured in November 2022!

While last year’s harvest proved fruitful amidst an unusually wet monsoon season, Clark and other Hopi farmers have expressed heartache at the increased frequency of empty harvests since the onset of drought in the early 2000s. The drought continues to affect crop yield and, in turn, the Hopi way of life - Clark has likened an unsuccessful harvest to the loss of a child.
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Though environmental challenges and ongoing climate change have transformed the reality of farming in the Mesa Valleys, Clark and others continue to nurture their fields and provide their families and communities with the corn that is so critical to their traditional lifeways. 

In the Hopi Way - which is marked by a distinctly matrilineal societal structure - corn is owned by the woman of the house. Clark’s wife Ann thus owns and manages the family’s supply of corn, seeing to its drying and preservation at the end of each harvest. At the end of last month, Colorado volunteers Gary and Jim, tribal members from Pine Ridge, and a crew of other volunteers dubbed “the Jersey Boys” constructed a roof for the shed that houses Ann’s corn.

Working into the evening even amidst cold temperatures, the Jersey Boys and their crew made sure they didn’t leave Arizona without completing the roof! We are so grateful for their efforts, which will help ensure that the heirloom corn grown by Clark and preserved by Ann can stay dry and be used in traditional foods and ceremonies.

Gratitude to Clark and Ann Tenakhongva for sharing their knowledge and wisdom about corn and so much more with us during our visits to their community!

Additional resources on this topic listed below.

Resource Links​

On the Spiritual and Cultural Significance of Corn to the Hopi:

“People of the Corn: Teachings in Hopi Traditional Agriculture, Spirituality, and Sustainability” by Dennis Wall and Virgil Masayesva: 
https://www.jstor.org/stable/4138926

“The Heart of the Hopi” from American Indian Magazine: 
https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/heart-hopi

On Hopi Dry-Farming Practices and the Ongoing Southwest Drought:

“The Resiliency of Hopi Agriculture: 2000 Years of Planting” from the Arizona State Museum: 
https://youtu.be/28gAFESNGMU

“Corn Nourishes the Hopi Identity, but Climate-Driven Drought Is Stressing the Tribe’s Foods and Traditions,” an article from Inside Climate News featuring Clark Tenakhongva and his dry-farming methods:
https://insideclimatenews.org/news/27112022/corn-nourishes-the-hopi-identity-but-climate-driven-drought-is-stressing-the-tribes-foods-and-traditions/?fbclid=IwAR2ht66xo4z2XBf8eNgcdWsz_YEg9qoZ8aMQGvQApdRd_clFuKtnfLZTwn4
“'Everything depends on the corn': As crops wither, the Hopi fear for their way of life” from AZ Central: 
https://www.azcentral.com/in-depth/news/local/arizona-environment/2020/11/30/hopi-tribe-withering-corn-crops-show-impact-climate-change/5931561002/

Hopi Recipes Featuring Corn:

From Hopi Studio, a Hopi Food Blog: https://hopistudio.com/hopi-recipes

Resource for Teachers:
A Multidisciplinary lesson plan on Hopi farming and traditional lifeways, suitable for grades 5-12: 
https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/upload/TwHP-Lessons_156awatovi.pdf

The blizzard and following arctic blast slammed into Pine Ridge with particular vengeance last week – as it does somewhat regularly in South Dakota.  Bitter cold, driving winds and feet of snow wreak havoc and spare virtually no one, especially in a place where heat, comfort and shelter are in short supply to begin with.  This is one of the legacies of the reservation system.

My phone began ringing as soon as the arctic temperatures descended on the reservation. We put out a call to our local network for the supplies that were being requested and they quickly came in so my wife and I traveled up to Pine Ridge during the storm to distribute the food, water, space heaters and firewood.

At one point, as the temperatures had plunged well below zero, we reloaded the truck with a fresh supply of firewood, water and food and headed down a snow-covered road to a cabin in which a father, and his three children live in a cabin that likely dates back to the early 1900’s. When we rounded the last corner on the snowed-over rural road and down the final approach, I was disheartened to see that there was no smoke coming out of the stove pipe – I could only hope that the firewood had run out not too long ago and certainly not in the opening days of the arctic cold. I reluctantly approached the cabin door – fearing what I might find inside.  I was relieved when the man, whom I consider a brother, responded to my pounding on the weather-beaten wooden door.  “Hello?”, I heard him call from inside.  When I opened the door and ducked inside, my relief gave way to what I saw inside . . . . my breath in a tiny room only slightly warmer than the frigid outdoors by the lack of a wind chill, but still well below zero.  And my brother’s huddled body – leaning over a lifeless dog that was oddly covered by a flannel blanket literally tucked under its lower jaw as one might tuck a child into bed at night. The body was set in an old pink laundry basket and cradled by my brother’s grieving hands. 

There is no running water in the cabin and so, the night prior the dog had gone down to the creek to quench its thirst.  The drifts, wind and bitter temperatures had taken no mercy on this particular creature that night as it must have stepped through a snowbank and fallen into the creek, which in some cruel irony was not frozen over completely.  My brother did not know what had happened until he heard his dog whimpering outside the old cabin door after what must have been a virtually heroic struggle for survival to pull itself out of the ice water, through the snowbank, up the hill and to the door.  My brother told me of how he and his son had tried to save the dog’s life, but could not get enough warmth back into its struggling body . . . . given that the firewood had also run out that night and there was precious little heat available anywhere nearby.  And so, he had done all that he could do. . . .

We left the cabin that night, and the reservation the next morning . . . . as the bitter cold remained. We had run out of firewood also by then and the truck could not get through the drifts that towered and covered virtually all the roads on the 3,000 square mile reservation.  The calls continued to come in with requests for warmth, for food, for transportation to shuttle families to a safe place . . . . but we had had done all we could do. . . .

In the week since, I have thought often about my brother and his best friend that night. . .  . about how he and I aren’t that different . . . . and about how different we are.  I chose to leave the reservation that day when I had nothing else to give.  I drove home and distracted myself with all that my world offers me to distract myself with.  Again and again, I chose to shut out the haunting of the storm, the families, my brother and his dog’s death.  I have been grateful for the choice to leave it -- and those around me tell me that I have done what I can do. That I have given support where I could and that there comes a time to let go . . . .
But I think of my brother and his dog.  I imagine it is true that when he answered the whimper at his cabin door, that his dog might have looked up at him with the same plea for heat and comfort and life that those in desperate need in an arctic blast might look at me with a load of firewood and a large truck pushing through drifts.  And I know that my brother reached out, picked up his companion and did all that he could to breathe life back in – to provide heat and comfort and life.  We are the same that way.

But we are also different.  My brother had little choice but to stay . . . . and he did.  I don’t know this to be true, but I do believe it to be:  When the moment came that the little dog began to let go of the life that had been taken and there was no more heat left and nothing left to offer, my brother gave comfort with his prayer, the inadequate blanket, a hand on the lifeless body and whatever death song may have come at that time.  I also don’t know, but hope it’s true, that the dog felt that comfort.  Perhaps the death at that moment was painful.  Perhaps it was peaceful with the presence of another living being standing watch and witness.  But I do know that my brother stayed and gave the only thing he had left . . . . and, in so doing, gave me a gift for my life also. 

It is not uncommon for those who join us in our efforts to help those living in poverty to feel overwhelmed by the scope of problems endemic to reservations.  Some of those who join commit to a life of service, volunteerism or other efforts to help. For me, I know that my efforts are driven by both compassion and a resolve to never give up on those whom we are called to help.  But I also know resolve like that can be driven by fear of not having enough to give, or ultimately of not having the power to ease suffering.  The fear of not being able to push back suffering, of not having enough to provide at least some modicum of comfort is perhaps more terrifying to some than to actually face the suffering itself.  My brother’s bravery that night he heard the whimpering at the door – especially after he realized he could not ease – in any way -- what was to come, but to still stand in love and compassion – will remain a gift to me in its teaching that I hope to live into from here on.  To my brother, and to the beautiful dog that left that night, I stand in gratitude and awe.

In gratitude,

Dave

​A Colorado governor’s territorial decree led to the massacre of over 200 Cheyenne and Arapaho elders, women, and children in 1864. In 2022, efforts to remove his name from one of Colorado’s most famous peaks are sweeping the state.

In late July, Pope Francis met with government and tribal leaders in Canada to apologize for the role of members of the Catholic Church in the abuse committed against Indigenous children within the Canadian residential school system. ​

Amongst those gathered near Edmonton to hear the Pope’s words were residential school survivors, representing some of the over 150,000 First Nations, Métis, and Inuit children who were taken from their homes between the late 18th century and the 1970s and placed into assimilationist government and church-run schools. Severe abuse was rampant in the schools, as were policies deliberately aimed at wiping out Indigenous languages and traditional ways.

Reactions to the apology amongst Indigenous leaders and residential school survivors were mixed: While some described the apology as an important and necessary step in the healing journey for survivors of residential school abuse, others noted the absence of concrete steps being taken by the Catholic Church to unseal documents related to this history and to invest in forming relationships with Native communities in Canada.

Many also emphasized the failure of the papal apology to specifically name the Catholic Church as a perpetrator of residential school abuse and criticized the Pontiff for not taking the opportunity to revoke the Doctrine of Discovery, a concept established by the Catholic Church shortly after Columbus’ arrival to the Western hemisphere that was subsequently used to justify the widespread seizure of Indigenous lands. 

The Doctrine, born out of several papal bulls issued by Pope Alexander VI in the late 15th century, is a legal principle under which European conquerors claimed a right to annex land on the basis of discovery. The principle was even applied to the “discovery” of territories already inhabited by other nations - so long as the inhabitants were not Christian. Within a few years of the Doctrine’s establishment and the arrival of Europeans to the Western Hemisphere, 50% of the Native population of the Americas had died due to violence and disease. And in the five centuries since, Indigenous peoples have been subject to ongoing loss of land and culture stemming from the legal invocation of the Doctrine of Discovery across their traditional territories.

In addition to its role in a staggering loss of Indigenous lands, what the Doctrine did more indirectly was to feed into a grim narrative that conquerors - not the original peoples of a given land - somehow have a monopoly on culture, civilization and the authority to govern. As the Doctrine of Discovery was compounded by continued imperialism over Native peoples in the Americas, this mode of conceptualizing and actualizing the new society that began to take shape in the Western Hemisphere created an environment in which Native cultural lifeways and traditions were devalued in favor of European ideals - setting the gruesome stage for the establishment of residential schools and the suffering inflicted on the Indigenous children forced to attend them.

Several Christian denominations have formally denounced the Doctrine of Discovery in recent years, and in the wake of Pope Francis’ visit to Canada, Indigenous leaders are calling on the Pope to officially rescind the Doctrine himself. Activists are hoping that deeper efforts towards justice for residential school survivors on behalf of the Catholic Church will continue to take shape.​

Additional resources on this topic listed below.