Summer is powwow season. And this evening, the drum will herald the Grand Entry of the 29th Annual Taos Pueblo Powwow.
Like many small regional powwows hosted by individual tribal nations around the country, it’s what’s known as an intertribal powwow, meaning that it’s open to singers, drummers, and dancers from other tribal nations. Here, it’s a three-day event, with the gates opening to the public at noon today. Visitors will be able to buy Indian tacos, frybread, and other traditional foods, shop for hand-made Native art among the artisan sellers at the booths and tables around the perimeter, and hear the drum groups and singers practicing preparatory to tonight’s Grand Entry, which occurs around sundown.
I’ve seen all sorts of the explanations of the origin of the word “powwow.” There seems to be broad agreement that the root is originally found in the Algonquin family of languages, and that it refers to a “gathering.” Some insist that it means “gathering” in the sense of a so-called “council of chiefs” or a meeting of spiritual leaders and/or medicine persons; I’ve seen at least one explanation that translates the word roughly as “face to face.” I suspect all are partly apocryphal, and all contain a grain of truth.
My own way of understanding the word is to interpret it as “a gathering of The People”: bringing us together, where “us” may include only our own people or those of a vast array of other tribal nations, in times of import, when it is important to communicate in person — yes, even face to face. Notice that I used the word “communicate,” not “speak,” because there are many more ways to communicate than simply with words. The drum, song, dance, ceremony, all are ways of communicating that need not involve words, and that peoples previously unknown to each other, who do not speak the same language, nonetheless recognize at a soul-deep level of consciousness.
Notice all that I said “in times of import.” There is a misconception among the dominant culture that the modern powwow somehow involves access to sacred rituals and dances. It does not. While it is no doubt true that some of the songs and dances have evolved and adapted from ancient versions that were sacred in their time, the contemporary versions that are open to the public by definition cannot be sacred: Otherwise, they could not be open to outsiders in the first place. The lack of literal spiritual sacredness does not mean that they are any less important.
Powwows today are largely celebratory, which is a wonderful. They provide an opportunity for people from disparate nations all over Indian Country to come together, share food, share stories, share music and singing and dance and prayers and art and culture. They are competitive, allowing people to showcase their considerable talents and be rewarded for it; cash prizes in singing, drum, hand drum, and various dance categories are the norm. [In much older times, such competitions likely served as a proxy for less benign forms of competitiveness; better all the way around for young warriors to pit their skill against each other in dance than with deadly weapons.] They also occur during ceremonial season for many tribal nations, making it easier for families and groups to get together all at one time. Finally, they provide a vehicle for honoring individuals from the host nation: Sometimes it’s a recently-deceased elder or a younger person gone too soon; sometimes it’s a military veteran; sometimes it’s a person who has provided great service to the people. Often, the family of the person being honored will spend the months leading up to the powwow raising funds to provide a cash prize in honor of their loved one, via a song, drum, or dance contest. Powwows in ancient times may very well have been staged in any time of stress or significance, to allow people to come together and work out their differences, plan to defend against a common threat, or simply provide a venue for expressing public joy and gratitude when times were good. They are also, as discussed last week, in some ways an act of defiance and an existential expression of our sovereignty. “We are still here” is as good a reason as any to celebrate.
To outsiders, the whole point of a powwow is the dancing: seeing Indian men, women, and children dressed in their finest traditional regalia, executing complex steps and moves that resemble nothing found in the dominant culture. it is beautiful, it is exciting, it is an experience all its own. But the heart of the powwow is the drum. Nothing happens without the drum. It provides the heartbeat, it pumps the lifeblood through the gathering, it is the backdrop against which all else occurs, and without which nothing occurs. If you’ve never been to a powwow, go to one, and then simply listen. During the sporadic moments when the drum stops, it’s as though all life in the circle and outside it has come to a halt. Everything remains in stasis, the discomfort is palpable, until the heartbeat resumes. Powwows are not for dominant culture-style discussion or chatter; they’re for feeling and being. The drum ensures that.
We have a couple of powwow-style drums, both by the same master drum maker, Lee Lujan. One — by far the most outstanding of the two — is pictured above. From its description in the Other Artists: Drums Gallery here on the site:
This upright drum measures roughly 16″ X 20″ across and 19.5″ high. Handcrafted by master drum-maker Lee Lujan, the drum is built in the traditional Taos Pueblo drum style, with the hide stretched over a frame made from a hollowed-out tree trunk – no fitted pieces. Traditional beater included.
$495 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Size and weight require special handling; extra shipping charges apply
Lee truly is a master. He lives a couple of miles down the road from us, and on any given day, you can see piles and stacks of tree-trunk segments, all awaiting hollowing out for use in new drums. All of his drums are made by hand, with the hides stretched and laced and tied in the old way: with heavy ropes of sinew. It’s hard work, and hard on his hands, but his talent comes through in every piece.
Now, the competitive drum circles at powwows tend to use drums that are bigger yet; they often have a dozen men seated around them in a circle, all playing a role in keeping the heartbeat in its proper rhythm. But drums of this size are suitable for smaller circles, with a few players (or for events in traditions where only one person plays the drum). But one thing all such drums have in common is an incredible, inspirited resonance. The drum pictured at the top is no exception: It has one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard, far deeper and stronger than one would expect from a drum of its size. And, of course, when the hide is warmed, the resonance deepens even more.
Before ending today, I need to say a few words about powwow etiquette, because if you’ve never been to one, it’s very different from an event hosted by the dominant culture.
First, check with the host nation to find out what their rules are — and what accommodations, if any, might be available for persons with disabling conditions or special needs. These events often occur on tribal lands, and the rules are different; you are a guest, and you don’t have the same “rights” you can expect in public accommodations in the outside world. In other words, this is not “public” in the sense to which most outsiders are accustomed.
Second, know the rules, follow them, and don’t complain. An example is photography and video recording. Here, you can take photos, but your admission fee includes your camera fee. The photos are for personal use only; no sale or commercial use whatsoever. If you have any thoughts of turning the photos into artwork or something for sale or other distribution, you need to get clearance from the Pueblo first. And such clearance may be denied. That’s the way it is. Do not attempt to do an end run around it later. As the sign that hung in our gallery for years said “Enough has been stolen from our people.” You know that guy who always thinks everything is his for the taking and the rules don’t apply to him? Don’t be that guy.
If you do take photos, again, follow the rules as they are laid out for you. There will be some events that are not for recording in any form, and the emcee will make an announcement to that effect. Abide by it. The same is true of rules forbidding flash attachments, etc. And finally, my own personal pet peeve: Don’t take photos of child dancers and then display them publicly. These are not your children, they are not anybody’s property, and the fact that a zoom function allows you to get a photo doesn’t mean that a minor deserves to have his or her image and identity appropriated without consent.
And lastly, the more “obvious” rules: Don’t point. In our cultures, pointing at someone is rude. Don’t talk during the presentation of the colors, introduction of elders, or other honor events. Don’t interrupt or talk over someone who is speaking to you or to someone in your group. If an eagle is brought to the event, keep a respectful distance; look but do not touch. Do not touch participants’ regalia, hair, or adornment; besides the fact that doing so is simply invasive and rude, some wear medicine items, and an outsider touching them desecrates them. And do not, under any circumstances, bring alcohol (or any other such substance) into the powwow grounds. It’s grounds for expulsion and worse. All of these rules seem obvious. You’d be surprised how regularly they’re violated.
Really, the rules are not onerous at all; they’re actually simple courtesy. Remember, a powwow is something to be experienced — heard, tasted, felt. It’s not something to be exploited or sold down the road; it’s an opportunity to visit our cultures in a group setting and spend a day, or a weekend, experiencing some of the best of our history and traditions.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
