In Our Place

Recently, I attended a Pow Wow at a public park, where various tribes set up booths and smudged space for the drum circle and dance.  Another man approached some of them and began arguing very loudly that they didn’t belong there and should leave.  Trying to follow the argument, I thought he was angry that they were sharing their culture with “white people”.  Looking very Caucasian myself, would my Canadian tribe’s ancestry hold any weight with him?  He was angry that even tribes outside his own where there, that they had not helped him and his people, and that it was an insult that they were here now.  It turns out, this public park had been Narragansett land.

I feel for what this man was saying.  This tribe was raided for trying to sell cigarettes tax-free, and some shoving ensued with state troopers.  The Wamponaug, who were the very people who helped the Mayflower pilgrims and taught them to grow corn, still struggle to hold on to the lesser parts of Nantucket while the wealthy “whites” build huge houses and golf.  People trying to live a sustainable life while keeping their identity have had to deal with being moved, being “re-educated” in schools that would not allow them to practice their spiritual beliefs or language, some even put through medical experiments or outright killed.  A woman at the Pow Wow showed me the scars on her arm from electric shock therapy and explained how the charges where so great, they blew out her ear drums.  She had finally gotten one hearing aid.  I didn’t ask her how she paid for it (our national health care not being equally distributed).  Such atrocities of the past leave more that physical scars.  But when do we move on?

I tried putting myself in the Narragansett man’s shoes. Anger wasn’t getting him anywhere.  Ironically, I took my family to Narragansett Town Beach later that day.  As per our tradition, we took brown bags to the beach in which I cut out designs, filled them with about three inches of sand, and lit tea lights inside.  One woman came by to admire them, and I offered her one.  She was flabbergasted I would just give her something that cost next to nothing and took me 30 seconds to make.  We chatted for a while, us both parting happier.  Here boyfriend was a fire fighter.

We had set up our blankets beside the life guard stand, where the kids played in the sand.  As the beach filled up, the tiny space between us and the guard was taken by an elderly couple, and I readied myself to put them in their place if they complained about my kids’ playing where they chose to sit.  But it never came to pass.  

Space became more of a premium as the summer concert began.  I’ve heard rats turn violent when they become overcrowded.  People were starting to walk on our blankets just to get through.  The first person at least asked.  Rather than continuing to get aggravated, I decided to clear a path for passersby by rolling two of the blankets back.  Doing something in consideration of others, and I was benefitting.  Perhaps if large companies took into consideration what production cost the environment and people’s health and not just how quick they could turn a profit...

Change starts small, like saving for retirement.  We must start with small change and build on it before we see the accrued interest in what we have done.  Today, native languages are being reintroduced in schools.  Some Natives are willing to share their culture.  Some culture has been lost, like the golden toad.  Some will be rediscovered.  The frog tattooed to my shoulder guides me.  Many environmentalists support Native beliefs.  There are movements to protect native species; that is, plants and animals.  Humans impact the environment more than any other creature.  In 2012 the world population will reach 7 billion.  Who will those people be and how will they live?  Are we the invasive species? 

I am fortunate enough to own a quarter acre of land, over which I can exert a good deal of control.  Where we get a full day of sun, we have our fruit and vegetable garden, mixed in with flowers for pollination and beauty.  It is the front yard, so aesthetics are important not just for me, but my neighbors.  In some places, people get fines, citations, even jail time for growing food in their front yards.  Visit Julie Bass’s ordeal on her blog and get the back-story here: michigan-woman-faces-jail-time-for-planting-vegetable-garden/  I say the best way into these raised-bed banning hearts is through their stomachs.  Pizza garden, anyone?  

I myself have three raised beds flush with either a fence or the foundation, trying to keep a neat appearance.  I’m slowly transforming my garden into a more formal knot garden, still very edible.  I’m using Munstead lavender and Elizabethan thyme.  Less costly than boxwood, but the process is slow.  Our backyard is unsuitable for most of our plants; we have a steep hill, shade, and many trees.  I’ve started clearing grass in a half-sunny spot to move my now over-grown blackberries to in the fall, joining my two tiny apple trees.  I’d like to thin the nearby maples and locusts a bit, to let in more sun.  There are still plenty of trees (oak, birch, choke cherry, and their accompanying critters) around.  More front yard ideas here and  here

For those without land, those in cities, community gardens have sprung up everywhere.   52 gardens between Providence, Pawtucket, Woonsocket, and Worcester, and growing.  It’s with community, we lessen the struggle to survive.  Soon, perhaps, having more than just ornamental cabbage in the front yard will be “common.”