Inmates: Worship needs unmet

By PAUL CARRIER, Staff Writer Sunday, March 11, 2007

WARREN - Cody Choneska sprinkled tobacco, sweet grass and sage into a shell and set it ablaze. The flame quickly died down, leaving trails of smoke that filled the room with an odd, but pleasant, odor.

Cupping the shell in his left hand and grasping two eagle feathers in his right hand, Choneska approached the first of 11 fellow Maine State Prison inmates who had formed a circle around him in a room at the prison. The group included Passamaquoddy, Micmac, Narragansett and Cherokee Indians, as well as a few visitors.

Using the feathers as a fan, Choneska pushed wisps of smoke toward the man, first along the front of his body and then along the back. He moved on to the next inmate, making his way around the circle as inmate Dwayne Sockabasin beat a hand-held drum and sang a prayer in the Passamaquoddy language.

The smudging ceremony, as it is called, is a religious ritual practiced by American Indians, including those serving time at the state prison. The ceremony is sanctioned by prison administrators in much the same way that Christian, Muslim and Buddhist inmates, among others, are allowed to have meetings, services or study groups of their own at the prison.

But the relationship between prison leaders and Indian inmates is far from harmonious. At least two of the men in the circle that day are plaintiffs in a federal lawsuit that Sacred Feather, Native American Circle, a group of Indian inmates, has filed against Warden Jeffrey Merrill and other prison officials alleging violations of the inmates' religious rights.

"If this place wanted to better people, to get us out of prison, to make some positive changes (in inmates' lives), they should want to help us out," said Choneska, a Passamaquoddy who is serving time for murder and robbery.

The issue has surfaced in the Legislature as well. Rep. Donald Soctomah, the Passamaquoddy Tribe's representative in the Legislature, has filed a bill that would guarantee the right of American Indians to practice their religion in state prisons and county jails.

The state Department of Corrections is "making an effort," Soctomah said. "It's just not (moving) fast enough." The issue of religious freedom for inmates also cropped up in the York County Jail recently when inmate Nicholas Dardeno, a Catholic, complained that he could not attend Mass. But Sheriff Maurice Ouellette said last week Dardeno's complaint is isolated.

The real fight centers on the Maine State Prison in Warren, which houses about 900 medium- and maximum-security inmates. Eighteen of them identify themselves as American Indians, according to the Department of Corrections.

The state and Sacred Feather settled an earlier lawsuit in 2003 by agreeing to allow American Indians to practice their religious rites. But that agreement expired in 2005 and has not been formally renewed.

As last week's smudging ceremony shows, the issue is not whether the state prison prohibits American Indians from celebrating native religion. It does not. The real issue is whether the prison has done too little, and moved too slowly, to accommodate inmates who want to practice their religion.

INMATES CLAIM NONINCLUSION

State officials say they are committed to honoring the earlier settlement, but inmates question administrators' sincerity. Part of the problem may be that the Department of Corrections has been working closely with the Passamaquoddy Tribe and the American Friends Service Committee, but less closely with the Indian inmates themselves.

Until the lawsuit was filed, for example, state officials believed they were making progress on religious issues at the prison. But the affected inmates say they were not involved in those talks, creating resentment at their end.

The major bone of contention involves the prison's failure to allow inmates to have an outdoor sweat lodge, which inmates have been demanding for years.

Merrill, the warden, says the prison will set up a sweat lodge at the nearby minimum-security Bolduc Correctional Facility in May, as a test. The lodge will be made of canvas-covered wooden poles and it will be used in a ceremony that requires heated rocks to be transported into the lodge from a nearby fire. So Merrill said there are potential security and safety concerns that must be examined in the trial run.

"We are sensitive to all the cultures and all the religious needs of the prisoners," Merrill said. "We're going kind of slow but we want to make sure whatever we do, we're doing it right." As it is, the state prison is "light years" ahead of where it was even a few years ago in helping American Indians practice their religion, Merrill said.

"We are committed to continuing to work to improve religious access for all faiths," said Denise Lord, an associate commissioner in the Department of Corrections. When the settlement with the Indians expired in 2005, Lord said, the state agreed to "continue to work informally" to honor it.

Inmates in Warren counter that the state has been dragging its feet on allowing a sweat lodge there, and that having a lodge at the Bolduc prison will do nothing to help them.

They say prison officials have been unwilling to meet with them, and that inmates and even guards have insulted them during the smudging ceremony. They say they had to conduct the smudging ceremony in an outdoor gazebo until recently, even in foul weather. And they allege that the prison has denied them powwows, ceremonial foods and ceremonial music.

Celebrating native religion without a sweat lodge is like denying Christians access to Holy Communion, said Sockabasin, a Passamaquoddy who is in prison on drug trafficking and other charges.

"I don't think they care or want to try to understand," said Michael Thompson, a Micmac who is in prison for assault, robbery and other offenses.

Still, Soctomah, the Passamaquoddy representative to the Legislature, and Merrill, the prison warden, sounded remarkably similar themes in separate interviews, suggesting that their goals may be more similar than dissimilar.

"If you accept native religion into your life, you become rehabilitated," Soctomah said. "I really believe practicing the religion of your ancestors is a way to get back in touch with what's good in the world."

"You never know in this business what it takes to turn people around," Merrill said. "Religion can play a very important role," he said, so anything the prison can do to help inmates practice their faiths without compromising safety and security is "the right thing to do."