Seeking healing in the old ways
Jill Burcum, Star Tribune April 2, 2005
PONEMAH, MINN. -- The clamshell already held smoldering embers of sage and
cedar when 16-year-old Kara Stillday, the sister of school shooting victim
Thurlene Stillday, added another offering to the tiny, sacred fire stoked by tribal
elders in the Red Lake reservation's most traditional community.
Slowly, Stillday sprinkled loose tobacco on the embers, brushing her palms
carefully to make sure none of the sacred brown shreds stuck to her moist palms.
Almost immediately, pungent gray wisps began curling around the 20 people
gathered to grieve with "pipe carriers" -- older men who are the keepers of the
tribe's Ojibwe language and culture.
"Tobacco is kind of like getting on the cell phone to the Creator," said pipe
carrier Robert Shimek, explaining the plant's role in expediting prayers.
Elsewhere around the northern Minnesota reservation, volunteer counselors
from the outside world were helping grief-stricken residents cope with the
tragedy. But in Ponemah, tribal elders, inspired by a session of ceremonial
drumming, decided to offer their own version of grief counseling Thursday to youths
still reeling from the 10 lives lost at Red Lake on March 21.
In a ceremony believed to be the first of its kind on the reservation,
spiritual leader Larry Stillday and three other elders brought in pipes, eagle
feathers, shells, tobacco, herbs and beaded cloths to Ponemah's small health
center. Then they invited students and their families to come in, talk about the
tragedy and offer prayers in traditional ways.
The result was part 21st-century rap session, part ancient ritual.
"The spirits were here and they were helping everybody out," said Elbert
White Jr., 21, who went to Red Lake High School before finding a job in a nearby
town.
"Happy. I felt happy finally after coming here," said Taria Aubid, 17.
The ceremony got underway as Shimek lit the sage and cedar, whose smoke is
used to purify places and people. Drawing out a large eagle-feather fan from a
duffel bag, he pushed smoke around the room and then brought the shell up to
each person.
Kara Stillday and her 17-year-old sister, Tyann Stillday, knew what to do.
The teens leaned toward the shell, inhaled and cupped their hands to pull the
smoke to them and up over their heads.
Each eagerly reached out their hands when Larry Stillday walked by, handing
out tobacco from a blue tin.
Stillday, Shimek and elders Eugene Stillday and Jerry Kingbear began smoking
their long, wooden traditional pipes and thanked the youth and their families
for coming, using the Ojibwe word for thank you, "Miigwetch."
Embracing heritage
Together, the elders would speak with the teens and their parents for nearly
two hours in Ojibwe and English.
"The Creator did not give us an understanding for why this happened. He
instructed us that this is part of life," Eugene Stillday said. "Let us help one
another not get stuck in anger. Let us help each other walk through this process
of grieving."
While few teens on the reservation are fluent in Ojibwe, the ones at the
ceremony understood the men's emotions and their message.
"They're here to help us, to be there for us," said White.
Aubid said it was the best she'd felt since the shooting.
Tears welled up around the room as Kingbear broke away from his pipe briefly
to address the group.
"I feel like it is too soon to say something. They just buried my
granddaughter yesterday," he said, referring to Chanelle Rosebear, one of the students
who died at the school.
Larry Stillday said elders are working to encourage kids to learn the Ojibwe
language and traditions. They hope to connect kids with ancient practices that
not only help them grieve but also inspire a lifelong embrace of their
heritage.
Many elders believe that the fading of those traditions may have played a
role in the violence that took place at the school.
Elders such as the Stilldays may also help kids get back to school in other
ways. Before school reopens, purification rituals will be needed, Larry
Stillday said. In addition, elders may go into the school to deal with the negative
energy thought to be lingering there.
Although many teens were too shy to say much in front of the group, after the
ceremony many surrounded the elders with questions and comments.
"I didn't know what to expect," White said. "I was kind of shy and didn't say
anything. But next time I will."
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Last updated on April 04, 2005