Remembering the Forgotten

Graves of Ypsilanti’s Native

Peoples

Stephanie Absalom

I have killed the deer.

I have crushed the

grasshopper.

And the plants he feeds upon.

I have taken fish from the water.

And birds from the sky.

In my life I have needed death

So that my life can be.

When I die I must give life

To what has nourished me.

The earth receives my body

And gives it to the plants

And to the caterpillars

To the bird

And to the coyotes

Each in its own turn so that

The circle of life is never

broken.

-Unknown

Anthropologist Ruth Benedict offers the metaphor of a cup filled with

water to

symbolize culture as a whole. Each culture has a unique cup that has

been

divinely filled with the water of life, from which the people drink. The water

that fills the cup represents the rules and institutions of the culture. While

the

water may swish around inside the cup, the cup and its contents still

represents

the culture as a whole. However, once the cup is broken into pieces and

destroyed the water gushes out and the culture ceases to be. Of course,

the cup

can be patched like a dam and new water can be added, but the original

water

The Student

Center- Kiva

Room

The Kiva Room was built as memorial to

the Native American graves that were

supposedly found beneath the ground

the room is built upon. I collected sticks

from around the outside perimeter of the

student center and bound them together

with hemp to mimic the form of a sage

bundle. Sage is burnt by native peoples

to purify and heal both people and areas.

I left the “sage” outside the door of the

Kiva Room in hopes that the gesture

would purify and bring fortune to my

walking journey.

The trickling, dripping, flowing and rushing sounds of water embody the voices of the

dead.

Spectral images of the deceased emerge in the churning and constant disturbance of

moving

water. The Potawatomi Indians believed that before the Earth existed in its physical

form,

water inhabited the universe. After many spirit animals tried to create the Earth and

failed, a

small turtle dove deep into the water bringing up a small amount of dirt from the

depths.

The brave turtle drowned in the process of retrieving that bit of land. That dirt,

fertilized by

water was the seed that was built upon and transformed into the world. Water was a

sacred

womb. All of the four tribes that lived near present-day Ypsilanti had similar creation

myths

and felt that the Huron River was connected to the springs of life, but also to the

transformation to become reincorporated into the water that brought them life. Water

was

animated. The Potawatomi’s cup has been broken by white men. Most Potawatomi

people

have converted to Christianity, washing away their former pagan beliefs. The

ancestral

spirits of the dead are forgotten beneath a tomb of water, forever waiting to be

reunited

with a people that no longer believe they exist. The water of the Huron River is now

dead,

flooded with dirt and debri.

Frog Island and

Riverside Parks

The native peoples often buried their

dead along the Huron River. Artifacts

and human remains have been found in

the Frog Island and Riverside Parks that

run along the river. I decided to pay

tribute to the part of the creation myth

where land was created from a bit of dirt

and built upon until it became the Earth.

I collected rocks from Frog Island Park

that represent dirt and I stacked them

on top of each other.

As I walked I became part of the land and it a part of me. It is said that trees retain

energy

impressions from every occurrence that has happened in the area that they are

rooted.

Every event, however small is forever enshrined in the forest’s memory. If you listen

closely you can hear the narratives of the land and the trees. The collective memory

of the

forest is infinite, never ceasing, forever spiraling onward. Native Americans living

near

present-day Ypsilanti used the wooded land, now called the Water Street area, as a

place

for interment of their dead. The decay of bodily materials physically and spiritually

nurtured the land, perpetuating the relationship between life and death. Every soul

separated from its body inhabited an element in nature and became part of the

collective

droplets of moisture fall upon the warm skin of face, tears of past mourners. My feet

pound out the path set before me, upon unmarked graves I march, searching for

that

which I cannot see, the spirit of the land, the land of the dead…memories.

Water Street

Area

The graves of three Native American people were found in the early 1900s in the Water Street trail area. It is thought that there are more unmarked graves in this now remote area as well. I felt very connected to nature here and used this time during my walk to reflect on the idea of a collective memory contained within the land. For my memorial to this area I collected various sized sticks and placed them in the dirt creating a spiral pattern that represents the eternal memory of the forest.

Land is forever locked into a cycle of vacancy, use, and re-use. But is land ever

truly

vacant? I think not. The progression of time leaves remnants, monuments that exist

if you

desire to seek them out. What was forgotten by humans is internalized by the land

and

forever memorialized in nature’s memory. Look upon these ruins of the past not

with

mourning, but with an acknowledgement that time renders nothing static.

Crumbling

foundations spring from dirt mountains shaded by underbrush hugging the barren

earth.

Tiny sprouts turned brown by winter’s bite break through the fetters of concrete to

gaze

upon the light. Unearthed brittle bones are excavated then swallowed into the belly

of the

This was our land.

The land that the mountain needed

in order

To raise in majesty.

The land my people needed in order

To roam its secrets in reverence.

This land was the land

Of our great waters

The beating heart of nature flowing

through time

That we could not remember.

This was our land.

The land that provided everything

good for my people.

The land was always our land

And the sun set upon it

The rain washed it

And the fire was kind in its fury.

It was so for all time.

Then the land was taken from us.

It is your land.

Do you know how to speak to the land,

my brother?

Do you listen to what it tells you?

Can you keep its secrets to yourself?

Sell the land, my brother?

You might as well sell

The sun, the moon, the stars.

-Unknown

Intangible things, like the culture of a people, never die. While it is easy to imagine

that all

of the native peoples living near Ypsilanti died from European diseases or

immigrated

from here long ago taking their cultures with them, that is certainly not the case.

Yes, the

cultures of the individuals that survived a changing Ypsilanti changed as well, but

they did

not die. The legend of Shingebiss is a story told by the Chippewa tribe which

exemplifies

the strength of the underdog and the value of perseverance. In the story,

Shingebiss, a

resourceful duck lives in a lodge next to a lake unaffected by the cold winter

conditions.

Kabibona'kan, the winter-maker, does everything in his power to defeat Shingebiss,

but in

American cultures in the face of oppression by white men. Today the original inhabitants of

this land continue to practice their cultural customs and aim to teach others the ways of

their respective cultures. The Native Youth Alliance is a group of people with Native

American heritage that work to “ensure that traditional Native American cultural and

spiritual ways continue for the coming generations. Since its founding, NYA has maintained

ongoing programs which provide children and youth the opportunity to observe and

participate in the ceremonies, gatherings and culture practiced by members of their

families and Nations for generations.” EMU also has a Native American heritage club and

arranged to have Asiniis, a group of drum musicians, play during the dedication of the Kiva

Room.

DRUM CIRCLE: The Kiva Room, a round, 360-

degree

room patterned after those used in Native American

cultures, was dedicated during the grand opening of

the EMU Student Center Nov. 6. Those who

participated are (clockwise, from left), John Marcus,

an Ojibwe from Saulte Ste Marie Ontario; Lee

Blackbear, a Lakota from South Dakota; Shawn

Reckollet, an Odawa; and Jeff Gargoshian, an

Ojibwe.

Photo by Randy Masharka

http://www.emich.edu/focus_emu/110706/nscopening.html