Voices from Standing Rock
By Tegra Stone
Nuess & Mike Nuess
My chest tightened and my thoughts scurried on the
morning of November 26 as we pulled onto the highway on our two-day journey to
Standing Rock, North Dakota. Was this anxiety? I’m not usually an anxious person but I had no idea what to expect in the next week. Bad Sunday had just happened, when police shot people in the head with rubber
bullets, tear-gassed them and fired water cannons on folks in 20-degree
weather. Facebook was a stream of fear-inducing accounts about what was going
on. But the calling for my father Mike, our friend Noel and myself to go see
for ourselves and hopefully contribute was greater. We carried donated
grass-fed beef from the Lazy R Ranch, cash from several friends and a large bag
of winter coats—all stuffed into dad’s old Toyota Tercel.
As soon as we arrived at Oceti Sakowin Camp, my
anxiety lifted and the only feeling I had was excitement. ‘Welcome home!’ said
the greeter at the gate. We drove slowly down Flag Road into camp and were met
with smiles and waves. We set up our camp in the first winter blizzard and
began to wander. We soon came upon a truck rolling to a stop. A woman emerged
into the roaring snow, raised her arms to the sky and began whooping in obvious
joy. She grinned at us as we approached. “I’m back!” she sang into the wind.
Noel gave her a congratulatory hug and we celebrated the return of the Colville
Confederated Tribe’s Patty Sam Porter. It was only later that we learned of her
courageous 250-mile paddle from the headwaters of the
Missouri. And so we began an amazing week with 5000+ peaceful, prayerful and
wonderfully fun people.
The community of this incredible place is what struck me the most. I
hadn’t realized how much I missed this sense of camaraderie and connection in
my world. Here people take care of each other and consciously practice calling in instead of calling out when differences are
discovered. It felt like the way we’re supposed to live—hopefully it’s the
future of our world.
Most media
only shows 10% of what Standing Rock is about—police and contractors attacking
nonviolent protectors. That’s important, but “We’re Missing 90% of the Dakota Access Pipeline Story,” which
is a celebration of both uniqueness and unity among tribes,
cultures and races who respect our planetary home and are here to seek a
sustainable future for all. So dad and I decided to bring you personal
stories from a few of the many people we met during our brief stay, moments
people shared with us, whose stories spoke to us and we hope they speak to you,
too.
Magdelion
Moondrop’s Story
The
Compassionate Power of the Feminine.
Hailing from Colorado, Moondrop is a
quiet, young woman who is quick to smile and give you a hug. In her calm,
peaceful voice, she told me the story of the women-led, silent action on the
police-blockaded bridge on Sunday November 27th, seven days
after Bad Sunday. When she arrived at
the Oceti Sakowin Camp, she felt that many women shared her desire for a
women’s group. Having been a part of many women-focused circles before, she
helped call a meeting together of about 40 women, which grew to a daily
gathering. They created a safe place for women to share their stories, their
challenges and to discuss the goal of a women-led action to cross the Missouri
River.
Led by Cheryl Angel, Lyla June and Starhawk, three
powerful and unitive indigenous leaders, the group gathered on the morning of
the 27th to prepare their bodies and minds. Moondrop said the sweat
lodge that morning cleared their spirits as they cried and released, providing
room for strength and prayer. Then 100 or so women and men trained on how to
remain silent and signal to each other. Starhawk taught them to stay grounded
in their center and to do so by imagining what they stand for here. Moondrop
was amazed at how completely unmovable they became when they stood for what
they believe in. They drilled on their formation to protect the indigenous
leaders as they performed their ceremonies.
Then it was time, and the women silently formed into
a steam that would pass through the camps and onto the bridge. Moondrop said, “it
was so powerful to feel the men so willing to step back and support us and
stand behind us.” People silently joined them as they walked through both Rosebud
and Oceti camps and the stream of women became a river. They met resistance
from the council of young men who weren’t aware of what was happening, but
Cheryl Angel had approval from the grandma elder, and ‘the feminine walked
forth’, continuing. Another dam of male veterans resisted the woman again at
the bridge, but they looked them silently in the eyes and conveyed that it was
time to let the women lead, to trust them. LaDonna, the woman who started
Standing Rock’s opposition to DAPL, joined at this time and Moondrop knew they
were now unstoppable. The veterans acquiesced and helped by asking the Army
Corps if the women could come to the front and do a ceremony. With thousands of
people behind them in total silence, the elder women walked across the bridge
through the former war zone, through broken glass, shells, dried blood and
teargas-soaked clothing; to the edge of the razor wire where they knelt. They
offered forgiveness, wept for the atrocities, wept for their ancestors, prayed
for the hearts of the police, and begged for their compassion. “It was the most
beautiful moment of my life to witness these women being so vulnerable in the
face of armed guards with guns and tanks on the other side of a razor wire
fence and to witness them so open and humble and weak, but so strong in their
vulnerability. “It was like a radiative, thick blanket of peace washing over
everything,” Moondrop recounted. A police officer offered to safely guide the
elders down to the river to perform a water ceremony. It was the first time
anyone had been allowed on the other side of the river. Afterwards, the supporting
men back on the hill parted for the returning river of women who silently lead
everyone back to camp. Moondrop felt like it was the rise of a matriarchy and
the rise of women finding their voice and their power to create a peaceful
outcome here. She could feel everyone’s thankfulness as they reentered camp. As
she finished her story, I was struck by how much sense it makes to enact change
in this peaceful, compassionate and feminine way. When fear is released, walls
can come down and understanding can take place. I myself am extremely thankful
to these women for leading the charge.
Grandma
Diane’s Story
I’m doing this
for my Grandchildren...
Everyone knows Diane as Grandma. She
greets them with a big hug and she’s one of those women that feel like your own
grandmother as soon as you meet them. Every day she runs the California
Kitchen, creating delicious, healthy food for the camp. Her tribe, the Bishop
Paiute, along with the Lone Pine Paiute Tribe and the Big Pine Tribe (all from
Owens Valley near Bishop, CA) collaborated to set up one of several communal
kitchens. Her original kitchen tent grew to three large military tents
comprised of a dinning tent, a storage tent lined with shelves stacked high
with donated food and a cooking tent full of volunteers prepping every meal.
Diane loves to cook, and when back home she often cooks dinner for her large
family. She also caters tribal community events, serving 500-700 people. So
this is a perfect fit.
When I asked her why she came to Standing Rock, she
said there were two main reasons. The first is that they have been fighting
their own water battle with Los Angeles for years. The 1939 land exchange took
60,000 acres away from her tribe, taking all their water with it. The tribes
filed a lawsuit against LA in 1998 that still hasn’t been resolved. “Our tribe
is known as the water protectors. So when the cry went out, we knew we had to
come.” She hopes this will bring light to other tribes’ battles for land and
water around the country.
The second reason is that her heart was pulling her
here. She has 15 grandchildren and 5 great grandchildren and she wants them to
have a future with clean water to drink. When she was about 9 or 10 years old her
grandfather told her that there would be a cause that would bring all the
native peoples together, as well as the rest of the world, and we would have to
fight for something very important. As soon as she arrived at Standing Rock she
felt his whole spirit and knew he’d brought her here. She said, “I’m doing this
for my grandchildren and my future.” Thank you so much, Grandma.
Sylvia’s Story
How
Compassionate Solidarity Dissolved my Fear.
Sylvia is a white woman who came to stand in
solidarity with her indigenous sisters and brothers at Standing Rock, to help protect
Mother Earth. She was arrested and caged inside a chain linked ‘dog kennel’
with several other women. Her terror grew as she sat on the cold ground
thinking about what would come: degrading searches, trumped up felony charges, the
expensive logistics of long-distance court appearances.
Then a woman came and sat close, facing her. “I was
scared and she could see it. ‘You have to
go somewhere inside yourself,’ the woman said. Then she began to sing.” Sylvia
did not understand the words of the woman’s native song but she felt it begin
to soothe her. She felt all the women quietly, soothingly with her. She began to feel at ease. Everyone seemed to relax and feel
at ease. And then, just as the last note of the song faded, a loud voice
erupted from the speaker system, summoning her by name.
Suddenly all the women simultaneously reacted with
hoots of laughter. Sylvia arose and walked to her fate, at ease in some calm place
inside herself.
Wanda’s Story
How the Police
Blockade is Affecting Cannon Ball.
Wanda lives in the Cannon Ball district of the
Standing Rock Reservation. She cooks in the community center and is thankful
for all the donations of food and clothing that have come to their community
since the DAPL opposition began. However, the Army Corps’ closure of Highway
1806 has negatively impacted their town. 1806 is the fastest and most direct
route from the city of Bismarck south to Cannon Ball, which sits just a couple
miles south of the police-blockaded bridge and the Oceti Sakowin Camp.
On the night of November 28th, just as
the three-day blizzard started to hit, Wanda’s son had one of his bad seizures.
He fell outside the community center. Friends found him and hurried to protect
him from the 30 mile-an-hour gusts. The ambulance finally arrived and took him
to Sanford Hospital in Bismarck. Wanda followed in her car for a harrowing 3
hour, a trip that normally takes 45 min in normal weather on 1806. But the 1806
closure forced her to take the longer Highway 24-to-Highway 6 route in a
blizzard, at night with icy roads. “It was scary, but I had to get up there to
be with my son.” Whether or not it was deliberate, the roads weren’t plowed
until she got close to Bismarck.
She implores the police to please open 1806 because
the closure makes it hard for the people who live here. She was also concerned
for those who live in Bismarck and must travel the longer route for work. Her
son is now back home and doing well, but Wanda hopes the road will open soon,
for everyone’s safety.
Raymond’s
Story
“Our
ancestors make things happen.”
Raymond Kingfisher is an
easygoing, friendly and humorous person of the Northern Cheyenne Tribe in Montana
who now lives in Western Washington State. He is a regular speaker at camp
meetings who has a knack for addressing sensitive, serious and sacred issues
before a large group and then switching it up with a subtle comment that
restores laughter and lightness to a somber audience.
This was his third stay at
Standing Rock. He travels between stays to raise funds and collect supplies
for the water protectors here. This third time he pulled a canoe down the
Missouri with a Puyallup Canoe Family, together with The Colville Tribes, the
Coeur d’Alene Tribe and others as far away as Alaska. Their group of about 40
people pulled past the Sacred Stones—rocks ground round and polished by a
whirlpool that lies at the confluence of the Cannon Ball and Missouri Rivers.
At one point they were forced ashore in a massive, life-threatening (See
Patty Sam Porter’s Story) hailstorm and upon the land
of local North Dakotans, who sheltered them until the storm passed. They
finally arrived at Standing Rock, a long chain of canoes and dug outs roped together
end-to-end, where their group was received by song. But, laughed Raymond, their
greeters had to be told the custom was to receive each vessel with a
welcoming song. And then everyone laughed and several welcoming songs were sung
that day.
Raymond
worries about supplies being cut off or confiscated and suppliers being
ticketed, fined or arrested. “It’s my third time back bringing supplies. I’m
protecting water for not just native people but for people from all walks of
life, and for future generations. That’s why I’m here.”
_____________________________
Perhaps Robert F Kennedy
was right when he recently came here and said that this peaceful convergence at
Standing Rock “is kinda the spear tip of the
front line in the battle over the transition
from an old energy economy to a new energy economy. And we know that we have to
do that…. Today wind and solar are much cheaper…. so the only way the carbon
cronies can keep their domination of the marketplace is by constructing a lot
of infrastructure, so that …the people who invested…the Citibanks, the pension
funds…now have to see oil going through that pipeline for years…long after any
justification for oil is long gone.”
The water
protectors of Standing Rock know how foolish that locked-in investment would
be, how grievously it would harm not only water but also all of the exquisitely
interdependent ecological processes of Mother Earth. They know a clean,
sustainable and abundant future for all is possible, quickly available, and so urgently
necessary. May the spear tip shine brightly and swiftly pierce all our hearts.
