Pow Wow

In my endless attempt to do something other than play on the computer, watch yet another episode of Charmed or Law & Order, gain weight, or read a Harry Potter book for the second time, I was pretty excited when the annual pow wow was coming up here at the university. There is a fairly significant Native American population here on campus (as well as the state), and I have always liked that they are so much more prominent and integrated than what I experienced growing up in Arizona. Despite the fact I lived most of my childhood directly across from the Pima Indian reservation (separated by a two-lane highway), and every school in the city had a Native American name (Navajo, Mohave, Pima, Yavapi, Hopi, etc.), and you know, it's ARIZONA and all, I rarely interacted at all with another Native American, let alone even SAW them.

The reservation was a vast wasteland, a remote world, where as teenagers we went to "safely" learn how to drive, as we kicked up clouds of dust in Alishia's ginormous green tank (a 1970-something cadillac with a trunk that could comfortably hold four bodies) over the empty, gravely roads. The scenery was a sad one of dilapidated shacks, starving stray dogs, broken down cars, and stumbling tumbleweeds. Things changed dramatically years later as the mega casinos were built, and beautiful homes and new cars started to dot the reservation, but it didn't change integration at all, except for the fact that my grandparents knew the name of every floorwalker in the bingo hall. I never knew of any Native Americans in my school, which now I find strange, and a bit sad.

I love going to cultural stuff, and really miss the dozen or so cultural festivals held in Milwaukee every summer. I love eating the food, listening to (most of) the bands -- Irish music is a bit more fun to listen to than German -- and of course, shopping for cultural "fare." As a child, my grandmother had taken me to a few pow wows, but I wasn't interested. Just like the locally-held rodeos, they always seemed to be on the hottest days and drag on and on and on. If I was very lucky, my gram would buy me a roach clip (*cough* for my hair), decorated with fluffy feathers, leather, and beads.

So, we went. Well actually, I went first since Beau had some work on campus to do. It was held in the indoor center, and as soon as you entered you could hear, and feel the fast and steady thump thump thump of drums and loud songs being sung. Walking into the mail hall, the floor was a mass of beautiful dancers - who were a whir of bright colors, flapping feathers, and jingling bells. It was quite a sight and I really enjoyed watching it.

I have to admit to a couple of disappointments though. I mean, it wouldn't be a blog if I didn't. First of all, besides a smattering of tents selling jewelery and paintings (some GORGEOUS paintings), there wasn't much in the ways of cultural wares. In addition, there were no demonstrations, no booths of information, interactive kid stuff, and I couldn't find the raffle I held a pre-bought ticket for. I was super excited to have some Indian fry bread, one of my favorite foods ever, but they must make it differently here in Montana. Instead of the wide, deep-fried, smooshy, deep-dish-pizza-sized dough that covers your entire plate, I was given a squat, dark, dense piece of breadish-dough that did not have the waist-expanding goodness. Le sigh.

Lastly, where the fuck were all the white people??? (And I say this since Montana is like 99.99% white). To me, cultural festivals have always been a chance not just for that particular culture or ethnicity to join together, but also for everyone else to come check them out, discover their traditions, dance to the quirky music, sample their food, etc. Within minutes of entering, I began to feel like I was in that Sesame Street skit, "One of these kids is doing his own thing...." I started to feel slightly self-conscious, and then feeling ashamed for being so racially-aware, tried to NOT think of such a thing, which doesn't always work so well. The only other white people I saw the entire time I was there was Beau who showed up later, and a friend of mine from work who had stopped over. Oh yeah, and the teeny-boppers running the refreshment stand. I thought a festival of this sort, where Native American culture seems so prominent, would have been well-attended by many people in the community. I guess not.

Of course, all was not a loss. The dancing was fun to watch, and Beau and I went far up into the stands for a nice view. And I got a cute-as-a-speckled-pup photograph of this little sweety above. I asked her politely if I could take her picture. At first, she looked alarmed, and I felt a moment of panic (are her parents going to think I'm a creep?), but just a few seconds later she completely relaxed and hammed it up for me as you see above. Awww. :)