By Cassady Rosenblum
The Lakota, Lanape, and many other native tribes were present at the Five Rivers Campground, in Parsons, for the third annual “We Are Still Here” Thunder in the Mountains Powwow. Native Americans from as nearby as Holly Meadows and as far away as Iowa honored their heritage through dancing and drumming, and invited spectators to learn about their culture. Buddy Aiken, who organized the event, said he was motivated to do so after local residents told him to “get the hell out of town” and made other racist remarks to him in Tucker County.
The powwow is also a way for him to reclaim part of his identity. Aiken said he did not know he was, in his words, “half Indian” until his mother told him on her deathbed. Afterwards, he began weaving baskets out of pine needles and beading in order to carry on her legacy. But even she did not know the full story. When Aiken’s mother was four, the government removed her from her Seneca and Shawnee family in Job, and placed her, like many indigenous children, into foster care. These forced family removals were part of the government’s policy of assimilation. It mostly worked. Neither Aiken’s mother nor Aiken ever knew their tribal language, and much of what Aiken has learned about being an Indian he says he has learned from various tribes in Delaware, which is where Aiken lived prior to returning to Tucker County six years ago. With these tribes, Aiken shares no blood bond, but does share deep friendship and brotherhood.
The depth of those relationships was on full display Saturday when Bruce Morris, of Delaware, paused to honor the memory of Bob Smith, who died last year. As Morris spoke, he recalled meeting Smith during one of the darkest moments in his life: when his wife was dying. It was Smith, Morris said, who delivered her hospice bed. Looking at Smith, Morris asked him, “Are you Indian?” But Smith, Morris said, was shy and wouldn’t answer. After some time, Smith eventually told Morris that he was. But “because of the white man, who has hurt so many people,” Smith’s parents never spoke of their true identity while Smith was growing up, and he had inherited their legacy of shame and silence.
That all changed after meeting Morris. Morris asked Smith to help him prepare Cub Scout lessons about some native traditions, and taught Smith how to dance. “When he danced at his first powwow, he was like a little kid who took his first step,” Morris recalled through tears.
As Morris danced alongside Smith’s widow, Cathy Smith, the spectators reacted with emotion. “We owe them a lot,” Jason Strotter of Jane Lew said. “They were here first. Their whole culture is based on nature and preserving nature. There is a lot we could learn.”
Kay Strickland, who had driven up from Charleston, said she had found the entire powwow “gorgeous,” and was horrified to learn that Aiken had founded it as a response to racism. “That is just stupid,” she said of Aiken’s harassers. “Haven’t they ever heard of Code Talkers? We wouldn’t have won the war without them.”
