Reznet

Powwow Dreams

By Andi Murphy

[EDITOR'S NOTE: To view the above slideshow of Gathering of Nations photos by Andi Murphy, click on a photo to enlarge it; click enlarged photo to view all photos.]

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M.—Thousands of people from hundreds of tribes and cities gathered to see the tradition, culture and clothing at one of the biggest powwows in the world, the Gathering of Nations.

Being that it was my first time at The Pit in Albuquerque, not to mention my first time at any powwow period, I felt almost dizzy when I looked over the edge of the stadium's railing at the sea of brown faces.

I had never seen so many feathers that didn't belong to birds. I had never seen so many braids, mohawks, bells, ribbons, fringes, animal furs, beads or moccasins in one place.

I took about 50 pictures of the Grand Entry alone until I realized there were still hours of this beauty left. It was the clothing that intrigued me the most. Some dancers donned very traditional outfits of leather, shells, beads and furs. Some had a clash of traditional and more modern materials.

I began to tell the difference between all the dancers as they danced to the beat of six or seven different drum groups, all with different styles of singing.

The men's fancy dance bustles were twice the size of everybody else's, with so many feathers and hundreds of fringes. The jingle dress dancers wore dresses with dozens of silver cones sewn onto them, with the grass dancers and traditional dancers wearing a more traditional dress of less flashy materials. The women's fancy shawl dancers wore high beaded moccasins and intricately embroidered shawls with long fringes.

In taking a closer look at what the dancers were wearing, I saw symbols in the paintings, beads, jewelry and embroidery.

"It all has meaning," said Wayne Wilson, a Navajo dancer. He is of the Bít’ahnii (Folded Arms People) and Tό’aheedliinii (Two Waters Running Together) clans, which makes him my Chei (grandfather), he said.

He wore an otter-skin hat because the otter brings good medicine. An otter is playful and joyous; it washes itself and its food because it's clean, he said.

He held a stick wrapped in blue and red with eagle feathers dangling from it. His dance stick represents hot and cold, man and woman, the balance of the universe, he said. The feathers represent the troubles in his life and the world.

HIs shield was painted with stars and a moon, and it dotted with rain; it all had meaning to him, he said. The new moon represented the present and a new day; the rain stood for cleansing and the stars for the universe.

"It's all linked, everything in the universe," Wilson said.

"So how do you feel when you dance?" I asked.

"Spiritual," he said.

Prayer and medicine are combined, and it all makes for a spiritual movement, he said.

"It humbles me," said Sharon Brokeshoulder, a Southern Ute and Southern Cloth dancer. "I like dancing."

Brokeshoulder wore an ankle-length dress embroidered in what looked like green vines and red flowers. The design is specific to her tribe, she said. She also explained that all other tribes have a different design. The eagle feathers from her fan were given to her. They are held in high regard and are inherited and passed down for new generations of dancers, she said.

Hundreds of dancers were in their Native outfits. Each was unique because everything the dancers wore depended on what they wanted to wear and represent.

My eyes were dazzled for 10 hours until I was too tired to take pictures or go outside to buy a lemonade. With a camera full of pictures and an empty wallet I dragged myself back to Las Vegas, N.M., about 125 miles northeast. I had "powwow dreams." The people and the beauty of Native America will never fail to take my breath away.

Andi Murphy, Navajo, is a student at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces. A graduate of the Freedom Forum's 2007 American Indian Journalism Institute, Murphy interned as a reporter at The Daily Times in Farmington, N.M., and, last summer, at the Great Falls Tribune in Montana.