by Carmen Christy
The seeds of Wounded Knee, 1973, were planted many moons ago. For me, the seeds were planted in the 1850's when gold was discovered in California and with the legislation of the U.S. GOVERNMENT WHICH LEGISLATED OUR HOMES RIGHT OUT FROM UNDER US - with no consideration. Similar to the attitude that the dominant society - the ruling majority of American voters - has toward animals, forests, and the environment.
First was the Homestead Act, which brought the settlers. My tribe is the YOKAYO, which means "South end of the valley - near the Russian River. "Our Wounded Knee," which bears no name, happened sometime in the 1870's, with the slaughter of over one-half of our tribe here in this Ukiah Valley. The story was told to me by my Grandmother, who explained: "A Lake County Indian killed a white man, (probably Kelsey); as was the custom in such a situation, the soldiers and others came out for revenge - began killing any Indian who happened along." The calvary soldiers came over the hill to Ukiah in search of 'guilty' Indians; they found my ancestors camped along the Russian River and the slaughter began. When it was over, my tribe numbered 75."
This caused my ancestors to band together even more solidly. The Leadership held a meeting. Speeches were made about the uncertainty of our future based upon the whim of the White man. It was decided that our freedom to wander the Valley was now over and our choice was to be herded to Round Valley like most of the other Northern California Indians.
Under the leadership of Captain Lewis, Captain Bill, Captain Charley Pinto, and Captain Dick Ruddick the remnants of the Yokayo Tribe took up the dream to buy back a portion of the land that had been our birthright since time immemorial.
Through sacrifice and toil, the Yokayo Tribe began saving to buy the land we now own. Several gatherings were held and the blanket was laid out to collect donations from the members; no account was kept as to who donated what as it did not matter, for the land was to be a refuge for any of the tribal members that needed a home. By October, 1981, our Tribe received the deed to our land - in a time when it was unheard of for property to be conveyed to Indians.
So the seeds were planted in the genes of every living aboriginal today throughout the Americas, especially here in the United States, "the land of the free, the home of the brave."
Two weeks prior to the 1973 Wounded Knee takeover, AIM (The American Indian Movement) held it's annual convention at Cass Lake, Minnesota. AIM had been requested to support the Chippewa Tribe in upholding Treaty Rights guaranteed more than 100 years ago. The treaty promised the Chippewa exclusive fishing rights. The tribe was enforcing it's rights by blockading Cass Lake from the Annual Sports Fishermen fishing excursion. The National Guard was called out against us in support of the violation of the treaty. When gunfire broke out between the sports fishermen and the Indians, we, the women and children found ourselves in the middle of the camp with sticks to defend ourselves against bullets.
Because the women and children could have been killed, the AIM leadership had to check itself and question their activities. Our goal was not to create more martyrs; Lord knows, our history is full of martyrs.
Our goal was to support justice for communities, the downtrodden, the alcoholics, the incarcerated, to alleviate starving and sub-standard living in this land of plenty. We could not carry on a war with the U.S. Government; we made up only 1% of the population. And war is not the answer, so the song goes.
The AIM leadership divided on how to achieve our goals. How do we support native people in our struggle to survive as Native people? How do we rescue our people from the bogs of injustice, broken treaties, civil rights abuses? The list goes on and on and on.
At the close of the convention we were invited to join the AIM contingent which was going to Custer, South Dakota to support Sarah Bad Heart Bull in her quest for justice for her son, Wesley, who had been killed by a white man. Finding no justice in Custer, the "AIMsters" rioted - they had "stuffed it" too long.
I came back to California. Through the newspapers, I learned of the Wounded Knee takeover. I was saddened by this event but I wanted to support them as I knew where they were coming from. The story of the Pine Ridge Reservation is one of persecution by it's own Tribal Chair and Council. It is a story of corruption and oppression of Indians by Indians, a most unacceptable deal.
The stories coming back to us from Wounded Knee called for support as the U.S. Government was actually carrying on war with those involved with the Wounded Knee takeover. The hamlet was surrounded by tanks; the military was firing rounds of ammunition three feet from the ground 24 hours a day. Our California group needed people to collect donations of food, supplies, and money. We caravaned from California to Rapid City, South Dakota with the intent of going into Wounded Knee.
The night before going into Wounded Knee, we were told that each person had to carry 50 lbs. of food and supplies on our backs, crawling on our stomachs under barbed wire and constant firing of rounds three feet above us in the snow. I have to admit I was afraid for my life.
But feeling the spirit of the Apache, that it is better to die young and stand up for freedom than to die a prisoner in our own homeland, I decided to forge ahead. The night before we were to make the thirty mile journey we stayed in a house filled with many others who were also going. We were not treated like comrades but more like spys. We decided that we did not want to risk our lives this time. By this time we had been separated from the rest of our California contingent. We had one car and decided to support the effort by going back to California and doing what we could to offer support in other areas, i.e., awareness activities, marches, speeches, fundraising, lawyers for the defences, education of the American public on the grievances of the Invisible American Indian.
Looking back, what was accomplished? Is there justice for Indian people today? Leonard Peltier, an innocent man, is still being held for a murder he did not commit. Will there be justice for Bear Lincoln? Will Bear get a fair trial here in Mendocino County, the number one prejudiced County in California against Indians? AIM, the only organization that stood up for our treaty rights, was destroyed.
A long time ago, the tide did not come in or go out. The clams and the seaweed and the other good things to eat were hidden under the deep water. Because of this the people were often hungry. "This is not the way it should be," said Raven. Flying along the coast he came to the house of a very old woman who was the one who held the tide-line in her hand. As long as she held onto it the tide would stay high, Raven tricked the old woman saying, "Ah those clams were good to eat." "What clams?" said the old woman. Raven patted his stomach and said "Ah, it was so easy to pick them up that I have eaten as much as I can eat." "That can't be so," said the old women as she stood up. Raven pushed her so that she fell through the door, and as she fell he threw dust into her eyes so that she was blinded. She let go of the tide-line then and the tide rushed out, leaving all kinds of clams and crabs and other good things to eat exposed. All along the beach others were gathering the good food and thanking Raven for what he had done. He came back to the place where the old women still was. "Raven," she said, "I know it is you. Heal my eyes so that I can see again." "I will heal you," Raven said, "but only if you promise to let go of the tide line twice a day. The people cannot wait so long to gather food from the beaches." "I will do it," said the old woman. Then Raven washed out her eyes and she could see again. So it is that the tide comes in and goes out every day because Raven made the old woman let go of the tide-line.
Copyright Mendocino Environmental Center 1997
Permission granted to excerpt or use this article if source is cited