Jessica Crabtree

This National Geographic news story caught my eye, since it resonates with a subject dear to my heart: modern technology vs. indigenous tradition.

It’s a little known fact that the desert oasis of Phoenix was built on an irrigation center constructed by the “millennial kingdom” of the Hohokam culture. Residents of today’s Phoenix, or San Diego, or Las Vegas can sit it climate-controlled homes and offices supplied with potable water diverted from entire river systems. But does the fact that our modern tech culture thrives on top of the remains of this and other hubs of ancient trade and infrastructure mean that our civilization is more advanced – or less vulnerable – than theirs? It’s a perennial question that is more pressing than ever now that we’re beginning to realize the serious sustainability issues faced by our own modern culture.

Will Modern Phoenix Outlast the Prehistoric Hohokam? by Sandra Postel

See also: Top Archaeological Discoveries of 2009: Ancient Irrigators of Tuscon

I just love this picture. And it’s in the public domain, if anyone else does too.

What do we mean when we say “American”? For some it conjures up patriotic feeling, for others a collage of apple pie, baseball, and pop music. Some may recall the grade school story of the Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci whose name was inadvertently tacked onto the “newly discovered” continent.

For tribal or indigenous peoples (as opposed to nationalities with a colonial past) their name is the essence of their being. It’s not just a label – it has a literal meaning that encompasses their collective history and culture. It has a unifying force beyond that of political motives because of its organic roots in a living current of community.

Because of misinterpretations and mistranslations, indigenous peoples in the Americas (and elsewhere) are often referred to in terms completely different from their real identity. For instance, the term “Sioux” is an old Ojibwe word meaning “snakes” used to refer to their traditional enemies. This expression was picked up by early explorers and traders and is still used interchangeably with “Lakota,” the national name of the Teton people. Lakota in their own language means “allies.”

Similarly, “Apache” was used by the Spanish to refer to the Dine (popularly known as the Apache and Navajo) based on the Zuni Pueblo word for “enemy.” The Navajo and Apache peoples have a shared history that is reflected in their common name, in much the same way as the names of the Nishnabe’k (Potowatomi) and Anishinaabe (Chippewa/Ojibwa/Cree) betray their common language and heritage. The Spanish word for village, or “Pueblo,” has come to apply to the many sovereign and distinct communities of the Southwest which include the Zuni (Ashiwi, “the people”) and the Acoma (Haaku, “the place that always was”).

In another interesting example, the Crow people have always known themselves as the “Eagle People” (or, in their language, Absaroke, “people of the great bird”). Europeans misconstrued this when they saw the huge crows feeding on carrion near the hunting camps. Since then, the real meaning of their national name has been obscured to most outsiders.

Here is a list of many well-known tribal and place names. Test your knowledge of which names are original, and which are not – and learn the meanings behind them.

AAA Native Arts: Original meanings of fifty tribal names

I was quite taken by this portrait of an Ojibway girl, done by Eastman Johnson (1824-1906). Charcoal on paper, 8×10. More from the collection:

Eastman Johnson: Paintings and Drawings of the Lake Superior Ojibwe

Even after a half-hearted winter, I find myself craving the first signs of springtime. The geese have long since passed overhead on their way north, and the first buds are appearing on the trees so I know I haven’t long to wait.

While spring in most temperate regions brings a welcome surge of color and excitement, you haven’t seen the best of it until you’ve seen the spectacular show of jacaranda trees. Reserved (sadly) for dwellers of mild tropical and Mediterranean climates, the blue jacaranda (sp. mimosifolia) planted en masse can leave you breathless with its intoxicating wash of blue to purple-pink flowers – as if nature wanted to make up for its scarcity of blue all at once! (Image: Onebigphoto.com)

A native of South America, the jacaranda tree was first introduced to Dutch South Africa in the 1800s as an ornamental, where it quickly became established as a prized flowering landscape specimen. Its value as a shade tree lies in its large, dense fern-like foliage that remains evergreen in most parts of the world.

Throughout tropical and Mediterranean climates, many cities have planted them in parks and other public spaces, and feature long dramatic avenues of jacarandas that have become a kind of urban signature. Pretoria, South Africa, for instance, is called “Jacaranda City” for the explosion of blue blooms it flaunts every spring.

Mature trees reach up to 50 feet, with profuse eruptions of pendulous lavender blooms that last up to two months. Jacaranda timber is highly valued and much sought after for musical instruments.

Although classified as a vulnerable species, it is often considered invasive in highly hospitable climates where it has been introduced as an ornamental – including South Africa, Australia, and Hawaii where wild jacarandas cover the landscape and compete with native flora. (Image: Treespecies.blogspot.com)

Lovers of purple in most of the northern hemisphere will have to settle for lilacs or hydrangeas for the next best effect (or a foray into Google Images for some of the stunning poetic images of jacaranda lanes around the world).

While the jacaranda often garners complaints because of the amount of litter it creates, it is a beloved landmark with a loyal following wherever it grows. After all, how could you not love a tree that looks like it leapt from the pages of a fairy tale?

LA Times: Despite mess, jacarandas are purple people pleasers

More on what makes the color purple “tick”: Hints of Color – Purple

This humble, inconspicuous little meadow flower doesn’t look like much – it’s a lot like a small plant that grows today in the Eurasian tundra. That is, except for the fact that it’s bloomed from a seed that’s been frozen since the last Ice Age.

Revived from the flesh of seeds found in prehistoric ground squirrel tunnels in the Siberian permafrost, it is the oldest plant ever to have been regenerated from dormant seed.

Image: National Geographic “32,000-Year-Old Plant Brought Back to Life—Oldest Yet”

This success has been hailed as a breakthrough in the understanding of seed preservation. For experts concerned with the storage of heritage seeds and endangered species (such as the Millennium Food Bank), being able to investigate the conditions under which viable seeds can be preserved can greatly expand our potential for saving the world’s plant diversity.

See also: NatGeo Special Feature “Food Ark“

I have to tell you about one of my favorite websites – this one is bound to interest the Rebecca’s Wild Farm fans among my readers.

Hotel Posada del Valle is a guesthouse with organic farm & gardens, located in the Picos of Spain’s northern coast. While I haven’t yet had the pleasure of visiting Asturias, it’s been fascinating to read about the development of this project by British couple Nigel & Joanne Burch, who bought and restored the property a number of years ago.

Using practical, sustainable methods of land management they have made their hardscrabble lot into an oasis of wildflower meadows, orchards, and vegetable gardens where they host travelers and tourists from all over the world. As a grower myself I can appreciate the incredible effort they make promoting renewable farm management, heritage seed & livestock varieties, and traditional practices of husbandry that have fallen by the wayside in favor of more convenient and “commercially viable” technology.

With a “work-in-progress” attitude, they’ve combined a lot of elbow grease with experienced local knowledge and a nature-first approach that respects the land and encourages renewable efforts in the community. A quick look at the results of their work give a fine example of just how rewarding and bountiful these methods are.

Their website offers some very excellent information about permaculture and sustainable farming, loaded with pictures and descriptions of their grounds and the practical concerns of maintaining them (and glimpses of the stunning coasts and mountains of Asturias). They also keep a great Blog which is updated often. Whether you’re a full-time farmer, a part-time gardener, or just a nature lover, please take a moment to look at their pages and share them with a friend.

Hotel Posada del Valle Asturias

Blogspot: Hotel Posada del Valle and its farm

Flickr: Photo Galleries

Last month I did a post about Frank Hopkins, the inspiration behind the movie Hidalgo, and the long-standing scuffle over the questionable evolution of his legend and lore. For all practical purposes, I’m treating the movie as a fictional work – and while I’m no Roger Ebert, I have a few thoughts on the historical side of the film and some interesting aspects of the production.

Image: Blu-Ray.com

First, some remarks on the way the movie approaches the Native theme. For a moment let’s overlook the casting of a Danish actor (Viggo Mortensen) in the main role; this may mesh well with the cowboy image, but was probably not the best or most obvious choice to represent a Lakota trying to pass for white. That aside, Mortensen does play a very compelling role (and more on his real-life horsemanship below). His character, as an army scout, has to deal with the trauma of (unknowningly) carrying the disarmament order to the Seventh Cavalry at Wounded Knee where he sees the escalation into a vicious massacre that destroys many of his own relations. (Image: University of Illinois)

One noteworthy point is how closely the film portrays the scene following the massacre – you can immediately recognize it from the actual photographs of the event, and you can tell that great care was taken to reconstruct the horrible scene.

Supposedly, it was this bracing scene that first sold Mortensen on the role. There is nothing romanticized about this event, or about the Wild West shows that Hopkins later joins as he tries to run from his past. While the real Hopkins never actually worked with “Buffalo Bill” Cody and Annie Oakley, his fictional counterpart gives the audience a glimpse of the degrading situation that the glamorous Western sideshows really were for their Indian stars. The “cowboys vs. Indians shoot em’ up” that used to be celebrated in old-time Westerns justly seems ludicrous and shameful as ignorant, bigoted audiences boo the Lakota chiefs who bear the farce with quiet dignity.

As the most famous of the Western tours, Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show helped introduce this twisted image to the world and set the stage for media portrayals of Indians for the next century. The irony was that Cody was himself sympathetic to the injustices against Native Americans, as well as a supporter of conservation efforts for Western icons such as the bison and the mustang. But he often found his intentions stifled by political and financial pressure – an angle that is well presented in Hidalgo.

I’d be remiss not to mention the uncanny match in casting him: good job, don’t you think?

To its credit, Hidalgo lacks many of the pervasive stereotypes that plague movies about Indians. The Lakota people portrayed in the film aren’t over-spiritualized, mystical tribal folks (the “medicine man” syndrome) or mindless “warrior types.” The main character has to deal with reconciling his two opposite identities (which was something very real to many Indians at the turn of the 20th century) and he is able to do so after an immersive experience in an outside culture that tests his physical and emotional limits and helps him realize his own strengths and sense of purpose.

There is a part in the movie where the daughter of the sheik (who spends his leisure reading Western dime novels) talks to Hopkins about North America’s counterpart horse culture, the Plains Indians. She asks him, “Have you seen their vanishing kind?” and he replies, “I am their vanishing kind,” confiding in her about his Lakota heritage. They compare their predicaments: hers as a free-spirited woman restricted by cultural convention, and his as a half-Lakota trying to pass for white in an Anglo-dominated society.

Yes, they used the “V-word” outright. But in their context, it makes sense, considering where she was getting her information, and the prevailing ideas of the time. While the “vanishing race” philosophy is largely a political mythology that developed in the European psyche, the future must have been uncertain for the Lakota and other Native peoples of that time. As we know today, the Lakota were not vanishing – but their way of life was. And it very well must have appeared that way to someone caught between the two worlds, witness to the horrors of the Wounded Knee massacre, and facing the extermination of the horses that were part of their cultural lifeline.

In the movie, after Hopkins and his mustang prove their mettle in the Arabian race, he uses the winnings to save Indian mustangs who had been rounded up and marked for slaughter. The systematic destruction of mustangs and Indian ponies was indeed rampant during that time. In the spirit of General Sheridan’s manifesto “Every buffalo killed is an Indian dead,” the killing of mustangs was tantamount to killing buffalo in the eyes of those bent on destroying Native culture in the West. Armed confrontations between Indians and the army were often followed up with mass-executions of the Indians’ ponies, as in the Battle of the Washita River where Custer oversaw the killing of over 800 Cheyenne ponies.

The film’s main gist is that, as horse enthusiasts everywhere can affirm, the love of a good horse transcends times and cultures. I think the real irony is that for all the Western romance conjured up around this legendary horseman Hopkins, it’s the actors in the movie (both human and equine) that give it its real-life substance. Watching Viggo Mortensen with a horse on screen is nothing short of pure bliss. His prowess on horseback is such that during filming he took on riding segments that even the stuntmen turned down, including the bareback race final. And when you see the chemistry between horse and rider, you can understand why the actor was so captivated with his co-star that he actually bought the horse when production was over. (This is not the first time he’s done it, either; he also bought his starring rides from Lord of the Rings after bonding with them on set.) There are a number of great interviews telling how amazing it was to work with the paint stallion (named “TJ”) and his main stunt double, Oscar, on the film set.

“I had no intention of buying a horse off of this movie. But with T.J. he was…I don’t know, I just got to really, really like him. He’s got such a unique, strong personality. He’s a small horse, but very intelligent, very quick learner, for a stallion very relaxed on the set. He wasn’t afraid or worried about the lights, camera, or anything. He was totally calm…

It was not just Mortensen’s real-life love of horses that attracted him to the role. With a long-standing interest in Lakota culture, Mortensen spent time learning the Lakota language from elders on Pine Ridge prior to filming. He points to this pivotal period in US history where national identity evolved at the expense of massive cultural destruction.

In Hidalgo, this story is shown from the point of view of the underdog – a single person who rises above the distortions of prejudice and becomes a hero by defeating his own demons, and disproving those who disdain his horse’s (and by extension his own) mixed heritage. “Any ordeal for a time clears and purifies your vision of yourself and how you fit in or don’t fit into the world. Ordeals are what make sense of life for you and teach you things. Those are the kinds of movies, at least as an audience member, that I’m drawn to,” he said in an interview.

In this respect, the new twist on the cowboy hero is a welcome change. “You see the cowboy archetype in samurai culture, in Lakota/Native American culture, in the Maori indigenous culture of New Zealand—it’s universal… A lot of things that are expanded on or added to it are metaphor, helpful in highlighting certain values and certain ideas. I think that’s the purpose that myth serves… Our identity as a nation is largely based on myth, on storytelling, making up stories, exaggerating the accomplishments of extraordinary individuals.”

This is very true, as in the case of Buffalo Bill – one of America’s Western legends – whose inflated exploits run a close second to that of the controversial Frank Hopkins. And yet, being the national symbol that he is, he has never been the object of so much hostile debate.

The real-life Hopkins made spurious claims of performing with the great Wild West Show; and when you think of him working alongside the Arabian show horses in Ringling’s circus, you can easily envision him being captivated with this looming Western icon, perhaps imagining a more glamorous career for himself. Then the idea begins germinating in his mind of the ultimate face-off between the exotic Arabian and the mustang, and once the idea is loose it becomes a canvas for the aspirations of so many others – i.e., a myth.

So, watch Hidalgo for the stunning horse flesh, and the incredible scenery. Then make your own call about how myths take shape, and legends – like the desert dunes – loom large, only to churn inwards and outwards again, changing with the forces around them.

Above: The starting lineup of Hidalgo and his Arabian competitors (plus one Andalusian).
(Thanks to Mediawood.net for a huge stock of screenshots.)

IGN Movies: The Lord of the Rings & Hidalgo star discusses horses, learning new languages, photography, and more

Viggo Mortensen on “Hidalgo”

After Aragorn: Interview by Jeffrey Overstreet

American Paint Horse Association: Hidalgo

See also:

Hidalgo, Part 1 – An introduction to the movie and the Frank Hopkins controversy