Bridging generations

Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde
keep culture alive by instilling
a sense of ownership in youth

Story and photos by Amber Mees

Amber Mees / Photographer

After a canoe ride around Coos Bay, Ore., Jeff Martinez (left), Kyoni Mercier and Isabel Atanacio from The Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde and The Coquille Indian Tribe work together, softening cedar strips by beating them to be woven into wreaths, which will be placed on the ends of the canoes.

Thwack,
thwack,
thwack.

Bobby Mercier and Jeff Martinez pound long thin strips of cedar until it softens into workable rope they can weave. The strips lie across tree stumps, positioned in place for another thump by Mercier and Martinez.

“Take the strips and stretch them out to line them up,” Mercier instructs. “Then we will braid them.”

They work quietly, braiding the soft cedar into wreaths that will be placed on the canoe they named Sstankaya, “the coyote.” According to tribal myths, their creator sent the coyote to earth to make positive changes before he created the tribe. Hours earlier, The Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde and The Coquille Indian Tribe youth rowed around Coos Bay, ending their journey by crowning the canoes with their wreaths.

Bobby Mercier, language specialist of the Grand Ronde, and Travis Mercier, the tribe’s cultural specialist, have worked closely with the Grand Ronde youth for months, working to bring the tribe’s heritage back to the young.

Their program is part of the tribe’s ongoing effort to sustain its culture, improve the well-being of its members and create economic prosperity, largely through the use of casino revenues and employment.

“Grand Ronde has lost a lot of its history,” says Travis Mercier, “and the kids are going to bring it back to us.”

The Canoe Club Cultural Exchange brought the tribe’s youth together for a day of canoeing, ceremony and unity.

Amber Mees / Photographer

Mary Lopez leads a ceremonial paddle dance, one of the traditional songs and dances passed down to the Grande Ronde by their elders.

“If we can get them past puberty, they have a better chance retaining the Chinuk-wawa language,” explains Tony Johnson, cultural education specialist for the Grand Ronde. Johnson is part of the tribe’s language immersion program for the reservation’s pre-school and Willamina Middle School’s curriculum. The program is designed to teach the Chinuk-wawa language to youth at an early age so that they can begin the journey of rediscovering their culture.

Inside the plankhouse of the Coquille tribe, the smell of smoked cedar circulates through the ceiling fans, making the air smell like a sauna. The room is softly lit; the only illumination comes from circular fluorescent lights suspended from the vaulted 100-foot Douglas-fir ceiling. In the center of the room stands a banquet table of pizza, fried chicken and soda.

Young people talking on cell phones joke with one another and gossip. Some send text messages at warp speed, eyes glued to their cell phone screen. Their clothes are stylish — Adidas, Nikes, flip-flops, baggy pants and hoodies — but are mixed with tribal T-shirts. Tattooed arms are more the rule than the exception. The kids swarm around the table, filling their plates. The food quickly disappears.

Once the meal is finished, Bobby and Travis Mercier and many of the kids quietly leave the room to prepare for the dance ceremony. Within minutes the ceremony begins as the kids return to the center of the room. They weave figure eights around the gas-burning fire pits. Drums beat heavily in rhythm with a heartbeat, and words spoken in the Chinuk- wawa language tell a story to the audience. The dugout dwelling’s acoustics amplify the sounds, bringing the ceremony to a climactic moment that demands attention. Some extend their arms to proudly display shawls with Sstankaya sewn on them.

Events like this used to be less common. In 1983, with only 862 tribe members, the Grand Ronde Tribal Council began writing a constitution. A year later, the tribe was able to account for 1,156 members.

In 1988, President Ronald Reagan signed the Grand Ronde Reservation Act, returning 9,811 acres of land in Oregon’s Northern Coast Range of mountains to the Grand Ronde tribe. Within this acreage was revenue-generating timber that helped support health care, education and housing costs.

Amber Mees / Photographer

Couples try their luck at some of the 2,000 slot machines offered at Spirit Mountain Casino.

By 1991, the Grand Ronde leaadership was aware of 2,800 members. Programs that benefitted the whole tribe now needed more money, but cutting down trees led to concern for the environment. That, coupled with the threat of unemployment and area mills closing, pushed the Grand Ronde to look elsewhere for financial stability. Gaming became the answer.

Spirit Mountain Casino opened its doors in 1995 and allowed the tribe to eventually become self-sufficient. The revenue generated by the casino financed the construction of a governance building that housed executive offices, public affairs, legal services and court. It also paid for a complete health service center that included dentistis, optometrists, a pharmacy, family services, and urgent care.

The financial success of the tribe’s Spirit Mountain Casino also allows it to support the canoe exchange program and other cultural opportunities.

But the economic impact of the casino is not limited to the reservation. Spirit Mountain Casino purchases $23 million in services and products from local businesses, and the casino employs 1,600 full-time workers, the majority of whom are non-tribal employees. The Grand Ronde established a community fund that offers grants to various charities in the state of Oregon, and since the fund was established in 1997, the Grand Ronde has donated $40 million in support of education, health, arts and culture, and environmental protection.

Reintroducing a traditional Native American culture into the modern world is a lengthy and often challenging process. Each year, tribe members travel nearly 3,000 miles to New York City to view Tomanowos, whom the tribe believes was a sky person who fell to Earth as a meteorite. Tomanowos was discovered in the Willamette Valley in 1902 and is now displayed at the American Museum of Natural History.

Grand Ronde’s grant from the Administration for Native Americans’ Social and Economic Development Strategies program is the first step in bringing home pieces of heritage and family heirlooms. The grant produced the gallery exhibiting a collection of artifacts that will be showcased online. A research library and the Grand Ronde Museum and Culture Center are also in the works.

Amber Mees / Photographer

Spirit Mountain Casino sits along Highway 18, about 30 miles west of Salem, and is the biggest tourist attraction in Oregon.

To enhance the financial success of their casino, the tribe plans to build a 135,196 square-foot entertainment section. The tribe will also contribute a portion of the estimated $60.5 million needed to expand the Salmon River highway, a main route between Portland and the Oregon Coast, because more tourists are using it to reach the casino.

“Existing and future congestion and safety are the principal reasons,” says Joe Harwood, Public Information Officer for the Oregon Department of Transportation. “The tribe and the state will be sharing the costs of improvements. The tribe’s financial obligation is the result of a compact between the state of Oregon and the Grand Ronde that allows for gambling and the expansion of the gambling.”

But not everyone is pleased.

Willamina, Ore., is a small lumber town of 1,844 residents. Near Willamina, less than two miles from Spirit Mountain Casino, Fort Hill restaurant has sat next to Salmon River Highway for more than 20 years.

“We are going to lose business,” says Matthew Day, a waiter. “The main reason for that is the Spirit Mountain Casino. We had more business to begin with; we were the main attraction between here and Portland.”

While the casino has brought financial stability to the tribe, there is concern that an erosion of cultural roots and identity will follow.

Travis Mercier is working to prevent that.

“Since we’ve got this group together, the kids, you can tell they are finally getting to the point where they are seeking their ancestors’ heritage,” he said.