Wewa speaks of native tradition

"Never forget that our whole life is a process of learning," said Wilson Wewa, Jr., to a packed room at Sisters High School last week.

The widely respected Native American teacher, leader, and purveyor of native tradition brought his inimitable style and costumery to Sisters under the sponsorship of the Sisters Country Historical Society. The presentation was opened to the public, and the students were joined by a sizable contingent of members from the general community.

Although, at 58 years of age, Wewa is - by his own admission - a bit young to be considered an "elder," his status as such, both among his own people and the non-native public, is hardly in doubt. In fact, most of his life has been devoted to, and in preparation for, the leadership role he has assumed in the native world of today.

To the rapt attention of his audience, Wewa told of his formative years that were spent under the tutelage of his beloved grandmother, who lived to be 107 years old.

"I grew up in a one-room house with no plumbing. We learned hard work," he said. "Today, our people live in the modern day, but we still value tradition."

Without condemning the technology of the modern world, Wewa nevertheless decried the gadgets that distract today's native youth from the wonders of their own heritage.

"The young people walk around with their earplugs in and have no time for it," he said. "There is too much technological competition today. When I was young, we were limited to one hour of radio each day. The stories of the elders were our entertainment."

Because of this, Wewa sees that something is missing from the lives of native youth.

"That is why I'm writing a legend book from the Native American Northern Paiute perspective," he said.

He estimated that, of approximately 9,000 remaining Northern Paiutes, no more than about 200 are fluent in the traditional language. Somewhat sadly, he commented that the last fluent native speaker of the Wasco language died a year-and-a-half ago.

Now that his grandmother is gone, he conceded the value of the telephone because he can call older relatives in Nevada and elsewhere to converse in his native tongue in order to help his mind keep fresh in his native linguistic thought.

At the request of his listeners, Wewa sang one of his people's legend songs. The song, he explained, told the story of Fat Rabbit Girl: while she slept, ants came and stole her intestines; and that is why the jackrabbit is so skinny today.

He related other legends and told of how our local mountains were reputed to have once been people before they were all transformed into mountains in one sweeping moment. At the urging of the audience, he told a related legend of special interest to the residents of Sisters Country.

In this story, the mountain people who became Black Butte and Green Ridge were trekking to the convocation of mountain people. They were a married couple who were delayed because the wife, Black Butte, was carrying many baskets and things, so she was slower than the others.

Finally, she told her husband that she needed to stop for a bathroom break. So, the husband agreed to stop and decided to lie down for a rest while he waited. It turned out that that was the exact moment that the mountain people were transformed into their permanent form as mountains. The reclining husband became Green Ridge. The wife, in the midst of her potty break, became Black Butte; and that is why the Metolius River continues to run out from under her in perpetuity.

Even the Metolius name, Wewa said, is derived from native language and refers to the whitish, faded color of the spawned out, dying salmon that historically ran up the Metolius River from the ocean.

Wewa spoke of the traditional life and how much of it he was able to experience as a boy growing up. He recalled the summer encampments of his youth and sleeping under the stars.

"There was much more game when I was a boy," he told the audience. "We lived off deer and groundhogs. Great herds of deer; many more than now. But," he said, "we still go and hunt. We still go and fish. We still go and gather roots."

Gathering roots and natural remedies is still an important part of Wilson Wewa's life. In fact, he says, "I am one of the last persons who still dispenses the natural medicines."

Wewa also talked at length about the treaty history of the West and what would have been a very large Northern Paiute reservation near Burns. Due to the U.S. Civil War and the subsequent perfidy of Indian agents, the planned reservation never came to pass; the region's Northern Paiutes were consigned to the Warm Springs Reservation where they were expected to coexist with traditional tribal enemies.

He conceded that vestiges of tribal friction continue to exist, although he seemed to feel that, over time, the rivalries have mellowed and even become good-natured.

"As members live side by side and intermarry," he said, "tribal relations evolve."

When asked straight out about the real differences among the region's native people today, Wewa answered with a certain air of finality and pride.

"We are the same," he said.