Yesterday, I observed Sioux warriors and veterans of the US armed forces standing and praying before the blockade near Oceti Camp, a drone hovering feet above their heads. I learned before I arrived to be comfortable with not knowing. Being unsure whether the drone was weaponized, DAPL surveillance or owned by people at the camp was beyond unnerving. I’m still uncertain. So I honored the veterans. And I contemplated my own ancestors.
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My great, great grandfather
Norwood Penrose Hallowell, a Quaker, was an officer with all-Black regiments in the Civil War. His son taught his children about animal totems. My great, great aunt's family became the Turtles; My grandfather, and by extension, me, the Bears. Though his son served in the US Navy, neither Grandpa Bear nor his son were spared by McCarthyism. My uncle served prison time when he
pleaded the first amendment, for he maintained that he could not incriminate himself for speech and associations that were anything but criminal.
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My mother was the fifth child and just as her family became the Hounds when she married my father, I found my own family's totem when I married my wife Ayala, which is Hebrew for Gazelle. As I reflect on my ancestors, I cannot help but think of the third Gazelle, my first child Gavriella. She left this earth nearly four years ago at the age of four. I often wonder what totem Gavi would have chosen. Thankfully, I have been uplifted in this moment of grief and exhilaration by the practitioners with whom I am trying to make myself useful.
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I heard some wisdom yesterday at the sacred fire. I heard, "People say children are our future. The children are our present too."
For me, there is more. Your own child should not be an ancestor, but Gavriella is mine. She utterly changed my family’s life and taught me so much. She is still very much with me, with Ayala and with our first son, Yadid Rafa, Hebrew for Blessed Healer. They both longed to come here with me. While I am here, I send healing thoughts to my youngest Reuben, who is suffering from the Coxsackie virus, and love to them all.
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Children teach us and transform us. Each one is our past, for this Earth changed the moment they came to us; Our present, for their needs, their existence cannot be neglected; And our future, as the transformation never ends.
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During the Veteran’s Day March, a man whose name I never caught, dubbed me He Whose Horse Faces West, because I carried the Hobby Horse Yadid sent with me to give to the School at the camp. I inquired what a horse looking west sees.
“The future."
The horse must have faced South as I watched the Veterans’ prayers on the near end of the blockaded bridge; North as I watched an eagle fly along the Missouri from the DAPL site to above Oceti Camp; and East as I returned to camp for a day of learning and labor. And to give the school Yadid’s gift.
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My cousin Nicole is a doctor and a gifted musician who hopes to be here before too long. She celebrated her marriage this year to a remarkable man, himself a veteran, an artist and a peace activist. They chose as their totem the Blue Herons. Nicole recorded a song that the Bears have sung for years, The Grey Funnel Line. After a long and inspirational day of work at Oceti camp, this song came to me while I soaked in clear, warm water. This song, about a melancholy sailor in the British Royal Navy, sounded like it was about a slave ship, in her haunting rendition.
Something connected for me, and I wrote this adaptation, dedicated to Standing Rock, these people here, those allies that long to be here, and the hope that we will someday overcome.
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The Black Serpent Line, adapted by Oliver Bassett
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Don't mind the cold, or the northwest breeze
The weary nights never worry me
But the highest price the protectors pay
Is to watch this snake grow night and day
It's one more day across the Black Serpent Line
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Guns and drones, brutality
Another prison, our hearts are free
But give us wings, eagle and dove
And we'd fly above them for this Earth we love
It's one more day across the Black Serpent Line
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Oh Lord if dreams were only real
We'd lay our hands on that serpent's tail
And together, we'd shut it down
And sing high praise to sacred ground
It's one more day across the Black Serpent Line
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We'll rise again like we all must do
Until red waters turn to blue
Then we'll dance on down that river shore
And work for justice forevermore
It's one more day across the Black Serpent Line