Probably used to store fruits and vegetables, this basket was made to hang on a hook on the wall (Hopkinton Historical Society). Wide-open spaces at the bottom of the basket would allow air to circulate facilitating the quick drying of food or other items placed in the basket (Hopkinton Historical Society). According to the Hopkinton Historical Society, there is a residue on the inside of the basket that may suggest something wet was hung to dry inside it (Hopkinton Historical Society). The strong handle would probably be able to support a heavy load. In addition, the edge of the basket is reinforced with a continuous splint in a spiral formation. The strength of the basket illustrates the skill with which baskets are made. Although the basket is utilitarian in nature, "red and black natural dyes were swabbed on the exterior of some of the splints and on the visible portion of the interior"(Hopkinton Historical Society). The visible black splints make a square checkerboard shape, which compliments the pattern of the plain colored splints. The black splints were dyed with natural dyes, which suggest the date of the basket to be from the late 1700s to mid 1800s (Hopkinton Historical Society).
But what analysis can be gained by looking at a basket? How much can a basket say? In her essay, "The Cultural Work of a Mohegan Painted Basket," Stephanie Fitzgerald writes, "Baskets, which were and still are ceremonial and utilitarian objects used for transportation and storage of items, prayer ceremonies, and traditional games, function as communicative devices. In sum, by touching every aspect of daily Native life, both past and present, basketry is imbued with cultural and spiritual power" (Fitzgerald 53). As an object needed for daily use, baskets have a direct connection to daily Native life. Because a basket is connected to the community, both now and in the past, through the basket making process and through its functional uses, baskets form a big part of Abenaki culture and tradition.
Non-native written documents are biased and looking at non-alphabetic texts can create a bigger picture and form a more complete version of history. In his article, "Oral Tradition as Complement," Gordon Day writes, "All through the period of discovery, exploration and colonization they caught only glimpses of the Indian's attitudes, motivations, and understanding of the situation, and they were obviously not in a position to observe many events which were witnessed by Indian observers" (Day). In other words, non-native texts cannot explain everything because there is much that was only seen through the Indian's perspectives. Additionally, non-native writers were often biased and could not understand the position of the Abenaki: "dialogue with indigenous records enable us to imagine a literary tradition routed in negotiation and dialogues - rather than simply conquest and colonial monologues as the foundation of American Literature" (Rasmussen 9). The possibility of "A literary tradition routed in negotiation and dialogues" is why baskets are included within this archive (9). They are witnesses to a larger picture of history. Furthermore, because the Abenaki are not federally recognized it is important to appreciate baskets as a form of documentation that proves the continuing presence of Abenaki people, culture and traditions. As part of the criteria for recognition includes “documentation of sustained unity and government,” baskets can only aid the goal (Lindholm).
The Abenaki are not federally recognized, however, four Abenaki bands, The Missisquoi, the Koasek, The Nulhegan, and Elnu tribes, have Vermont state recognition. This state recognition is important because of three reasons. First, it allows their artisans to sell items with the Native American made label, which lets the artisans sell their wares for a higher price. This enables many basketmakers to be financially independent through their craft. Second, it “allows members to apply for some federal programs including housing and education grants” (Lindholm). It opens the doors for the society to progress. Third, it provides a positive emphasis on their idea of identity. In other words, they no longer have to fight as hard to convince others of their identification as Abenaki: "Wabanaki Basketry can be used by Wabanaki people to assert tribal sovereignty and promote decolonization" (Neuman 100). Basketry also works as an outlet of communication between natives and non-natives (Neuman). It enables the dialogue started by looking at native texts to continue.
By focusing only on written works, a heavily non-native view is explored. Baskets add an additional piece of the puzzle to the Abenaki view of the world. Baskets such as this one prove that the Abenaki had and continue to have their own concrete culture.
Although this basket is utilitarian and not decorative as some of the fancy baskets in this archive, the “textuality” or literary worth of the basket is evident through its materials, its uses, and the careful process of basketmaking. This archive aims to be one of inclusion, not exclusion. By including both utilitarian and fancy baskets in context with their materials, the process of basketmaking, and the way that baskets continue to affect the Abenaki and other tribes today, a larger literary picture is formed.
Dawnland: Abenaki Creation Story. Youtube Video,n.d.
Fitzgerald, Stephanie. "The Cultural Work of a Mohegan Painted Basket." Early Native Literacies in New England. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008. 52-56. Print.
Lindholm, Jane. "Recognizing Vermont's Abenaki." Vermont Edition. Vermont Public Radio, 8 May 2012. Web. 13 July 2012.
McMullen, Ann. Key into the Language of Woodsplint Baskets. Institution for American Indian Studies, 1987. Print.
Mundell, Kathleen. North by Northeast: Wabanaki, Akwesasne Mohawk, and Tuscarora Traditional Arts. Tilbury House Publishers, 2008. Print.
Neuman, Lisa K. "Basketry as Economic Enterprise and Cultural Revitalization: The Case of the Wabanaki Tribes of Maine." Wicazo Sa Review. 25.2 (2010): 86-106.
Rasmussen, Birgit Brander. Queequeg’s Coffin: Indigenous Literacies and Early American Literature. Duke University Press Books, 2012. Print.
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This ash splint yarn basket, dating to 1760, is one of the earliest baskets in our online archive. It is also one of the earliest known Penacook baskets. The early date is notable because most baskets around today are of a later date. Part of the Hopkinton Historical Society collection, this basket once held a label that read, "Ball Basket for Knitting Work/ Date 1760" and indicates that the basket would have been used as a holding place for yarn (Hopkinton Historical Society). Additionally, a piece, meant to hold knitting needles, is missing. Splints of different sizes make up the rotund shape of the basket. Several splints are dyed black with a natural dye. Despite fading, red and yellow dye is evident on some of the splints. This basket boasts a friendship chain around the lid and at various points around its midsection (Hopkinton Historical Society). (The friendship chain is also present in another basket within this archive.) The basket boasts an equal mix of utilitarian purpose and aesthetic design. In other words, it fulfills both the functions of utility and decoration. This basket and others like it are a testament to the continuing presence of the Abenaki people long after they are said to have disappeared from New Hampshire. Much earlier than the popular fancy baskets of the late 1800s, the basket is a precursor that emphasizes the longstanding Abenaki tradition of basket making.
The early date of this basket indicates that the Abenaki adapted economically much sooner than the fancy basket period: “Beginning in the 1700s, making and selling baskets and other traditional art forms became a means of survival that still allowed for the freedom to continue traditional ways” (Mundell 25). Not only were they selling utilitarian baskets to farmers but were creating more specialized baskets to fill specific needs such as this particular basket for yarn. Most baskets do not have such an early date because baskets were utilitarian in purpose: they were not preserved.
The tradition of making baskets as well as the stories that accompany the process are just as important as the physical object itself. While the presence of the physical basket reminds the younger generation about their ancestors, the actual process forms a deeper connection because they are performing the same acts as their ancestors (Mundell). The time, effort, and talent needed in creating the baskets leave a lasting effect. Baskets are an important aspect of Abenaki culture that underscores the tribe's adaptability and survival.
For a long time, Abenaki people were hidden from mainstream vision and baskets such as this one help to reaffirm the continued presence of their culture and traditions. This basket emphasizes that the Abenaki people were not simply making baskets for profit. The designs and materials have a context that transforms this basket into a text that can be read. It expresses that while Abenaki basketmakers altered the specific types of baskets they made, they continued to express traditional and perhaps historical messages through their baskets. The functional aspect of baskets does not diminish its power of communication (Fitzgerald).
"Digital Collection: Abenaki Knitting Basket." Memorial Hall Museum Online. Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Association, 2008. Web. 30 May 2012.
Fitzgerald, Stephanie. "The Cultural Work of a Mohegan Painted Basket." Early Native Literacies in New England. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008. 52-56. Print.
Mundell, Kathleen. North by Northeast: Wabanaki, Akwesasne Mohawk, and Tuscarora Traditional Arts. Tilbury House Publishers, 2008. Print.
Rasmussen, Birgit Brander. Queequeg’s Coffin: Indigenous Literacies and Early American Literature. Duke University Press Books, 2012. Print.
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Jason Mancini, a senior researcher at the Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center, attributes the relative scarcity of Native medical remedies in the historical record to “fear, misunderstanding, and subsequent mischaracterization of Native beliefs,” as well as to the arrogance of European colonial physicians. He adds, “in spite of the fact that many North American plants became part of the Euro-American ‘medicine chest,’ Indians were seldom given credit for ‘discovering’ their uses.”
What prompted Occom to make this unusual record? Joanna Brooks says that the death of Occom’s father, Joshua, in 1743 “fully ushered Samson into his responsibilities as an adult member of his family, kinship network and tribe. These weighty new responsibilities and his sense of the imperilment of Mohegan territory generated in Occom ‘a great Inclination’ . . . to improve his reading and writing skills” (14). Meanwhile, English settlers brought diseases that proved disastrous to Native communities. According to Brooks, Occom developed a close relationship with a Montaukett man named Ocus, who taught him how to treat the eyestrain that plagued him during his study with Eleazar Wheelock. Ocus also shared over 50 additional herbal and root medicines useful for a wide range of ailments and purposes, from treating burns and digestive complaints to serving reproductive health and contraception. Perhaps Occom felt a record of these medicines should be left for survivors. After all, that is really what we learn from all of his writings—a constant sense of obligation or desire to regenerate the Mohegan tribe.
But the herbal diary is often cryptic. It appears Occom purposely avoids any issue concerning the science of growing, discovery, and the timeliness in gathering of the herbs. Perhaps the diary was a ruse to satisfy the colonists’ curiosity about medicinal cures from plants. Or perhaps he felt this knowledge was being effectively kept by Mohegan women who could read between the lines. In an email exchange in April of 2012, Melissa Tantaquideon Zobel, the current medicine woman and tribal historian, stated, “In Mohegan tradition women were the healers, which suggests gender issues may have come into play here in the denigration of indigenous medicine just as they did in old Europe.” Thus, in those places where Occom does not even name the herb or weed used in a specific cure, perhaps he was relying on the fact that the older generation instructed the young women which seed to plant for what, verbally transmitting their instructions for how medicine was to be prepared.
Samson Occom’s recording of these remedies marks the beginning of a Mohegan ethnobotanical literary tradition that continues to this day, from Medicine Woman Gladys Tantaquidgeon’s scholarly treatise to the historical writings and novels of her protégé and descendant, Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel. These writings blend both Mohegan and Euro-colonial traditions to preserve and promote indigenous knowledge.
The very fact that they are written, and written in English (Tantaquidgeon adds botanical Latin), is a shift in traditional Mohegan ways of imparting knowledge. Mohegan medicine people were and are thoroughly trained by elders, following them as they gather herbs and listening carefully to their knowledge. They would not necessarily need to write this knowledge down, and they might not even want to, because wild plant populations are vulnerable to over collection, misuse and (as Winona LaDuke explains) biopiracy. Tantaquidgeon frames her Mohegan pharmacopeia by cautioning, “pick only what you need and leave some in reserve. The Indian practiced conservation in its true meaning” (68-69).
Occom’s notebook therefore gives very few specifics. His entry (#29) for wintergreen, for example, calls of “wintergreen and another herbe.” He uses English standards of measurement (“3 quarts of water”), but doesn’t reveal other things: at what time does one pick wintergreen? When it is a sprout, fully grown or drying out? On this same remedy, Tantaquidgeon says simply that wintergreen tea is “a warming beverage and a kidney medicine” (72). These omissions urge those seeking cures to look towards more knowledgeable sources, like the tribes, for help. They are a way of protecting traditional ecological knowledge even while they document the value of the cures. In the time Occom was writing that value was also monetary. Occom says he paid Ocus “in all 27 York money” for the information.
This hybrid text connects readers to Mohegan herbal knowledge, but is also indicative of a more complex relationship, one with the utmost respect for the earth. In order for herbal medicine to be practiced successfully we must follow the ways of the Mohegans in order to sustain the land that serves us.
Brooks, Joanna, The Collected Writings of Samson Occom, Mohegan Edited by Joanna Brooks
Dartmouth University Archives, Rauner Special Collections Library
Fawcett, Melissa Jayne. The Lasting of the Mohegans: Part I, The Story of the Wolf People. Uncasville, CT: The Mohegan Tribe, 1995.
Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel. Medicine Trail: The Life and Lessons of Gladys Tantaquidgeon. University of Arizona Press, 2000.
LaDuke, Winona. “The Political Economy of Wild Rice.” Multinational Monitor 25, no. 4 (April 2004): 27–29.
Occom, Samson. The Collected Writings of Samson Occom, Mohegan: Literature and Leadership in Eighteenth-Century Native America. Edited by Joanna Brooks. Oxford University Press, USA, 2006.
Tantaquidgeon, Gladys. Folk Medicine of the Delaware and Related Algonkian Indians. Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission,1972.
]]>Rancourt was born and raised in west central Maine as part of the Abenaki Bear Clan, of which she is now an elder, though she currently lives in Hadley, New York(Archuleta 74; “Birthing the Drum” ; Birns 17). She not only has a Masters of Fine Arts in Poetry from Vermont College but also a Master of Science in Educational Psychology from University at Albany, SUNY (Erdrich). With her degrees and several abilities, Rancourt has coordinated Pow wows, and held workshops on several topics including drum making (“Birthing the Drum” ; Keyser). She has worked as a counselor for Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) in New York and has also worked as a parent education specialist for a Head Start Program in the northern part of New York (Rancourt 68; Erdrich). Among other things, Rancourt is also a singer/songwriter, a personal fitness trainer, a percussionist, an herbal educator, and a dance instructor (Erdrich) Rancourt is not afraid to try it all and to spread her knowledge to others.
Suzanne Rancourt’s work has appeared in numerous locations. It has been published in several literary journals including Callaloo and The Cimmaron Review, as well as many other anthologies (Rancourt “Poets & Writers”). Her most notable work is her collection of poetry calledBillboard in the Clouds, which won the Native Writer’s Circle of the Americas First Book Award in 2001, while some of her other pieces appear in The Journal of Military Experience Volume II.
The Journal of Military Experience contains prose, poetry, and artwork from veterans all across the United States. The goal of the journal is to express what it is truly like to serve and to “facilitat[e] a dialogue that can bridge the gap between civilians and those who serve” (The Journal of Military Experience). Rancourt published five different poems in this journal and while many of her other poems showcase stories of her life outside of the military, of her family, and of nature, the poems in this journal are packed with raw emotion all focused on her experiences in the military and army. Rancourt expresses the same intenseness that she does in her other poetry and remains true to her simplistic style for which she has been praised for (Birns 20). Her poems are rather short, but are packed with vivid images that speak of the aftermath of bombs, the tragedy of innocent deaths, and the confusion and exhaustion involved in serving.
I can remember my father bringing home spruce gum,
He worked in the woods and filled his pockets
with golden chunks of pitch.
For his children
he provided this special sacrament
and we’d gather at this feet, around his legs,
bumping his lunchbox, and his empty thermos rattled inside.
Our skin would stick to Daddy’s gluey clothing
and we’d smell like Mumma’s Pine Sol.
We had no money for store bought gum
but that’s all right.
The spruce gum
was so close to chewing amber
as though in our mouths we held the eyes of Coyote
and how many other children had fathers
that placed on their innocent, anxious tongue
the blood of tree?” (Rancourt 21)
This poem allows the reader so much access to Rancourt’s life as a child. It becomes apparent that Rancourt had a positive relationship with her father growing up. He provides this special gift to his kids and Rancourt questions “how many other children had fathers” who would do something like this for them. The act of getting this gum almost seems like a ritual for her and her siblings. They beg at the father’s feet and we get this textual image of Rancourt’s father’s sticky clothing that gives off a piney scent. It is this image that pulls the reader into the moment with little Suzanne Rancourt. It is very casually mentioned by Rancourt that they did not have money, but that it did not matter. She is not bothered by the fact that her family cannot afford gum like the other kids and she seems to relish in what she has. She makes a big deal about how the spruce gum connects her to nature, how it was like “chewing amber” and holding “the eyes of Coyote” in their mouths. Then she goes on to describe it again as “the blood of tree,” almost as if the pleasure of chewing this golden, delicious thing was a gift or sacrifice of nature; the sacrifice of a Coyote’s eye or the gift of the tree’s blood. Rancourt also paints her father as being very connected to nature by telling us that he works in the woods and this comes up in a few other poems, one in which she describes her father speaking to the sky.
It is through her poetry that Suzanne Rancourt stays so connected to her culture and to their relationship with nature. Suzanne wants to share with the world both where she comes from and where she has gone in life, all in the effort to keep alive the traditions, memories, and experiences that have defined her and her people.
Archuleta, Elizabeth. “Billboard In The Clouds.“ World Literature Today 80.3 (2006): 74. Academic Search Premier. Web. 21 Mar. 2013.
Birns, Nicholas. “The Other East Coast.” American Book Review 26.3 (2005): 17-20. Academic Search Premier. Web. 21 Mar. 2013.
“Birthing a Drum”. Heartbeat Collective. Web. Retrieved 4 April, 2013.
Erdrich, Heid E., and Laura Tohe. Sister Nations: Native American Women Writers on Community. St. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society, 2002. Print.
The Journal of Military Experience 2.2 (2012): Web.
Keyser, Tom. “Even in the heat, celebration: Native American heritage group holds powwow at sweltering Route 5S site.“ Times Union (Albany, NY) 18 July 2010:Newspaper Source. Web. 21 Mar. 2013.
Rancourt, Suzanne S. Billboard in the Clouds: Poems. Willimantic, CT: Curbstone, 2004. Print.
Rancourt, Suzanne. “Suzanne Rancourt.” Poets & Writers. Poets & Writers, 9 July 2012. Web.
]]>For generations of indigenous people, the art of basketry has been a primary source of economic survival and cultural preservation. Basket making is never a solitary process; from the gathering and preparation of materials, learning the many styles and techniques of basketry, to marketing and distribution, networks of people become involved and play crucial roles in their manufacturing. From traveling basket makers in Victorian times to present-day craftspeople showcasing their work in fairs and conventions, basketry continues to emphasize the importance of family life and oral tradition along with the relevance of non-text based communal literacy.
This particular basket is a small berry basket featuring a floral pattern, alternating horizontal bands of red and blue, and a series of diagonal dash marks next to every flower. According to Wabanaki basket expert Gaby Pelletier, berry baskets tended to be made quickly and efficiently so they could be used to hold fruits that would be sold along with their container. The patterns on the sides may have been created using potato stamps, a method of decorating that quickened the production of baskets for selling purposes and according to Pelletier is highly unusual for Abenaki baskets to have. This basket’s floral design may have been used to attract white clients to the berries being sold by evoking imagery from European art styles; however it could also be interpreted as being a symbol of nature, thus showing the ability of indigenous people to maintain their cultural identity while still appeasing white settlers. Small berry baskets such as this were also helpful in allowing children to pick fruit alongside their families and enabling them to observe cultural traditions and learn valuable life skills. Yet Pelletier also explains that the basket's handle is indicative of European influence, as its attachments are too delicate for the wear that it would have received during berry picking, perhaps suggesting that this basket may have been sold as a souvenir rather than used for utilitarian purposes.
Family life always has been and continues to be a key factor in the preservation of the basket making tradition among Native Americans of New England. In the film "Our Lives in Our Hands" by Harold Prins and Karen Carter, a documentary examining Mi'kmaq basketry, the majority of people interviewed described their family as playing a crucial role in how they acquired their basket making abilities. Several of the people interviewed described how they learned through watching relatives weaving for years, echoing the importance of a non-text based form of literacy. While both men and women take an equal part in the process of weaving, men were traditionally more likely to go out into the woods to cut down and pound the ash trees that baskets were typically made from. However, one man interviewed did mention that due to the decline in passing down traditions such as basket making (and language), he has started showing his daughters how to make the tools such as axes needed to make splints along with his son.
Once colonists began arriving in New England, baskets became a link between the native people and the Europeans. Lisa Neuman's article "Basketry as Economic Enterprise and Cultural Revitalization" explains the history of basketry as a non-threatening economic enterprise: "Beginning in the 1860s, Wabanaki families began to set up summer encampments in Maine's famed resort area of Bar Harbor, on Mt. Desert Island, primarily to sell baskets and crafts to tourists and the island's wealthy summer residents. At Bar Harbor, Wabanaki families would sell door to door and invite potential customers to visit their encampments, sometimes dressing in clothing that met tourists' romanticized expectations of Indianness to attract sales (Neuman 93)". This method of sales enabled Indigenous craftspeople to introduce European settlers to their way of life, allowing these colonists to lift the veil and see them not as stereotypes, but rather as another culture with similarities to their own. The essay "'A Precarious Living': Basket Making and Related Crafts Among New England Indians" by Nan Wolverton reaffirms the communal nature of basketry: "Like basket makers, chair bottomers traveled to the homes of their customers, and there they performed their craft, often telling stories simultaneously. By spending many hours within the family circles, these artisans often earned the respect and friendship of their customers through their work and their stories" (Wolverton 356-357). Maintaining repeat customers was very common among Native basket members, and in some instances this resulted in lifelong friendships between whites and Native Americans. This sort of traveling salesmanship can be seen as bridging the divide between Native peoples and the white societies they lived on the fringes of through the trust gained through their craftsmanship.
Today basket and craft fairs encourage communication between tribes as well as between native and non-native residents of New England. These fairs encourage non-native people to ask questions and learn through hearing directly from tribe members about their trade and culture. These conversations echo the early tenuous cross-cultural bridges made between Native people and the colonists whose homes they visited to demonstrate their craft and tell their stories in the 1800s. Annual craft fairs are also a way for members of the same tribe to get together and talk to one another face to face. These fairs provide an “opportunity to travel and spend time with relatives from around the region. Basket sales also provide people with the opportunity to promote cross-cultural awareness, and this can be intertribal as well as intercultural” (Neuman 97). The Mi'kmaq tribe also has a “Basket Bank”, a place where craftspeople making baskets can bring their work to sell for a fairer price than they might receive elsewhere, and in turn their baskets are resold as well as used for demonstrations or showcasing in museums. Websites such as the Maine Indian Basketmakers Alliance provide information about upcoming basket and craft fairs with links to websites for tribes in Maine, museums, and national basket associations as well as showcasing their mission statements: preservation of natural resources such as sweet grass for future generations, expanding markets, and maintaining and handing down traditions for younger generations and other tribes.
Calloway, Colin G., ed. Reinterpreting New England Indians and the Colonial Experience. 2003. Print.
Neuman, Lisa K. "Basketry as Economic Enterprise and Cultural Revitalization: The Case of the Wabanaki Tribes of Maine." Wicazo Sa Review. 25.2 (2010): 86-106. Print.
Dir. Prins, Harold, and Carter, Karen. Our Lives in Our Hands. Northeast Historic Film. DVD.
An unidentified fishing basket trap from the Mt. Kearsarge Indian Museum in Warner, NH, is likely an eel trap. Woven from wood splints, it stands nearly three feet high when stood on end. Museum staff is unsure of this basket’s exact date and place of origin, but Abenaki and other Native people in northeastern New England have long used trap baskets of this kind with their fishing weirs. Abenaki basket maker Bill Gould, who makes similar items, explains that a trap like this “is set up under water and weighed down with bait inside.”
Fishing weirs, sometimes constructed of stone, and sometimes of wooden stakes, work “to obstruct the passage of the fish in order to facilitate its capture, and impound the fish so that it cannot get away" (lutins). Weirs can capture fish traveling either upstream or downstream, usually during the spawning period, when they have the most fat. In a 1992 study of prehistoric fishing weirs in the northeast, allen lutins observes that “weirs and traps may be used independently, but their functions are often combined in a single structure when traps are used to collect the fish forced by the weir to a narrow outlet.”
The oldest fishing weirs could be vast. Fredrick Johnson describes an enormous prehistoric weir found in 1913 under Boylston Street in Boston. Dating back to the Late Archaic period, it covers about two acres and includes some 65,000 stakes interwoven with brush wattling, or a mixture of shrubs and branches (27). The Late Archaic period occurred in 1250 BC-3800 BC (Fagan 202). According to Johnson, the difference in construction between this ancient fish weir and modern ones was that the stakes were not evenly spread out or of the same size (Johnson 57).
Throughout New England, fishing has been an important means of subsistence for Native people, promoting a spiritual connection to specific places. Kerry Hardy finds that, for the Wabanaki Indians of Maine, waterfalls and ideal fishing spots historically determined the significance of villages: “The greater the obstacle, the better the harvest, and the more important the town” (62).
In New Hampshire’s Winnepesaukee region, three stone weirs were found in the 1930s. One was W shaped and the other two were V shaped, with points oriented downstream (Proctor 41-49). According to Brian Fagan, V-shaped weirs could be used with basket traps (79). The traps could be placed near the points of the weirs, which funneled fish into them. The weirs at Winnepesaukee, unfortunately, were eventually removed because they interfered with water navigation (Moorhead 51).
Historically, Native people have fought determinedly to protect their fishing grounds. In a 1748 petition, residents of the praying town of Natick defined their right to fish on Lake Cochituate, against the encroachment of English settlers. Historian Jean O’Brien has discussed this petition in some detail as evidence of Indian resistance; with respect to the value of fishing weirs, she notes that “The petitioners describe their fishing rights as an ‘old and valuable liberty’ rather than a gift in the form of a specific grant from the General Court” (O’Brien 126). Therefore, this petition conveys that the Indians had these rights long before the arrival of the English, although they were forced to formally request them back in writing. Similarly, the eel basket pictured here—made of trees, placed in rivers, and capturing food for people—acts as a text tying indigenous people to a particular place.
Fagan, Brian M. The First North Americans: An Archaeological Journey. Ancient Peoples and Places. New York, N.Y: Thames & Hudson, 2011.
Gould, Bill. E-mail interview. 10 Apr. 2012.
Hardy, Kerry. Notes on a Lost Flute: A Field Guide to the Wabanaki. 1st ed. Down East Books, 2009.
Johnson, Frederick. The Boylston Street Fishweir, a Study of the Archaeology,biology, and Geology of a Site on Boylston Street in the Back Bay District of Boston, Massachusetts. Papers of the Robert S. Peabody Foundation for Archaeology v. 2. Andover, Mass: Phillips academy, The Foundation, 1942.
Lutins, Allen. Prehistoric Fishweirs in Eastern North America. MS thesis. 1992. Binghamton : n.p.,1992. Web. 10 Apr. 2012.
Moorehead, Warren King, and Benjamin Lincoln Smith. The Merrimack Archaeological Survey: a Preliminary Paper. Peabody Museum, 1931.
O’Brien, Jean M. Dispossession by Degrees: Indian Land and Identity in Natick, Massachusetts, 1650-1790. Cambridge Studies in North American Indian History. Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997.
O'Brien , Jean. "Our Old and Valluable Liberty ." Early Native Literacies in New England. Ed. Kristina Bross and Ed. Hilary E. Wyss . Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008. 119-129. Print.
Proctor, Mary A. The Indians of the Winnipesaukee and Pemigewasset Valleys. Powwow River Books, 2007.
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From the day of her birth on April 14, 1940 until today, Joan Tavares Avant has lived in Mashpee, Massachusetts. As she puts it: “I was born in Mashpee as a Mashpee Wampanoag, Why would I want to leave?” She is the granddaughter of revered Mashpee Wampanoag Elder Mabel Pocknett Avant, in whose ancestral home now resides the Mashpee Wampanoag Historical Museum, of which Avant has been the past director of. She is mother to four children, grandmother to five grand-children, great grandmother to 3 great grandchildren, and has two un-adopted adult children, all which she loves dearly. She is also one of seven clan mothers, the Deer clan mother of her tribe.
Granny Squannit is one of the oldest Wampanoag legends. An old medicine woman with long black hair covering the single eye in her forehead, she snatches away children who misbehave, taking them away in her canoe to her cave in Cummaquid to scare them into being good. However, Granny Squannit also has a benevolent side, giving presents to good children and guiding sailors who leave her gifts. Every Halloween, Avant dresses up as Granny and greets (often scaring them in the process) Mashpee children as they walk through the woods. After playing Granny Squannit for adults, children and organizations and keeping her alive through writings for 20 years, Avant was given “Granny Squannit” as her native name from their tribal medicine man. She continues to write articles on Granny Squannit, even having her own column titled “Tales from Granny Squannit” in the Mashpee Enterprise in recent years. She also has a black and white tattoo of Granny Squannit on her right arm
Unlike some of her author peers, Avant did not enter college immediately after high school, finding it hard to be accepted to a university because of her Native status, as well as financial difficulties. She finally received her Bachelor of Arts degree in Human Services from the University of Massachusetts Boston in 1993, at the age of 53. Two years later, she earned her Master’s degree in Education from Cambridge College, and presently is working on a Doctoral Degree in Education at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. Avant believes that “it is never too late to learn, age is but a number.” For 26 years, she was the Director of Indian Education for the Mashpee Public School district. She worked to provide guidance and promote cultural awareness to local Wampanoag students and teachers, as well as to provide school day-care and tutoring services. Finding the Mative history taught to schoolchildren biased and inaccurate, she also worked with both Native and non-Native educators to create a curriculum that highlighted local Wampanoag elders, culture, history, legends, and values. In 1993, the Falmouth Affirmative Action Committee recognized her for this work.
Avant has been tribal president for three terms, as well as tribal historian for four. She is currently a member of the Mashpee Historical Commission, as well as a member of the Mittark Committee, which publishes the Nashauonk Mittark (the monthly Mashpee Wampanoag newsletter). She is also a member of Wampanoag Language Reclamation Project, which since 1993 has worked to teach Native children the Wampanoag language, which has had no known native speakers for six generations. In November 2012, CBS News interviewed her about the project.
Avant is also a writer for the Mashpee Enterprise, writing about Mashpee Wampanoag affairs and contributing her own column, "Tales from Granny Squannit." Her journalistic style often shows up in her book, People of the First Light. She begins each section of her book with the sentence “Let’s be Frank about this,” a line in remembrance of her son, but also a good euphemism for her writing. She uses a straightforward, blunt manner to presents her facts, and unapologetically expresses her opinion:
There are people who still believe only that the Wampanoag met the Pilgrims and helped them through the first winter…and later fell off the face of Mother Earth. Rarely is it mentioned that we were here 12,000 years before any newcomers arrived. The entire realm of opinion has been that we have been here since the celebration of Thanksgiving in 1620…These are facts and not myths; they were challenging for our people then and continue to challenge us even today. Also, my view is this: just because leaders of this country such as Henry Laurens (President of the Continental Congress), George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and others who set certain dates for Thanksgiving does not mean that they were the first to think of such a celebration.
People of the First Light took two years for Avant to finish. She self- published it in 2010. She was inspired to write after finding the Native perspective lacking in her own tribal history; decribing non-Native writing about her people, she remarks that it's “insulting and it hurts,” though it makes “millions of [dollars] off the backs of our ancestors and all our tribal people.” Having lived in Mashpee all her life, and having done tribal interviews and research, there was never any difficulty in finding things to include; in fact, she often found herself with more than she could incorporate. Avant says that the most difficult part was writing the proposal for funding; the rest, such as structure and selection of works, came naturally via cultural experience and indigenous insight. She wants to remind people, through her book and other works, that “We are still here.”
P. Stone, R. MacKenzie (1990). The Excluded Past: Archaeology in Education. Google Books: Unwin Hyman Ltd. p. 123
Avant, Joan Tavares. “Now, And Always, Wampanoag.” Cultural Survival. N.p., 26 05 2010. Web. 23 Mar 2013.
Avant, Joan Tavares. People of the First Light: Wisdoms of a Mashpee Wampanoag Elder. Mashpee: 2010. Print
"Special Election Candidates." Nashauonk Mittark. 12 2009: 4. Web. 9 May. 2013.
Tavares-Avant , Joan. E-mail Interview. Apr 2013.
Hopkins spent time as a nationally syndicated newspaper columnist for the Gannett News Service, and also has written for USA Today, The News-Press, The Pequot Times, The Westerly Sun, Indian Country Today Media Network, News from Indian Country and Native Peoples Magazine. His work has received recognition from the Gannett Awards and the Native American Journalists Association (NAJA) Awards. In 2003, he became the first member of the NAJA to receive awards in four different writing categories during the same year (news, features, sports and columns).
From an early age, Hopkins knew exactly what he wanted to do and made it happen.
“I’ve never wanted to do anything other than write,” Hopkins said in an interview. “Through journalism I saw a chance to write, tell stories of interesting people and things and get paid for it!”
The field of journalism has brought Hopkins from Rhode Island to Massachusetts, New York, Florida, and now Arizona. While he has been in the reporting business for twenty-plus years, he also delved into writing fiction novels over the past decade.
Hopkins has published five books: Carlomagno in 2003, Nacogdoches in 2004, The Pirate Prince Carlomagno in 2011, Twilight of the Gods in 2011, and Rhyme or Reason: Narragansett Poetry in 2012.
Hopkins doesn’t shy away from trying out different genres, whether it be historical fiction, fantasy, science fiction, or even poetry.
“I can’t sleep at night because my mind won’t turn off; I spend time thinking of things to write about, genres I want to try,” said Hopkins. “I feel some need to create.”
His first book, Carlomagno, is based off King Philip’s War, fictionally elaborating on the story of King Philip’s captured son, whom he names “Carlomagno.” Hopkins’s long love of westerns is apparent in Nacogdoches, which follows “The Rango Kid,” as he impersonates a sheriff and finds himself forced to stand up to a criminal. The Pirate Prince of Carlomagno continues to tell a story of a Young Native American’s struggles to elude slavery. In Twilight of the Gods, Hopkins explores the science fiction genre by writing about the supernatural coming to life, based off the Mayan calendar’s predictions. Most recently, Hopkins published Rhyme or Reason: Narragansett Poetry, which touches on Narragansett tribal history.
“I definitely enjoy mixing real history with fiction, so that not only can I tell a story, but maybe help the reader to learn something they didn’t know,” said Hopkins. “By the way, I am related to the main character in Carlomagno.”
Hopkins is related to the Wampanoag tribe and is of kin to Quadequina — known famously for introducing popcorn to the Pilgrims at the First Thanksgiving. In addition, Hopkins is of King Ninigret descent — the last hereditary royal family of the Narragansett Native Americans in Rhode Island. Hopkins himself served as a Narragansett Tribal Council member from 1994 to 1996.
Despite his relation to some historically renowned Native Americans, Hopkins doesn’t want to be known as just another Native American writer. He wants to be known as a writer.
“I don’t want to be limited,” he said. “I’ve worked at newspapers where I was the 'Indian' writer, go do the pow wow stories, write about casino plans. I am more than that. I will not be put in a box and be defined by someone else.”
Between his novels, poetry and journalism, Hopkins’s writing style varies drastically. But when he is wearing his nationally syndicated columnist hat, Hopkins greets his readers with a particularly humorous tone.
“I write for an audience,” said Hopkins. “I prefer humor because there is too much sadness in the news and I want to brighten someone’s day with an unexpected chuckle or smile. I also think it’s more challenging to be funny as writer. Everyone understands sadness and pain, but to make someone laugh is special — because people have different senses of humor.”
The following depicts his lighthearted voice as a columnist:
I never planned to be a failed journalist or a hack writer. Seriously, in my youth, I had big plans that included wealth, women and worldwide fame.
Now I’d settle for a Twinkie and a Diet Coke.
I’m not one of those quacks that hope to better his or her life by climbing Mount Everest or learning to make origami swans. Instead, I am devoted to Self-Hypnotic Introspection Therapy. (You figure out the acronym for that). (”My Past Lives Relived for You,” Indian Country Today Media Network)
As his writing style may suggest, Hopkins has fun with all the day-to-day responsibilities of being a writer. He is currently working on a couple projects, and that’s the way he likes it. One of his projects is a western that takes place in an Arizona ghost town; the other is a fantasy about wizards and warriors.
Again, he has fun with it.
“I’ve never been intimidated by a blank page and a deadline. I see it as a challenge, a test,” Hopkins said. “And usually I have far more to say than I can fit on a blank page. Also, it’s my way of gaining immortality. I’ll be gone some day, but my words will live on.”
Sonja Horoshko. “Hopkins’ ‘Carlomagno’ Imagines the Life of a Native American Pirate.” Four Corners Free Press. (Aug. 2011).
Reid Wright. “‘Twilight of the Gods.’” The Cortez Journal. (March 2012).
“Native American Authors.” Internet Public Library. (2012).
“Narragansett Indian Tribe.” Official Tribal Website. Anthony Arusso. “A writing life for Hopkins.” Southern Rhode Island Newspapers. (Dec. 2011).
John Christian Hopkins. “Honesty and Crimes: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly.” Indian Country Today Media Network. (Feb. 2013).
John Christian Hopkins. “My Past Lives Relived for You.” Indian Country Today Media Network. (March 2013).
John Christian Hopkins. “Peace Party Comics features Native American warriors as the heroes.” Pequot Times. (May 2002).
Hopkins, John Christian. Carlomagno. New York: IUniverse, 2003. Print.
Hopkins, John Christian. Nacogdoches. N.p.: Publish America, 2004. Print.
Hopkins, John Christian. The Pirate Prince Carlomagno. Franklin Park, NJ: Wampum, 2011. Print.
Hopkins, John Christian. Rhyme or Reason: Narragansett Poetry. Greenfield, MA: Blue Hand, 2012. Print.
Hopkins, John Christian. Twilight of the Gods. Greenfield, MA: Blue Hand, 2011. Print.
“Native American Journalists Association.” Official Website.
“Author John Christian Hopkins.” Personal Blog.
“John Christian Hopkins Fan Page.” Facebook.
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