THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, May 2, 1996 TAG: 9605020033
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MARGO M. MATEAS, CORRESPONDENT
DATELINE: SUFFOLK LENGTH: Long : 192 lines
LECIYA WACI keyapi ca.
It is said they are dancing over there.
Etched against the rosy edges of a darkened horizon, a gathering commences.
Waci wau na wahiyelo.
So coming to dance, I have arrived.
Captives of a single muse, they come together from all over Hampton Roads to answer the call of a dream.
Hoka wicasa ki blichi'iyapo.
Wacin niyanpelo.
Singers, take courage, you are needed.
For the 12 members of Young Elk, the dream leads them to make music; music that tells stories, imparts wisdom and carries on a living legacy when the eclectic blend of Indians and non-Indians meets each Monday night to practice the Lakota art of singing and drumming.
They'll present their arts on Saturday at the Veteran's Honor Powwow from 10 a.m. to dusk at Mount Trashmore.
While each member traveled a different path to the drum - the American Indian term for such a musical group - all agree that the first time they heard native music they knew they had come home. They are nurtured by the force at the center of their union: a 3-foot circle of hand-stretched elk hide that forms the heart of the group.
The drum is kept covered in an undisturbed part of Ken and Elaine Harvey's Suffolk home and guarded with sage, corn, cedar, sweetgrass and ceremonial tobacco.
``In native cultures the drum is the heartbeat of Mother Earth. We treat it with respect. It is a part of the family,'' according to Elaine Harvey, a registered nurse.
Drumming has been an integral part of indigenous cultures since man first struck two twigs together and discovered their vibration. Singing, drumming and dancing were the chief means by which people shared oral histories, myths and stories of daily life. It wasn't until the North American Indian was herded onto reservations and forced to sacrifice his language and music that these gatherings took on a more formal form.
According to lead singer Duane Baldwin, in the late 1800s reservation Indians changed their native celebrations into festivals that featured food, carnival and animal attractions to appease white captors that had outlawed the Indian traditions. Neighboring tribes joined the events and shared their songs and customs, which led to the festivals being known as powwows.
Modern powwows feature competition singing and dancing, ranging from the slow and lyrical men and women's traditional dance to fancy dancing, an energizing blur of movement and color. There are also various specialty songs which may honor a fallen veteran, recall a tribal victory or poke fun at the awkwardness of courtship.
Powwow participants say the real attraction is not the money or prestige gleaned from competing, but tiyospaye: belonging to a vast extended family that shares their beliefs.
``When I take my children to a powwow, I never worry about them,'' Elaine Harvey says. ``We all look out for each other. There is this tremendous sense of community; of everyone being there for the same purpose and sharing the same values. If a child needs looking after, he'll have 20 pairs of eyes on him - not just his parents'.''
In native culture, a child may have 20 or 30 ``aunts'' and ``uncles,'' people in the powwow circle that help to raise her. ``The concept of a whole village raising a child is very much alive in Indian life,'' she adds.
Cancega kin ho nawahon
Na iha wauwelo.
I hear the drum's voice.
And I come smiling.
``The first time I heard the drum, it was talking; it was alive,'' remembers Julie Hewin, a Newport News library associate. ``I felt I had come home. This is where I found my heart, my spirit.''
For Pam Walston, the pull was also from the heart. ``I had been seeking something like this for a long time. This has become my second family.''
Members of Young Elk, who range in age from 12 to 50, are quick to point out that family in the Indian way is not defined by blood as by the heart. Lyle Brown, a missile programmer, says the drum ``brings me peace and grounding.''
Ken Harvey, owner of H & H Welding in Norfolk, carries his family to powwows in a RV with the license plate ``Tin Tipi.'' He says nothing compares to the good feelings he gets from drumming. ``Knowing you're giving back to the people and that they appreciate it is the best thing,'' he smiles.
For Tom Dearing, a 20-year-old ITT electronics student, the drum provides a way to express honor for the earth. ``The native way is about respect - of everyone and everything. You can't be an Indian in the true sense and violate anything.''
In accordance with these traditions, no alcohol, drugs or smoking are permitted among drum members, and the use of profanity and off-color comments are prohibited when the drum is in use.
Lakol wicohan ki tehwahila yelo
I cherish the Lakota ways.
Such values impact the teenagers who grow up in the circle: ``I am forced to learn respect for other people,'' said Nikolaus Harvey, 14. ``I like these values. It is something I will keep doing all my life.''
Aho.
It is good.
SUFFOLK
LECIYA WACI keyapi ca.
It is said they are dancing over there.
Etched against the rosy edges of a darkened horizon, a gathering commences.
Waci wau na wahiyelo.
So coming to dance, I have arrived.
Captives of a single muse, they come together from all over Hampton Roads to answer the call of a dream.
Hoka wicasa ki blichi'iyapo.
Wacin niyanpelo.
Singers, take courage, you are needed.
For the 12 members of Young Elk, the dream leads them to make music; music that tells stories, imparts wisdom and carries on a living legacy when the eclectic blend of Indians and non-Indians meets each Monday night to practice the Lakota art of singing and drumming.
They'll present their arts on Saturday at the Veteran's Honor Powwow from 10 a.m. to dusk Saturday at Mount Trashmore.
While each member traveled a different path to the drum - the American Indian term for such a musical group - all agree that the first time they heard native music they knew they had come home.They are nurtured by the force at the center of their union: a 3-foot circle of hand-stretched elk hide that forms the heart of the group.
The drum is kept covered in an undisturbed part of Ken and Elaine Harvey's Suffolk home and guarded with sage, corn, cedar, sweetgrass and ceremonial tobacco.
``In native cultures the drum is the heartbeat of Mother Earth. We treat it with respect. It is a part of the family,'' according to Elaine Harvey, a registered nurse.
Drumming has been an integral part of indigenous cultures since man first struck two twigs together and discovered their vibration. Singing, drumming and dancing were the chief means by which people shared oral histories, myths and stories of daily life. It wasn't until the North American Indian was herded onto reservations and forced to sacrifice his language and music that these gatherings took on a more formal form.
According to lead singer Duane Baldwin, in the late 1800s reservation Indians changed their native celebrations into festivals that featured food, carnival and animal attractions to appease white captors that had outlawed the Indian traditions. Neighboring tribes joined the events and shared their songs and customs, which led to the festivals being known as powwows (the gathering).
Modern powwows feature competition singing and dancing, ranging from the slow and lyrical men and women's traditional dance to fancy dancing, an energizing blur of movement and color. There are alsovarious specialty songs which may honor a fallen veteran, recall a tribal victory or poke fun at the awkwardness of courtship.
Powwow participants say the real attraction is not the money or prestige gleaned from competing, but tiyospaye: belonging to a vast extended family that shares their beliefs.
``When I take my children to a powwow, I never worry about them,'' Elaine Harvey says. ``We all look out for each other. There is this tremendous sense of community; of everyone being there for the same purpose and sharing the same values. If a child needs looking after, he'll have twenty pairs of eyes on him - not just his parents.''
In native culture, a child may have 20 or 30 ``aunts'' and ``uncles,'' people in the powwow circle that help to raise her. ``The concept of a whole village raising a child is very much alive in Indian life,'' she adds.
Cancega kin ho nawahon
Na iha wauwelo.
I hear the drum's voice.
And I come smiling.
``The first time I heard the drum, it was talking; it was alive,'' remembers Julie Hewin, a Newport News library associate. ``I felt I had come home. This is where I found my heart, my spirit.''
For Pam Walston, the pull was also from the heart. ``I had been seeking something like this for a long time. This has become my second family.''
Members of Young Elk, who range in age from 12 to 50, are quick to point out that family in the Indian way is not defined by blood as by the heart. Lyle Brown, a missile programmer, says the drum ``brings me peace and grounding.''
Ken Harvey, owner of H & H Welding in Norfolk, carries his family to powwows in a RV with the license plate ``Tin Tipi.'' He says nothing compares to the good feelings he gets from drumming. ``Knowing you're giving back to the people and that they appreciate it is the best thing,'' he smiles.
For Tom Dearing, a 20-year-old ITT electronics student, the drum provides a way to express honor for the earth. ``The native way is about respect - of everyone and everything. You can't be an Indian in the true sense and violate anything.''
In accordance with these traditions, no alcohol, drugs or smoking are permitted among drum members, and the use of profanity and off-color comments are prohibited when the drum is in use.
Lakol wicohan ki tehwahila yelo
I cherish the Lakota ways.
Such values impact the teenagers who grow up in the circle: ``I am forced to learn respect for other people,'' said Nikolaus Harvey, 14. ``I like these values. It is something I will keep doing all my life.''
Aho.
It is good. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
GARY C. KNAPP
RIGHT: Young Elk rehearses for Saturday's performance at Mount
Trashmore. by CNB