Futile Iroquois Research
In the 1960s, the Seneca Nation, one of six Native American groups that comprise the Iroquois, were forced to relocate to another state. Can you picture this happening to you?
Timothy Pickering, the personal envoy of President Washington to the Senecas, promised, "This Treaty of 11 November 1794 is a new and important security against your being cheated; and shows the faithful care which the United States now means to take for the protection of your lands."
It didn't stick.
The Supreme Court dismissed lawsuits. The treaty was broken. Construction of the Kinzua Dam began in the 1960s. As expected, it flooded the Seneca's land. They were moved to Salamanca, N.Y.
How do I know about this?
I was there.
In "Now That the Buffalo's Gone," Buffy Sainte-Marie sang:
"Has a change come about Uncle Sam
"Or are you still taking our lands?
"A treaty forever George Washington signed,
"He did, dear lady, he did, dear man,
"And the treaty's been broken by Kinzua Dam,
"And what will you do for these ones?"
The purpose of the dam was flood control along the Allegheny and Ohio rivers. I'm not dismissing this. But another major benefit was described on so many Web sites about the dam, that I stopped counting. "Totally surrounded by forest, Kinzua Dam and Allegheny Reservoir are at the heart of the largest and most popular outdoor recreation complexes in the northeastern United States."
Why am I writing about this now? My husband, Bob, and I are having a temporary financial setback, so I've been selling on eBay. Things are just things. My psychiatrist pal, Bill Hallstein, said, "We don't own anything. We just borrow it while we're here."
First it was painful to sell items like my wedding pearls. But I don't wear them. Why have them here? Using that rationale made selling easy.
But last week, while describing a seemingly no-big-deal basket, I wept. Why? Because of my auction title: "IROQUOIS ARTIFACT LAST OF ITS KIND FROM SENECA RESERVE."
I wrote, "In 1969, I was part of a National Science Foundation grant. The purpose was to study the effects of the relocation of the Senecas. It's not comfortable writing this because, by then, the dam had been built!"
While holding my basket, I was filled with remarkably unexpected emotion. I remembered the faces of the people of the Seneca Nation, as they plaintively told me their stories.
We were there three months — 14 NSF research specialists. My focus was psychology. In one day, I grasped the effects — the depression, hopelessness and resignation. Can you imagine being notified, "We regret to inform you that the residents and businesses of Hyannis will be relocated to Syracuse, New York"? And learning Hyannis will be flooded — for good?
Violence was endemic. Many murdered their own. Alcohol was a tranquilizer or a force that begat violence. It was never this way before.
To paraphrase Buffy Sainte-Marie, what did we do for these ones? Well, we gave them tiny mobile homes a few feet apart. We gave no land to farm. They could no longer grow herbs for curatives and ancient medicine ceremonies. No land for crops, other than underground crops like potatoes. When I'd be invited for suppers, we ate starches — just potatoes and bread. Without proper nutrients, most had no teeth.
I saw they brought their treasured horses. Then I couldn't look at them — lying in heat and starvation — their ribs sticking out. Maybe people hoped the U.S. would provide food?
We gave them not one tree — hence no more hand-carved tools. We gave them a school. And taught United States history. Most quit.
And ... no longer could baskets like mine be made. A hand-woven basket — colored with dyes from plants that couldn't be grown in sandy ground.
I received an eBay e-mail about my basket from a fellow I'll call Jim. His family was pure-blooded Seneca.
I felt the basket's ancient history for the last time. I replied, "I cannot sell this basket. It does not belong to me. Call it liberal guilt, but that's not me. I need to end the auction and send it to you. It's not charity. I want it to be where it belongs."
And so, the last of its kind basket of the Seneca Nation is where it should be.
I'm not telling you this for accolades. I'm disgusted that I considered selling it. I am simply telling a story that I think should be told.
And at the very least, it had a happy ending ... if only for Jim and me.
