Iowa tribal chairman Louis DeRoin and tribal council member Joann Comer. |
Finding the trail to the Iowa tribal casino in Kansas is almost as difficult as finding the tribe itself. Tucked away in the cornfields, in the northeast corner of the state, along the Missouri, roads leading to the small Iowa nation take more turns and twists than the Missouri River. Locals pointing in this and that direction to lost motorists looking for the casino is a daily and nightly occurrence.
When Lewis and Clark’s expedition took them through what is now the border between Nebraska and Kansas, there were no Iowa settlements. The Iowa Indians met on the riverbanks and were living in what is now the state of Iowa. History and all its realities paint a near-never-ending portrait of how much tribes were severely affected by European expansion throughout this continent. Disease killed off whole tribes and greatly reduced the numbers of others. When the path was cleared for white pioneer settlers, removal of some tribes off their ancient lands such as the Iowa, Potawatomi, and Pawnee were deemed necessary by the federal government.
When the Corps of Discovery launched into history at a riverbank in St. Charles, Mo., Captain Meriwether Lewis noted in his infamous journals that some Indians were among those present to see the crew off on its journey west. Today, there are no tribes within the state’s borders.
The effects of expansion continue to ripple throughout Indian Country. This particular band of Iowa Indians is having a blood crisis. There are few full-bloods left. In fact, the majority of the population is far less than a quarter. In order to keep the tribe from extinction, enrollment is based not on blood, but by ancestral lineage. Except for Joann Comer and a few other tribal members, most people would be surprised at how non-Native everyone looks. This includes, Tribal Chairman Louis DeRoin, who has less than a quarter of Iowa blood.
DeRoin is a short, steel-boned leader going on 80-something. He wears leathery skin, toughened through years of serving in the military and hard manual labor. He is alert and, as they say, sharp as a tack. And he is also brutally frank.
"Our tribe is white," DeRoin said. "Our tribe was nearly extinct. We were down to 88 people in the mid-1880s (due to disease). Then, there was the enrollment boom. It was a nightmare."
The enrollment nightmare happened everywhere in Indian Country in the years that followed Congress enacting the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act in 1988. Eager to cash in on profits -- profits that could boost the miserable economy -- the Iowa tribe built their casino. Given their low enrollment standards, they were met with a barrage of requests from people who could think of at least one person in the family tree who could claim being of Iowa descent.
There is a palpable rift between dark Indians and white-looking Indians in the small river town of White Cloud. Many dark Indians refuse to talk to their neighbors or attend tribal functions. They just refuse to accept the other tribal members as anything but white.
The poverty of the tribe is even more glaring at the museum. Except for a few glass cases filled with photographs, beaded outfits and a cherished bear claw necklace, the space is barren. So much of their culture was lost, stolen or sold, Comer says.
"I saw one of my grandmother’s coats she used to sew in a museum in Milwaukee," Comer said.
left to right: Iowa tribal council member Joann Comer and tribal chairman Louis DeRoin stand behind the glass case at the tribal headquarters containing the White Cloud family bear claw necklace that was handed down to traditional Iowa chiefs. There are no longer any surviving members of the lineage to wear the necklace. The necklace stands alone in the deserted Iowa tribe museum. |
And about that cherished bear claw necklace? It was once the symbol of this Iowa band’s strength and proud heritage. The necklace was passed on to succeeding chiefs of the White Cloud family. White Cloud tribal rule ended with a break in the lineage that happened years ago. For a long period the necklace was even lost. Only in recent years has the tribe recovered it from a museum in, of all places, Detroit. The museum received it from a pawn shop somewhere in the Midwest.
With no White Cloud system of governing, the bear claw necklace is retired, encased in glass, on display at the tribe’s headquarters.
The tribe is anxious to commemorate the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial with a joint signature event on the riverbanks of White Cloud. Their neighbors, the Sac and Fox are working together to create a program of traditional dance and storytelling. But while DeRoin sees the event as a chance to educate non-Natives about their culture, he also sees the event as an opportunity to draw tourists to their casino. But he knows in order to effectively cash in on the bicentennial, the tribe may have to put up a few more signs and may even hire locals to point the way for tourists to their casino.
Farther up the Missouri River, reality paints a different picture of tribal life. It is a very different tribal world at the Omaha Nation.
By the time the Lewis and Clark reached Omaha lands, no one was around. Most of the tribe was out on their annual buffalo hunt.
"We’re lucky we weren’t home," says Rudi Mitchell who is a program director at the Guidance and Development Center in Macey. Of course, early in Lewis and Clark’s expedition two Omaha Indians helped navigate for the explorers. Mitchell grins and says "Yeah, two half-breeds played fiddle and brought them upriver." No one at the Omaha nation wants to claim a direct, living link to these scouts.
But in time, the tribe would be nearly wiped out by smallpox. However, a stroll through downtown Macey, a visit to their brand-new high school building, or even attending their August powwow, it is apparent the Omahas have survived and are now thriving.
Omaha tribal members horse around at the reservation swimming pool in Macy, Nebraska on a hot August afternoon. |
Omaha boys do back flips into the reservation pool in Macy, Nebraska during a hot day in August 2003. |
Macey is a bustling town. The local public pool is packed with children spending their summer days staying cool. According to tribal officials, most of their members are young and the bloodline is strong. Learning the language is a requirement at school. And while the Omaha no longer venture out on buffalo hunts, there are cultural emersion-style trips made available to the young.
Mitchell, who is a former tribal chairman, serves as the area’s COTA official. The National Council of the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial created the Circle of Tribal Advisors. Along with NPS Superintendent Gerard Baker, the 29 COTA officials meet with tribes to get their buy-in as well as assist with planning tourism events.
Though Mitchell has encouraged his tribe to consider participating in the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial next year, the reality is the tribe has other priorities.
Grand entry at the 199th Omaha Harvest Dance in Macy, Nebraska, August 2003. |
Next year will mark the 200th anniversary of the Omaha Harvest Dance. Preparations are under away for this historic event. National Geographic has been allowed to come next year to learn more about this long-honored Omaha tradition in Macey.
The tribe considers Lewis and Clark secondary when it comes to commemorating their own history.
And unlike the Iowa tribe of Kansas, tourism and increased attendance at the Omaha casino is something Mitchell says the tribe just cannot accommodate. There is not enough room at the inn with everyone at Omaha staying at home year-round these days.
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