Ashland Sundance Festival - Aug 9th-14th, 2003

I was going through some of my old emails today and came across this amazing report I had made in late August 2003, when I used to live in Portland, Oregon. It is a report on the Native American Sundance Festival which takes place every year in Ashland, Oregon. I was not a blogger during those days. So, here's the report, being blogged after three years!

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Following is a report of the Sundance festival I was fortunate to attend from Aug 9th through Aug 14th, 2003. I hope I have not made any mistakes in action or description. If I have, it's my own ignorance to be blamed. What follows is to a large extent, objective and factual. The subjective feelings and impressions are hard to describe in words. Some experiences are not to be described; they are to be experienced and assimilated into our Spirit.

Sundance Introduction - Special Invitation:

In the Hindu religion, we have big ceremonies called yaagas and yagnyas. A yagnya may be loosely translated as a ritualistic sacrifice. The central practice in these ceremonies is the offering of gifts to the gods through the sacred fire. There are also other special rituals like japa (chant), puja (ritualistic worship of the deity), etc. as part of a yagnya.

The Sundance festival is the Native American equivalent of an important yagnya. In this festival, the sacrifice is not of any external material gifts. It is of human energy, devotion, prayer, pain and some flesh, skin and blood. The Sundance festival takes place every summer, at locations across North America, celebrated by various Native groups. It started as a festival of the Lakota tribe. The Lakota believed that the most important material posession of the humans is the human body, and the Sundance festival is a ceremonial offering of the body to God, to Spirit.

Recently, I had a rare opportunity to participate in a Sundance festival near Ashland, in Oregon. I was invited to the festival by Linda, whom I met through mutual friends. Linda is the wife of a Native American elder. She emailed me one day telling me that every year she gets a vision of one person to invite to the Sundance festival at Ashland, and this year the vision was to invite me. Linda had met me only twice, when she sent me the mail. Linda and her husband Rod have a very important role in organizing and conducting the Ashland Sundance. I felt honored to be invited, and immediately agreed to participate as a supporter of the Sundancers. I had vaguely heard of the Sundance Festival before and was very curious.

Sundance Campgrounds - Alternate culture:

I had to drive about 5 hours South to Ashland, and then drive up 10 miles of a not-so-good, narrow, rocky, dusty winding mountain road to reach the Sundance campground. These last 10 bad miles of the road took nearly 45 minutes to drive! The campground was located in the woods, high up in one of the mountains near Ashland. Stepping into the Sundance campgrounds, up in the mountains, was like stepping into another culture. The campgrounds were uneven, with many kinds of mountainous trees all around (pines, cedars, firs). It was a beautiful calm location. Tents of different shapes and sizes, were scattered all over the place. The people at the camp looked like how I have come to expect groups with alternate beliefs and practices to look in the US. Among men, many with long hair and beards of all shapes and sizes. Women often having long, loose hair too. Many people with colorful and flowing and loose clothes, while others wore the normal casual wear. Camp rules said all men should wear full pants. Women were not supposed to wear pants. Both men and women were forbidden from wearing shorts or shirts/blouses with no sleeves. There were people of all ages. I even saw a cat, 3 dogs, few puppies. One of the dogs was a huge beast named Gus, the kind used to pull snow sledges in Alaska. He was very gentle and friendly. Unfortunately, he was so huge that he was not permitted to stay in the camp. He was tied at a security post about two miles downhill from the camp. Native American culture gives a lot of importance to respect - respect to elders, to youngsters, to each other, to all animals and plants and surrounding environment, the Earth, the Sun, Moon, stars, to everything. And this sense of respect and warm friendliness was very prevalent in the camp. The men frequently addressed each other as "brother". It was indeed like being in an alternate culture.

Sundance Campgrounds - Camp life:

Imagine this: You are curled up in a deep sleep, in your sleeping bag, inside a tent, up in the mountains. You are woken up between 6 and 6:30 by sounds of melodious Native prayer songs, with drums. You stumble out of your tent and find a group of people who are going round the camp singing these songs to wake up everyone. The air is cool. All around you there are signs of the camp and the natural environment waking up. You walk sleepily towards the portable toilets (portapotties), being greeted by smiling people. You come out and stumble towards your camp kitchen area, greeting more smiling people. The kitchen area is full with breads, bagels, granola, cereals, fruits, assorted fruit juices, milk, soy milk, rice milk, coffee, butter, jam, peanut butter, even oat meal and muffins on a couple of days. This is how every morning began in the camp.

The whole campground had different small camps. Each camp was comprised of a set of people sleeping in tents. I shared a tent with Jack, another mutual friend of Rod and Linda. Jack's wife was one of the Sundancers. Our tent was part of Linda and Rod's camp, which was located right in the middle of the campgrounds. It was one of the larger camps with around 20 people. We jokingly called it Grand Central Station. Most people who passed by stopped to talk to people in our camp, share food, etc. Our camp was very nicely arranged. There was a central kitchen area with tables, cupboard, big propane stove, assorted coolers, water tanks, and garbage bag. There was a sheltered seating place with campchairs. There were our tents scattered around. There were 3-4 portable toilets rented by people in our camp. Most of us in the camp were from Portland area. There was one family from California, and a couple of young people from Eugene in Oregon and Maryland on the East Coast. The celebri!
ties of our camp were a family from Ecuador. Linda, Rod and their friends had visited Ecuador several months earlier and they had become friendly with a shaman family there. (Shamans are native priests or medicine wo/men). The Mammallacta (pronounced maama-yaacta) shaman family consisted of a son in his late 20's or early 30's and his parents (Kasimiro and Margarita). Everybody in the campground knew about them and wanted to meet them and talk to them. Conversation was not easy because the older Mammallactas only knew their native language Quechua. Their son also knew Spanish and some rudimentary English. I sat in one discussion where the older Mammallactas addressed everyone in Quechua, their son translated it to Spanish and somebody else translated the Spanish to English. Whew! It was slow and tedious. But they were a charming family, liked by everyone. We had worked out a system in which different people signed up to make breakfast and/or dinner for everyone in our camp (over 20 people) on different days. The bonding of shared food was fun. Often we ended up doing lunch also that way. Our camp fed not only our camp members, but also the extended community of guests and the women in the Moonlodge (an area where menstruating women spent their time, set apart and away from the main camp). There was no supply of running water or stream or lake close to the camp. There was a water buffalo (4 big water tanks) sitting on a trailer. That, along with the water all of us had taken with us, seemed to be enough for the whole camp of 200 or more people.

There was always a tin pot with hot coals at camp gates and at entrances to ritual areas. These pots were used to make smoke of sage or cedar to smudge, before entering the camp or the ritual areas. Smudging or letting the smoke brush across our face and body is a cleansing ritual. All cars and people coming into camp were smudged. There was also a community sweatlodge for everyone in general, and two more sweatlodges for the Sundancers and others who directly participated in the ceremonies. A Sweatlodge is a low, dark hut with a small shallow pit in the middle. Hot stones are placed in the pit, the door of the hut is closed making it totally dark inside, people sit around the red hot stones, water is poured over them to create steam. It gets very very hot inside the hut and everyone sings and prays and HOT sweat pours out of every pore in the body. It's a purification ceremony for body, mind and spirit. Everyone who came into camp had to purify themselves at the Sweatlodge before participating in any ceremony. The "Sweats" at the Sundance were not the full 4 rounds of a normal Sweatlodge ceremony. It was just one ritualistic round, which everyone referred to as a "brush-off". Every morning and evening, there were rounds of brush-offs for men and women. In the absence of shower and bath, some of us went almost daily to the Sweatlodge to cleanse ourselves. It was a great experience. The actual complete Sweatlodge Ceremony is an AWESOME experience that everyone has to go through at least once in life.

There were also some common camp duties - standing guard at the gates, keeping the fire alive 24 hours a day near the sweatlodges, keeping the smudge pots alive with hot charcoal 24 hours. I did security work from midnight to 7 AM on one of the nights, at the front post, about 2 miles downhill from the camp, where Gus the giant dog was tied. A guy who manned the same post the next day saw a bear!

One of the characteristics of the camp was the humor all round. Most of the people took every opportunity to joke, make fun, be a smart ass, tickle each other. They did it in all places and at all times, even during solemn rituals and ceremonies. The Sundance festival by nature is an intense ceremony. The humor was needed and was very welcome for everyone.

The obvious warmth and respect of people for each other, the humor and the sense of being there together for an intense and sacred common purpose brought the 200+ people in the camp together in a special bond. Throughout my stay in the camp, from the time I set foot to the time I got out, this special bond was felt at all times. It was a very special sacred thing not experienced in any other camp I have been in.

Sundance Festival - The Ceremony:

The Sundance festival takes place over almost 10 days. The first 5 days are purification days when the Sundancers and other direct participants go through various purification and preparatory activities. As a supporter, I did not have to go through the purification days. I went to the Sundance camp on the evening of the last of the purification day. The next day was Tree Day when a group of people drove down the mountain to the woods below, to cut and bring a big cottonwood tree. It was about 20 feet tall, driven up the mountain and carried on shoulders of dozens of men to the dance area. It was the Sacred Tree of Life. The Tree was held up on wooden supports while everyone tied prayer ties all over the tree. Prayer ties are small pieces of colored cloth tied around some tobacco with a prayer. (Native Americans consider tobacco to be an important and sacred offering.) Then, people tied up ropes to the upper part of the Tree. And then, the Tree was planted in the middle of th!
e dance ground. The Sundancers went on to make more preparations for their dance, while the rest of us hung around camp and waited for the next day.

The next four days were dance days. During these four days, people who have committed to dance, undergo fasting with no food or drink. Someone told me that they drink a tiny bit of sacred water just before going to sleep every evening. They dance in the open dance area, around the Tree, for four rounds daily. The dance area is a large circle marked by stones and prayer ties around the Tree. It's a sacred area into which everyone is not allowed. The dancers dancer within the circle, while the supporters stand around the circle and sing and drum and dance along with the dancers. The supporters hold the energy for the dancers. The supporters encourage the dancers. There are breaks of 1-2 hours between rounds, when the dancers rest in shade, and the supporters go off to eat, drink, rest. All the men dancers wear red sarongs or dhotis and no shirts. All the women wear colorful dresses, some of which were quite grand and beautiful. The dancers hold a bird wing (usually eagle feathers) in the right hand and a long smoking pipe in the left. All the men dancers wear eagle feathers on their heads, above their ears on each side. The dance starts in the morning with all the dancers standing in rows, within the circle, facing East. For this round in the morning, they allow small babies, kids and their parents from among the supporters to go inside the circle and stand in a row. The kids are brought in to enthuse the dancers. Behind this row of kids, we have the rows of male dancers and behind them, rows of women dancers. They look like sacred soldiers standing in a parade. Their clothes and birds' wings and pipes in their hands and feathers on their heads make an awesome impression.

Early the first day, about 12 men got pierced on their chest. They are pierced with two bone or wooden pieces on each side on their chest, and they tie themselves to the Tree with ropes, through their piercing. These dancers stay with the tree throughout the days of the dance, even during breaks. They leave the tree only at night, by untying themselves. The piercing is part of the ritual of pain. During the rest of the day and the remaining days of dancing, other people too get pierced and tied to the Tree, but they breakoff at the end of the day. They don't just untie themselves from the tree; they snap the ties by jerking their bodies. The original 12 dancers untie themselves at the end of the first 3 days, but on the 4th day, they too jerk away and break-off.

People also go through other forms of pain. They pierce themselves in the back and drag a line of 6 or so buffalo skulls tied together, around the dance circle. It is a painful experience, painful even to watch. It is an intense ritual. I was told that dragging the buffalo skulls was a prayer for the younger people and children. It is common for the heavy buffalo skulls to break-off the ropes tied to the dancer's pierced back when he is walking around the circle. However, I saw some people for whom the skulls did not snap the ropes even after two rounds around the circle. If the skulls have not detached on their own at the end of the rounds, children are made to sit on the skulls and the dancer attempts to drag them. Invariably, the weight of the children causes the ropes to break away.

There were also 3-4 people who tried to hang from the tree by the piercings on their chest or backs. As soon as the weight of the person dragged the rope, the rope would break away. However, I saw one person who was hanging from his back for whom the rope did not breakaway. Even when he tried to swing and wriggle around, it did not break. Finally, he had to hold the rope and climb himself up a little bit and let go abruptly to snap the ties to his piercings.

The most intense of all was a guy who had knee surgeries about 2 weeks before. He was not a 4-day sundancer, but he was one of the priests in the rituals. He decided to get pierced and drag the buffalo skulls. He had a very tough time dragging them with his painful knees, but he completed 2 rounds dragging them. Quite a few people were moved to tears watching his suffering.

There were also some women who pierced their upper arms and tied feathers to them. One woman got 16 piercings, 8 on each arm. She was standing when they started to pierce her. Half-way through she collapsed.

In cultures across the world, offering things of value is a form of prayer. What the Sundancers were doing by fasting for 4 days and getting pierced was to make a very personal offering of physical energy and pain and blood as prayer. It is not a very easy thing to do. We, the supporters, who were well-fed and well-rested, cannot even imagine the pains of the Sundancers, unless we have danced before ourselves. But it did touch us, it did move us to see them go through their difficult periods. For me, the most difficult things to watch were not the piercings or the dragging of buffalo skulls with piercings or hanging from the tree through the piercings. These WERE difficult to watch, but there was also a certain adrenaline induced excitement and immunity when watching these more obvious forms of pain. What touched me most was to watch dancers when they struggled to simply stand there and move, because they were too tired with hunger and thirst. It was a more permanent pain of fatigue, and all I could do was send out support from my heart to them, silently encouraging them to hang-on, to hold-on, to stay.

Supporters have a chance to offer their own pain and blood and flesh. One of the priests facilitates this in a small enclosed space outside the dance circle. He uses a pin and a surgical blade to take away match-head sized pieces of skin from the upper arms of people who want to make the offering. The skin that is so cut away is tied up in a prayer tie and offered to God, to Spirit. I offered 3 pieces of my skin. My pain was not more than getting an injection. But this symbolic personal pain was amazingly helpful in feeling a connection to the suffering dancers, to empathize with their pain, at least to a tiny extent.

Towards the end of some rounds of dancing, the people conducting the ceremonies selected a few (2-6) female Sundancers and an equal number of supporters. And then, the Sundancers ceremoniously offered the Sacred Pipes with which they were dancing, to the supporters. The supporters took the pipe to their family and friends, smoked it in a circle and returned it ceremoniously to the sundancers. Once I was chosen to receive the Chanupa (the Sacred Pipe). And a few other times, I was also invited to smoke in other people's circles. It is a special thing in Native ceremony to be offered a Pipe and I felt honored.

One of the last rounds of the dance was the healing round. In this round, all of us supporters were allowed to enter the dance circle, to touch the tree and to come out. All the Sundancers stood in rows on either side of us as we walked from the west side of the dance circle, touched and prayed at the tree and walked out from the south side of the circle. The dancers standing on either side of us waved their wings at us, touching and patting us in gestures of blessing, to heal us. That physical contact with the dancers was a touching experience - no pun intended. It must have been very trying for the dancers to just stand their in the sun, close to the end of their 4-day ordeal, while a couple of hundred people walked past them. It must have taken a lot of effort to hold up their wings and fan us and touch us and bless us. They did it cheerfully and with obvious love, love towards strangers, friends and families alike.

Sundance - The Aftermath:

At the end of the dancing rounds on the 4th day, the 12 original dancers who were tied to the tree through the 4 days of the Sundance, snapped off amidst loud cheering. After a few more formalities, it was all over. The dancing circle was broken, the "eagles had flown". There was a huge rush of families and friends going upto their Sundancers. And everyone took water and juice and energy drinks and fruits. It was a touching moment. I was walking around offering everyone blueberries from a box. Most of the Sundancers grabbed handfuls of the berries and thanked me as if I was doing a big service. One of them thanked me with more affection and introduced me to his wife, as the person who had helped him put his prayer ties on the Tree on Tree day. I had helped plant the Tree 4 day earlier and just before planting it, I had helped several people tie their prayer ties around the Tree. Little did I know then that those people were all Sundancers and that I was helping them in an important ritual in their ceremony.

The dance ended sometime in later afternoon of the 4th day. And then in the early evening, there was something called the give-away. Sundancing is a 4 year commitment. People who decide to dance, have to do so for 4 continuous summers. After their 4 year commitment is over, they give away gifts to people at the Sundance. It is a fun tradition. Some of the people had brought whole truckful of gifts of used and new items. I got some nice and useful gifts.

And then, there is the Feast. The fourth day of the dance is known as the Feast day. Everyone in the camp brings a dish to the common potluck. There was a big lineup of over 50 dishes of various kinds, with almost 300 people sharing it. It was a huge, warm and touching party to end the festival.

The Red Carpet - Book Review

Read Lavanya Sankaran's The Red Carpet - Bangalore Stories recently. It is a collection of short stories, all of them set in Bangalore.

It is only incidental that the stories take place in Bangalore. They might as well have taken place in any big city of South India, or for that matter, even the North. Most of the stories, except for the title story The Red Carpet itself, are about Tamil Brahmin (Tambram) Iyer families. As such the stories are more about contemporary Tambrams, than about anything to do with Bangalore.

The occasional appearance of Kannada words and phrases in the stories seemed contrived, where as, the Tamil words seemed to blend in nicely. In fact, one of the Kannada phrases was not even grammatically correct. If you belong to an upper middleclass non-Kannadiga family in Bangalore, it is quite possible for you to grow up in Bangalore without really becoming fluent in the local Kannada language.** I suspect the author Lavanya Sankaran might be one of those.

The stories themselves are very well written. They effortlessly pull the reader into the lives of the characters. I found myself empathizing with the hopes and dreams and pains and fears of the characters even before reading through the first page of each story. For me, the most touching story was "Mysore Coffee", about Sita, a working girl who is haunted by childhood memories of her father's suicide. She is brilliant at her work, but not very savvy in communicating with colleagues. As such, others end up taking credit for all her hard work. Although I could empathize with the character Sita, I could never understand how (Spoiler Warning - don't read the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to know what happens at the end of the story) someone would rather think of destroying all their hardwork and even contemplate suicide, than speak up in the office. Strange!

Another great thing about this book was, to read about characters who are so similar to my own self. The state of contemporary Indian literature (and TV, movies) is that, we hardly ever get to read (or watch) about characters who are similar to us - average, young, educated, working people, around the age of 30 (give or take a few years), straddling Indian family traditions and values, the influence of Western cultures and ethics, combined with the unavoidable exposure to the global economy, whether we are living in India or the US or elsewhere. It was a refreshing change to be able to read about such characters in this book. I guess that is a big part of the reason why I could so easily empathize with all the characters.

I found the stories to be sincerely written - nothing pretentious or artificial about them. There was certainly nothing in the stories which seemed to be packaged as exotic Indian fare for the foreign audience. These are the times when many writers and movie-makers are using the Indian themes to target foreign and/or NRI audiences. We should commend Lavanya Sankaran for not succumbing to that trap.

A highly recommended book.



**Yes, it is quite possible to grow up in Bangalore and not really learn Kannada. At home, you'd speak your own mother tongue; at school and work, you'd speak English (and a little Hindi, and even your own mother tongue if ran into others who knew it); with the other essential services people like shopkeepers, etc. you can speak English, Hindi, your own mother tongue (especially if it happens to be Tamil or Telugu) and a smattering of broken Kannada; most of your Kannadiga friends will also be nice enough to talk to you in English, Hindi or your own mother tongue (if they know it), before they attempt to talk to you in Kannada.