Green Options

The following post was written by Sul’ma’ejote, aka Dr. Darryl “Babe” Wilson, PhD.  Sul’ma’ejote was born in 1939 in Qatsade (Fall River Valley) on the north bank of Sul’ma’ejote (Fall River), a stone toss from It’ajuma (Pit River) in far northern California. He has written several books, including The Morning the Sun Went Down, about the early times of his life which were not only marked by the tragedy of a native “family shadowed in and out of civilization”, but the death of his mother who was killed in a lumber truck-automobile accident. Sul’ma’ejote blogs at Hay’dutsi’la.

July 19, 2008:  Fires in Hyampom Still Crackling

Could we flip back through history to a hundred-thousand years before Columbus or ten minutes before landfall, we would find immense forests, some three-hundred feet tall and thirty-five feet around, most of the forests appearing like a manicured Federal Park, clear of underbrush, deaf falls and dry limbs and needles and leaves turning to duff just waiting for a spark.

The forests, like most life on this continent, were not an accident.  That they looked like they were manicured is because they had been forever before the penetration of Europeans.  Forests were full of life and were like a super market for the natives.  Animals, birds, eggs, nuts, excitement and adventure flourished everywhere.  It was a duty for the natives to clean the forests and encourage life to visit there, and it was an honor to “talk for” the forests in ceremony and prayer.  Loving earth with a deep respect has always been the “way” of mountain and coast indigenous.

Last week, I had the honor of listening to When the ancestors whisper…Stories From Native California, produced by my friend Neil Harvey of the Bioneers for the California Indian Storytelling Association (CISA). Sitting in my neighbor’s rustic log cabin sipping local wine, the elders’ voices reached my soul and I lamented for the lack of oral history within my own culture. When the ancestors whisper… features Native American storytellers Darryl “Babe” Wilson (Itam Is/Aw’te), Georgiana Sanchez (Chumash/O’odham) and Ernest Siva (Cahuilla/Serrano) coming from the California forests, deserts, and sea. One story, in particular, I felt carried wisdom for the environmental movement and the future of our planet.

Told by Darryl “Babe” Wilson, “Two Moons” is a “warning” story of what might happen to the Earth if we don’t heal the “sickness” of our planet. “Jui ja wa. The old people would say jui ja wa. Jui ja wa, that means the Earth is sick.” Darryl was born on the north side of Sul’ma’ejote (Fall River) at its confluence with It’ajuma (Pit River), which is east of Mt. Shasta. He has doctorate in English and the author of The Morning the Sun Went Down, a honest autobiography about what it is like to grow up Native American in rural California. Based on the recommendation of a Modoc colleague, I read this book over seven years ago, but the story has remained in my heart as if I read it yesterday.