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Beyond what tourists see, a rich Maasai culture with many challenges

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Guardians of the greater Serengeti’s landscape embrace traditions, but also have modern concerns such as poaching, education, and clean water.

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Cherokee people in the Great Smoky Mountains

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Cherokee people in the Great Smoky Mountains

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For thousands of years, Aboriginal Australians have been surviving on "bush tucker" and foods provided by the outback. Aboriginals were hunters and gatherers, hunting wildlife to provide meat and gathering fruits, seeds and insects for their daily meals. Each season, weather conditions and geographic location would impact the types of food available, making their diet varied and well balanced.

In central Australia where the Watarrka region is located, water was scarce, so to survive the Aboriginal tribes would find water in tree hollows and roots, soakages and permanent water holes which were quite scarce.

Since European settlement, the traditional Aboriginal foods and eating rituals have gradually become less common. Below are a few of the major food sources that were hunted and gathered in traditional Aboriginal culture:

Aboriginal men within the tribe were normally the ones responsible for hunting live game for meat. Luckily for them, there was a lot of wildlife throughout the Australian bush available. The animals were hunted using tools like small daggers and spears made from sharpened stone. Common animals that were hunted and eaten by Aboriginals included Kangaroos, Wild Turkeys, Possums, Emus, Anteaters, Lizards and Snakes.

Damper is a type of bread that was made by hand, usually by Aboriginal women within the tribe. First the women would source local seeds and gather these into a large dish. They would then use millstones to slowly grind the seeds creating a flour. They would then add small splashes of water throughout the process to create a paste, then a dough. The dough would be heated over the coals of a fire until it was cooked, then served to the tribe.

One of the most well known traditional Aboriginal foods is the Australian witchetty grub, which is actually native to central Australia where the Watarrka region is located. The Witchetty grub remains a common snack or meal addition in Australia, and is high in protein and nutrition. Other insects eaten by Aboriginal Australians include cicadas and caterpillars.

A large part of the traditional Aboriginal diet included native fruits and seeds that grew naturally within the area. The types of fruit and seed depended on the season and availability, but could include wild passionfruit, wild oranges, bush tomato, bush banana, bush plums, mulga seeds and wattle seeds. Aboriginal Australians would also gather honey and nectar from bees, honey ants, flowers and trees.

The Watarrka Foundation is working closely with teachers from the Watarrka Primary School to continue our fresh produce projects, which involves planting fruit and vegetables within the school. The children are responsible for watering, monitoring and harvesting the produce which teachers them important lessons about the value of health food, and also encourages healthy eating habits.

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Population and Territory

Haida are Indigenous people who have traditionally occupied the coastal bays and inlets of Haida Gwaii in British Columbia. Archaeological evidence confirms continual habitation on the islands for at least 6,000 to 8,000 years. ( See also Prehistory.) The relationship between Haida and Haida Gwaii​, which means "islands of the people," is fundamental to traditional and contemporary Haida life. The two main population centres are Old Masset on the north part of Graham Island and Skidegate on the south-east. In the 2016 census, 501 people claimed Haida ancestry.

Pre-contact Life

Traditionally, each Haida village was an independent political unit and, to a great extent, each family in a village was an independent entity. In terms of economy, the Haida traded items, such as eulachon fish, with other Indigenous nations in British Columbia, including the Nisga'a. The Haida also often ate salmon and hunted various animals, including the grizzly bear.

Society and Culture

All Haida belong to one of two social groups - the Eagle or the Raven, sometimes referred to as moieties or clans. Traditionally, Haida always married a member of the opposite group. Clan membership was matrilineal, and each group contained more than 20 lineages. Individuals publicly proclaimed clan membership through an elaborate display of inherited family crests, carved on totem poles erected in front of houses and carved or painted on war canoes, cedar boxes, masks, and utilitarian and decorative objects. Though these cultural and artistic practices are distinctive, they do share similarities with the neighbouring Tsimshian and Tlingit.

Potlatches were a focus of Haida life. Such ceremonies were a means of reinforcing the social and economic organization, and the interdependence of moieties, lineages and villages. The names of lineages were generally derived from the group's place of origin. Lineages were property-holding groups. Property owned by a lineage included rights to certain salmon streams, trapping sites, patches of edible plants and tobacco, stands of cedar, bird rookeries, stretches of coastline and house sites in the winter village. Management of the lineage's property was in the hands of the lineage chief.

Language

The Haida language is an isolate with two dialects: X̲aad Kil (Masset) on the northern island and areas of southeast Alaska, and X̲aayda Kil (Skidegate) in the south. The language is endangered. In the 2016 census, 445 people identified as speakers of the Haida language, with 98.9 per cent living in British Columbia. However, this figure does not specify the number of fluent language speakers. According to the Haida Nation, there are less than a dozen fluent speakers of the Masset dialect, all of whom are elderly. The Nation also recognizes about 20 fluent elders of the X̲aayda Kil dialect. The Old Masset Village Council and Skidegate Band Council support language programs, with more than 50 learning speakers between them. ( See also Indigenous Languages in Canada and Northwest Coast Language Families.)

Colonial History

The first recorded European contact is generally believed to have been in 1774 with the Spanish explorer Juan Pérez; however, some academics have suggested that Russian explorers may have contacted the Haida as early as 1741. In 1787, British Captain George Dixon initiated trade with the Haida for sea-otter pelts, and the Haida remained at the centre of the lucrative China sea-otter trade until the mid-1800s.

European settlers did not significantly populate Haida Gwaii until almost 1900. The Council of the Haida Nation estimates that the pre-contact population of Haida Gwaii was in the tens of thousands, a number supported by early fur traders who recorded similar, though naturally imprecise, estimates. Though the Haida had engaged in war with other Indigenous nations, using large sea-going canoes in raiding expeditions as far south as Washington State, violent confrontations with Europeans were relatively few. Nevertheless, by 1915 their population had declined to 588 people, mainly as a result of smallpox and other diseases brought by Europeans.

As Europeans increasingly encroached on Haida territories, the Haida found themselves forced onto smaller parcels of land. As a means of assimilating Indigenous populations, the Canadian government sent Haida children to residential schools, where they and other Indigenous children were forbidden from speaking their languages and practicing their cultures. Officially launched in 2008, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) sought to guide Canadians through the difficult discovery of the facts behind the residential school system and to lay the foundation for lasting reconciliation across Canada.

Haida Constitution

The Haida Nation has claimed Aboriginal title over all of Haida Gwaii, but has been unable to reach a formal treaty agreement with the government of British Columbia, and has thus withdrawn from treaty negotiations. As such, the Haida have continued to negotiate with the provincial government on a government-to-government basis, and have succeeded in a number of significant negotiations including the protection of culturally significant areas, the reduction of logging by half, access to resources and related revenues, increased environmental protections, and ongoing participation in a "shared governance" model of relations rather than straightforward self-government.

The 2010 Constitution of the Haida Nation states:

The Haida Nation is the rightful heir to Haida Gwaii. Our culture is born of respect; and intimacy with the land and sea and the air around us. Like the forests, the roots of our people are intertwined such that the greatest troubles cannot overcome us. We owe our existence to Haida Gwaii. The living generation accepts the responsibility to ensure that our heritage is passed on to following generations. On these islands our ancestors lived and died and here too, we will make our homes until called away to join them in the great beyond.

Contemporary Life

Many contemporary Haida are famous for their fine art (s ee also Northwest Coast Indigenous Art), while many others work as prosperous commercial fishers or in forestry. Together with Parks Canada, the Haida manage the South Moresby/Gwaii Haanas National Park Reserve on Haida Gwaii. A "Haida Gwaii Watchmen" program protects and interprets archaeological historical sites throughout the islands. Haida are also employed in eco-tourism programs, while a commercial fishery includes a Masset band-owned herring roe on kelp, known as k'aaw, license. Skidegate also holds several such harvesting licenses.

The k'aaw fishery has been the subject of some controversy, as commercial fishery outfits supported by the BC Department of Fisheries and Oceans have sought licenses to harvest herring roe directly, rather than through spawning collection. The Haida, as well as the Nuu-chah-nulth and Heiltsuk, opposed these actions in early 2014. The Nuu-chah-nulth received a Federal Court ruling against the fishery in their territory, while the Haida negotiated a one-year moratorium on the commercial fishery.

The Council of the Haida Nation represents all Haida while recognizing the independent jurisdiction of the Kaigani Haida who reside north of the Dixon Entrance in southern Alaska. The Constitution of the Haida Nation affords, to all people of Haida ancestry, citizenship and related Indigenous, hereditary and cultural rights, as well as individual and participatory rights. Any Haida citizen over the age of 16 may vote to elect representatives to the council, or may propose legislation or policy, subject to a vote. The Constitution also recognizes the role of village councils as well as matrilineally-descended hereditary chiefs.

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Haida are Indigenous people who have traditionally occupied the coastal bays and inlets of Haida Gwaii in British Columbia. Archaeological evidence confirms continual habitation on the islands for at least 6,000 to 8,000 years. ( See also Prehistory.) The relationship between Haida and Haida Gwaii​, which means "islands of the people," is fundamental to traditional and contemporary Haida life.

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By now, many people have seen the viral video of a group of young people performing a haka near one of the mosques attacked in Christchurch, New Zealand, last week.

Their moving performance was in tribute to the 50 people who were killed when a suspected white supremacist gunman opened fire in the mosques.

The haka is a traditional Maori performance with a long and rich history, and it has become a central part of New Zealand's cultural identity - Maori or not.

In the viral video, Indigenous and non-Indigenous youth perform the haka with, what looks to be, equal mastery.

Mihirangi, a Maori musician and haka teacher from the Ngāti Rākeiora tribe, told about the origin of haka and how it became a universal language shared by New Zealanders.

What is the meaning and origin of haka?

In Maori tradition, to practice haka is to embody gods and ancestors, to feel empowered by their energy, Mihirangi said.

"It's a personal challenge ... to raise your vibration and pull on that energy in a very passionate and powerful way in unity with others and speak with one voice about the issue that is being spoken to," she said.

"You can't help but stand up and listen. You can't help but feel moved by it."

On what occasions do people perform haka?

"If you look up haka online, it says that it's a war dance," Mihirangi said. "It can be a war dance. However, there are many versions of haka."

You can write a haka for weddings, birthdays, deaths and even political gatherings, she added.

When Mihirangi and her fellow musicians and performers toured Canada last year, they wrote a haka specifically for the families of missing and murdered Indigenous women.

"We actually taught it to those communities as well," Mihirangi said.

"It was a form and a way of offering empathy and standing in solidarity with those communities and with those families and just basically saying that we are there for them."

There were periods of time where our doors were closed because of the fear of racism towards us and misappropriation of culture. - Mihirangi, musician and haka teacher

How do non-Indigenous New Zealanders learn haka?

There are many ways all New Zealanders would learn haka, Mihirangi said.

The country's international rugby team, the All Blacks, perform a haka written about challenging themselves and others.

"You can watch the All Blacks on the other side of the world and there would be a guarantee that someone in the local pub watching the All Blacks on television will be doing the haka along with them," she said.

In New Zealand, children learn haka for school concerts or end-of-year events, Mihirangi said. Organizations also have haka taught to their employees for events.

Do people understand the meaning of haka?

When Mihirangi teaches haka to non-Indigenous people, she always starts by explaining the meaning and significance of the performance.

"I recognize that ... cultural misappropriation is a big issue around the world," Mihirangi said.

"The first thing I do is I go through the ceremonial process, which teaches them what it means - what it means to them, what it means to us and what the guidelines are to performing a particular haka," she said.

"It's wonderful that everyone has a haka here ... that they can perform and that they can call their own and that they can use in their lives."

Have the Maori always shared their culture with others?

The Maori make up 15 per cent of New Zealand's population, and Mihirangi says both their population and their cultural influence is growing.

"There were periods of time where our doors were closed because of the fear of racism towards us and misappropriation of culture," Mihirangi said.

However, she adds, "Our culture has gone through a renaissance and revival since the '80s, since our elders protested for our ... cultural practices and our land rights."
To hear more from Mihirangi, download our podcast or click 'Listen' at the top of this page.

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How the traditional Maori haka became a central part of New Zealand's national identity | CBC Radio

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A video of young people performing haka in honour of the Christchurch shooting victims went viral on social media. Haka instructor Mihirangi explains the dance's origins and how it became a universal language shared by New Zealanders, Maori or not.

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Haida Ethics and Values

Haida ethics and values are fundamental to Haida culture and society - respect, responsibility, interconnectedness, balance, seeking wise counsel, and giving and receiving are all elements that define the Haida world view.
Yahguudang or Yakguudang. Respect
Respect for each other and all living things is rooted in our culture. We take only what we need, we give thanks, and we acknowledge those who behave accordingly.
'Laa guu ga kanhllns. Responsibility
We accept the responsibility passed on by our ancestors to manage and care for our sea and land. We will ensure that our heritage is passed onto future generations.

Gina 'waadluxan gud ad kwaagiida. Interconnectedness. Everything depends on everything else

The principle of interconnectedness is fundamental to integrated planning and management. This comprehensive approach considers the relationships between species and habitats, and accounts for short-term, long-term and cumulative effects of human activities on the environment. Interrelationships are accounted for across spatial and temporal scales and across agencies and jurisdictions.

Giid tll'juus. Balance. The world is as sharp as the edge of a knife

Balance is needed in our interactions with the natural world. If we aren't careful in everything we do, we can easily reach a point of no return. Our practices and those of others must be sustainable.
Gina k'aadang.nga gii uu tl' k'anguudang. Seeking Wise Counsel
Our elders teach us about traditional ways and how to work in harmony. Like the forests, the roots of our people are intertwined. Together we consider new ideas and information in keeping with our culture, values and laws.
Isda ad diigii isda. Giving and Receiving
Reciprocity is a respected practice in our culture, essential in our interactions with each other and the natural world. We continually give thanks to the natural world for the gifts that we receive.

Haida Marine Traditional Knowledge

The intimate relationship that Haida maintain with the marine environment spans countless generations. In part, it is this knowledge of the land and ocean that has ensured the continued success of Haida culture. From their earliest memories Haida children recall digging shellfish, gathering seaweed, learning how to spear octopus, and helping to prepare and preserve fish. Always underlying the lessons is a message of respect and recognition of the responsibility to maintain balance in the natural world.

In 2007, the CHN initiated the Haida Marine Traditional Knowledge Study to research and document Haida culture, traditions and knowledge about the ocean. Fifty-six Haida shared their knowledge of food, fishing and gathering areas, seasonal harvest patterns, sites of cultural and historical importance, and observations about species abundance and population trends. More than 4,000 locations and 150 marine species were recorded, with oral accounts and first-hand observations dating back to the 1920s.

The Ocean & Way of Life Map includes over 500 Haida names for ocean and freshwater bodies, settlements and supernatural beings, and presents some of the information compiled during the Haida Marine Traditional Knowledge Study. The Ocean & Way of Life brochure is a complement to the map and provides more information about the project.

These products, in addition to ongoing engagement with the Haida Marine Working Group and others with marine traditional knowledge, continue to be an integral part of the marine planning work done by the Haida Oceans Technical Team. The Technical Team is currently working to develop a searchable database to house the information from the Haida Marine Traditional Knowledge Study so that traditional knowledge data can continue to be incorporated into all marine planning and decision-making processes.

Maintaining Access to Marine Resources

Successful Haida traditional use, such as fishing, hunting and gathering, requires access to a range of healthy resources. Traditional use activities are defined by the seasons and are based on the principles of respect and taking only what is needed, which is consistent with the concepts of stewardship and sustainable use. Greater awareness is needed of Haida traditional use and stewardship activities and the importance of these activities in Haida communities.

Fishing for trade has always been an integral component of Haida culture. Foods and other materials such as taaw eulachon grease, 'as soap berries, and mountain goat wool were not available on Haida Gwaii and were traded for fish and other local items. In more recent times, Haida have participated in the fisheries economy as skippers, fishers, boat builders, and cannery workers.

Over the last several decades, however, local participation (including Haida participation) in the commercial fisheries economy has declined and the size of the resident commercial fleet on the islands is currently very small. In addition, very few of the fish caught in Haida Gwaii waters are delivered to local seafood processing plants. Increasing the local economic benefits from marine resources is key to developing a sustainable marine economy on Haida Gwaii. Mechanisms for this include increasing participation in specific commercial fisheries, using local processors, and strengthening distribution channels.

Section 6.5 of the Haida Gwaii Marine Plan outlines objectives and strategies to ensure Haida access for traditional use activities. Section 7.3 outlines objectives and strategies to support the growth of the community-based fisheries sector on Haida Gwaii.

Protecting Important Sites and Areas

Haida Gwaii Yahguudang, respecting Haida Gwaii, includes respect for the past, present and future. Haida Gwaii has been home for the Haida Nation for thousands of years and will continue to be for generations to come. Scientific studies and archeological research are reinforcing many Haida oral traditions. For example, in the past, sea levels were much lower; archaeological excavations have revealed signs of human use that are now underwater due to rising sea levels. Haida Gwaii also has a variety of post-contact marine-related historical sites (e.g., shipwrecks and canneries) that may need to be assessed and protected.

Coastal and foreshore developments impact cultural and archaeological sites and areas. Natural events such as storms can also disturb or erode shorelines. In deeper water, bottom trawling and offshore industrial developments could impact sites and areas. To safeguard the cultural heritage of Haida Gwaii, it is imperative to protect known and future cultural and archaeological sites and areas, including spiritual places and locations featured in Haida oral traditions.

Section 6.2 of the Haida Gwaii Marine Plan outlines objectives and strategies for the protection of Haida values and archeological sites and areas.

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Issues: Culture - Council of the Haida Nation - Marine Planning Program

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Haida ethics and values are fundamental to Haida culture and society - respect, responsibility, interconnectedness, balance, seeking wise counsel, and giving and receiving are all elements that define the Haida world view. Yahguudang or Yakguudang. Respect Respect for each other and all living things is rooted in our culture.

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Hoop dancing tells visual stories of Native American traditions.

Published on 11/17/2021 at 1:02 PM

In the Fall of 2010, I attended college outside my comfortable Navajo Nation bubble, leaving behind the only life I knew: the Rez life. Feeling homesick, I found refuge in a new friendship with Patrick Willie, a Navajo from Orem, Utah.
At the time, Patrick was just a math nerd with good taste in music. But the more I got to know him, I learned that he was very well known in the local pow wow circuit: he danced men's fancy and hoop dancing.

Today, Patrick is one of the top ten Native American hoop dancers in the world. This last year, at the Heard Museum World Hoop Competition, he ranked sixth. Dancing has allowed him to travel all over the US and the world. Through hoop dancing, he shares his culture and passes down his story for the next generation. As told to Ashley Franklin.

In the first words of his story, Patrick introduces himself and his clan in Diné, his native tongue.

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Yá'át'ééh, shí éí Patrick Willie yinishyé.
Áshįįhí nishłį́.
Tódích'íí'nii bashishchiin.
Táchii'nii dashicheii.
Tsé Nahabiłnii dashinalí.

As a Native American, our ancestors didn't use paper or record their stories. The only way to pass their traditions on was through storytelling, singing songs, and dancing. Hoop dancing incorporates all three.

I love so many things about hoop dancing. The hoop dance is creative, upbeat, and at times, mind-blowing to witness. You'll hear the rhythm of the pow wow drum group and my bells on time with the beats. When I dance, I create a visual story with different formations of my hoops. I often use up to 13 hoops, sometimes even 21 hoops. I start off with one, progressively picking up one more until I reach the end of my storytelling.

Growing up, I went to pow wows, but I didn't take it seriously at all. I would attend maybe once or twice a year. My mom would tell my sisters and I to "go and dance," but that was about it. I just saw it as something my mom wanted me to do, so I wasn't very connected to it.

It wasn't until I got older, probably about 22, that I started to see there was a big connection to hoop dancing and my culture. I went to Salt Lake City to do a performance, and that's where I saw another hoop dancer. He blew my mind! He was doing the dance in a way I'd never seen before; he did stuff I didn't know was possible. The very next day, I had brand new hoops made for me, from a family friend, and that's where it took off-it was like a fire burning inside of me. Whenever I got to dance and saw I was around Native elders or other Native dancers, I always asked them questions. I began to ask my parents questions about my ancestors.

I've noticed a lot of people around the world don't know that Native Americans still exist.

From there, that fire, that wanting to learn more, grew and grew. I sought more knowledge about hoop dancing from YouTube videos of well-known world champion hoop dancers. I got the attention of a lot of people within my Native community. I realized that with dancing, I, myself, was representing my people. I was sharing a story.

The hoop dance came to us from the Taos Pueblo tribe in New Mexico. They say the circle represents our circle of life. Just like many of our Native American dances, a lot of them have different stories. We have the jingle dress dance, which is a healing dance that relates to the rain. We have the men's traditional dance, which is a warrior's dance. The Hoop dance started as a healing dance, and that story is still there, but it's also a storytelling dance.

There are so many stories that come from the hoop dance. There's a story that talks about the creation of time, one talks about a wedding, and one that talks about an eagle as it goes throughout its life. Most of the time, I share the story of a warrior on his journey through life. I connect it to whoever I'm dancing for, sharing some life lessons I've learned.

There are a lot of lessons within the dance that relate to our Native culture dealing with respect, traditions, and living a positive, healthy life. I strive to incorporate those teachings in my life. There are plenty of times when maybe I'm not in the best mood or maybe I'm having a bad day, but I know that after I dance, I'm going to feel happy and whoever I dance for will also feel happy. Incorporating that healing factor is part of the hoop dance.

Whether it be trying new footwork or new formations, the most challenging part is finding your own style, finding your own voice-finding your own story to share with the dance. It takes a lot of practice, but eventually you get to a point where you expand your dancing and share more stories.

For eight years now, I've been working with the Title VI Native American Education Program. Throughout the school year, once a week, I teach the Native American students in my area, from elementary to high school, Native American dancing. I teach them basic pow wow steps, and Native American hoop dance.

Hoop dancing allows me to share my culture and educate others around the world. When I travel and perform, I've noticed a lot of people around the world don't know that Native Americans still exist. They thought we were all dead. A lot of times I find myself dancing for people who are not Native American and I see that as my opportunity to share my traditions and to battle stereotypes or preconceived notions they might have about us.

I still have that fire burning inside me. I still practice every single day. I keep hoops in my room, in the living room, and sometimes I keep them in the kitchen. When I see them by the front door, it encourages me to practice even more. On my way out, I grab some hoops and practice on the lawn. I am always practicing.

You can see parts of Patrick's dance in this video.

Ashley Franklin,Diné, is Hashk'ąąn Hadzohí (Yucca Fruit Strung Out) and born for Táchii'nii (Red Running Into the Water). She is a writer for Thrillist.

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This Navajo Hoop Dancer Finds His Fire in the Beat of Pow Wow Drums

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The hoop dance is healing and tells Native American stories. Here's how one Navajo dancer preserves his indigenous heritage.

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Project FUEL would like to thank the Maasai community in the Losimingori village of Arusha, Tanzania for opening their hearts and home to this research.

This exhibit is part of the Wise Wall Project, an initiative of Project FUEL, to document, design, and strengthen the wisdom of rural communities and marginalized villages using art and community outreach programs. In the third edition of this project, we collaborated with the Maasai, in Arusha, Tanzania, to build an on-ground community centre for the people and bring an exclusive insight into the life, lifestyle, and learnings of this inspiring community.
Illustrations: Advithi Emmi

Research, Interviews and Curation: Project FUEL
Project Partners: Vijana Inspiring Foundation, Vikram Solar Ltd., Lions Club of Dar es Salaam and Arusha, Google Arts & Culture

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Maasai Lifestyle: 6 Natural Elements of Utmost Importance - Google Arts & Culture

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Exploring the natural elements that hold importance in Maasai rituals and ceremonies

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Author: Keli Gonzales

ᎦᏃᎭᎵᏙ (ga-no-ha-li-do) is the Cherokee word for "hunting." Skills and traditions pertaining to hunting influence other portions of daily life for many native peoples. Hunting is still a prominent aspect of Cherokee identity. Cherokees hunted to feed themselves and their communities using various weapons, but, like many things, hunting practices changed after European contact.

Traditionally, men were the hunters in Cherokee communities. Young boys learned to hunt small game using blowguns until they were old enough to hunt with the men. Hunting required fasting, ceremony and medicine specific to the undertaking. As with some other male tasks in Cherokee culture, hunting voyages also served as training for warfare. Regular festivals and ceremonies required a big hunt beforehand. Designated hunters brought back meat for the festivals but the men hunted on a very regular basis. For some, it was a type of profession. Cherokee men hunted mainly for sustenance and different game required different tools.

Bows and arrows were primarily used to hunt deer, turkey and other large game. Bows were often made from hickory and black locust trees. Arrows had rivercane shafts with wooden nocks to keep the cane from splitting. The tips of the arrows were flint-napped arrowheads. Dressing and cleaning the game required the use of special scraping tools made with flint-napped blades. Hunters kept a flint knife at the waist or in a sheath around the neck to make it easily accessible. Knives were a necessity for everyday life. For small game like squirrels and rabbits, Cherokees used blowguns. Blowguns were made from rivercane and could be three to nine feet long. Eventually, another weapon would be introduced that would forever alter the speed and efficiency of Cherokee hunting traditions.

The introduction of firearms had a dramatic effect on hunting as well as warfare. The Cherokee began hunting for trade instead of necessity. The rifle helped the Cherokee acquire animal skins more rapidly, which in turn made them major participants in the North American fur trade. As a result, deer and other large game neared endangerment. Eventually, the fur trade began to decline and the number of these endangered animals started to steady. Much like other trade items that the Europeans introduced, the rifle continued to be utilized by the Cherokee people however they saw fit.

A great number of Cherokee hunt today to provide for themselves and their families. This tradition is no longer restricted to males only. There are Cherokee artists and culture keepers who continue to make weapons in the traditional way. Hunting is a tradition that is carried on using the weapons that were perfected for the task so long ago, even with the modern advances of today. Recently, the Cherokee Nation signed a wildlife compact that expanded hunting and fishing rights for Cherokee Nation citizens to the entire state of Oklahoma. This agreement when into effect January 1, 2017. Citizens of the Cherokee Nation over the age of 16 receives a hunting and fishing license every year, as well as one deer tag and one turkey tag. For more information about receiving a hunting and fishing license visit the Cherokee Nation website ( www.cherokee.org) or send an email to fishandgame@cherokee.org. Visit the Cherokee Heritage Center in Tahlequah, OK, to find an abundance of detailed information about traditional Cherokee weaponry.

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Author: Keli Gonzales ᎦᏃᎭᎵᏙ (ga-no-ha-li-do) is the Cherokee word for "hunting." Skills and traditions pertaining to hunting influence other portions of daily life for many native peoples. Hunting is still a prominent aspect of Cherokee identity. Cherokees hunted to feed themselves and their communities using various weapons, but, like many things, hunting practices changed after European contact.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Religious Beliefs. Animals were classified as special types of people, more intelligent than humans and with the ability to transform themselves into human form. Animals were thought to live on land, in the sea, and in the sky in a social order that mirrored that of the Haida. Traditional beliefs have been largely displaced by Christianity, although many Haida still believe in reincarnation.

Ceremonies. The Haida prayed and gave offerings to the masters of the game animals and to the beings who gave wealth. Major ceremonial events were feasts, potlatches, and dance performances. High-ranking men were expected to host these events. Property was distributed through the Potlatch on a number of occasions including the building of a cedar house, naming and tattooing of children, and death. Potlatches also included feasts and dance performances, although a feast might be given apart from the potlatch.

Arts. As with other Northwest Coast groups, carving and painting were highly developed art forms. The Haida are Renowned for their totem poles in the form of house-front poles, memorial poles, and mortuary columns. Painting Usually involved the use of black, red, and blue-green to produce highly stylized representations of the zoomorphic matrilineal crest figures. The body of a high-ranking individual was often tattooed and faces were painted for ceremonial purposes.

Death and Afterlife. Treatment of the deceased reflected status differentials. For those of high rank, after lying in state for a few days in the house, the body was buried in the lineage gravehouse where it remained either permanently or until it was placed in a mortuary pole. When the pole was erected, a potlatch was held both to honor the deceased and to recognize his successor. Commoners were usually buried apart from the nobles, and carved poles were not erected. Slaves were tossed into the sea. The Haida believed strongly in reincarnation, and sometimes before death an individual might choose the parents to whom he or she was to be reborn. At death, the soul was transported by canoe to the Land of the Souls to await reincarnation.

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Religious Beliefs. Animals were classified as special types of people, more intelligent than humans and with the ability to transform themselves into human form. Animals were thought to live on land, in the sea, and in the sky in a social order that mirrored that of the Haida.

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The Navajo Nation-Story of America's Largest Tribe

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The Navajo Nation-Story of America's Largest Tribe

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Sign in to EBSCO Research Services to gain access to your library or organization's subscription of EBSCOhost Databases, Discovery Service and Explora.

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This is one of five stories that explore the greater Serengeti region and its ecosystem. Read the rest of those stories here.

Recently I embarked on a journey into the Serengeti. It wasn't the Serengeti you might envision, not the postcard vistas of rolling, yellow-grass savannas punctuated by umbrella thorn acacias. And I didn't stay in a luxury tented camp or join the armies of tourist vans swarming around lion kills.

Instead, I traveled to Loita, a part of the greater Serengeti ecosystem that doesn't appear on the standard itinerary-a hidden Serengeti, if you will, one that includes a lush mountain wilderness rising more than a mile above sea level. It's about a 150-mile drive southwest from Nairobi and overlooks the world-famous Masai Mara National Reserve. Yet it's a place most visitors to Kenya don't know exists.

My plan was to make my way up into the heart of this green fortress to a place known in the Maa language as Entim e Naimina Enkiyio, or the Forest of the Lost Child. It's a 115-square-mile cocoon of unspoiled rainforest, a land practically hidden in plain sight. Once there, I hoped to be granted an audience with the man who oversees this realm.

First you must know that I live a world away from Loita, in Nairobi. It's a metropolis of some five million people. It buzzes and hums as one of Africa's technological innovators, the nucleus of the so-called Silicon Savanna. It's one of the continent's busiest transportation hubs, with flights to and from four continents. A place of gleaming skyscrapers filled with companies from around the world. The UN's Africa headquarters are here, as are a plethora of international media organizations busily broadcasting the continent's stories. We endure hair-pulling traffic jams and wonder about the local implications of climate change. And of course, since 2020, the scourge of COVID-19 has dominated.

I was feeling claustrophobic in Nairobi, and the chance to travel to Loita seemed a boon. But truthfully, it wasn't just relief from the city I was seeking; it was the chance to experience the world from a fresh perspective, an ancient and timeless one.

The man I hoped to see was a Maasai leader named Mo-kompo ole Simel, also known as the Oloiboni Kitok (pronounced O-loy-BON-ee KEE-tok). In the centuries since the Maasai migrated with their cattle down from the Nile Valley and settled in eastern Africa, including the area they called the Siringet ("the place where the land runs on forever"), they've been guided by men who hold the title of oloiboni, all drawn from a clan endowed with exceptional temporal and spiritual abilities and schooled in natural and supernatural healing practices.

To be the Oloiboni Kitok, the highest ranking oloiboni, is to sit between worlds as mediator, prophet, and seer; as intercessor and healer; as cultural liturgist and political strategist; and as keeper of good relations between humanity and nature. More than 30 years ago, Mokompo ole Simel took on that lifetime mantle of Supreme Oloiboni from his father, becoming the 12th Oloiboni Kitok in his clan's lineage.

It's difficult to describe the full scope of his influence. He's the spiritual leader of more than a million Maasai who live in Kenya and Tanzania. He's sought out for blessings and advice on matters big and small-from a family's lost cattle to major conservation plans for Loita. Maasai from as far away as Samburu in northern Kenya make the 200-mile journey to Loita to see him. And it's not just Maasai who seek his counsel. Politicians from other countries have solicited his blessings, advice, and help to curry favor with voters.

Yet he's not an easy man to see. You can't just drive to Loita and find your way to the home of the Oloiboni Kitok. You must be introduced, which is how I came to meet a friend of a friend named Mores Loolpapit, a doctor and public health professional, a nonpracticing oloiboni, and, serendipitously, the Oloiboni Kitok's nephew.

And that is how one midday in May, I came to sit on a carpet of soft green grass festooned with tiny purple and yellow flowers, under a behemoth oreteti tree. The sky was blue, and though it was sunny, an easterly wind sprinkled icy rain droplets. Somewhere nearby, a donkey brayed.

We spoke about the land: 'If we lose the land, we lose the culture. Lose the culture, lose the peace. Lose the peace, lose the community. Lose the community, lose our way of life. forever.'

Mores had guided me here via an eight-hour drive over rough roads that gradually ascended to a mountain savanna that is a gateway to Loita. It's here at his homestead, a collection of mud-brick and thatched-roof buildings and animal corrals, where the Oloiboni holds court and where I hoped to ask for permission to visit Loita and to interview him.

I was one of two dozen visitors, including a five-man delegation from Tanzania who'd arrived before dawn. We were all received as pilgrims. Nobody was treated as a stranger.

Tradition dictates that no guest comes empty-handed, and we had brought some household goods-flour, spices, coloring books, and pens-to be offered to the Oloiboni's wives and children. I clutched four precious coffee seedlings, my own special tribute. We waited about two hours.

Finally the man appeared. In his wake, a tide of activities erupted. A chorus of human voices greeted him, and the gathered emissaries surged forward. A favorite calf hurtled toward him, goats bleated, and in the distance a quintet of giraffes ambled by.

He was in his late 80s and moved with a slight stoop, gesturing like a symphony conductor, directing a herdsman to which pastures his sheep, goats, and cows should go to graze, dispatching another young man to the market, and tasking his son-and heir apparent-Lemaron to extend healing services to calm three nervous visitors.

The Oloiboni supported his uneven steps with a thick, carved stick. A dark blue woolen cap covered his head. He wore a red and blue Maasai cloak called an olkarasha. As he approached, he made eye contact with those who waited.

His face was deeply lined, and his golden-brown eyes were veiled by cataracts. I rose to greet him. In one extended glance he seemed to read me, a quick assessment of all my innermost virtues and shortcomings. It left me flustered and suddenly exposed.

The Oloiboni's voice was low and rasp textured: "You are here," he said in Maa.

"I am," I said. Following the Maasai custom, I bent my head so he would touch it in greeting.

I then lined up the four coffee seedlings on the grass between the now seated Oloiboni and me. I don't speak Maa and the Oloiboni doesn't speak Swahili, so Mores had introduced me and indicated he would interpret.

"Speak," said the Oloiboni.

And so, I told him a story about how a wandering forest spirit became the coffee tree in the forests of the old Kingdom of Kaffa, so it might live among the humans it doted on. How it took on a therapeutic role, stimulating conversations that would repair broken relationships. How it worked to turn strangers into family. How it was a companion and liturgical presence that Orthodox monks in what was then Abyssinia (now Ethiopia) consumed while communing with God and the saints.

As Mores interpreted, the Oloiboni listened with intensity. His eyes appeared to lighten. I concluded, "So we brought these to you and this forest, if you agree, to place under your protection so that the spirit might also find shelter here."

Stillness. Bird chatter. Men murmured. Waiting.

At last the Oloiboni offered the smallest of nods. With an amused tilt to his mouth, suddenly he turned his head. "Lemaron!" he called, followed by an exchange in Maa. Mores translated, "The Oloiboni Kitok welcomes you. He blesses this visit. You can go anywhere. You may enter the forest. As for an interview, wait for his word."

I rose.

"Where in Mokompo's forest will you go?" Mores asked.

I hadn't thought about specific locations. "The waterfall."

"There are many," he said. "Choose one."

The next morning, reinforced by the Oloiboni's blessing, we departed for our chosen waterfall. As we drove through a mist, I thought about the legend from which the Forest of the Lost Child gets its name. Once a Maasai girl looking for her stray calves entered the forest. The calves returned home without her. Young men searched for the girl but couldn't find her. The forest had decided to keep her.

When we arrived at the summit where our hike would start, three junior elders were waiting for us. These scouts were stately, wiry men, watchful and taciturn, except for the gregarious Langutut ole Kuya, who recently had returned to Loita from a camp in the Masai Mara. Our guides explained that as the crow flies, our waterfall was roughly five miles away, which would mean a five-hour walk through a cascade of marshes.

As we began hopscotching among boggy reed islands, I amused myself thinking about how the terrain reminded me of the Dead Marshes in The Lord of the Rings that J.R.R. Tolkien described as "an endless network of pools, and soft mires, and winding half-strangled water-courses."

But after our third marsh passage, the novelty of imagining this as a Middle-earth journey deteriorated into resigned slogging. Our shoes were slathered in mud, and our pants legs were soaked. Staying dry wasn't an option. Water was everywhere. Streams popped out of the ground like jinn, while others stuttered and evaporated mid-flow. Water leaked from rocks or dropped as a long, single thread from high outcrops.

All of it made its way into what appeared to be a swamp but was really a meandering river, the Olasur. We traced its growth as it widened and deepened. The guides told us it hosted fish, hippos, and, disturbingly, crocodiles. And then it disappeared into the forest, through a tunnel of overgrowth. As we crawled through the dense thickets, though we couldn't see it, the sounds of its current became our beacon to follow.

After a while, we staggered into a spot the Maasai call "the place of boiling waters"-slowly bubbling warm puddles fed by geothermal springs. Chilled, I wanted to linger, but we had to push on. Up and down we went, slipping down embankments of scree, pulling on vines to climb steep hillsides, then tumbling down mud trails, only to crawl up another hill.

We squeezed past giant moss-covered boulders, pushed through enormous spiderwebs, became overly familiar with stinging nettles and red ants, and learned to quietly sidestep places where the guides sensed the presence of elephants and buffalo. I did, however, manage to step in the dung of both.

Langutut was unperturbed by all of this. He noticed everything: He pointed out the shapes of trees, the textures of leaves, the patterns of lichens on rocks, the position of a fallen tree, breaks in branches, scratches on bark. He paused over myriad kinds of dung and indicated what creatures had left them. He talked about the flight paths of insects and birds, the intensity and temperature of the wind, the texture of the light that comes through the canopy, the scent of things, the breathing of plants, the meaning of silences.

As I walked, my concentration began to narrow to what was in front of me. How the soil changed from dark brown to bright red and then to almost black, and then sand and loam and then orange, and back to dark and pale browns. I began to see patterns in leaves and shadows.

We encountered several swarms of bees. "This is also called the honey forest," Langutut said, noting the abundance of flowering bushes. He pointed at a grove he identified as nursery trees.

"Trees grow in families," he said. "Older trees nurture and guide young trees. They share friendships among themselves and with people."

He described the practical, medicinal, and spiritual power of some of the trees-the oreteti, podo, wild olive, and date palm.

As we hiked, he mentioned other secret spaces within the forest-caverns that held pure streams and art inscribed on their walls. He talked about a cathedral of giant trees where the Oloiboni conducts the most private ceremonies. I learned elemental Maa words- ewang'an (light) and oloip (shadow). My ears filled with birdsongs, wind whispers, the whistle and click of insects and other creatures, the rhythm of raindrops hitting leaves. My nose filled with scents of pungent earth-rust, rot, citrus, and mint.

One of the guides noted a hornbill honking and a change in the timbre of a colobus monkey's gro-gro-gro. These were rain signals. We picked up our heavy steps.

Finally we emerged above a vertiginous valley lined with cliffs of brown stone flecked with white. Blue, white, green, and pale yellow butterflies quivered around us, signaling the end of the rainy season. A large bird of prey circled overhead. Below us at last was the waterfall, the Olasur tumbling from a rock tunnel, falling some 600 feet into a chasm beneath the foliage. Farther on, Langutut said, it would join the Oloibortoto River and, left to its natural course, would end up in Lake Natron.

But we could not stay. We had to make our way back through the forest before nightfall, before mist obscured the marshes. And as we trekked out of the forest, I learned another Maa word when we glimpsed the fullest, biggest, and brightest of moons. Olapa.

When we reached the guesthouse, the Oloiboni had left word: He would speak with me in the morning.

A brown-feathered cockerel carried a locust in its beak as it strutted in the Oloiboni's compound. Cows and goats ambled off to pasture with a young guardian. Still brimming with the experiences from the forest, I sat beneath the giant oreteti tree to wait.

The Oloiboni's eyes lit up when he saw me. I can't deny that I felt his aura. Call it pure charisma, or possibly the effect of all the legends I'd heard mixed with the wonder of the previous day's journey. Or perhaps it was the joy of stumbling upon a leader with an unwavering allegiance to the natural world. I saw a symmetry between the Oloiboni and his oreteti-both grounded, ancient, and mysterious, both offering shade and shelter to those who seek them out.

Our conversations meandered like the Olasur. He referred to the lineage of his predecessors and his progeny. He described what it meant to be the Oloiboni Kitok: It was not a choice. He was born into the position. He spoke of "his" forest: It is a shrine and cathedral, a refuge and fuel source. It's the garden of God, the "guesthouse of rain." It is school, supermarket, hospital, pharmacy, and nursing home. Human perfidy threatens it-gluttony, pride, lust, and envy, in particular.

The Oloiboni told of wave after wave of incursions by outsiders: shady government officials, faux preachers, and eager developers. They all spoke in subtle but deadly terms: fences, demarcation, title deeds, bank loans, road through the forest. He alluded to ceaseless plots, particularly from deep-pocketed international conservation groups that purported to tell the people-the Iloitai-what was best for Loita.

We spoke about the importance of the land. "If we lose the land, we lose the culture," the Oloiboni said. "Lose the culture, lose the peace. Lose the peace, lose the community. Lose the community, lose our way of life. Forever."

We sat in silence. I saw an elderly Atlas, holding up not just the heavens but also his Earth. A weaver bird trilled insistently. The Oloiboni looked in its direction. Tranquility settled over him. I should've asked, What did it say? But instead, I turned the conversation to the changing climate.

"I've heard such things," he said.

Have you seen the seasons change here?

"The cold hits harder and more often, that's true."

What about drought?

He frowned. "Just once, five years ago. But that was the consequence of our misdeeds. We had raised fences. We fixed that error."

The weaver trilled again.

Do you have a message for a humanity that is confused by this changing climate?

A long pause. "What can I say?" he finally answered with a humoring smile. "As temporary guests of this home called life, in this house that is Earth, shouldn't we know by now how to behave honorably?"

For the Maasai, he explained, this meant adhering to olmanyara. It's a difficult term to translate. On a previous night around a campfire, Mores described olmanyara as an ethos that is less about conservation and more about custodianship. It's about receptivity to nature, of being aware of and hospitable to existence in its every form.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was raining in the Mara, a prelude for the primordial animal migrations to resume.

"Are you ever afraid of the future?" I asked.

"Should I be?" he teased. Quickly, the elder swerved, and I was a student again. "Now you've been to our forest. What did you see?"

"My ignorance," I said. "I had thought of the forest as only trees."

The Oloiboni laughed. It was a mirthful sound. It made everyone laugh too. "What else did you see?"

Yvonne Adhiambo Owuor, based in Nairobi, is author of the novels Dust and The Dragonfly Sea.

This story appears in the December 2021 issue of National Geographic magazine.

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My visit with the spiritual voice of the hidden Serengeti

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Kenya's Loita Forest is a pristine wilderness sacred to the Maasai. The forest's venerable protector sees a mystical landscape threatened by greed.

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In the early years of the 19th century, the remarkable inventiveness of a Cherokee man, named Sequoyah, helped his people preserve their language and cultural traditions, and remain united amid the encroachment of Euro-American society into their territory. Working on his own over a 12-year span, Sequoyah created a syllabary-a set of written symbols to represent each syllable in the spoken Cherokee language. This made it possible for the Cherokee to achieve mass literacy in a short period of time. Cherokee became one of the earliest indigenous American languages to have a functional written analogue.

Sequoyah was born in present-day U.S. state of Tennessee in the years preceding the American Revolution. He was afflicted by physical lameness that caused him to limp, and as a young man, he worked as a trader, an industry he learned from his mother. He later became a silversmith and a blacksmith. By the year 1809, he had spent considerable time thinking about the written forms of communication used by European Americans and the power of written language. He began considering how the Cherokee might devise a system of writing tailored to the sounds of their own language. Many of his fellow Cherokees disapproved of the idea of fixing words to paper, and some thought the practice was too close to witchcraft. Despite this disapproval, Sequoyah was determined to give the Cherokee language a written form.

Unfortunately, the War of 1812 forced him to put his plans to develop a written Cherokee language on hold. Sequoyah volunteered to fight against the Red Stick Creeks during the war and saw action at the Battle of Horseshoe Bend in the present-day U.S. state of Alabama. Afterward, he settled in Willstown (now Fort Payne) and devoted himself to the task of converting the Cherokee language into written form.

Sequoyah was monolingual-he spoke only his mother tongue, Cherokee-and thus did not know how to read or write in any language. Despite this, he had an intuitive grasp of the function and significance written communication could assume among people who had mastered the skill. His first approach was to draw a visual symbol for every word in the language-a logographic or pictographic approach. Before long, he realized this task would be overwhelming. Instead, he began listening more carefully to Cherokee speech, studying the sound patterns that formed words. He heard vowels and consonants and discerned many variations, finally isolating about 85 distinct syllables. He completed the syllabary by assigning each sound a symbol, using a printed Christian Bible for examples of how letters could be shaped.

Sequoyah's daughter, A-Yo-Ka, helped her father complete the work and was learning the syllabary herself at age six. Sequoyah next taught his brother-in-law to read the syllabary. After word of his syllabary spread, Sequoyah and his daughter were charged with witchcraft and brought to trial before their town chief. He and A-Yo-Ka were forcibly separated, then asked to exchange messages using the script, to see if it worked the way that Sequoyah said it did. Though their written communication was successful, some were still convinced that they were using magic to communicate. However, in the end, the warriors presiding over the trial determined that Sequoyah had indeed found a way to represent talking on paper, and asked him to teach them how to read.

Because it was tailored to the sounds unique to the Cherokee language, Sequoyah's syllabary was not difficult for native Cherokee speakers to learn. Over the next couple of years, a large proportion of the Cherokee population attained literacy. Sometime during this period, Sequoyah traveled westward across the Mississippi River and taught the syllabary to Cherokees in the present-day U.S. state of Arkansas. A few years later, after the United States Congress passed the Indian Removal Act in 1830, most of the Cherokee would be forced to migrate even farther along the Arkansas River, on the Trail of Tears. Forced from their homes and robbed of most of their belongings, they took the Cherokee language and syllabary with them. Along the way, many died.

Sequoyah's syllabary, which the Cherokee Nation formally adopted in 1825, proved its value during an extremely trying period in the nation's history. Through the work of white, Christian missionary Samuel Worcester, the Cherokee obtained a printing press and launched the Cherokee Phoenix in 1828. This was the first bilingual newspaper in U.S. history, printed in English and a slightly modified version of the Cherokee syllabary. The newspaper and other written messages helped maintain Cherokee unity and solidarity at a time when the Cherokee nation was dispersed geographically by the Indian Removal Act and divided politically by tensions between traditionalist and assimilationist factions.

In the 21st century, Sequoyah's Cherokee syllabary remains in use, and is visible on street signs and buildings across the Cherokee Nation (located in northeast of the U.S. state of Oklahoma), where Cherokee is the co-official language alongside English. In addition, the syllabary is taught to students of all ages in schools and universities in Oklahoma and North Carolina. It also remains a focus of academic research. In 2019, a collaborative team of Native American scholars published a paper analyzing several inscriptions recently found in a cave near Willstown, the Alabama town where Sequoyah was living when he developed the syllabary. Some of these inscriptions appear to be documenting group ceremonies conducted deep inside the Manitou Cave. The date of one event, April of 1828, is actually written on the cave wall. Another message is carved in syllabary letters on the cave's high ceiling. Some of these letters are written backward-facing into the rock, so to speak-and spell out the words, "I am your grandson." The researchers believe the writer or writers of this message may have been intending to communicate with ancestral spirits, the "Old Ones," in the recesses of the cave.

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National Geographic Society

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Last Updated

August 1, 2023

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Sequoyah and the Creation of the Cherokee Syllabary

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The written form of the Cherokee language, introduced by Sequoyah in 1821, offered its people a bridge between prehistory and modernity.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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The Inuit people live in the far northern parts Alaska, Siberia, Canada, and Greenland. Everything about their lives is influenced by the cold climate in which they live.

Since mud and wood are hard to find in the frozen tundra of the Arctic, the Inuits learned to make warm homes (the Inuit word for home is "igloo") out of snow and ice during the winter, and animal skin stretched over driftwood or whalebone frames during the summer.

For clothing, they used animal skins and furs to stay warm. They made other apparels such as shirts, pants, boots, hats, and big jackets called anoraks from seal and caribou skin. To make the clothes thicker and warmer, they would line them with furs from animals like polar bears, rabbits, and foxes.

Check out these 25 black and white photos below that capture the everyday life of Inuit people from the early 20th century.

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The Inuit people live in the far northern parts Alaska, Siberia, Canada, and Greenland. Everything about their lives is influenced by the cold climate in which they live.

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The ancestral home of the Haida people is Haida Gwaii, an archipelago off the coast of British Columbia, Canada.

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Indigenous Americas - Google Arts & Culture

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Google Arts & Culture features content from over 2000 leading museums and archives who have partnered with the Google Cultural Institute to bring the world's treasures online.

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Discover Māori culture in New Zealand | 100% Pure New Zealand

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Māori are the tangata whenua (indigenous people) of Aotearoa New Zealand and their culture is an integral part of local life. Experience Māori culture first-hand when you visit New Zealand.

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See a photo of Maasai men performing a jump dance in Kenya by David McLain, from National Geographic.

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Idea for Use in the Classroom

The Trail of Tears is the name given to the forced migration of the Cherokee people from their ancestral lands in Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and North Carolina to new territories west of the Mississippi River. The journey, undertaken in the fall and winter of 1838-1839, was fatal for one-fourth of the Cherokee population.

The Louisiana Purchase of 1803 doubled the size of United States territory. The expansion of white settlements in North America started encroaching on Native-American lands, ultimately creating the pressures that led to the removal of Native Americans. President Thomas Jefferson and others proposed setting aside tracts of the western lands for the indigenous nations.

The Cherokee had made significant efforts to assimilate into European-American culture. Many of them adopted Western dress and gave up hunting and gathering for a market economy based on export-oriented agriculture and became literate. In the 1820s the nation adopted a formal government with a written constitution.

Nonetheless, the prevailing sentiment in Georgia favored expelling the Cherokee. The land had simply become too valuable, first for cotton cultivation and later-after gold was discovered on Cherokee land in 1829-for prospecting. Georgia's state government asserted jurisdiction over the entire Cherokee territory, annulled the nation's laws, annexed the land, and began distributing plots by lottery.

The Cherokee Nation took its case to the United States Supreme Court. The legal battles that ensued raised profound questions concerning states' rights, the status and sovereignty of indigenous nations, and the separation of powers between branches of the federal government. In the first of two rulings on the matter, Chief Justice John Marshall denied the Cherokee legal standing as U.S. citizens before the Court. However, in Worcester v. Georgia (1832), Marshall held that Georgia could not extend its law over the sovereign lands of the Cherokee nation, and had no authority to displace the indigenous people.

The Cherokee had won a major legal victory, but it proved a hollow one, for in 1828, Andrew Jackson had been elected president. Earlier in his career, Jackson had defeated the Creeks and Seminoles on the battlefield, leading to the appropriation of their lands. Jackson was a tireless proponent of Native-American resettlement to the west. In May of 1830, he pushed the Indian Removal Act through Congress. This law authorized the president to designate lands west of the Mississippi for tribal use and to negotiate treaties ensuring their movement. Jackson supported Georgia's aggressive actions toward the Cherokee and had no intention of interfering to protect the nation, even after the Worcester ruling. The president reportedly uttered defiant words to the effect of, "John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it."

A small, breakaway faction of Cherokee, called the Removal Party or Treaty Party, met with U.S. government representatives in 1835 and agreed to a land swap in the Treaty of New Echota. The Cherokee chief and national council argued that the treaty was fraudulent since the nation's duly constituted government had not been consulted, yet the U.S. Senate ratified the pact. Under President Martin Van Buren, Jackson's successor, federal agents rounded up the Cherokee in late 1837 and early 1838, driving them off their land and into detention camps in Tennessee and Alabama. A few Cherokee eluded their captors by hiding in the Smoky Mountains; today, their descendants are known as the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians.

Confined in stockades through the summer of 1838, the Cherokee grew weaker and began falling victim to diseases, such as dysentery. Their forced march, the Trail of Tears, began in October under the watch of armed troops. They marched, poorly equipped, alongside caravans of wagons, for more than four months, through blizzards and bitter winter weather. Their varying routes covered 1,609 kilometers (1,000 miles) or so, traversing parts of Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, and Arkansas. Others traveled over water along the Tennessee, Ohio, Mississippi, and Arkansas rivers, until they reached the eastern edge of present-day Oklahoma. At every stop along the trail, funerals and burials were held. The death toll from the internment camps, the migration, and its aftermath topped 4,000, out of a population of more than 16,000. They died of exposure to the elements, malnutrition, various diseases, and sheer physical exhaustion.

Many Native American peoples in the south and north, comprising as many as 100,000 people, were removed from their homelands and relocated under similar conditions. The Choctaw, for example, had their own Trail of Tears. These journeys have come to symbolize the tragedy and injustice in the Native-American experience. The Trail of Tears was designated a National Historic Trail in 1987 through an act of Congress.

Media Credits

The audio, illustrations, photos, and videos are credited beneath the media asset, except for promotional images, which generally link to another page that contains the media credit. The Rights Holder for media is the person or group credited.

Director

Tyson Brown, National Geographic Society

Author

National Geographic Society

Production Managers

Gina Borgia, National Geographic Society

Jeanna Sullivan, National Geographic Society

Program Specialists

Sarah Appleton, National Geographic Society, National Geographic Society

Margot Willis, National Geographic Society

other

Last Updated

October 24, 2023

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The Indian Removal Act and the Trail of Tears

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The Cherokee adjusted to White U.S. culture and won a case at the Supreme Court, but were still forced off their land.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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PHOTOS: How Families Eat In The Arctic: From An $18 Box Of Cookies To Polar Bear Stew

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In the Canadian Arctic, food that’s shipped in can be costly. People still hunt as their ancestors did — for seal, polar bear and narwhal.

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The Story of the Haida | L'histoire du Haïda

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With a rich history and a unique culture, the Navajo Nation is one of North America's most celebrated and well-known native tribes. They were at the center of many conflicts and events in the 19th and 20th centuries.

The Navajo originally referred to themselves as the Diné - meaning "the people." They became known as the Navajo after interacting with European settlers.

The History of the Navajo Tribe

The earliest settlements of the Navajo were in the Southwest United States, primarily in what is now New Mexico. They were originally hunter-gatherers, foraging off the land and hunting native animals in their region.

Over time, their interactions with the Pueblo tribe taught them how to farm and cultivate the land. Like many other Native American tribes in the area, they primarily relied on what's known as the "Three Sisters": corn, beans, and squash. These versatile crops were nutrient-rich and allowed them to make many different dishes.

As the European settlers began expanding further west, the Navajo adopted many of the traditions and technologies of these new strangers. One of the most important developments was herding animals such as sheep and goats, which they learned from the Spanish.

Not only were these animals essential to the Navajo diet, but they also became a significant source of trade with the settlers and among other tribes. Sheep, for example, became a form of currency and family status.

Women in the tribe would spin and weave wool into blankets and clothing that were worn and traded often. They also became items of artistic expression, which were highly-prized tokens of trade.

Conflict with Settlers and Other Tribes

The Navajo had a relatively peaceful relationship and coexistence with other tribes. Like most Native Americans, there was some raiding and trading among the other tribes in their area, such as the Apache, Comanche, and Hopi.

The Navajo had a tense but largely peaceful coexistence with the Spanish. It wasn't until the American settlers began arriving in stronger numbers during the 1840s that conflict started to rise to higher levels.

During the Mexican-American War of 1846, the United States invaded Mexico. The two countries fought many large-scale battles in Mexico and what is now Texas, New Mexico, and Southern California. The Navajo signed a peace treaty with the US army, though the treaty was broken by members of both sides during the conflict.

In 1864, the US government forced 9,000 Navajo men, women, and children to march from Arizona for internment in eastern New Mexico, a journey of 300 miles. The journey, known as The Long Walk, was difficult, and when they arrived at their destination, the government had failed to provide them with the food, clothing, and provisions they had promised.

Navajo Culture and Spiritual Beliefs

Like most other Native American tribes, the Navajo were deeply connected to the spiritual world and believed in the importance of living harmoniously with nature. Their core belief focused on maintaining balance in mind, body, and spirit to manifest the healthiest versions of themselves.

The Navajo believe in two classes of people: Earth People and Holy People. The Navajo people believe they passed through three worlds before arriving in this world, the Fourth World or the Glittering World.

As Earth People, the Navajo must do everything within their power to maintain the balance between Mother Earth and man.

The Navajo Language

The Navajo language is one of the most widely spoken Native American languages. It is the most commonly spoken in the present-day United States, with almost 170,000 Americans speaking Navajo at home as of 2011.

The term "Navajo" originates from the earliest settlers in the 17th century. In 1622, Fray Geronimo de Zarate-Salmeron used " Apachu de Nabajo " to refer to the people in the Chama Valley region, east of the San Juan River and northwest of present-day Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Navahu comes from the Tewa language, meaning a large area of cultivated lands.  By the 1640s, the Spanish began using the term Navajo to refer to the Diné, which is what they had previously called themselves.

Unfortunately, much of the language and culture of the Navajo tribe was forcibly removed from the boarding schools of North America.

Navajo Code Talkers in World War II

During World War II, codes were constantly being broken and deciphered by intelligence units on both sides of the war. By breaking these codes, armies could track the movements and communications of the enemy.

Looking for a code that wouldn't be broken, the US government enlisted 400 members of the Navajo tribe as frontline radio operators. Because of the complex syntax and grammar, the Navajo language was indecipherable to anyone who didn't have extensive knowledge of their dialect.

Known as the Code Talkers, these Navajo operators saw action in the Pacific Theatre and became essential to turning the tide of the war against the Japanese. Members of the Choctaw Nation were also Code Talkers. With an unbreakable code, the United States could finally move confidently that they weren't running into a trap or ambush.

To this day, the Navajo language is the only spoken military code never to be deciphered by the enemy.

Where are the Navajo Today ?

As of 2021, the Navajo is the largest recognized tribe in the United States (the Cherokee Nation is a close second). Out of about 190,000 Navajo living in the United States, 146,000 are on reservations.

The largest Navajo population is in what's called the Four Corners, where New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and Utah meet. The largest reservation is shared with the Hopi Pueblo reservation in Arizona, and there are three other large reservations in New Mexico.

There are several famous members of the Navajo tribe, including many of the Code Talkers of World War II. There is also Corey Witherill, a successful race car driver who became the only full-blooded Native American to race in the Indy 500.

Another notable member is Jacoby Ellsbury , a retired MLB All-Star who won the World Series with the Boston Red Sox in 2007 and 2013. He was the first member of the Navajo Tribe to play in Major League Baseball.

Want to learn more about Native American history?

Grab our guide, Reflecting on Our Foundations, to learn about:

Different tribes and where they lived

Native American values and spirituality

How learning and culture were passed down through generations

How colonization impacted and disrupted Native American life

And much more!

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The Past, Present, and Future of the Navajo Nation

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With a rich history and a unique culture, the Navajo Nation is one of North America's most celebrated and well-known native tribes.

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Less land for an ever growing Kenyan population means less land for the Maasai, their livestock, and wildlife. More and more, a lion will take a cow or some goats and get killed in retaliation.

Lions are a disappearing species: their numbers plunged from 100,000 ten years ago, to about 14,000 today. Maasai Wilderness Conservation Trust has pioneered a compensation program, reimbursing livestock killed by lions (and other predators). The program is supported by Campi Ya Kanzi tourist conservation fees and employs warriors as lion scouts.

In the past, the Maasai and the wildlife simply lived together, in balance. If this could be re-established, by showing to the Maasai the economic value of the presence of wildlife in their land, the future of the land, of the wildlife and of the Maasai people will be assured.

This is exactly what Maasai Wilderness Conservation Trust does. We are thrilled by having been awarded the UNDP Equator Prize and by having had our Chairman, Samson Parashina, named Champion of the Earth by UNEP. Never before these prestigious United Nations Awards were given to the same organization.

Kuku Group Ranch, where the camp is located, has 400 square miles of land and is occupied by only a few thousand Maasai. The land is rich in wildlife. It adjoins Tsavo West National Park, Chyulu National Park and Amboseli National Park, representing a vital corridor and a dispersal area for these three National Parks.

The Trust employs 300 members, as teachers at the schools, rangers and game scouts to protect wildlife, a doctor and nurses at the dispensaries. Thus, by sharing their vast lands with a maximum of 16 visitors from Campi ya Kanzi, the Maasai of Kuku Group Ranch benefit in several ways: They maintain their lands in a natural state. They are partners in generating income which improve their life conditions and their children's education. They preserve their traditional way of living and dignity.

What Campi ya Kanzi and MWCT are jointly aiming to achieve, is being able to pay "conservation dividends" to all the individuals of the Group Ranch, so that the land can be preserved as a unity, owned under one single title deed, and not subdivided. This will guarantee that those Maasai willing to keep embracing their lifestyle, will have a place to do it.

Your visit to the camp helps the Maasai retain their heritage. You will not leave by having taken something away, you will leave Campi ya Kanzi enriched by a human experience that, hopefully, will accompany you for years to come.

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The Maasai Culture and Traditions - Maasai Wilderness Conservation

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We work with the Maasai community to create and implement programs for Kenya wildlife and wilderness conservation, public health, and education.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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For more than 20 years, Aboriginal photographer Wayne Quilliam has captured significant Indigenous events across Australia, from the national apology to the Stolen Generations to the Garma, Barunga and Yeperenye festivals. In his travels through country, Quilliam often visits communities to teach Indigenous youth how to capture their own lives through a lens. His book, Culture is Life, is a modern, photographic celebration of the diversity of Indigenous Australians

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Two decades of Indigenous photography: the work of Wayne Quilliam - in pictures

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For more than 20 years, the Aboriginal photographer has captured significant Indigenous events across Australia

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For information on user permissions, please read our Terms of Service. If you have questions about how to cite anything on our website in your project or classroom presentation, please contact your teacher. They will best know the preferred format. When you reach out to them, you will need the page title, URL, and the date you accessed the resource.

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A video exploring the sights and sounds of meal time with a family in Greenland. The Inuit of Greenland survived for generations eating almost nothing but meat in a landscape too harsh for most plants. Today markets offer more variety, but a taste for meat persists.

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The Art of Totem Poles | L'art de totems

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https://navajopeople.org/navajo-sand-painting.htm

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Navajo Sandpaintings, also called dry paintings, are called "places where the gods come and go" in the Navajo language. They are used in curing ceremonies in which the gods' help is requested for harvests and healing.

The figures in sand paintings are symbolic representations of a story in Navajo mythology. They depict objects like the sacred mountains where the gods live, or legendary visions, or they illustrate dances or chants performed in rituals.

Sandpaintings are but one rite in a ceremonial. From the distinct set of paintings that belong to a specific chant, the chanter selects those that will best heal the patient, never using the entire repertoire of paintings on a single occasion.

In the two-night form of a chant, one sandpainting is made, while the last four days of a nine-night ceremonial would have sandpaintings.

After its sanctification, the patient sits on the painting while the chanter performs a ritual to enhance the absorption of its healing power. Immediately afterward, the remains of the painting are taken outside to an area north of the hogan, where they are returned to the earth.

According to Navajo belief, a sandpainting heals because the ritual image attracts and exalts the Holy People; serves as a pathway for the mutual exchange of illness and the healing power of the Holy People; identifies the patient with the Holy People it depicts; and creates a ritual reality in which the patient and the supernatural dramatically interact, reestablishing the patient's correct relationship with the world of the Holy People ( GriffinPierce 1992:43).

For the Navajo, the sandpainting is a dynamic, living, sacred entity that enables the patient to transform his or her mental and physical state by focusing on the powerful mythic symbols that re-create the chantway odyssey of the storys protagonist, causing those events to live again in the present.

The performative power of sandpainting creation and ritual use reestablish the proper, orderly placement of the forces of life, thus restoring correct relations between the patient and those forces upon which the patient's spiritual and physical health depend. The sandpainting works its healing power by reestablishing the patient's sense of connectedness to all of life ( Griffin-Pierce 1991:66).

THE GREAT PICTURES OF DSILYÍDJE QAÇÀL. ( Sandpainting s)

A description of the four great pictures drawn in "The Mountain Chant" ceremonies has been deferred until all might be described together. Their relations to one another rendered this the most desirable course to pursue. The preparation of the ground and of the colors, the application of the sacred pollen, and some other matters have been already considered.

First Picture. The picture of the first day (Plate XV) is said to represent the visit of Dsilyi' Neyáni to the home of the snakes at Qo¢estsò.

In the center of the picture was a circular concavity, about six inches in diameter, intended to represent water, presumably the house of water mentioned in the myth. In all the other pictures where water was represented a small bowl was actually sunk in the ground and filled with water, which water was afterwards sprinkled with powdered charcoal to give the impression of a flat, dry surface.

Why the bowl of water was omitted in this picture I do not know, but a medicine man of a different fraternity from that of the one who drew the picture informed me that with men of his school the bowl filled with water was used in the snake picture as well as in the others.

Closely surrounding this central depression are four parallelograms about four inches by ten inches in the original pictures. The half nearer the center is red; the outer half is blue; they are bordered with narrow lines of white. The same figures are repeated in other paintings.

The Second Picture is said to be a representation of the painting, which the prophet saw in the home of the bears in the Carrizo Mountains (paragraph 40). In the center of this figure is the bowl of water covered with black powder, to which I referred before. The edge of the bowl is adorned with sunbeams, and external to it are the four ca'bitlol, or sunbeam rafts, on which seem to stand four gods, or yays.

The Third Picture commemorates the visit of Dsilyi' Neyáni to Çaçò'-behogan, or "Lodge of Dew" (paragraph 56). To indicate the great height of the Bitsès-ninéz the figures are twice the length of any in the other pictures, except the rainbows, and each is clothed in four garments, one above the other, for no one garment, they say, can be made long enough to cover such giant forms.

Their heads all point to the east, instead of pointing in different directions, as in the other pictures. The Navajo relate, as already told (paragraph 56), that this is in obedience to a divine mandate; but probably there is a more practical reason, which is this: if they had the cruciform arrangement there would not be room on, the floor of the lodge for the figures and at the same time for the shaman, assistants, and spectators.

Economy of space is essential; but, although drawn nearly parallel to one another, the proper order of the cardinal points is not lost sight of. The form immediately north of the center of the picture is done first, in white, and represents the east. That immediately next to it on the south comes second in order, is painted in blue, and represents the south.

The one next below that is in yellow, and depicts the goddess who stood in the west of the House of Dew-Drops. The figure in the extreme north is drawn last of all, in black, and belongs to the north. As I have stated before, these bodies are first made naked and afterwards clothed.

The exposed chests, arms, and thighs display the colors of which the entire bodies were originally composed. The glòï (weasel, Putorius) is sacred to these goddesses. Two of these creatures are shown in the east, guarding the entrance to the lodge.

The Fourth Picture represents the kátso-yisçàn, or great plumed arrows. These arrows are the especial great mystery, the potent healing charm of this dance. The picture is supposed to be a fac simile of a representation of these weapons, shown to the prophet when he visited the abode of the Tsilkè-¢igini, or young men gods, where he first saw the arrows .

There are eight arrows. Four are in the center, lying parallel to one another-two pointing east and two others, alternate, pointing west. The picture is bordered by the other four, which have the same relative positions and directions as the bounding serpents in the first picture. The shafts are all of the same white tint, no attention being paid to the colors of the cardinal points; yet in drawing and erasing the picture the cardinal points are duly honored.

Among the central arrows, the second from the top, or north margin of the design, is that of the east; it is drawn and erased first. The next below it is the arrow of the south; the third is that of the west. The one on top belongs to the north; it is drawn and erased last.

The heads are painted red to represent the red stone points used; the fringed margins show the irregularities of their edges. The plumes at the butt are indicated, as are also the strings by which the plumes are tied on and the notches to receive the bowstring.

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Navajo Sandpaintings, also called dry paintings, Navajo Sandpaintings, are called

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Unique to the Māori cultural experience is the marae, a communal and sacred meeting ground that provides everything from eating and sleeping space to religious and educational facilities.

In pre-colonial times, the marae was central to everyday life in Aotearoa ( New Zealand). It was where tribal societies gathered to eat and sleep, all under the same roof. The notion of the nuclear family was non-existent, and Māori tikanga (lore) constituted a more communal lifestyle. While Western ideologies of the nuclear family emphasise independence, the Māori philosophy, and by extension the marae, is firmly rooted in the notion of interdependence.

Koriniti Marae on the Whanganui River features a 'kōruru', carved to represent the face of the ancestor after which the marae is named | © Geoff Marshall / Alamy Stock Photo

The marae also provides a means of staying connected to spiritual ancestors. You will notice that each marae across the country is named after an ancestor of a tribal area. As such, the distinct architecture of the whare tipuna (ancestral house) is designed to embody the likeness of this ancestor.

At the front of the meeting house is the kōruru, carved to represent the face of the ancestor. The two long beams trailing down are the maihi and represent the arms, at the ends of which are the raparapa or fingers of the ancestor. Supporting the beams are the amo, or legs, holding up the entirety of the building. Finally, standing aloft at the top of the marae is the tekoteko, or statue, which represents the ancestor in all their revered likeness.

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Left: The two long beams trailing down are the 'maihi' and represent the arms of the ancestor to which the marae is dedicated | Right: Carved ancestral figures are central to the design of marae | © John Steele / Alamy Stock Photo

Yet, the exterior design of the marae is incomparable to its interior. Inside, tukutuku, or weaved panels and carvings, trace the entire history of the tribe and their ancestors through Māori symbology. Running along the roof is the tāhuhu, or spine of the ancestor, which holds together the whare tīpuna. Standing at the centre of the whare tīpuna is the poutokomanawa. This beam not only holds up the entire structure but represents the heart of the ancestor. By extension, it is also the heart of the tribe and the community and serves as a reminder that without a unified heartbeat there can be no community. For most marae around Aōtearoa, it is for these reasons they do not allow shoes to be worn in the whare tīpuna. It represents the body of the ancestors, and to wear shoes while entering their likeness would be to trample on their and mauri.

The marae at the Waitangi Treaty Grounds has an ornate interior design | © Urban Napflin / Alamy Stock Photo

The arrival of Christianity in the 19th century began the abandonment and destruction of these thriving cultural centres. With the urban migration of Māori to the cities in the 1960s, Māori no longer live primarily on marae. Yet, while communal living has dwindled, the marae still play a significant role in modern Māori society, as with the Tongan mala'e and Samoan māla'e. Marae are still used for a multitude of cultural rituals, including birthdays and weddings, yet the most significant ritual is the tangihanga (funeral rite). For most New Zealand Māori, they will return to their marae for at least two days of grieving. During this time, the hosting tribe will have to look after thousands who have travelled to pay their respects. The visitors will be fed and provided with shelter and rest facilities. By the third day, it is left to the marae to bury the individual and ensure that all necessary protocols and rituals have been followed. Therefore, while marae are no longer the thriving hubs of yesteryear, they are still a vital element in preserving the cultural vitality of the Māori.

Since you are here, we would like to share our vision for the future of travel - and the direction Culture Trip is moving in.

Culture Trip launched in 2011 with a simple yet passionate mission: to inspire people to go beyond their boundaries and experience what makes a place, its people and its culture special and meaningful - and this is still in our DNA today. We are proud that, for more than a decade, millions like you have trusted our award-winning recommendations by people who deeply understand what makes certain places and communities so special.

Increasingly we believe the world needs more meaningful, real-life connections between curious travellers keen to explore the world in a more responsible way. That is why we have intensively curated a collection of premium small-group trips as an invitation to meet and connect with new, like-minded people for once-in-a-lifetime experiences in three categories: Culture Trips, Rail Trips and Private Trips. Our Trips are suitable for both solo travelers, couples and friends who want to explore the world together.

Culture Trips are deeply immersive 5 to 16 days itineraries, that combine authentic local experiences, exciting activities and 4-5* accommodation to look forward to at the end of each day. Our Rail Trips are our most planet-friendly itineraries that invite you to take the scenic route, relax whilst getting under the skin of a destination. Our Private Trips are fully tailored itineraries, curated by our Travel Experts specifically for you, your friends or your family.

We know that many of you worry about the environmental impact of travel and are looking for ways of expanding horizons in ways that do minimal harm - and may even bring benefits. We are committed to go as far as possible in curating our trips with care for the planet. That is why all of our trips are flightless in destination, fully carbon offset - and we have ambitious plans to be net zero in the very near future.

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Unique to the Mori cultural experience is the marae a communal and sacred meeting ground that provides everything from eating and sleeping space to religious...

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Let's Begin...

In this short film, we meet Bob Randall, a Yankunytjatjara elder who is one of the Stolen Generations of the Aboriginal people and is a traditional owner of Uluru (Ayer's Rock), a large rock formation in the Northern Territory in central Australia. Bob has worked as a teacher and leader for Aboriginal land rights, education, and cultural awareness - themes explored in this lesson.

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In this short film, we meet Bob Randall, a Yankunytjatjara elder who is one of the Stolen Generations of the Aboriginal people and is a traditional owner of Uluru (Ayer's Rock), a large rock formation in the Northern Territory in central Australia.

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The Inuit strive to keep their culture alive as ice melts

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Amid a warming climate and disappearing traditional knowledge, Inuit communities in the Canadian Arctic are grappling to adapt.

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Newsela | Native American Cultures: The Northwest Coast

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Salmon played an important role in Northwest Coast culture. Not only were they food, they were considered to be supernatural beings who sacrificed their well-being for the good of humans.

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This week we are continuing eastward with our Origin Story series, focusing on the Americas. The Native American people were thought to have migrated from modern-day Russia, which is said to have been relatively easy since the two continents were once connected by land.

Historians report that this group of migrants traveled southward from the arctic region of North America over the years 38,000 BCE-3000 BCE, which covers three different migration periods. It's important to note that historians also claim that migrants likely did not just travel across the arctic land bridge to populate the Americas, but other groups also sailed from southeast and east Asia, all the way across the Pacific Ocean.

This is an important fact when we ask ourselves, "where did these people originate"? And if we answer this question confidently, we can perhaps discover where these groups' beliefs and ideas originated from too.

For time's sake, we are going to be discussing the Navajo tribe's creation story this time. The Navajo Indian reserve is the largest Native American reserve in America to date, comprised of 250,000 members, and counting. Initially, the Navajo had many more members, as did all Native American groups before the arrival of the Europeans.

The creation story of the Navajo goes as follows:

The world started with a world of darkness, called Nihodilhil, which was the "First World". The First World had four corners with four different clouds appearing above the four corners. Within each cloud were the first four elements, appearing as the colors black, white, blue, and yellow. The Black Cloud represented the "Female Being or Substance", because a child who sleeps in the darkness of a womb, so all life slept in the darkness of the cloud. The White Cloud represented the "Male Being or Substance", who was the Dawn and the Light.

The Black Cloud met the White Cloud in the East of the First World, and together created First Man, as well as the perfect, white corn. The first seed that came from the corn was named Dohonotini, which is also the name of the place where the two Clouds met.

This First World was small, like an island in the ocean, or a mountain in the mist. On this World grew one Pine Tree, which will become important when the Present World is created.

The First Man was not in his Present form, and neither were the beings of this First World. They call these beings the Mist People, who had no definite form, but would later transform into the humans, beasts, birds and reptiles of the Present World.

In the West of the First World, (which would later be called the Land of the Sunset), the Yellow Cloud and Blue Cloud met and created First Woman. With her was the perfect, yellow corn, just like the white corn. Except, First Woman also had the white shell, yucca, and turquoise stone with her.

Now, the First Woman was standing in the West, far away from the First Man standing in the East, each representing different things. First Woman represented darkness and death, whereas First Man represented the Dawn, and Life.

The First Man had a crystal with him, and he burned it to light a fire. The crystal was clear, and was the awakening of the mind for the first time. It represented clear seeing for males.

The First Woman burned her turquoise to also light a fire. They both saw each other's fires in the distance.

As the Black Cloud and White Cloud rose higher, the First Man desired to seek out the light. He tried to find it three times unsuccessfully, however, the fourth time he was able to mark the area using a forked tree branch. This when First Woman noticed, and said "I wondered why he did not come."

As the Blue Cloud and Yellow Cloud rose higher, the same thing happened to First Woman! She tried to find the light three times unsuccessfully, but the fourth time, she found the smoke from the fire, and found the home of the First Man.

She had noticed that his crystal was stronger than her turquoise, and First Man asked "Why don't you bring your fire and we can live together?" So the woman went with the man.

In came another person, called the Great-Coyote-Who-Was-Formed-in-the-Water, who was in the form of a man. He said to First Man and First Woman that he was hatched from an egg, and knew all that was under the water, and all that was in the skies. First Man decided that this being was to be put before all things in his life.

(Here it gets a bit more complicated).

After the Great Coyote came, and while the three began planning the future, another fourth being came to the house. He was also in the form of a man, but was wearing a hairy coat with a belted waist, and then he promptly fell to his knees. His name was "First Angry" or just Coyote. He said to the three, "You believe that you were the first persons. You are mistaken. I was living when you were formed."

After that four more beings came together, who are called the Wasp People. These Wasp People knew the secret of shooting harm into others and causing evil, so they were very powerful.

Four more beings came after that, who were wearing red shirts and had black eyes- they were called the Spider Ants, who knew how to sting.

From this came more and more multitudes of beings, who all quarreled with each other constantly.

This is the story of the First World...which is only the beginning of the beginning! The story continues with the stories of the Blue Second World, Yellow Third World, and the White Fourth World.

The stories of each world constitute the entire Origin Story of the Navajo.

Here is a visual of the First World:

This story came from oral history, passed down from generations to generations, since the very beginning of Navajo culture. It was not written, like much of our history, but spoken. This is a precious story that has never died, and hopefully will never die with all of the time to come.

Thank you so much for reading, until next week, keep searching!

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This week we are continuing eastward with our Origin Story series, focusing on the Americas. The Native American people were thought to have migrated from modern-day Russia, which is said to have been relatively easy since the two continents were once connected by land.

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New Zealand (Aotearoa is the Maori name) proudly displays evidence of its Maori culture, whether it be the dozens of replicas of Maori crafts, carvings, and paintings at the airport, the Maori flag flying alongside the Aotearoa flag, or non-Maori performing the haka, the traditional dance of the Maori peoples. What's harder to see is the level of discrimination that the Maori of Aotearoa continue to face despite the country's pride in its Indigenous population. While relationships between Maori and non-Maori are congenial on a day-to-day level, and friendships and intermarriages between the two communities are common, tensions lie beneath the surface, and inequality between the communities remains a persistent problem. Despite improvements, the Maori continue to experience disproportionately high rates of poverty, incarceration, illness, sexual assault, domestic abuse, and suicide. Although structural and institutional discrimination are a part of the Maori experience in Aotearoa, most people would rather celebrate traditional Maori culture than take the difficult steps to remedy present-day injustices.

This frustrates Claire Charters, a Maori lawyer and activist who has dedicated her life to protecting the rights of Indigenous Peoples. "I find it really hypocritical when a bunch of people who do not think that Maori should have different rights suddenly jump up and do the haka," she says with a hint of humor. "But," she adds, "I'm not unsympathetic to how valuable that probably has been for the Maori culture. It keeps the representation positive. And that hasn't always been the case."

And Charters would know: Currently working at the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, she says the previous generation often viewed Maori culture as something to avoid rather than celebrate. Born and raised in a small community near Rotorua on the North Island, Charters learned from a young age to cherish her Maori heritage. "I certainly had a strong feeling of where I'm from," she says. But along with her community's cultural pride came strong incentives to assimilate. For example, though the local schools Charters attended had Maori populations, the opportunities to study Maori history and language were limited. "When I was going through school, Maori language was not considered as important as it is today," Charters says. "My parents thought it would be more beneficial for me to take French or German, and I believed that when I was in my teens. The idea was that it would be easier to achieve and succeed if you were part of the mainstream-that through assimilating you would ultimately get somewhere."

Both of Charters' parents were involved in Maori issues: her father, a lawyer, represented the Maori in cases involving historical grievances, and her mother worked to increase the presence of Maori culture at Claire's school. "Maori rights were always part of the dialogue at home," Charters says, but that dialogue wasn't always positive. "If anything," she says, "my father discouraged me from getting involved in Maori activism work. He thought it was too politically difficult."

But Charters couldn't stay away from working toward Maori equality. Once she entered university, she naturally gravitated toward courses in Maori culture, politics, and law. By the time she earned her law degree, Charters says, "Indigenous rights were really the only thing that I was interested in. I wanted to do something that had meaning and that meant something to me as an individual." Since graduating from university, Charters has made significant contributions to the field of Indigenous activism through her work as an educator, writer, speaker, and barrister. For instance, she has served as a consultant for the Danish Human Rights Institute, the United Nation's Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, and the International Indian Treaty Council.

Many of Charters' efforts have involved protecting Maori property and treaty rights, a cause she sees as particularly important because, she says, "Maori lost so much land so quickly." From 1860 to the early 1900s, "the Maori went from owning basically all of Aotearoa, to less than 5 percent today." Government refusal to acknowledge Indigenous land claims is a persistent struggle for the Maori community. Such was the case with the 2004 Foreshore and Seabed Act, which attempted to abrogate Maori claim to the foreshore and seabed, the land area just beyond the beach line, which holds spiritual as well as economic significance for Maori. The act sought both to place this land under the state's ownership and to abolish the Maori Land Court's authority to determine customary land claims. Charters' defense urged the government to resume a dialogue with Maori to lessen the legislation's discriminatory effects, including through legislative amendment, but the government rejected the proposals. Charters says, "It is persistent discrimination. That seems so obvious to me, but it seems so convoluted to the government." (No more: As we go to press, the government has announced it will introduce new legislation that recognizes Maori customary title to the foreshore and seabed.)

When asked what her greatest success has been, she points to the passage of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. "I was just one very small cog in that wheel, but it was so thrilling-partly because I was part of a process that had been going on for 25 years." Despite her success and the recent advancements in Maori civil and political rights, things are seldom easy for the Maori community as a whole.

Largely as a result of the strong assimilation movements of the past, today many non-Maori feel as though racial inequality is a thing of the past, which Charters believes causes more problems. "Everyone is assumed to be the same," she says, which leads people to assume that "if Maori get privileges, it creates inequality for non-Maori." Charters maintains that instead of warding off potential inequalities, this attitude only exacerbates existing ones. "It obscures the difference that is actually there: the impact of colonization, the fact that Maori are living in a system that is not theirs, and the assimilation that is required of them to succeed in the mainstream environment." Most of Aotearoa's non-Indigenous population does not share the Maori community's connection to the brutal legacy of colonization. "I think the extent to which Maori do feel different, and not 'Kiwi,' is under-appreciated by the non-Maori."

She also remembers listening to her grandmother tell stories of her own grandparents' memories of the colonization process. "It's not like this happened a long time ago," Charters says. "Talking to my grandmother, who is talking about her grandparents makes it all seem very close." As a result, Charters has learned when to speak out, and when to just enjoy the company of her non-Maori friends. "There is a part of me that I keep sheltered from people who are really close to me in other senses," though, she jokes, "It's not like I'm undercover."

Charters believes one of the most important steps toward obtaining equal civil and political rights for the global Indigenous community is through incorporating the international Indigenous human rights dialogue into domestic consciousness. "You have to have a long-term strategy when it comes to international law, and you have to work toward trying to get those norms to permeate socially and politically in the environment in which you work," she says. "Just keep raising [international norms] in support for whatever other legal or political argument you're making and try to mainstream them that way."

So what's next for Charters? "I'm six months pregnant," she added excitedly at the tail end of our conversation. And, yes she looks forward to sending her Pepi-the term for "baby" in Te Reo Maori-to Maori language immersion school.

Nora Lawrence was an intern at Cultural Survival during the summer of 2010.

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New Zealand (Aotearoa is the Maori name) proudly displays evidence of its Maori culture, whether it be the dozens of replicas of Maori crafts, carvings, and paintings at the airport, the Maori flag flying alongside the Aotearoa flag, or non-Maori performing the haka, the traditional dance of the Maori peoples.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are deeply connected to the natural environment - they believe they come from the land, it's a part of them and provides them with all their needs. Everything is alive and has meaning, from animals to rocks and trees. They have a spiritual connection to the land, dating back to the Dreaming of time immemorial.

Stories and lessons about how to live on the land have been passed down over many thousands of years and generations from Elders to young people. The tradition of oral storytelling is a special part of Indigenous Australian cultures because it explains the creation of all things, relationships, associations, family, cultural practices, history, lore/law, tribal boundaries, natural phenomena, where to go and not to go, why things happen, and where and when to get certain foods and materials.

Scientific knowledge and information is also shared in oral tradition, with an example being Indigenous cosmology stories such as 'The Emu in the Sky', which can be discerned from some of the many stars which make up the Milky Way. Indigenous Australians refer to animals and features of the natural environment as ways to interpret and make sense of the workings of the universe.

Totems derived from the natural environment is another way for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples to understand Dreaming stories and lessons in daily life. A totem is an object or thing in nature that is adopted as a clan or family emblem, such as a type of fish, mammal, bird, reptile, plant or other natural feature of the environment. They are an important part of cultural identity, and are especially significant in ceremony, dance, music and song. They are often considered sacred by their owners, meaning that there may be restrictions on hunting or eating certain animals or plants.

Explore museums and play with Art Transfer, Pocket Galleries, Art Selfie, and more

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Indigenous Australians - Google Arts & Culture

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Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are deeply connected to the natural environment - they believe they come from the land, it's a part of them a...

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Drum Dance Image | National Geographic Your Shot Photo of the Day

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Two Inuit people perform a traditional song and drum dance in this National Geographic Your Shot Photo of the Day.

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RAINBOW CREEK DANCERS

During the renaissance of Haida culture, formal dance groups were formed in the early 1970's. Inspired by some of these first dance groups, brothers Robert and Reg Davidson formed the tuul gundlas cyaal xaada, Rainbow Creek Dancers, in 1980.

Most of the songs and dances were taught to Robert and Reg by their grandmother, Florence Edenshaw Davidson.

Robert and Reg began creating beautiful masks and ceremonial objects for their dance performances and with the creativity of other group members, the beauty of the art and the innovation of the Rainbow Creek Dancers became an inspiration to other dance groups each time Rainbow Creek Dancers returned to participate in ceremonies in Haida Gwaii.

"The objective of Rainbow Creek is to bring meaning back to the songs and dances of our ancestors, performing them as they were taught to us by our elders. Following along the path of our ancestors, we strive to continually grow and connect with ceremonies that are relevant today to all people. To do so, we create new songs and dances, building upon the cultural foundation of our ancestors, and drawing upon our collective cultural, ceremonial and professional stage experiences."

Rainbow Creek Dancers derives its name from a creek that runs behind the village of Massett, Haida Gwaii (Queen Charlotte Islands). The creek only runs in the winter, the ceremonial season and traditional time of the year for songs and dances to be revealed.

Rainbow Creek Dancers remains together today, performing in Haida Gwaii and throughout the world.

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During the renaissance of Haida culture, formal dance groups were formed in the early 1970's. Inspired by some of these first dance groups, brothers Robert and Reg Davidson formed the tuul gundlas cyaal xaada, Rainbow Creek Dancers, in 1980. Most of the songs and dances were taught to Robert and Reg by their grandmother, Florence Edenshaw Davidson.

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Traditional Navajo Music

Music is a central part of Navajo religious and secular cultures. Traditional Navajo music is always vocal and is sometimes accompanied by instruments such as rattles, flutes, whistles, drums and other percussion.

Sacred music is performed in ceremonies and rituals that are not to be recorded, filmed, written down or made public. In song ceremonies called "ways," vocalists perform prayers to create or reinstate harmony, health and balance. Singers must be qualified to perform prayers. Longer ceremonies might also include dancers and sand painting.

The lyrics in traditional Navajo music can last for more than hour. Sung in groups, these song cycles involve narrative epics such as the origins of the Navajo and stories of deities like Changing Woman.

Popular Music

Not all Navajo music is sacred. Contemporary, or popular Navajo music contains broad melodic octave ranges and bridges genres from punk and hip-hop to reggae and country. Bands and artists such as Blackfire, Downplay, Tribe II Entertainment and Lil'Spade and Shade have made the Navajo music scene one of the most prolific in today's Native music world.

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Independent Lens . MISS NAVAJO . Navajo Culture . Music | PBS

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Music is a central part of Navajo religious and secular cultures. Traditional Navajo music is always vocal and is sometimes accompanied by instruments such as rattles, flutes, whistles, drums and other percussion. Sacred music is performed in ceremonies and rituals that are not to be recorded, filmed, written down or made public.

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I am ashamed to say this year was my first time at Waitangi.

I am Māori, an indigenous person of New Zealand. I belong to the Ngāpuhi tribe, a tribe that descends from Waitangi and other parts of Northland. My ancestor is Hongi Hika, who was once a Māori rangatira (chief) of Ngāpuhi.

The internal conflict I experienced as I stepped on to the grounds is one I have experienced my entire life."Am I Māori enough? Do I belong here? What if someone starts speaking te reo to me, what should I do? I should have been here years ago. I should be with other Māori, holding a banner, holding government accountable for all the wrongs and injustices Māori have suffered."

My memories of past Waitangi days are this: a nice sleep in, a day out at the beach, hanging at some random festival, and in the evening I might turn the news on during dinner and see an army of angry Māori holding up a sign at Waitangi. And then I turn the TV off and never think about it until the next year.

There is nothing wrong with being at the beach on Waitangi Day but what is wrong is the general public, including many Māori, have no real understanding of the Treaty and how it affects us today. A covenant was made between Maori and Pakeha in 1840. That covenant was broken and the consequences have brutally traumatised Maori across generations, including my own family. This is not something that just happened in the past. This is affecting us now. As in today.

I could easily talk about the impact of colonisation on our health. Maori statistically die earlier. My grandparents died in their fifties, before I was born. My understanding of Te Ao Māori was limited for a number of reasons. But one reason is, I missed out on sitting at my grandparents' feet and learning from them.

Or I could talk about the over-representation of Māori in the criminal justice system. Or how Māori lost 95% of their land in less than a hundred years. Now Māori are struggling to afford to rent a house, let alone buy one. How ironic is that? We can't even afford to live on our own land. These are all manifestations of the Treaty not being honoured.

But this is not the worst part. Perhaps the worst part is how we as Māori have been robbed of our identity. My Māori mates and I talk about how we should be called the lost generation. We are orphans. We grew up not knowing where we come from. We can't speak our own language. We are expected to be a dial-a-powhiri or a translating service and when we can't do it, we are called "plastic" and our identity is questioned. "Are you even a Māori?"

We already grow up ashamed to be Māori because society tells us we are less. We are already questioning our identity. But the shame that has been put on us for our loss of culture and language can be soul-destroying - a reminder that we don't belong in the Pākehā world or the Māori world. No amount of compensation can make up for this.

And now, like a flick of a switch, we are expected to just reclaim our identity, go to te reo classes with other non-Māori who see it as a hobby. Our history wasn't taught in schools so now we seek out our own knowledge, read books in our spare time and re-learn and un-learn everything we have been taught by society. (The Labour party has now introduced New Zealand history to be taught in all schools by 2022. About 100 years too late but at least it's a start.)

This year I found out that being at Waitangi is like going back to the marae for a tangi, except no one died. The aroma of hāngi and fry bread lingered, te reo is spoken naturally and not forced and I could be my authentic self. I didn't have to put my pakeha face on. I was part of the majority, rather than a minority. I was home.

I echo many others who believe Waitangi day is better without politics. Walking to the Te Whare Rūnanga at the upper Treaty grounds is like a different world. Herds of silly politicians and journalists running around in suits, dresses and full faces of makeup. A white woman at the centre of attention.

Waitangi should not be about Jacinda Ardern, although this is not her fault. "Jacindamania" or the "Jacinda effect" is still in full swing. Teenage girls in school uniform waving their phones in the air desperate to get a photo. I passed two men in their sixties praising "Jacinta". Iwi leaders raved about her after the annual iwi meeting. Even my own mother lined up in the breakfast line for over an hour to get a selfie with the prime minister. It's now one of her most liked photos on her Facebook.

One can't deny the fact Arden is doing a good job. I cannot think of any other politician or leader in this country (or even worldwide) who would decide to jump in the waka last minute on Hine Te Aparangi and paddle with locals.

Perhaps Ardern is the reason why after the dawn service and breakfast, my friend and I were left scratching our heads. There wasn't much going on. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Happy, even. Where were all the protests I've grown up seeing on TV? Mainstream Pakeha reporters looked lost, searching for some kind of conflict or protest.

Being at Waitangi was a spiritual and profound experience for me. But it was also a reminder of how far we have to go. Oranga Tamariki, water issues, poverty, unemployment, Ihumātao and the rights to our land back. Maybe Waitangi 2021 will be less focused on Ardern and more on Māori issues at heart. What we have lost, we can never get back. But we try.

Shilo Kino (Ngā Puhi, Tainui) is a writer and journalist for the Māori current affairs program Marae. Her debut novel, The Porangi Boy, will be out this year with Huia Publishers.

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Māori have been robbed of our identity and our land - we must fight to get them back

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Jacinda Ardern is doing a good job, but Waitangi reminds us of what we have lost

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Learn more about the National Museums of Kenya by visiting our website.

Exhibit Curator: Philemon Nyamanga, Cultural Heritage Department. pnyamanga@museums.or.ke

Bibliography and research
1. Fedders A, Salvadori C. Peoples and cultures of Kenya. Nairobi: Transafrica and London: Rex Collings, 1980.

Photography and Creative Direction: Gibson Maina and Muturi Kanini. Gibs Photography

Exhibit Layout: Barnabas Ngei and Brian Maina Kamau.

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The Maasai Community of Kenya - Google Arts & Culture

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Experience their colorful dress, traditional jumping dance, and strong warriorhood

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The Global Oneness Project

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You voted. Here’s our top photo of the year.

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We asked our Instagram community to pick their favorite image.

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More general info about Haida

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Navajo Diné Bahaneʼ – Anthology of Earlier American Literature: College of Western Idaho

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Debbie Mclavey, Haida Dancer — Citizen Stories

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Debbie Mclavey is the president of the Haida Descendants Dancers, a community that gathers in Ketchikan, Alaska to share the stories, songs, and dances of their ancestors with one another and the rest of the world. By doing so, they unite the generations, keep the traditions alive, and reinforce a s

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Navajo Changing Woman - Dieties - Legends

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These four visit Changing Woman in her home in the west and see how she changes her age and form as she passes through doors at each of the directions. She decrees her gifts to earth people Cloud, rain, pollen, dew and gives them prayersticks. She tells them that now “there is no meanness left” in her : however First Man and Woman who went east are mean, and from them will come epidemics, colds, and coughs to be cured by offerings of white corn. Pg. 118, Male Shootingway.

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The term haka, although associated with the war dance version used by the All Blacks, describes all forms of Maori dance and performance. There are many variations but the All Black use Ka Mate, Ka Mate, one specifically intended as a precursor to battle. The word is made up of two parts: ha - translates as breath, ka - to ignite or energise. As such, the Haka is a way to ignite the breath, energise the body and inspire the spirit.
Haka history
It was the 1905-06 All Black touring side to Britain who popularised the haka. It was performed at the first Test against Scotland on 18 November and against Wales . The 'Invincibles' that came to Britain in 1924-25 had their own haka, which was written by two fans on the voyage over. New Zealand lock Read Masters, in his tour book, recalled seeing the following translation of the song in the local press: 'Now we are in England feed us, feed us! Or we will tear you! Tear you!!!' Biscuits were sent to the All Blacks stating that in return the senders expected to stay in one piece.
The call
The haka leader, normally an All Black of Maori descent, spurs on the team, before leading the dance, with the following chant:
Ringa pakia (Slap hands against thighs)
Uma tiraha (Puff out the chest)
Turi whatia (Bend the knees)
Hope whai ake (Let the hip follow)
Waewae takahia kia kino (Stamp the feet as hard as you can).
The full Ka Mate Haka
Ka mate! Ka mate! (It is death! It is death!)
Ka ora! Ka ore! (It is life! It is life!)
Tenei te tangata puhuru huru (This is the hairy person)
Nana i tiki mai (Who caused the sun to shine)
Whakawhiti te ra (Keep abreast! Keep abreast!)
A hupane kaupane! (The rank! Hold fast!)
A upane kaupane whiti te ra! (Into the sun that shines!!).
How to face the Haka
There are 15 large Kiwis chanting in your face. Do you run, hide or go nose to nose?

1. Into the valleys In November 1905, a Wales team (and the crowd) burst into an 'awe-inspiring' version of Land of my Fathers after the haka.

2. The Campese The Australia winger and full-back preferred to ignore the haka ritual completely and warm up with a ball until the war dance ended.

3. The Nose Job In November 1989, at Landsdown Road, Ireland captain Willie Henderson led his whole team forward to face the haka. Nails.

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Everything you ever needed to know about the Haka

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The lowdown on the All Blacks war dance.

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The first half of the video is about the Cherokee, and the second half is mostly about European settlers

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Music was an important part of life for the northwest coast haida. The most common time that the Haida played music was at potlatches (a gift giving ceremony that was used to show social status) but was also used in life cycle changes like birth,marriage, ect. The most common instruments used by the haida were rattles, Whistles, & specific vocal utterances (which isn't really an instrument but was still used. The use ow whistles in songs was very important it was used to show if the song was about/involving/contacting a spiritual being. In terms of drums they had those as well but unlike other native groups the Haida had individual drums as opposed to one large communal drum. Music was very important to the Haida and they defiantly had no shortage of it.

The Northwest Coast people did a lot of dancing. Ritual dances were features of there aboriginal life. They danced because it was a way to give information and important lessons and reminders. It had reminded people the importance of each clan, and communicated the legends of each clan. Most of the dancers would wear costumes and an amazing wooden mask which were a great piece if art work. The masks were worn because it would represent the characters in the legends. The masks were very carefully carved and painted. Some of the masks were very ingeniously hinged so that a dancer could represent a bird, animal or mythical being. Dancing was a major part of the daily life of the Northwest Coast people.

One of the myths the Haida group would dance was the raven. They believed the Raven was the cultural hero.

The Northwest Coast people had many beliefs and Ceremonies one of the biggest ceremonies they had was called the Potlatch ceremony. The Potlatch ceremony was biggest celebration they had filled with dancing. It took a year to plan. The potlatch ceremony was usually corresponded with a persons change in the social status such as things like marriage, birth, death, and coming of age. It always includes a huge feast, singing and costumed dancers, some Potlatches can last for 2-3 weeks. The potlatch ceremony was also a way fro families to show off there wealth to others. Each person that was invited to the Potlatch ceremony received a gift related on there social ranks some gifts that would have been given were canoes, slaves, carved dishes, and eulachon oil. The more wealth the family had given away the more prestige was put on them. One of the things that the northwest coast people believe was a soul catcher. The soul catcher was an important part of their healing work, as physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. They believed the soul catcher also help the person go through a less painful death as they would dream and during the dream the soul catcher would come down and sweep there soul and bring them to peace. That are some of there beliefs and ceremonies.

The Haida Burial ceremonies are widely regarded as some of the most interesting in the world. For the average Haida citizen your death ceremony was nothing special they just had a pit behind the village where they threw their dead and tha t was just the way they had always done it. But for great warriors,chiefs, or shaman your death ceremony was much different and much stranger. When an important person like that died in the village the body would be beaten with clubs until it could fit into a tiny little decorated box, this box would then be fitted to go atop a totem pole. The animals carved into the totem pole were then supposed to serve as guides for the person in the box during the imminent "after life journey"and it was considered a honor to have such a burial. This was practiced for many years, but once the Europeans showed up and saw what they were doing they essentially "no, this is messed up"and the practice was outlawed. The haida burial practices are very interesting and now it is clear why one would say that.

The Northwest Coast people played a lot of games. For some of the games, they needed dolls. They made dolls out of cedar bark. There was also spin tops. The spin tops were made with bones and ivory. Everybody played the games but there were different ways of playing between adults and children. The adults gambled on games and children just played normally. One game that the kids play is a staring contest. In this game they stare at each other until one of them laughs or smiles. This is how they played some of the games, how they made some of the games, and who played the games.

The people of the Northwest Coast made many pieces of art. This art included button blankets and spiritual creatures. The most important piece of art of theirs is the totem pole. The totem pole is important because it tells you the family's history. Also, the totem pole makes their house a home. It makes the house feel more loving. The totem pole usually has ravens and eagles. This is the art of the Northwest people.

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Music was an important part of life for the northwest coast haida. The most common time that the Haida played music was at potlatches (a gift giving ceremony that was used to show social...

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http://www.maasai-association.org/ceremonies.html

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Indigenous Americas - Google Arts & Culture

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Google Arts & Culture features content from over 2000 leading museums and archives who have partnered with the Google Cultural Institute to bring the world's treasures online.

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This is another Ngiyaampaa story and it's about Eaglehawk and Crow.

Long, long time ago Eaglehawk, it was his turn to go hunting. So Eaglehawk had a little baby, and he asked Crow, he went over to his neighbour Crow and asked Crow if he'd look after his baby while he went hunting, because food was getting much scarcer now and they had to go much further and further away from the camp.

So Eaglehawk, he went to Crow and asked him. Crow didn't want to look after the baby, he said "No, no I don't want to look after the baby, he's crying too much, he'll cry all the time and disturb the camp". But Eaglehawk said, "No, he'll be right, Crow". He said, "You take him away and you sit down there and talk to him, or sing to him and he'll quieten down". Crow was still reluctant to take the baby, he said, "No, I don't want to look after the kid".

So anyway, Eaglehawk just handed the baby to Crow and said, "Okay, when we come back, whatever meat we get we'll bring it back and we'll share it with you". Crow had to be satisfied with that and Eaglehawk just went off with his young men and of course they had to go a long, long way from the camp.

But Crow, after he got the baby, he took it into his gunyah, his hut, and he sat down there with the baby and he was singing to it and talking to it, but the baby wouldn't stop crying. Just kept on crying and crying and crying.

So Crow was getting really annoyed, no way he could stop the baby. So Crow went out and he got his boondie-his hitting stick-and banged the little fella with the hitting stick and killed him. Then he got the baby and he put it up the back of his camp, right in the back of the gunyah. He put all the leaves around it, and a bit of bark and a kangaroo skin. He had a kangaroo skin, a cloak, so he put that over the baby. And anyway, everything was quiet then so Crow went away from his camp and started doing what he wanted to do then.

So after, when Eaglehawk came back late in the afternoon, Crow ran back into the camp and he was sitting at the doorway and he was making out he was singing to the baby. Crow's sitting there and Eaglehawk came up to him and said "I've come to pick my baby up now Crow. He's very quiet, you must have sung him to sleep.

And Crow said, "Yeah, he's right in the back of the gunyah there, he's right in the back of the camp. He's sound asleep. Don't wake him, leave him there. Eaglehawk said, "No, I'll take him home now and look after him".

So when Eaglehawk walked into the camp, the gunyah, to get his baby, he noticed that everything was really still and too still around him. So once Eaglehawk walked into the back of the camp and picked the baby up, Crow took off and he ran out and hid in the mallee, the thick scrub.

So Eaglehawk he started yelling, "My baby, Crow killed my baby", so all his other hunters came up to him with their spears and he said, "Go after him. Chase him into the thick mallee and get him. We'll kill him". So they ran after Crow, but he got right into the centre of the mallee and they couldn't find him. So Eaglehawk said, "We'll set a light to the mallee and we'll burn him out. He's got to be punished for what he did to my baby."

So they set a light to the mallee, and they went right back, away from the fire and they're sitting right out there, waiting for all the smoke to go away. And then they saw this bird flying out of the smoke, at the end of the smoke this black bird came out. And Eaglehawk said, "That's him. That's Crow. He's been punished now, his spirit turned into a black bird."

And today, Eaglehawk and Crow still carry on the fight after that. They're birds today and they still carry on the fight. Crow will still go up to Eaglehawk's nest and try to pick at his babies, the eyes of his babies. And in the air when Eaglehawk's circling for food, Crow will go after him again and try to pick at him. So they still carry on the fight after what happened when they were people years ago.

Read More Dreamtime Stories

Gulaga

This story is about Gulaga, which is our mother mountain, our sacred mountain. It's about her two sons Najanuga and Barranguba. Barranguba is Montague Island, that's what the white people call it. Barranguba is the older son of Gulaga and...

Toonkoo and Ngaardi

This first story I'm going to tell you is about the Dreamtime. It's about creation of Toonkoo and Ngaardi. When Darama, the Great Spirit, came down to the earth, he made all the animals and the birds. He gave them...

The Rainbow Serpent

At the beginning of the Dreamtime, the earth was flat and dry and empty. There were no trees, no rivers, no animals and no grass. It was a dry and flat land. One day, Goorialla, the rainbow serpent woke from...

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This is another Ngiyaampaa story and it's about Eaglehawk and Crow. Long, long time ago Eaglehawk, it was his turn to go hunting. So Eaglehawk had a little baby, and he asked Crow, he went over to his neighbour Crow and asked Crow if he'd look after his baby while he went hunting, because food was getting much scarcer now and they had to go much further and further away from the camp.

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Newsela | Instructional Content Platform

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Newsela is an Instructional Content Platform that supercharges reading engagement and learning in every subject.

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Bruce Cockburn - News Archive - The Rainbow Creek Dancers

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Bruce Cockburn, Spirit Concert, Rainbow Creek Dancers

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Encyclopædia Britannica. (n.d.). Maasai. Britannica School. Retrieved February 16, 2023, from https://school.ebonline.com/levels/middle/article/Maasai/51236

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About Cherokee Dance | Native American Culture | PBS LearningMedia

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In this video John Bullet Standingdeer a member of the Warriors of AniKituhwa of Cherokee, NC, describes the cultural importance of the ceremonial Eagle Dance, performed by the Warriors of AniKituhwa, and the social Beaver Dance, performed by the Raven Rock Dancers.

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The Dreaming, also called dream-time, or world dawn Australian Aboriginal languages altjira, altjiranga, alcheringa, wongar, or djugurba, mythological period of time that had a beginning but no foreseeable end, during which the natural environment was shaped and humanized by the actions of mythic beings. Many of these beings took the form of human beings or of animals ("totemic"); some changed their forms. They were credited with having established the local social order and its "laws." Some, especially the great fertility mothers, but also male genitors, were responsible for creating human life- i.e., the first people.

Mythic beings of the Dreaming are eternal. Though in the myths some were killed or disappeared beyond the boundaries of the people who sang about them, and others were metamorphosed as physiographic features (for example, a rocky outcrop or a waterhole) or manifested as or through ritual objects ( see tjurunga), their essential quality remained undiminished. In Aboriginal belief, they are spiritually as much alive today as they ever were. The places where the mythic beings performed some action or were "turned into" something else became sacred, and it was around these that ritual was focussed.

The Dreaming, as a coordinated system of belief and action, includes totemism. Together, they express a close relationship: man is regarded as part of nature, not fundamentally dissimilar to the mythic beings or to the animal species, all of which share a common life force. The totem serves as an agent, placing man within the Dreaming and providing him with an indestructible identity that continues uninterruptedly from the beginning of time to the present and into the future.

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The Dreaming | Australian Aboriginal mythology

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The Dreaming: The Dreaming, mythological period of time that had a beginning but no foreseeable end, during which the natural environment was shaped and humanized by the actions of mythic beings.

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This is mostly about science, but it is interesting and there are some facts about the Inuit.

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If you ever find yourself stranded in the snowy Arctic (or bored in Minecraft), you're gonna need to know how to build an igloo. But how can building a house made of ice keep you warm? It's Okay To Be Smart explains.

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In Ewangan Village of the Maasai Mara National Reserve, young Maasai warriors demonstrate adumu, their world-famous jumping dance, most likely performed for visiting tourists. The adumu is a part of Eunoto, a long-observed coming-of-age ceremony that includes 10 days or more of singing, dancing, and traditions.

"It might look easy, but reaching heights like this takes immense strength and fitness," explains this educational feature by Reuters, sponsored by Kenya's Narok County:

Dances are a big part of Maasai tradition. There are dances for all kinds of important social occasions... Men and women prepare for the dance by painting designs on their faces and bodies with a red, earthy pigment called ochre. They wear intricate, colourful beadwork necklaces and shawls...

One at a time they go to the centre, jumping in time to the rhythm. It's important to keep the body as straight as possible and heels shouldn't touch the ground between jumps... The women dance too. Mothers sing about the courage of their sons. The girls sing to encourage their favourite warrior.

Watch more dance tradition videos, including:
* Zaouli de Manfla: The Zaouli dance of the Ivory Coast
* Buffalo Dance by the Serpent Trail Dance Group
* The Westerly Morris Men celebrate the vernal equinox
* San Francisco's Kei Lun Lion Dancers

Bonus: Widow birds bounce and leap for attention.

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Adumu, the traditional Maasai jumping dance

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In Ewangan Village of the Maasai Mara National Reserve, young Maasai warriors demonstrate adumu, their world-famous jumping dance, most likely performed

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"In the Friendship Dances the young people get acquainted. There is a great amount of teasing and joking of relatives occurring at these dances in particular. The young men will scratch the young girls' hands with their fingernails, slap them or feint blows at them, poke at them, or otherwise tease these familiar relatives. For the older people the word "Friendship" attaching to these dances, signifies the renewal of the pleasures of their youthful experiences in love and social intercourse.

"In the Eagle Dance and in the Friendship Dance the leader or principal performer can tell a story as he dances. He may perhaps recount his conquests over women or his acquiring of great wealth. He will never fail to get in some jibes at his joking relatives while he sings.

"The gotogwaski, or 'caller' is the organizer of a dance occasion and it is he who calls off the names of those who are to lead each song step. At the end of a song he shouts out words of encouragement and applause. He always endeavors to pick the best and strongest singers as leaders. The leader starts to walk around in a circle singing his song and followed at first only by one or two old men. Other men join the circle and then the woman with rattles on her legs and finally a vast number of girls, boys, men, and women are circling around at a faster and faster rate. After the song ends the whole group makes a wild dash for the door and fresh air.

"Since the dances of the Cherokees are of extreme importance in the social integration .. it will be in point to briefly mention the outstanding characteristics of the remembered dances, especially those whose social function seems more strikingly important than others.'

"The Ant Dance (daksu dali) consisted of a snakelike procession in single file, the participants moving about like a colony of ants. Both men and women participate but the men do all of the singing and the singing leader dances with a gourd rattle in his hand. The leader sings about the ants and says that their grandmothers are flying.

"The Ball Dance (dundje-la Nuni) is performed in two parts, one by the men and the other by the women. The men go to water both before and after a ball game. The men's dance consists of a procession of the players about the fire, racquet in hand, singing some four songs. The singing leader has a gourd rattle in his hand and dances at the head of the line. Simultaneously with the men's ball dance, or perhaps in its intermissions, the women give their dance. The details of this dance are very important and are worth considering at some length.
"The male singer seats himself facing the town which the team is to play against and takes his drum in his hands while the seven women dancers line up in a row behind him. Then, as the drummer begins to sing, the women dance forward and backward. Only the first and last songs are danced, the others consist in merely singing to the accompaniment of the leader. After each song the drummer will give some derogatory remarks about his familiar clansmen in the opponent town, saying that their town is bound to lose in the coming game. Then the women may likewise make up jokes about their clans-persons in the opponent town. After one drummer is tired, another will take his place and joke his fellow clansmen of his own clan in the opponent town. The magical rite concludes with the whole group "going to water" for certain lavations and purifications. This joking of the opponent town has the apparent effect of magically weakening the opponent town and causing them to lose the coming game. This is one of the most striking correlations of magical potency with relatives of familiarity imbedded in the kinship system to be found. Fuller reference to the possible significance of this rite in connection with other magical establishments of familiarity will be made in the discussion on integration and extension of social principles to magic and myth.

'The Bear Dance (yo na)is an important dance given after midnight. Men and women both take part in this dance, which requires the use of gourd and tortoise-shell rattles. The general course is a spiral motion by a group in single file about the fire or pot or whatever can be made to serve as the center of revolution. Various obscene familiarities are indulged in between relatives in this dance, especially between the men and the women. The words of the songs refer to the bear's habits.

"The Beaver Dance (doya) is mimetic of the beaver hunt. Each dancer carries a small stick about 2 feet long, and this stick is flourished in various manners. The principal feature of this dance is an animal skin, meant to represent the beaver, which is pulled back and forth on a series of strings and which the dancers attempt to hit. Missing the skin affords immense amusement to the participants and spectators alike and this is consequently a favorite dance.

"The Buffalo Dance is hardly remembered. Masks and skins were said to have been used in this dance, which was mimetic of the hunt of buffalo.

"The Bugah Dance (Booger Dance) (tsunaguduli) is a masked dance of particular social significance. The name is of obscure origin but the actors in the dance are called Bogeys or sometimes Buggers. Considerable paraphernalia and preparation are necessary for this dance. From 6 to 12 masks made of gourd, wood, or pasteboard are collected beforehand in the neighborhood as well as 6 or 10 gourd rattles and a ground-hog skin drum. From all of the women present one man, the organizer, collects shawls, wraps, or sweaters to clothe the bogeys in.
"Six men seat themselves at one side of the room, a drummer of leader with five assistant music makers holding gourd rattles. These persons are known as dininogiski 'callers', whose function it is to sing and call the bogeys. When the callers have completed their sixth song, the bogeys enter one by one, concealed by masks and various wrap-around materials, and hobbling in various comical positions and with odd motions. They wear the strangest make-ups and endeavor to do everything in a topsy-turvy manner.
'There are seven of the bogeys and as the seventh song is played they dance in a circle about the room and endeavor to scare those children who are ungilisi or digiDuDu relatives to them. They also tease the grown-ups who are their familiar relatives. The relatives and spectators in the room enjoy this game of guessing which of their familiar relatives the teaser is.
"At the end of the seventh song the bogeys seat themselves in a comical fashion and with clumsy gestures on a log at one side of the room. The interpreter or organizer, meanwhile, is asked by the head caller to put some questions to the bogeys. The first question is generally, 'What is your name', or 'Where do you come from?' The interpreter then goes up to the first bogey and repeats this question to him. To this the bogey gives a whispered reply and the name he gives himself is always either ludicrous or obscene. He gives as his place of origin some remote or fanciful locality. He may joke a familiar relative in a neighboring town by giving his name. After the initial questions are over, the first bogey gets up ludicrously and clowns in a dance all his own. Duyring the dance the music maker or chief caller calls the name of the bogey over and over again and the bogey goes through motions and gestures appropriate to the name which he has given himself. The steps of this solo dance are utterly unlike any other Cherokee dance and consist of a series of heavy hops in rhythmic time. When the first bogey is through, the whole thing is gone over again with the next one and so on down the line.
"Following this the interpreter asks the bogeys to do a bear dance together. This is done and then the audience joins in with the bogeys. As the dance proceeds the bogeys tease their familiar relatives, especially the women, in obscene and ridiculous ways. After this dance the bogeys leave and go to some remote field where they remove their disguise and slip home without being recognized. After the bogeys are gone, the audience generally begins a friendship dance.
"The Bugah Dance is one of the most extremely used occasions for the display of the joking and privileged familiarity relationships between relatives. The bogeys may even tease and joke each other if they are in the correct relationship. The crazy movements of the Bugah solo dance may imitate everything except the motions of white peoples' dances. The bogeys themselves may imitate white people, negroes, or joking relatives. ​

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"In the Friendship Dances the young people get acquainted. There is a great amount of teasing and joking of relatives occurring at these dances in particular. The young men will scratch the young...

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Rare artworks from an unsurpassed collection evoke the inner lives and secret rites of Australia's indigenous people

Smithsonian Magazine |

An art movement's origins usually can't be pinpointed, but boldly patterned Aboriginal acrylic painting first appeared at a specific time and place. In July 1971, an art teacher named Geoffrey Bardon distributed some brushes, paints and other materials to a group of Aboriginal men in the forlorn resettlement community of Papunya, 160 miles from the nearest town, Alice Springs. Bardon had moved near the remote Western Desert from cosmopolitan Sydney hoping to preserve an ancient aboriginal culture imperiled by the uprooting of Aboriginal people from their traditional territories in the 1950s and '60s. The men, who saw Bardon distributing the art supplies to schoolchildren, had a simpler aim: they were looking for something to do. Together they painted a mural on a whitewashed schoolhouse wall, and then they created individual works in a former military hangar that Bardon called the Great Painting Room. In 1972, with his assistance, 11 of the men formed a cooperative called Papunya Tula Artists. By 1974 the group had grown to 40.

Papunya Tula is now one of about 60 Aboriginal arts cooperatives, and Australian Aboriginal art generates nearly $200 million in annual revenues. It is not only the largest source of income for Aboriginal people but also, arguably, the most prestigious Australian contemporary art. Featuring bold geometric designs in earth tones, with characteristic circles, dots and wavy snakelike lines, Aboriginal acrylic painting appeals to Western collectors of both abstract and folk art. Prices have soared. A mural-size 1977 painting on canvas by the Papunya artist Clifford Possum established a record price for the genre when it sold in 2007 for $1.1 million.

Still, a special aura attaches to the first, small paintings, done on masonite boards usually less than 2 by 3 feet. Created before there was commercial interest, they benefit from the perception that they are more "authentic" than the stretched-canvas works that came later. It is hard to deny the energy and inventiveness of the early boards; artists used unfamiliar tools and materials to cover two-dimensional surfaces with designs they'd employed in ritualistic body painting or sand mosaics. They improvised, applying paint with a twig or the tip of a paintbrush's wooden handle. "The early period-you're never going to find anyplace where there's so much experimentation," says Fred Myers, a New York University anthropologist. "They had to figure everything out. There's an energy that the early paintings have, because there's so much excess to compress."

The first exhibition in the United States to focus on these seminal works-49 paintings, most of them early Papunya boards-recently appeared at New York University, following showings at Cornell University and the University of California at Los Angeles. The paintings are owned by John Wilkerson, a New York City-based venture capitalist in the medical field, and his wife, Barbara, a former plant physiologist. The Wilkersons collect early American folk art and first became enamored of Aboriginal work when they visited Australia in 1994. "We both thought, 'We don't like this-we love it,'" Barbara recalls. "We just liked everything." With the help of a Melbourne-based gallery owner, they soon concentrated on the earliest paintings.

The Wilkersons' costliest board was the 1972 painting Water Dreaming at Kalipinypa, a dazzling patchwork of stippled, dotted and crosshatched shapes, bought in 2000 for some $220,000-more than twice the price it had been auctioned for only three years earlier. The painting was done by Johnny Warangkula Tjupurrula, an original member of the Papunya cooperative and one of its most celebrated. Sadly, the artist himself had long been overlooked; in 1997, an Australian journalist found Warangkula, by then old and homeless, sleeping along with other Aboriginal people in a dry riverbed near Alice Springs. Though he reportedly received less than $150 for his best-known painting, the publicity surrounding the 1997 sale revived his career somewhat and he soon resumed painting. Warangkula died in a nursing home in 2001.

Though the Aboriginal art movement launched in Papunya is just four decades old, it's possible to discern four periods. In the first, which lasted barely a year, sacred practices and ritual objects were often depicted in a representational style. That was dangerous: certain rituals, songs and religious objects are strictly off limits to women and uninitiated boys. In August 1972, an angry dispute broke out at an exhibition in the aboriginal community of Yuendumu over explicit renderings in Papunya paintings. Some community members were offended by the realistic depictions of a wooden paddle swung in the air to produce a whirring sound in initiation ceremonies that are hidden from women and children.

In response to the furor, artists began to avoid forbidden images or conceal them under dotting, stippling and cross-hatches. So began the next period. A forerunner of that style, painted around August 1972, is Water Dreaming at Kalipinypa, in which Warangkula's elaborate veilings acquire a mesmerizing beauty that relates to the symbolic theme of raindrops bringing forth the vegetation stirring below the earth.

"I think the older men love playing with almost showing you," Myers says. It's not just a game. These paintings mirror traditional ritual practice; for example, in one initiation ceremony, adolescent boys whose bodies are painted in geometric or dotted patterns appear before women at night through a scrim of smoke, so the designs can be glimpsed but not seen clearly. "You have people who already have a tradition of working with concealment and revelation," Myers says.

In the third period, the art found a commercial market with acclaimed, large-scale canvases in the 1980s. And the fourth period, roughly from the 1990s to the present, includes lower-quality commercial paintings-disparaged by some art dealers as "dots for dollars"-that slake the tourist demand for souvenirs. Some painters today lay down geometric, Aboriginal-style markings without any underlying secret to disguise. (There have even been cases of fake Aboriginal art produced by backpackers.)

Still, much fine work continues to be produced. "I'm very optimistic, because I think it's amazing that it has lasted as long as it has," Myers says. Roger Benjamin, a University of Sydney art historian who curated the exhibition, "Icons of the Desert," says gloomy predictions of the late '80s have not been borne out: "Fewer and fewer of the original artists were painting, and people thought the movement was dying out. That didn't happen."

One striking change is that many Aboriginal painters today are women, who have their own stories and traditions to recount. "The women painting in Papunya Tula now tend to use stronger colors and-especially the older ladies-are less meticulous," Benjamin says.

Though seemingly abstract, the multilayered paintings reflect the Aboriginal experience of reading the veiled secrets of the hostile desert-divining underground water and predicting where plants will reappear in the spring. According to Aboriginal mythology, the desert has been marked by the movements of legendary ancestors-the wanderings known as Dreamings-and an initiate can recall the ancestral stories by studying and decoding the terrain. "In the bush, when you see somebody making a painting, they often break into song," Benjamin says. They're singing the Dreaming stories in their paintings.

The Wilkersons' original plan to exhibit paintings in Australian museums fell through after curators feared that Aboriginal women or boys might be exposed to sacred imagery. Aboriginal community members also decreed that nine reproductions could not be included in the exhibition catalog. (The American edition contains a supplement with the banned images. Smithsonian was not granted the right to publish any of them.)

While Western art collectors may value the works according to how well they were executed, Aboriginal people tend to rank them by the importance of the Dreaming in them. "White people can't understand our painting, they just see a 'pretty picture,' " the Papunya artist Michael Tjakamarra Nelson once remarked.

Some of the imagery in the exhibition is comprehensible to informed outsiders, while some is ambiguous or completely opaque. For many Western spectators, the secret religious content of the paintings-including, in the early boards, images said to be fatal to uninitiated Aboriginal people-only adds to their appeal. Like much geometrically ordered art, Aboriginal painting is beautiful. Tantalizingly, it also exudes mystery and danger.

New York City-based freelance journalist Arthur Lubow last wrote for Smithsonian about China's terra cotta soldiers.

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Smithsonian Magazine | An art movement's origins usually can't be pinpointed, but boldly patterned Aboriginal acrylic painting first appeared at a specific time and place. In July 1971, an art teacher named Geoffrey Bardon distributed some brushes, paints and other materials to a group of Aboriginal men in the forlorn resettlement community of Papunya, 160 miles from the nearest town, Alice Springs.

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Google Arts & Culture features content from over 2000 leading museums and archives who have partnered with the Google Cultural Institute to bring the world's treasures online.

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Adamu: The Maasai Moran Dance - Google Arts & Culture

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The Maasai Morans of Arusha, Tanzania, demonstrate their special dance.