Video: Arlee Powwow hits stride

ARLEE - It's an experience that no words can do justice. Close your eyes and feel the power from each unified beat of the drum and a singing that resonates from deep within its creator. Open them, and add to that the dancers, young and old, who translate the song's emotions into waves of color and you should agree, a first-time powwow experience is something to remember.

According to CSKT's Communications Director, Robert McDonald, "Many view the powwow and the hip hop of Indian culture the living, breathing and ever-changing embodiment of Indian expression."

More than 500 dancers, their families, friends, vendors and spectators from the greater Lake County community packed the Arlee powwow grounds last weekend for the 112th Annual Arlee Powwow Celebration. The Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes and Yamncut drum group, who sponsored the celebration, give themselves little time to relax between one year and the next. Right after the powwow is over, they start the planning for the next year.

"We pray for a good powwow beforehand," Powwow Vice Chairman Johnny Arlee said. "We want everything to be good for the people. It's the people who come that make the powwow. We want that, through our prayers, as soon as they come through the gate, they feel good energy."

In 1974, the tribes charged Arlee with establishing the Flathead Culture Committee, which he directed for four years. With a deep pride in its tribe's history, Yamncut initiated the powwow's unique Old Style Day, which took place on Thursday and offered everyone a glimpse into some of the lesser-known traditional songs and dances.

"We're trying to save the old songs," Arlee said. "At powwows like this, all the popular songs come up and the old songs get pushed away. Yamncut, which means ‘the gathering,' we decided to save the old songs and keep them alive."

Thursday started out with the Scalp Dance, which traditionally called all women to the chief's camp to have their faces painted and start the dancing. Later, the group performed the songs for war dancing, the coffee dance and the smoking song. These exhibition dances were open to all and allowed everyone to get involved.

"It's really good that these young women and young men are bringing back these old songs in honor of Johnny," powwow chairman Alec Quequesah said. "He works hard on our celebration."

In addition, native games like double ball, shinny and stick game offered something for everyone.

"My great grandmother used to say ‘every season there's something,'" Arlee said. "You always give thanks for it and hope to see it again next year."

This year's celebration brought in dancers and vendors from all over the United States and Canada.

"They're living for the summer, going place to place. That's their way, from powwow to powwow," he said. "If gas prices were $5, Indians would get there. It's their thing."

Arlee recounted the history of the powwow, noting that at one point, there were two celebrations going on near the small town of Arlee at once. He remembered each of the event's multiple locations before it settled in its current one off of Powwow Road, south of town. At the event's conception, 112 years ago, Arlee said the church was trying to outlaw the powwow, calling it ‘heathen,'

"They didn't want the Indians to celebrate here," he said. The tribe's chief at the time wanted his celebration to take place on the Fourth of July, the same day America celebrated its independence.

"He was pretty smart, the old chief," Arlee said.

While the event's current organizers try to keep things tied as closely to the traditional ways as they can, Arlee said the powwow has experienced many changes, even during his lifetime.

"I remember the dancing from when I was a little kid," he said. "All the teepees were in a circle around the dancing with the drum in the middle. The drum is the heart beat. When it beat, it sent a message through the camp, calling everybody to the center. Like Mother Earth's heartbeat, it keeps us going."

Now, the Arlee Powwow draws around 25 drum groups with seven or so actually entered in the competition, which gives away over $50,000 in total pay-out, plus an additional $10,000 for the singing contest. Camps are now set up in blocks around the central dance pavilion, a rectangular wooden structure with bleachers that can accommodate the large groups of drummers, dancers and spectators.

In more recent history, Arlee talked about the early 1960s when the Tribal Council put in a beer garden.

"There were drunks all over the place, fighting in stick game," he said. "The alcohol came and ripped up our tradition."

The elders left and said they weren't coming back. In the early 1970s, when Arlee and the current organizers were asked to run the powwow, they took out the beer garden and added police at the gate to control what people were bringing in.

"We got a lot of slack from the local people because of that," he said. "They told us, ‘you guys are ruining it,' but I told them not to worry, give it three years, this is going to change."

And it did. The elders started coming back. The powwow came alive again and the celebration's success had a ripple-effect on many of the other powwows throughout the nation.

"In the early 70s, we heard that this was rated No. 4 in the nation," Arlee said.

Other, not-so-traditional events, like a rodeo, half-marathon race, parade and three-on-three basketball tournament rounded out the bustling weekend's events. With everything going on, it's a wonder that participants had any energy to dance, drum and sing.

"Three years ago on the last day, I was so tired out," Arlee said. "A lady came up to me and said, ‘thank you.' She was legally blind, but when she got up from her drum at the powwow, she could see."

According to Arlee, who has experienced the magic of many powwows, that kind of good energy is a pretty special thing.