Forced from Grand Canyon National Park, the Havasupai Tribe embraces spiritual homecoming
By Felicia Fonseca
Associated Press
GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK,
Ariz. — Carletta Tilousi hit the trail as the
sun rose, the light revealing a grouping of
cottonwood and ash trees deep in the Grand
Canyon.
Birds soared above and reptiles scampered
across the rocks as the canyon walls grew
taller and taller behind her. This was home,
yet she rarely had been there over the years.
“I can’t believe how far I’ve come, it’s
amazing,” she said about halfway through
the 4.5-mile hike over steep, rocky terrain.
“I can’t believe my ancestors used to do this
all the time.”
Tilousi’s journey marked a pivotal
moment in the Havasupai Tribe’s relationship
with the U.S. government nearly a century
after the last tribal member was forcibly
removed from what’s now Grand Canyon
National Park — one of the biggest tourist
draws in the world. They recently partnered
on events marking the rededication of a
popular campground in the inner canyon
from Indian Garden to Havasupai Gardens
or “Ha’a Gyoh.”
Tribal members are hopeful it means a
new era of cooperation that will give them
more access to sites in the canyon and to tell
their story through their lens and language.
The U.S. Board on Geographic Names
approved the name change for Havasupai
Gardens, the tribe’s traditional farming area,
in November after the tribe lobbied for years
to reclaim a part of its heritage and force a
historical reckoning over the treatment of
Havasupai people.
Descendants of the last Havasupai man to From page 1
how his heart broke when he was ordered to
leave. Some family members later changed
the name Burro, Spanish for “donkey,” to
Tilousi, or “storyteller.”
Park Superintendent Ed Keable
acknowledged the removal and sometimes
violent injustices over decades on the part of
the federal government. Speaking after the
ceremony at Havasupai Gardens last Friday,
he said the renaming marked a new era
of collaboration with Havasupai and other
Native American tribes associated with the
canyon.
“That took some time to build some trust
because of the history of how this land was
established as a national park, against the
will of the people who have lived here since
time immemorial,” Keable said.
The Havasupai Tribe was landless for
a time after the removal until the federal
government set aside a plot in the depths
of the Grand Canyon for tribal members. It
was slashed to less than a square mile (2.6
square kilometers) and, nearly a century
later, enlarged substantially in 1975 in what
was one of the biggest land transfers to a
tribe.
Today about 500 of the nearly 770
tribal members live in Supai Village on the
reservation adjacent to the national park, so
remote it can be reached only by foot, mule
or helicopter.
It’s known for the towering waterfalls that
give the Havasupai, or Havasu ‘Baaja, their
name — “people of the blue-green waters.”
Thousands of tourists from around the world
visit annually, providing the tribe’s largest
source of income.
Events marking the rededication of
Havasupai Gardens began late last week,
when dozens of tribal members and others
gathered for a public event at the South Rim
of the Grand Canyon. Dancers from the
Guardians of the Grand Canyon, a traditional
and multigenerational group, performed,
with men wearing ram horns representing
the bighorn sheep that roam the canyon, and
women carrying woven baskets. Bells on
their feet jingled as they moved in a circle.
Many had their faces marked with red
ochre, a pigment from the walls of the Grand
Canyon that by tradition is tied to everything
from a child’s birth and its first steps to
protection and as an expression of beauty.
“No matter where we go, where we are,
we are still the Grand Canyon,” said Rochelle
Tilousi, a great, great, great granddaughter
of Burro and a cousin of Carletta Tilousi.
“It is our home, it is our land and it is our
well-being,” said another cousin, tribal Vice
Chairman Edmond Tilousi.
That evening and the following morning,
a smaller group traveled below the rim for
the private ceremony, descending 3,000 feet
(900 meters) on a hike that typically takes
two to four hours. Some went by foot, while
others took a quick ride on a helicopter.
Carletta Tilousi trekked steadily along the
rocky switchbacks, stopping occasionally to
rest and talk to fellow hikers. One said the
Havasupai Gardens name would be hard to
get used to.
She arrived at Ha’a Gyoh just as the
helicopter landed, smiling broadly as
a handful of Havasupai got off. She and
Ophelia Watahomigie-Corliss introduced
themselves to the canyon, greeted the ancient
beings in prayer next to a creek and joined
others in letting the canyon know it was
never forgotten despite the displacement of
their people.
“We have always maintained our
connection to this place, not by showing
or by boasting. It’s just that we came here
and we did our prayers, we did our songs
on the rim,” said Dianna Sue Uqualla, an
elder who participated in the blessing at a
small amphitheater off Bright Angel Trail.
“Through that, I think the spirits heard and
awoke and said, ‘Yes, you are still here.'”
Her brother, Uqualla — who goes by a
single name — sat with a drum before a
fire pit and next to a set of antlers holding a
water-filled gourd, preparing to conduct the
ceremony.
He encouraged those present to set aside
their egos, to see the canyon as a source of
medicine and hear it, feel it. And also to
connect to the elements that Havasupai view
as relatives — trees, rocks, birds, clouds,
wind.
“When your heart is open, it’s a master
receiver of everything,” said Uqualla, who
had been making monthly pilgrimages to the
canyon at each full moon. “What is coming
through is the speak of all that is down here.”
A few hikers wandered into the
amphitheater, and he assured them that
anyone who was there was meant to be.
Kris Siyuja, 14, took seriously his duties
over the two days of events, which included
untying bundles of sage, carrying a staff and
tapping a drum that he said would amplify
Havasupai voices.
“One day the grandparents, the parents
and some of the family members might
pass away, and they’ll just have to carry on
that tradition … wearing the headdress, the
regalia, and just walking in their footsteps,”
Siyuja said of his generation.
As the sage was lit, Uqualla placed red
ochre and corn pollen in the fire. Tribal
members guided the smoke using a bundle
of feathers onto themselves as a blessing.
They prayed and sang in Havasupai and in
English. Before leaving, they placed a staff
on a hillside to honor the spirits.
Some signs nearby already bore the
Havasupai Gardens name among the lush
landscape that includes a campground and
cabins, one of which Keable recently set
aside for Havasupai members to use. More
signs and programming is planned with
history as told by the tribe, according to park
officials.
It parallels a broader trend in which the
park has been working with nearly a dozen
Native American tribes with ties to the Grand
Canyon on exhibits, cultural demonstrations
and first-person audio and video. The work
has gained the attention of other national
park units such as the Golden Gate National
Recreation Area and Point Reyes National
Seashore in California, plus the American
Indian Alaska Native Tourism Association,
said Jan Balsom, Grand Canyon’s chief of
communications, partnerships and external
affairs.
“The more of this we have provided,
the more the visiting public is interested,”
Balsom said.
Carletta Tilousi wants to see more
Havasupai involved in shaping how
the Grand Canyon and its resources are
managed, something that Interior Secretary
Deb Haaland, the first Native American
Cabinet-level official, has pushed for within
federal agencies.
At Ha’a Gyoh, Tilousi imagines a return
to traditional farming with apricot trees,
melons, corn and sunflowers. She has also
pushed for the Havasupai language to be on
maps, posters and ranger badges.
The day after her emotional trek, she
awoke with a sense of calmness knowing
she and others had returned home and the
canyon recognized their voices, songs and
prayers.
“It was a very growing experience that
I’ll probably hold dear to my heart for a long
time, and I’d like to return sooner than later,”
Tilousi said. “I want to take full advantage
of getting to know the trail more, feeling the animals, the air, enjoying the environment.”
Forced from Grand Canyon National Park, the Havasupai Tribe embraces spiritual homecoming
By Felicia Fonseca
Associated Press
GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK,
Ariz. — Carletta Tilousi hit the trail as the
sun rose, the light revealing a grouping of
cottonwood and ash trees deep in the Grand
Canyon.
Birds soared above and reptiles scampered
across the rocks as the canyon walls grew
taller and taller behind her. This was home,
yet she rarely had been there over the years.
“I can’t believe how far I’ve come, it’s
amazing,” she said about halfway through
the 4.5-mile hike over steep, rocky terrain.
“I can’t believe my ancestors used to do this
all the time.”
Tilousi’s journey marked a pivotal
moment in the Havasupai Tribe’s relationship
with the U.S. government nearly a century
after the last tribal member was forcibly
removed from what’s now Grand Canyon
National Park — one of the biggest tourist
draws in the world. They recently partnered
on events marking the rededication of a
popular campground in the inner canyon
from Indian Garden to Havasupai Gardens
or “Ha’a Gyoh.”
Tribal members are hopeful it means a
new era of cooperation that will give them
more access to sites in the canyon and to tell
their story through their lens and language.
The U.S. Board on Geographic Names
approved the name change for Havasupai
Gardens, the tribe’s traditional farming area,
in November after the tribe lobbied for years
to reclaim a part of its heritage and force a
historical reckoning over the treatment of
Havasupai people.
Descendants of the last Havasupai man to From page 1
how his heart broke when he was ordered to
leave. Some family members later changed
the name Burro, Spanish for “donkey,” to
Tilousi, or “storyteller.”
Park Superintendent Ed Keable
acknowledged the removal and sometimes
violent injustices over decades on the part of
the federal government. Speaking after the
ceremony at Havasupai Gardens last Friday,
he said the renaming marked a new era
of collaboration with Havasupai and other
Native American tribes associated with the
canyon.
“That took some time to build some trust
because of the history of how this land was
established as a national park, against the
will of the people who have lived here since
time immemorial,” Keable said.
The Havasupai Tribe was landless for
a time after the removal until the federal
government set aside a plot in the depths
of the Grand Canyon for tribal members. It
was slashed to less than a square mile (2.6
square kilometers) and, nearly a century
later, enlarged substantially in 1975 in what
was one of the biggest land transfers to a
tribe.
Today about 500 of the nearly 770
tribal members live in Supai Village on the
reservation adjacent to the national park, so
remote it can be reached only by foot, mule
or helicopter.
It’s known for the towering waterfalls that
give the Havasupai, or Havasu ‘Baaja, their
name — “people of the blue-green waters.”
Thousands of tourists from around the world
visit annually, providing the tribe’s largest
source of income.
Events marking the rededication of
Havasupai Gardens began late last week,
when dozens of tribal members and others
gathered for a public event at the South Rim
of the Grand Canyon. Dancers from the
Guardians of the Grand Canyon, a traditional
and multigenerational group, performed,
with men wearing ram horns representing
the bighorn sheep that roam the canyon, and
women carrying woven baskets. Bells on
their feet jingled as they moved in a circle.
Many had their faces marked with red
ochre, a pigment from the walls of the Grand
Canyon that by tradition is tied to everything
from a child’s birth and its first steps to
protection and as an expression of beauty.
“No matter where we go, where we are,
we are still the Grand Canyon,” said Rochelle
Tilousi, a great, great, great granddaughter
of Burro and a cousin of Carletta Tilousi.
“It is our home, it is our land and it is our
well-being,” said another cousin, tribal Vice
Chairman Edmond Tilousi.
That evening and the following morning,
a smaller group traveled below the rim for
the private ceremony, descending 3,000 feet
(900 meters) on a hike that typically takes
two to four hours. Some went by foot, while
others took a quick ride on a helicopter.
Carletta Tilousi trekked steadily along the
rocky switchbacks, stopping occasionally to
rest and talk to fellow hikers. One said the
Havasupai Gardens name would be hard to
get used to.
She arrived at Ha’a Gyoh just as the
helicopter landed, smiling broadly as
a handful of Havasupai got off. She and
Ophelia Watahomigie-Corliss introduced
themselves to the canyon, greeted the ancient
beings in prayer next to a creek and joined
others in letting the canyon know it was
never forgotten despite the displacement of
their people.
“We have always maintained our
connection to this place, not by showing
or by boasting. It’s just that we came here
and we did our prayers, we did our songs
on the rim,” said Dianna Sue Uqualla, an
elder who participated in the blessing at a
small amphitheater off Bright Angel Trail.
“Through that, I think the spirits heard and
awoke and said, ‘Yes, you are still here.'”
Her brother, Uqualla — who goes by a
single name — sat with a drum before a
fire pit and next to a set of antlers holding a
water-filled gourd, preparing to conduct the
ceremony.
He encouraged those present to set aside
their egos, to see the canyon as a source of
medicine and hear it, feel it. And also to
connect to the elements that Havasupai view
as relatives — trees, rocks, birds, clouds,
wind.
“When your heart is open, it’s a master
receiver of everything,” said Uqualla, who
had been making monthly pilgrimages to the
canyon at each full moon. “What is coming
through is the speak of all that is down here.”
A few hikers wandered into the
amphitheater, and he assured them that
anyone who was there was meant to be.
Kris Siyuja, 14, took seriously his duties
over the two days of events, which included
untying bundles of sage, carrying a staff and
tapping a drum that he said would amplify
Havasupai voices.
“One day the grandparents, the parents
and some of the family members might
pass away, and they’ll just have to carry on
that tradition … wearing the headdress, the
regalia, and just walking in their footsteps,”
Siyuja said of his generation.
As the sage was lit, Uqualla placed red
ochre and corn pollen in the fire. Tribal
members guided the smoke using a bundle
of feathers onto themselves as a blessing.
They prayed and sang in Havasupai and in
English. Before leaving, they placed a staff
on a hillside to honor the spirits.
Some signs nearby already bore the
Havasupai Gardens name among the lush
landscape that includes a campground and
cabins, one of which Keable recently set
aside for Havasupai members to use. More
signs and programming is planned with
history as told by the tribe, according to park
officials.
It parallels a broader trend in which the
park has been working with nearly a dozen
Native American tribes with ties to the Grand
Canyon on exhibits, cultural demonstrations
and first-person audio and video. The work
has gained the attention of other national
park units such as the Golden Gate National
Recreation Area and Point Reyes National
Seashore in California, plus the American
Indian Alaska Native Tourism Association,
said Jan Balsom, Grand Canyon’s chief of
communications, partnerships and external
affairs.
“The more of this we have provided,
the more the visiting public is interested,”
Balsom said.
Carletta Tilousi wants to see more
Havasupai involved in shaping how
the Grand Canyon and its resources are
managed, something that Interior Secretary
Deb Haaland, the first Native American
Cabinet-level official, has pushed for within
federal agencies.
At Ha’a Gyoh, Tilousi imagines a return
to traditional farming with apricot trees,
melons, corn and sunflowers. She has also
pushed for the Havasupai language to be on
maps, posters and ranger badges.
The day after her emotional trek, she
awoke with a sense of calmness knowing
she and others had returned home and the
canyon recognized their voices, songs and
prayers.
“It was a very growing experience that
I’ll probably hold dear to my heart for a long
time, and I’d like to return sooner than later,”
Tilousi said. “I want to take full advantage
of getting to know the trail more, feeling the animals, the air, enjoying the environment.”