| For a local tribe, the ceremony helps
to honor ancestors, make things right.
BY STEPHANIE A. CROCKETT
STAFF WRITER
EASTVILLE -- It was chilly under the cluster of trees in Indian Town Park Saturday, but there was warmth in the bond of Native American heritage that had brought the group together.
Sitting in a circle, seven women, Clan Mothers of the Assateague Indians, prepared the remains of 10 Eastern Shore Native Americans for re-interment during a sacred ceremony. Except for the sound of the wind rustling the trees and soft crying, the ancient ritual took place in silence, while more than 50 mourners watched.
They had waited a long time for this day.
Ten years ago, the bones of the local Indians were found on the Arlington Plantation, a 1,000-acre lot once owned by businessman, John Custis.
"The plantation was sold and developed into an upscale housing development," said Frances Latimer, a member of the board of the Arlington Foundation, a group dedicated to saving the Custis mansion. "During the digging, the remains were found and taken to
be studied."
The remains were sent to a laboratory to determine their age and their tribe. Although neither has been determined, the Assateague Indians believe that out of respect for their ancestors, the remains should be put back into the earth where the ancestors once lived.
"To know that your ancestors' bones are being stored in aluminum foil, in beer boxes in dark closets instead of properly burled, hurts beyond what any words
could describe," said Deer Eyes Haase, a member of the Apache tribe. "Finally, to be treated like human beings and have the ancestors back where they belong is both a joy and a sorrow."
Most of the mourners -- men, women and children -- came dressed in full regalia: tasseled dresses and pantsuits made of leather and brightly colored cloth, soft leather slippers with prints, blankets of animal fur draped around their shoulders. For more
than three hours, most stood circling the small group of Clan Mothers, just outside of the area of land that had been made sacred during a separate ceremony. They watched while each set of bones was passed around the circle, prayed over and cried over, wrapped in bundles of red cloth and laden with gifts of feathers and hand-made instruments before being placed into the ground.
After each bundle was safely tied together with string, the clan mothers led a procession down a short path to the burial site.
There, each of the mourners was given a chance to present a gift to the ancestors that would be buried with them.
"My gift is a stone, that to me, turns negative energy into positive energy," said Sara Whipple, wiping tears from her face. "I think that's what these bones need most."
Whipple had traveled from Carroll County, Maryland, with her boyfriend, John Talltree, to be here for the ceremony.
"These people belonged here, they were born here, and they deserved to rest here," Talltree said. | |
