"Native American protocol dictates that when Indians come to your country, you are there to greet them," said Ken Adams, chief of the Upper Mattaponi. "This is a very significant event. Indians from all over the country will be there. It's probably the biggest thing for Indians that ever happened in Washington, and we want to be a part of it."
They have been a part of it from the beginning.
Pamunkey Chief William P. "Swift Water" Miles, right, greets Harry Sztenderowicz of Perkasie, Pa., and his daughter Sara, 4, as they prepare to fish the Pamunkey River on the reservation. Sztenderowicz, who married into the tribe, was down from Pennsylvania to visit his in-laws.
(Ricky Carioti -- The Washington Post)
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Location, Location, Location
With space running out, planners are attempting to divert new memorials and monuments to sites far from the Mall.
_____D.C.'s Newest Museum_____
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History's New Look (The Washington Post, Sep 13, 2004)
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Where Myth Meets Reality (The Washington Post, Sep 14, 2004)
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Mall's Finite Space Holds Infinite Dreams (The Washington Post, Sep 15, 2004)
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Guiding Spirit (The Washington Post, Sep 15, 2004)
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While the museum was on the drawing boards, researchers sought out indigenous people and solicited their ideas.
"During a four-year consultation process, we went all around Indian country," said Thomas Sweeney, a spokesman for the National Museum of the American Indian. "That's what makes the museum special."
As a result of their input, the main entrance to the museum faces east. Many of the Native American communities in the region oriented their dwellings to the east to face the rising sun.
In another bow to area tribes, the major open space in the museum has been called the Potomac, a word in the Algonquin language for a place where goods are brought. Museum officials recognize that the museum is on a former wetland traversed by tribes from both Maryland and Virginia.
"This is the beginning of the story. This is where America's history begins," Sweeney said. "For the local tribes, there is a great pride in it being here. In some ways, they are the host tribes."
The collaboration is also evident outside, on the museum's grounds, where four stones called Cardinal Direction Markers are placed as a metaphor for the hemisphere's original inhabitants. The stone near the eastern entrance was dug up and trucked to Washington from Sugarloaf Mountain in Western Maryland. The other stones were selected by tribes in Hawaii, Canada and Chile.
After the stones were laid, Sewell Fitzhugh of Maryland's Nause-Waiwash band was invited to chant a prayer at the dedication.
The open-arm approach is refreshing -- and in sharp contrast to the perception among many Native Americans that the part they played in the region's history is overlooked, except in November.
"It's been very welcoming," said Fitzhugh, chief of the Nause-Waiwash. "In the state of Maryland, we're like turkeys. They want us when it's Thanksgiving. And the rest of the year, they'd like us to just go away. Without recognition, we constantly have to fight for our identity, fight for our culture, fight for our people. It's a constant battle to be counted for who you are."
Hopes are high that the museum could herald a new era for Native Americans. "With the blessing of the stones, they show they're not going to play these games about whether you're officially recognized or not," Fitzhugh said.
For many, the museum is an intensely personal experience. Warren Cook, assistant chief of the Pamunkey and the son of a former chief, has donated dozens of family photographs. Fitzhugh hopes to hear tape recordings made in the 1920s, when Smithsonian researchers taped his grandmother and other members of the tribe just before a new road was built.
Branham is looking forward to driving four hours to Washington with his grandchildren to squire them around the museum. He visited during the ceremony with the directional stones this summer, and pronounced himself "blown away" by the architecture.
