Finding the balanceAre the economic benefits of 'tipi tourism' worth sacrificing traditional ways of life
By R John Hayes
Windspeaker Staff WriterA bus rolls up to an interpretive centre on a reserve and 48 tourists clamber down into the parking lot. As the group begins to file into the new concrete and glass building, a guide begins to explain to them, in German, the centuries-old culture commemorated there. Some shift around, some stare at the artifacts on display, most pay careful attention, fascinated by what they hear. They take many photographs.
But all too soon - within an hour - they're back on the bus, perhaps off to a rodeo, a park or a mall. In 45 minutes, how much culture will they really have understood, and what impact will their visit have had on the culture they came to see?
Of the many economic benefits of tourism to the Aboriginal community, supporters of development seldom mention the preservation of tradition and traditional ways. Yet it's on that point that most opposition to various development hinges - and most parties see the question as "either-or": either development or preservation; not both.
On the other hand, there are those who believe that tourism as a form of economic development is necessary, and that it need not destroy the culture it celebrates.
"There is definitely a fine line between the two sides," said Julian Brody, marketing director of Saskatchewan's Chief Poundmaker Historical Centre and Tipi Village. She explained that the historical centre is run by the band, for the benefit of the band, and that culture and tradition are treated properly and sympathetically.
Brody contrasted her attraction with that created by the Town of Cut Knife, Sask., which she described as "cultural appropriation of the worst kind."
Town publicity avoids mention of the significance of the local Native people, although it plays up the history of the area. The Cut Knife Highway 40 Courier, the weekly paper, notes that Cut Knife is "the home of the world's largest tomahawk."
It's a fine example of "tipi tourism," as traditionalists call it.
"There are people that are not traditional," said Wayne Roan, outspoken chief of west-central Alberta's Smallboy's Camp, who says that the problem is not only non-Aboriginal people, but also non-traditional Native people. "Some of those are on the reservation and some are not. A lot of our traditions are interpreted by the urban Indians and we traditional people find them ridiculous. I see it and then I think: 'Maybe they should interpret it right and not look so stupid.'"
Former Windspeaker editor Linda Caldwell had her brush with the tradition issue a couple of years ago. She chose to publish a photograph of a sweat ceremony on the cover of the April 1995 issue of the paper. It set off a fire of controversy, bringing out both criticism and support.
"There's a line to be drawn between cultural access and cultural appropriation," she said. "In the case of Joe Crowshoe [who was pictured conducting the ceremony], he was concerned that if there was nobody recording it, then it would be lost."
Caldwell said that there is a difference between sacred and traditional, and that the sacred must be respected.
"A powwow is a celebration," she said. "Some other events are sacred, and if you don't go into the ceremony with the proper respect, then you shouldn't go in. A sweat is like a church, after all."
But not all uses of traditional and sacred events and ceremonies are approached with sense, or with respect. In December last year, the Sami (Aboriginal) youth in Finland organized a "happening" to draw attention to the widespread misuse and misappropriation of Sami culture.
"In Finland, the abuse of the Sami dress and culture among the Finnish people is in enormous levels," said a spokesperson for the Suome Sami Nuorat in an interview in December 1996.
"Now that Christmas time is coming closer and Finland is (again) advertised to be the home country of the Santa Claus. If you see carefully, you notice that the 'elves' are usually wearing traditional Sami dresses. There is also a huge amount of products sold as Sami handicraft or traditional Sami goods, that are actually made in low-cost manufacturing countries. The stuff that they are selling is incorrect, cheap plagiaries of Sami handwork."
Concerns in Canada seem to be more focused on cultural activities. Korean-made tipis and Indonesian-made dream catchers are just a fact of life.
"You've got to draw the line someplace," said Roan. "We were made part of a tourist zone without our knowledge. So we decided that if we do anything, that we'd do it like it was. We draw the line at ceremonies and the sweats. In our own way, we try to express who we are, what we are, but we draw the line at sacred ceremonies."
Most people, though, whether they can be generally described as traditionalists or developers, believe that the only reasonable solution to the conflict will be found on middle ground.
"Everything we do we have to compromise to a degree, because we have different people," said Lorraine Sinclair, founder of the Mother Earth Healing Society. "When I ask myself 'what is Creator trying to tell us?' I know that I can only deal with what I know. I used to be like that [stridently traditionalistic], but I now think 'who am I to impose my views on them.'"
Sinclair said that her beliefs have remained traditionalist, but that she has moderated over the years.
"You have to be respectful, especially of Mother Earth," she said. "I think Native people, who are supposedly close to the land, have to be very much custodial. I think that we have to look to our hearts, look at our land, preserve what there is for the people who have yet to see it.
"There's a respectful way to enjoy the beauty of Mother Earth, and there's a disrespectful way," Sinclair continued. "We have to find the balance."
Tourism threatens Arizona Hopi
By Lisa Young
Windspeaker ContributorAt the Hopi visitor center in Arizona, rules for tourists are clearly posted; no cameras, sketch-books, tape or video recorders allowed.
Located in the hub of the 'four corners' region, the reservation deals with growing numbers of tourists every year. Some Hopi feel the exposure will lead to loss of culture and tradition.
"We're surrounded by the most popular national parks," said Leigh Jenkins, director of the Hopi Tribe Cultural Preservation Office. Tourists enter the reservation after visiting such attractions as the Grand Canyon and the Navajo territory which encloses the Hopi.
Jenkins said tourism is good for families which make a living selling arts and crafts, but tourism also means sacrificing privacy within their desert sanctuary. Banning tourism may seem an easy solution, but Jenkins said it is not the Hopi way.
"I think the concern is there to preserve and maintain our culture. But it's a catch-22 situation. It's really a no-win situation, because our philosophy is friendship to all, and our prayers are universal. . .but at the same time, we know visitation is abused."
He said loud groups of tourists often arrive at small Hopi villages and disrupt sacred dances. Some visitors even try to take photos, Jenkins said. He recalled a time when several tourists, caught taking pictures, refused to hand over their film.
"So we had to call the law enforcement, the police. It got to the point where the police threatened to handcuff these photographers. It was only with that threat that they finally gave up the film," Jenkins said. "There was a huge commotion right in the midst of this dance."
The Hopi do not want photos of their dances and homes published in glossy vacation guides. "We do not like to see our religion advertised for the sake of tourism," Jenkins said. "It's our religion. It's not a tourist attraction." He said publicity entices academics to begin in-depth, probing studies of the Hopi. Even worse are what Jenkins called new-agers.
"[They] are primarily a lot of non-Indians who are mimicking and borrowing a lot of our religious values. . .because Hopi is so popular." Jenkins said both academic and new-agers are "very offensive to the Hopi people."
The Hopi reservation is unique and remarkable. Tourists from around the world are drawn to it. The 12 villages are perched at the tops - and around the bases - of three stark mesas reaching heights of up to 7,200 feet.
Though many of the 9,000 residents live in modern houses, some Hopi still occupy the stone pueblo dwellings built hundreds of years ago. Wooden ladders descend to underground worshipping rooms called kivas.
Up on First Mesa, several Hopi families live without running water and electricity in the 300-year-old village of Walpi. Built on the end of the mesa, Walpi is just 15 feet wide at points. The houses stand on the very edges of the cliffs, high above the vast plateau. Visitors are allowed, but only with a Hopi guide. Tourists are led to residents selling pottery and dolls at some point during the tour.
Most Hopi dances are closed to the public, but the 'social' dances which occur near Walpi are open, as long as visitors are polite and respectful. They should also wear proper clothing, Jenkins said.
"We don't want a bikini-clad woman walking around the middle of the dance."
As the outside world continues to encroach, the balance between the loss of privacy and the benefits of tourism must be weighed constantly. Jenkins said a bond exists between all Hopi, and despite the challenges, the culture is still strong.