Two Wanapum canoes were part of the five-canoe landing party.
Inside the longhouse at Celilo Village, people fan themselves to stave off the heat as tribal leaders offer blessings to the canoe families gathered at the front of the vast, dirt-floor room. Longhouse volunteers hand out water while curious passers-by poke their heads inside the doors looking for an open seat. Those unable to find a seat stand in packs near the doorways, straining to hear the speakers.

“You brought the sacred canoe here, you put it in the water and it connected with the water in the river,” a tribal leader tells the Puyallups standing around their canoe brought inside the longhouse for the ceremony. “The canoe does have a body, it has a heart. Some of you don’t know, but every canoe has a heart.” The blessing was followed by three ceremonial songs.

After the blessing and traditional Wash’ut service, tribal leaders approach the microphone, one by one, to tell their memories of Celilo Falls during a remembrance ceremony. Some reminisce about the near-immeasurable fishery that existed before the falls’ inundation, while others recall the pain of seeing the falls being swallowed by The Dalles Dam’s slack water. Some offer hope for the future, while others use their time to implore federal government officials seated on one side of the room, including officers from the Army Corps of Engineers and officials from the Bonneville Power Administration, to work with the Columbia River tribes in their efforts to bring the salmon back to the river and its tributaries.

Tribal elder Johnny Jackson, Yakama, says the event made memories of Celilo Falls flow back to him.
“We have many memories of this place,” he says. “We came here from the other side of the river. We grew up coming here. I remember all the people who were in their homes along the river here. It brings back memories of when the falls were here and the people used to come here.”

Jackson says the power of Celilo Falls helped him learn to respect the river. And despite the loss of the falls, new generations of tribal members that had never experienced its roar are developing that same respect.

“I’m proud of our young people,” he says. “I’m glad they’re standing up against the wrongs of the past. You know, a lot of people don’t understand why the fish are so important. That’s what wy-kan-ush is. It’s part of our livelihood. At one time, there were many chiefs up and down this river. They held many meetings here. In my heart, I pray very strong for our leadership. Their hearts will be for all the people. My people, wherever I travel, they’re important to me. We’ve seen too many hardships.”
Klickitat Chief Wilbur Slockish, Jr. calls the commemoration “a sad time.”

“When Lewis and Clark came here, we were self-sufficient people,” he says. Plants and animals that grew wild, and which the Indian people relied upon, were abundant. “We didn’t have to put seeds into the ground. When I was young, I remember the people … didn’t need walkers, they didn’t need canes because of the traditional foods” that kept them healthy. “We could gather unlimited [resources] in those days. These things we have lost from the train lines, from the building of dams.”

He also refers to the animals that lost habitat after Celilo’s flooding the other “invisible people.”

“No one asked them if they wanted to be flooded,” Slockish says. “Nothing is free, the animals or us as a people along the river. Maybe this event will take the cloak of invisibility off the river.”

Nez Perce elder Allen Slickpoo, Sr. receiving an honor blanket during the honoring ceremony.
Allen “Hodge” Slickpoo, Jr., Nez Perce, spoke on behalf of his father, tribal elder Allen Slickpoo, Sr., who is unable to talk after suffering a stroke. He says his father has a long history of speaking up for Indian people before the United States government and has made many trips to Washington, D.C. to do so. His father’s voice has been “transferred to me,” says Slickpoo, Jr., who in turn is transferring it to his own children.

The senior Slickpoo “appreciates everyone being here, even those people we went to battle with,” Slickpoo, Jr. says, speaking directly to Corps of Engineers and BPA officials to his left, with his father in a wheelchair at his side. “Our children are going to pick up where we left off. [My father] made me a fisherman and provider, and my sons are fishermen and fighters.”

He adds, “As long as they say the river flows and the grass grows, the supreme law of the land will prevail.”

Wanapum Chief Rex Buck suggests the commemoration is a time for reconciliation and putting the past into perspective.

“Perhaps as we look back and we know the history and the legends and how this land was created, the 50 years that passed is just a speck in time and it’s up to you and me to stand up and move forward,” he says.

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