The arrival of the One People Canoe Society on Wednesday marked an unofficial kick-off to Celebration. While the flotilla steadied itself for the last leg of the journey, a crowd of over 300 people clustered at the shores of Douglas Harbor.
Waiting has a sound. Of drums. Of voices raised in songs of welcome. The crowd is scanning the horizon. And one grandmother, Marie Johnson, is looking extra closely for the tip of a red canoe carrying her grandson, 10-year-old Roary Earl Bennett.
His grandfather, Bill Bennett, invited Roary to accompany him on the Angoon to Douglas portion of the journey. Johnson said she was washing dishes when her grandson broke the news.
“He talked about it but I never knew if he was serious, you know? Talking about it,” Johnson said. “And he finally came to me and told me, “Grandma, you better start making my tunic.’ I said, ‘Oh you’re going to dance.’ He said, ‘I’m going to ride the canoe.’ I said, ‘Oh my god!’ And he made his own paddle.”
Roary made his paddle at a workshop with Wayne Price, a Tlingit master carver.
“And he put his grandfather’s crest on there, killer whale,” Johnson said. “That was his own idea. I never asked him what he was going to put on there. I said, ‘How do you know?’ He said, ‘I just knew.’ (Laughs) So that’s why I said, ‘Oh my god, that’s something.’”
Johnson made Roary’s tunic in two weeks, using felt and abalone shells. She said there’s a beaded eagle on the front and a killer whale on the back, family crests.
“We didn’t even measure it,” Johnson said. “It fit him perfect. It was just like it happened. It was just like his year.”
For over a decade, the One People Canoe Society has organized a flotilla of canoes from across Southeast. Waiting to greet them was Paul Marks, council member with the Douglas Indian Association. This land used to be the Douglas Indian Village so his permission is key if the canoe parties want to come ashore.
“Well the importance is making sure you do the right things and say the right things,” Marks said. “If you don’t it could cause misfortune. And some of the things that the young people do because of enthusiasm, they want to be culturally oriented, but they don’t know what do or say.”
So elders like Marks are more than leaders. They are teachers – demonstrating at the shore’s edge how to arrive and how to receive.
Pretty soon, the crowd cries out. The first canoe has been spotted rounding the breakwater. There are ten canoes total – from Ketchikan, Sitka, Kake, Angoon, Hoonah, and Yakutat, two designated for war veterans. Governor Bill Walker and Lieutenant Governor Byron Mallott joined for the final stretch to Douglas. In addition to several safety boats, there’s over 100 people aboard in regalia, paddles pointed towards the sky. They raft up and at the edge of the water, Marks joins Fran Houston representing the Auke Kwan.
“Welcome, to Auke country,” Houson said. “We are so happily you made it here safely.”
The exchange is one of respect, welcome, and thanks. After it’s over, Marks said he can’t even begin to say how he feels.
“As soon as they came around and just started, it was like an adrenaline rush,” Marks said. “Just exciting. Think of our ancestors. What they done and the bravery of these people.”
The shores are squishy with mud. I make my way over to Marie Johnson, who was taking photos of her grandson on her cell phone.
“Oh, I’m so proud of him! You should have seen him when we was paddling in,” Johnson said. “Oh, it was like seeing my grandfather all over again.”
Johnson’s grandfather was the Chief of Kake, Tommy Jackson. Joined by family from Kake, we wander over to the harbor ramp. Roary is there.
“Um…I’m feeling kind of tired, because I’ve been paddling a lot,” Roary said. And because I’m a kid I get to take long breaks on the canoe. And it’s kind of an honor because not a lot of people get to go on there.”
Roary tells me he was in a boat accident once, but now feels safe traveling by canoe. His top snacks on the trip? Chex mix, jerky, and candy. The journey in three words? Sleepy, hard-working, fun.
“Kind of like that feeling you’re in the ocean and it’s nice and warm and you know, you just get that feeling, Roary said. “I feel that my ancestors felt tired a lot and everything and I bet they got used to it though just to catch fish and salmon and seals.”
For someone who stepped into the shoes of his ancestors, in a way that most 10-year-olds don’t, Roary is matter-of-fact about what he’s learned. I ask him, ‘How did they push through? How did you push through?’ And with the shrug, he said, “Just keep going. Take little breaks. And keep going.”
