A beloved tradition returns with new meanings, and for some, a sense of urgency.
On the banks of the Columbia River between Oregon and Washington, 20 young people lined up beside a canoe that’s as long as a school bus. They sifted through a pile of lifejackets. Some applied sunscreen, others splashed their faces to cool off. Before stepping aboard, they formed a circle on land.
Their leader, Jefferson Greene, first spoke a few words in the Kiksht language, then switched to English. He explained that they were standing in territory of the Wascopum Tribe and that this place had a Kiksht name long before people started calling it the Columbia River.
Then, one by one, the crew gingerly stepped into the canoe, pushed away from the shore, and found their rhythm. The canoe also has another name: ‘Nchi Wanapum — which means “brother,” in the Sahaptin language. Many of the people pulling its paddles come from different tribes with different languages, but still consider themselves a family. Some bond for life during the 500-mile canoe journey from Celilo Village, near The Dalles, Oregon, to Alki Beach, in Seattle.