indigenous futures past
issue 16
FROM THE I-COLLECTIVE A MULTI-MEDIA COOK BOOK
Have you ever recognized how Indigenous species of plants and the Indigenous
peoples of a place mirror one another? How displacement and disease of one has ramifications for the other? Or thought how a post apocalyptic people would step into the future? Well, let’s look at one such instance involving chestnut trees, or as the Cherokee say. Within a hundred years of the forced removal of their people in 1839, one that would see an estimated six thousand, although this low of a number is highly debated, out of seventeen thousand perish along the Trail of Tears, the ecosystem of their homelands would also suffer what could be looked at as another type of attempted genocide. The chestnut trees, once numbering around four billion, would become infected by “cryphonectria parasitica”, a pathogen brought here through the Japanese chestnut, and become functionally extinct by 1950, thus creating habitat loss for numerous species, seeing the complete disappearance of the chestnut moth, and rewriting the ecology of the East Coast forever. Or did it? This is where that Indigenous futurism comes in because just as colonization sought, and in many instances still seeks to eradicate us, there is, below the surface, still the connection to this land. You see, the disease of colonization and its many symptoms have been unable to destroy our roots, and in the case of the chestnut tree this is also true. While the pathogen infects the bark, which in turn kills the tree, the roots of this relative are still there allowing for it to birth new trees, which after a few years succumb to the disease, and are then born to fight again. Are you seeing the parallels? Over the past few decades tree breeders and scientists from The American Chestnut Foundation (TACF) have attempted, somewhat successfully, to hybridize the Native species and the Japanese variety to create blight resistance over the course of a few generations. This is a lengthy process that only allows for cross breeding roughly every decade by “backcrossing” those hybrids with pure breeds and creating a tree that is ninety percent Indigenous. With numerous orchards on the East Coast, and tens of thousands of trees, this work seems to be promising. Part of this project is a partnership between the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians (EBCI) Natural Resources Department and the American Chestnut Foundation. This first of its kind collaboration will see the Tribe building protections for the surviving old growth chestnut they found in a 2021 land survey, where they located a mature Tili tree within the reservation boundaries, and have begun a restoration project themselves putting their Cherokee cosmology and lived experience into the conversation and making access to a traditional food staple, one that has primarily been pushed into use of the non-native species, one step closer to reality. On a parallel front the State University of New York College’s environmental sciences
department has used genetic engineering (GE) to splice a blight resistant gene from wheat into the chestnut tree. In an article on the legality of these trees the American Bar Association writes, “In order to be able to plant the transgenic seedlings in public spaces, Powell’s team needs to report different research and metrics to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Food and Drug Administration (FDA), and Environmental Protection Agency and conduct a multiyear regulatory assessment process for each one.”, so while this already exists it is yet unknown whether they will be allowed to. We should note two things; TACF supports the use of these trees and that in China, a transgenic poplar tree is already in the public sphere. Now the question stepping further into the realm of science fiction, turned reality, is whether or not we should be rewriting genetic code at all? And what about the trees that survived? Do they already have the code to survival written in their cells? In a 2021 press release from the Indigenous Environmental Network B.J. McManama speaks what many in Indigenous communities feel in regards to this concept of “playing God” when she said, “Every living being within the forest are related in some form, and nothing within these lands lives in isolation, therefore changing or altering the original instructions of any one or any part of these elements threatens the natural order established over millennia.” What is this traditional food staple that you will still find on Eastern Band Cherokee tables though? If you guessed chestnut bread then you’re correct! From conversations with relatives out there every family has their special recipe, and the added ingredients vary, but this offering will help get you started on creating your own. To offer some insight into the movement towards reconnecting to traditional foodways let’s hear from Cherokee Nation citizen, and associate professor, Dr. Melissa Lewis about their experience.
Melissa Lewis
Reconnecting to Tili (Chestnuts)
As our group embarked on starting a new program to teach infants and their mother’s Cherokee culture and language in a completely immersed environment, one of the first things that we did was to visit our homelands. As citizens of Cherokee Nation, our ancestors have been removed from our homelands for almost 200 years. Reconnecting with the land in which our language was born would help to ground us as we started this journey to save our language by engaging in traditional cultural activities. We visited with the EBCI folks from the Egwa sgili collaborative and we decided that one of the things that was very important for us to learn about was chestnuts. Chestnut trees are a critical part of Cherokee histories, traditional stories, traditional foods, and lessons for children, yet due to relocation and the chestnut blight, most Cherokees who live in Oklahoma today, do not have a relationship with chestnuts. We spent a whole day, foraging, harvesting, preparing, and finally eating traditional Cherokee foods in our homelands. Specifically, we made Tili Disu Gadu (chestnut bread) for the first time. Chestnut bread is similar to a common Cherokee food called Tuya Disu Gadu (bean bread) with the exception of the beans being replaced by chestnuts (and sometimes sugar) to make what we are used to being a savory dish into a sweet dish. In the fall, which is the time of the Cherokee new year, we harvested chestnuts and learned methods for getting the nuts out of their prickly pods. After extracting the chestnuts from their pods, we peeled and cut another hull layer. Next, we began boiling the cleaned chestnuts and another ‘skin’ was shed and skimmed off the top. Once cooked they were added to heirloom Cherokee stone ground cornmeal and formed into patties. The patties were wrapped in corn leaves and placed in boiling water. Some folks add sugar to the water to sweeten the dish, but the chestnuts have a great, subtle sweetness on their own and texture of a cooked potato. Chestnuts, historically, played a critical role in the Cherokee new year. A time when people would put out all of their fires and started anew was during the same time that controlled burns amongst Chestnut forests occurred. A Cherokee traditional story was told at this time about Spearfinger, a woman with a long nail who plucked out the livers of children is told. This story is meant to, amongst many other purposes, discourage children from going into the forest alone to keep them safe. She is in the
forest collecting chestnuts after one of these burns when she tried to lure children to her home. Chestnut trees are fire resistant and this traditional practice may have played a critical role in protecting chestnuts from a blight that occurred around the same time that Cherokees were forcibly removed from them, divorcing them from a critical relationship to this tree, and their ecology. The new year was a time for Cherokees to let go of any grievances or painful experiences from the year before. Without this relationship to the chestnut tree and the practice of controlled burns in the fall, in alignment with the new year it could be said that Cherokees are also suffering without ways to cope with conflict, grief, and loss. I would like to thank Tyson Sampson, Amy Walker, Charles Taylor, Missy Crowe, Onita Bush, David Crawler and many more Cherokee speakers that have graciously shared their knowledge with me.
(Tili Disuyi Gad
1# Peeled Chestnuts (Chopped) 1# Stone Ground Cornmeal (Che 12 Green Corn Husks (Use tama 1-2T Hickory Ash or Baking Soda • • • • • • • • •
Boil Chestnuts until soft Remove from water (Don’t discar Mix Cornmeal, Chestnuts, and B Add Water slowly, mixing until a Separate dough into six even por Wrap in Green Corn Husks or Hic Tie with (grass), Corn H Boil until done Enjoy (They say this is good for d
(Tili Disuyi Gad
• Nixtamalized Cherokee White Co • Peeled and boiled Chestnuts • Place into the (Kanona) a formed • Wrap in Green Corn Husks or Hic • Tie with (grass) or Cor • Roast in coals or boil • Enjoy
du) Modern
erokee White if available) ale husks if unavailable)
rd!!!) Baking Soda dough is formed rtions ckory Leaves Husk, or Twine.
dipping in bacon drippings)
du) Traditional
orn (rinsed with pericarp removed)
and pound until a thick paste is
ckory Leaves rn Husk
Now that we have looked at the traditional homelands of the Cherokee, and one of their food staples, let’s look into the Cherokee diaspora and see what foodways are alive and well as we hear from Cherokee Nation Chef Taelor Barton.
Taelor Barton
Cherokee Nation Chef
Osiyo and greetings from the middle of the country! Here I stand on Pa’s porch, watching the sun peer around the hollows as it rises. It’s eastern Oklahoma, Goingsnake District in ol’ Indian Territory. When I use the word “indian” it is specific to the Indigenous people residing here, in this proto-Oklahoma. We were labeled as indians, legally, and its scars on our psyches are socially visible: a commentary on the effect of map-making, place-naming, and colonization. Spending the business seasons in the city, I wince any time I hear someone say it in reference to us. Indian. Ugly. Ugh. And then I code-switch. Puttering down the highway, I get to cut through the gently rolling countryside at a cruising pace, almost like riding a boat with steady waves. I twang back in when I get a call from my grandfather because he worries if I don’t make good time driving these two-lanes while the sun is out. The old ones still refer to themselves as such. And who am I, this city girl mimicking the city ways, trying to advise them that they’re in the wrong? Pretentious! These are complicated feelings and scenarios. So I ebb and flow with the nuances of my two homes, city and country. I am the granddaughter of two biracial (“english” and “indian”) Cherokee Nation citizens. My grandmother has passed yet I carry her with me still! Her name was Edith Marie Catcher Knight, and she was an honored Cherokee National Treasure, bestowed upon her for her tear dress making craftmastery by the late Wilma Mankiller. She was a multifaceted native woman: seamstressing, fishing, gardening, foraging, and my favorite, cooking. I would give her her flowers for inspiring me to become the culinarian I am today. She married Owen Edward (“Eddard”) Knight, my other most favorite person in the world. He sits here at 88 years of age, on the same plot of land he was born on, as well as the same plot of land his mother was born on. He never knew his English father, but was raised by his Cherokee mother and her father. He is a mechanic, fisherman, carpenter, forager, hunter, and all around problem-solver. He prefers to listen and watch, and hear me talk about things; amused at my faster-paced talkin’ and detailed stories upon
stories. He’s my taste-tester when I make sure I get the traditional foods right. Edith taught me how to make one of our oldest foods, Kanuchi: Ka-nu-chi, gah noo gee, both ways are correct. It is a nutty, warm broth mimicking cinnamon, pecan, and maple tones. It usually is served on cooked grain, rice, hominy, or other favored starches. The way the old people here like it is sweetened and on white rice, but can also be savory if desired. I prefer it on cracked hominy, personally. Regardless of the way it is served, the unforgettable flavor always sends me to this house. A house that Pa built, up the hill from that original structure that was his birthplace. It's a memory for me. This is what I know. And that flavor is home. Kanuchi is a cultural food of the Southeastern indigenous peoples of Turtle Island. Cherokees and other tribes share this particular foodway. It is made by pounding down hickory nuts in a traditional corn beater, which we Cherokee people call a Kanon or Kanona (mortar) and the Asdostodi (pestle). These particular nuts come from a hardwood type of tree, and themselves are quite sturdy. The Asdostodi is crafted out of hickory, and can match the nuts’ hardness with ease. Pounded down, the oils are released and the texture becomes the consistency of sand. At this point, the meal can be prepared the rest of the way to eat, or can be molded into softball-sized orbs, wrapped and frozen for later consumption, called Kanuchi Balls. Only natives in the know can find people who make and sell these Kanuchi Balls. And as time goes on, the people who know how to do it are dwindling. But not if I can help it! The Cherokee man who gifted me these treasures to make this batch of kanuchi for these photos was happy to freely share his resources to maintain this old-way practice. His name is Albert, and is a citizen of the United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee Indians (see, their name still calls us “indian” here). I thanked him for his generosity, and he thanked me for helping keep this practice alive. He was able to share that he too, like Edith, was able to teach up his children and grandchildren on how to make kanuchi. We took a photo, and parted ways on a rainy day in downtown Tahlequah, our shared capitol. Wado to my new uncle for the assistance and conversation. Hickory trees have been important to us from time immemorial and were able to see us through our transition from the Appalachians to the nook between the Great Plains and Ozarks. Our trees are our relatives. To prepare Kanuchi, the nut meal (either directly from the Kanona or crumbled from a kanuchi ball) is boiled to extract the flavors from the hulls and meat. The liquid is then strained through a fine sieve or tightly woven cooking basket to remove the hard bits of hull. The liquid is then sweetened and added to the grain or starch of choice and eaten hot or room temperature. It is kind of like an oatmeal, porridge, or soup depending on how much liquid it still has. Enjoyable anytime of day, but is best consumed in smaller quantities as it can have diuretic aftereffects. Food is medicine, afterall!
(Ganvtsi/Kanuchi) Recipe 1 lb Hickory Nuts, Kingnut, or Mockernut 2 qt Water 1/4 C Maple Syrup Pinch of Salt Preferred Grain; cooked (rice, hominy, etc.)
Instructions: In a saucepan, boil water and Kanuchi crumbles together. Simmer for 30-45 minutes to extract the oils and flavor of the hickory nut into the water. Strain mixture through a fine mesh or cheese cloth. Return strained liquid to boil and continue to simmer liquid for an additional 20-30 minutes. The Kanuchi liquid should begin to thicken. The cooking process is complete when the mixture is the consistency of heavy cream. Strain through strainer or cheesecloth an additional time to remove any remaining hard bits of nut hulls. Season to your level of preferred sweetness or saltiness with maple syrup and/or salt. To serve, ladle Kanuchi liquid over cooked starch like a gravy or sauce, being sure to not eat too much in one serving. The purpose of kanuchi is to flavor another food, not to be used like soup.
With all of that we think it’s safe to say that even though the work ahead is multi-generational and hard we have the Tili to remind us that we can continue the fight regardless, but the future is in safe hands and we should take time to remind ourselves that THE FUTURE IS INDIGENOUS.
Gratitudes: Melissa Lewis | Taelor Barton | Kindra Swafford
A Gathering Basket Staff: Written Content Curator, M. Karlos Baca Image Curator, Brit Reed Creative Director, Trennie Burch Video Curator, Quentin Glabus Program Director, Kristina Stanley This publication is made possible by the following supporters and sponsors: