Drawn to Standing Rock

By Kelly Anne Smith

NORTH BAY—A Christmas vacation from work at the Union of Ontario Indians was perfect timing for Cecile Hookimaw to get to where she was needed most as a water protector.

Cecile, with her daughter Valene as navigator, drove all the way to Standing Rock Sioux territory to say prayers and honour the water.

More than 600 water protectors face criminal charges from protesting the planned drilling under the tribe’s drinking water of Lake Oahe for the Dakota Access pipeline (DAPL).

Standing Rock Sioux Tribal Chairman Dave Archambault has said a leak would destroy the water treatment plant in 10 minutes. Archambault has called for all protest camps to be removed. The area is expected to flood in the spring. Archambault denounces the executive order signed by U.S. President Trump to push the DAPL through before the environmental assessment is completed.

For Cecile, the urge to take part started with water protector Josephine Mandamin. She is the Grandmother from Thunder Bay who has walked many steps to protect the water. Mandamin told Cecile that there was something for her to learn at Standing Rock.

They set out on Christmas day with the sun shining all the way to Sault Ste.Marie.

“It was beautiful with no traffic. But we crossed the border and hit a storm right away,” recalled Hookimaw. “When we went through Minnesota, I drove through a bad rain storm.”

The highway was closed so they had to head to South Dakota. Late at night they crossed into North Dakota.

“The snow drifts were bad and I got stuck 6.9 miles from my destination,” Cecile smirked sarcastically.

People winched the vehicle out and they made it to a hotel. The next morning, the Hookimaw’s arrived to Standing Rock.

It was important for Cecile Hookimaw to wear her Sundance skirt, badge, and eagle whistle—all from her first year committing to the Sundance—when she lifted the Anishinabek Nation flag with Valene balancing it high on the other side.

“The first thing you see is all the flags,” noted Hookimaw.

Cecile says meeting people and hearing their stories gave meaning to her trip. She put down her tobacco at the Rosebud Camp.

“I sang a song,” stated Hookimaw. “It was almost as if they wanted to touch my stuff. Like they didn’t know what it was.”

Hookimaw said there wasn’t a strong Indigenous presence in the Rosebud camp. Many people had left the camps when winter arrived.

One person asked to record Cecile in a recording studio.

“I said no you can’t,” replied Hookimaw. “It is an honour song.”

Cecile honoured the water with an honour freedom song she learned in her travels.

“I was singing to the water. I was singing for the place where I was and what had started there,” stated Hookimaw.

Hookimaw said things had changed at the protest camp.

“I felt it just going to the main camp. I felt something is not right. I asked where the sacred fire, the ocheti oyatey, had gone. They said ‘oh, it’s over there. It was put out. We had to move it’,” recollected Hookimaw.

Cecile replied that it didn’t have to be put out.

“The original sacred fire had been put out and brought to another spot of convenience. To us, that doesn’t make sense.”

Hookimaw is a water protector herself; she can be found singing The Water Song at noenergyeast events. She follows life in a good way and was surprised by the large non-Indigenous population at the camps.

“It was cold. There was drinking and fighting,” recalled Hookimaw disappointedly. “It was bad and I really felt for the ones who were truly there for the water. The way we see water protectors is that they are sacred people.”

Cecile was curious to see the front line of protest. Gone were the peaceful protestors singing and drumming.

“It was very scary,” admitted Hookimaw. “It reminded me of Oka. It was similar with the army tanks and the army. It looked like a war zone.”

There were razor wire and concrete barriers littered on the Backwater Bridge.

“When I saw what was going on, I had wished my daughter didn’t witness it,” added Hookimaw. “When we drove home, we talked a lot about what we had witnessed.”

The 4,000 kilometre adventure gave teachings for both daughter and mother.

“It was worth it because we are stronger for it,” says Hookimaw. “I learned not to be afraid of the unknown.”