One thing of deep interest to me is to concept of ownership amongst people whose life ways are still organized around mobility. Of course now, with all the changes brought by life on a Reservation, people own many things. Cars, for example, are important because it is hard to get groceries and get to Powwows and other events without a ride. Yet despite this cars are not treated with the reverence that they are often treated in other societies. People can own houses too, of course, but the same thing seems to be true. However, there is considerable pride in personal accoutrements—if there are Indian designed patterns, good Pendletons on the beds, a star quilt or two, pictures of Indian ancestors, necklaces, baskets, corn-husk bags, regalia—things that display historical continuity and contemporary vitality—things like that are of real value: there is emotional attachment that just doesn’t seem to be much present for the house itself.

The land and what it produces, which is very often the basis of Reservation wealth, is often tied to a family line and not really disposable wealth for the individual. The land is often in trust for those who come next in the family line. So for example, one piece of land can have twenty or more shared owners.

Tribal money: the Tribe is like a corporation that pays dividends to its “share-holders” those being tribal members. It earns the money by selling timber, running a casino, or other such industries and the money is divided up between all registered members of the tribe, the children’s money going half into an account that will not be accessible to them until they turn 18 and half going to their parents for things like school clothes and gifts. The details differ from tribe to tribe but the idea of community shared ownership and wealth dispersal is basically the same. So what individuals actually own are things that have cultural relevance and therefore some emotional attachment and some pride-worth—like the necklaces and regalia. Things that cam be owned in this more important way include stories, medicine items and songs. It is these last things—things I call keystone artifacts—that carry all the weight of custom that goes with the really important aspects of a people’s life.

So for example if something is taken without permission, like a car or a stereo, usually the person who has had his or her item taken may get mad but they will shrug. “It’s just a thing” is something I have heard a great number of times when things go missing. But in one case to which I was privy, where a person used another’s song in a ritual circumstance without permission, there was a huge furor, necessitating a dance to get us all together to take the affront to the spirits and many hours of prayer, dancing and singing to set it right.

A song is like a name: it is the key to one’s relationship with not only the spirits of the now-time and the land but it is also key to one’s relationship with the whole history (and therefore future) of the People. Imagine for a moment that your family name is one that belongs to the House of Windsor and you are British. That name would probably be of some import to you. In just the same way a song is an identifier of relationship, of belonging, of history. A song and also one’s stories are the place from which one’s life takes meaning and stealing them is the same as stealing the breath from one’s mouth. It is an act of inexcusable arrogance and contempt. This is, in part, why it is so awful when any person simply steals the patterns and ways of Indian people. It is like they are trying to steal the spirit or the soul. Imagine for a moment that the Shroud of Turin were actually Jesus’ shroud. Now imagine some completely uncontexted, unbaptized Christian-in-name-only borrowed it and used it as a ground tarp to hold some hastily invented para-Christian ritual. The outrage a committed Christian would feel is probably akin to what a Native American feels when he or she is told that non-contexted non-Indian people are holding a “traditional Sioux sweatlodge” or an “authentic Plains sundance.”

The core of any tradition is the web of relationships between the experiences, stories and traditions that connect the core (keystone) valuables of the people. These stories, traditions or experiences cannot simply be borrowed, anymore than a new genetic code can be borrowed. Change can happen and adaptation occurs but what a person grows with, what sets of experiences and values shape a person as a child are not fully eradicable. The fact that songs and stories form the core of real wealth and position in many tribal societies is not something that is easily shared. If you come into a society like this and have no connection with the songs and the stories then you have no position and since wealth like this cannot be bought, it is very difficult to become “visible” in the system.