Sharing a native tradition

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GRAND RONDE -- A hint of a breeze started to kick up over the Uyxat Powwow Grounds Friday, Aug. 20, as Grand Ronde Tribal member Deitz Peters prepared for the first grand entry of Grand Ronde's Annual Contest Powwow.

Adam Korst

An array of colors flow while one of the adult grass dance competitors works his way around the grounds wearing traditional attire.

Jolene Guzman

GRAND RONDE -- A hint of a breeze started to kick up over the Uyxat Powwow Grounds Friday, Aug. 20, as Grand Ronde Tribal member Deitz Peters prepared for the first grand entry of Grand Ronde's Annual Contest Powwow.

Drumming echoed in the background of Peters' campsite as a golden late summer evening glow fell over the grounds near Fort Yamhill State Park as the night's festivities began.

Peters' traditional outfit consisted of a bright blue apron accompanied by buckskin leggings, a headdress made of porcupine and deer hair and two eagle feathers, and hand-beaded wrist cuffs depicting eagles. To complete the regalia, Peters ties a bustle -- an impressive fan of eagle feathers -- to his back.

"Whatever we wear, we honor those animals," he said while his wife, Rose, quickly braided his long, dark hair. "We bring them back to life in a spiritual sense."

A dancer for about 20 years, Peters, 53, said he participates in powwows in part to reconnect with traditions of his tribe and to achieve spiritual healing.

Adam Korst

A drum circle plays during the men's grass dance at the annual Grand Ronde Contest Powwow.

On a personal level, dancing, he said, gives him peace.

"I found this is the part of myself I didn't know yet," Peters said, adding that he began to feel spiritually renewed through dancing and the community it fostered. "I've found myself. This is what I'm supposed to be."

Performing the dance has historical significance as well, Peters said. It connects the present with the past and helps establish a foundation to build the future for his tribe -- and all others.

"When we dance, we are honoring our ancestors," Peters said. "We dance for our family ... We dance for all those who can't dance."

As the grand entry draws near, Peters heads overto the huge white tent sheltering the arena. He talks with friends before hundreds of dancers line up for the ceremony.

Peters said his family travels to powwows throughout the country.

Adam Korst

A competitor in the women's Jingle dress dance performs for judges. The dress, covered in metal cones that connect to make noise, gives the dance its name.

Grand Ronde's powwow was close to home for the Polk County resident, but Peters and his family choose to put up tepees and camp at the grounds to remain within what he calls "the circle."

"It's the circle of friendship ... of love, caring, respect and honoring," Peters said. "Being a part of the circle ... that's important to us."

That circle included participants from all over the nation during Grand Ronde's event, one of the largest in the Pacific Northwest.

As the night cooled and the sinking sun cast shadows over the grounds, it was time for the dance to begin.

The dancers were led by flag bearers who circled the arena in time with the heartbeat persistent drum pounding and high pitched voices of the singers. One by one, dancers young and old dressed in a sea of bright hues and feathers whirling into a kaleidoscope of colors entered the arena. The line wound its way around until all dancers were part of the procession.

About a quarter of the way back in line, a serene Peters danced in time with the drums, moving his feet in a rhythmic step and moving slowly around the ring.

In the arena with him was his grandson, Nolan Stevens, and Rose. Dancing at powwows has become a family activity, Peters said.

Staying in touch with his people's past was a struggle after his tribe disbanded in the 1950s, he said. Dancing at powwows after the restoration in 1983 help him reconnect.

"To wander around and be nobody, it's a hard thing," he said.

To prevent that from happening to future generations of his own family, Peters introduced his children and grandchildren to tribal culture. Peters said it's important not to let the language, style of singing and other traditions fade.

"We need to leave that for our children to remember," he said. "We have to remember those things."