Jack Barden was one of the founders of Standing Rock Community College (now Sitting Bull College) and worked with AIHEC from its inception in 1973. Those who knew him share their thoughts on his passing.
Archive for August 2001
In response to significantly higher rates of diabetes, tribal colleges collaborated on curriculum that provides scientific training while reclaiming American Indian pedagogy.
The hogan began to leak Wind cascaded through the empty chinks And now there was no one to chop wood To carry water Or to offer human words Now there was only the silence. They had moved away To find jobs. She could not leave her home It was all she knew All she was (more)
This is me looking bewildered sitting by my coffee cup, my sister, still looking at me like I was some sort of manifestation. My dog looking in from the window to watch the flash of the camera which reflects his brown eyes and captures our spirits into stillness. As night approaches and the sun moves (more)
I believe Indebwewendam our language Gidinwewininaan is to be Ji passed on, Aanike-miiniding, like an eagle Inakeyaa migizi passing a feather Miigwanan to you. Ezhi-miinik. It is Aapiji an incredible honor. Gichi-inendaagwad, Reach out Izhinikenin to receive it. Ji-odaapinigeyan. Cindy Weaver was born in San Francisco and has spent much of her life between Cass (more)
I have twenty sisters who taught me how to live. One cooks deer meat better than the rest. One cleans her house like the TV moms. I have twenty sisters who gave me the most important gift. One stays at home raising grandchildren. One has children who treat her bad. I have twenty sisters who (more)
I won’t tell you of the massacre at Wounded Knee because it did not happen in the moon when the antlered creatures lose their horns, in the winter that Chief Big Foot lived and was so well that he did not have to lie in the bed of a wagon coughing up bits of his (more)
We wrote numbers 38 degrees longitude, 95 degrees latitude pin point positions on earth. New generations Ojibwa, Cherokee, Oglala, Menominee still struggling to save lands, wetlands. Children meant to care for our mother. Under rocks, truths we’ve known for generations. Last point, the Medicine Wheel. Center of life, all we carry sacred in our hearts. (more)
Giin inde’niiwezh memwech nitamdewe’igan bangan dash zhooshkozi apane Niin minoshin dash nibaa maajiigi makadewizi abaagamide biiwaabikokaan nitammadoondiswan biinjina biiwaabikokaan dooskaabi inaabamdengway Giin bedowe nanda weminniin, noonaawaso Nii zaagiziin nimaamaay Momye Niingizhzo nimaamaay ininan anami’aa wiisagigonewe, minwamanji’o wayiiba waawindamaw giiwashkweyaabandam, bedose, zaagidin ombinikeni oditan ani-bagosendam wiidookaaza daanis, nimaamaay Momye Mitigokaaonizhishi, waaseyagiizhig, danakamigizi giinawind baashkaapi dash aandaginzo (more)
Did the very air sparkle back then! My ancestors were thought to be Plains people wandering aimlessly across barren, grassy land on an ancient journey,| directed only by stars. They were earthen sailors sustained by prayer and pipe smoke. But they lived here among these pines— knew the perfectly round cool turquoise of this sky. (more)