Pasapalloynin: Chief Joseph’s July Fourth Celebration

Years ago, Albert Red Star Andrews of the Joseph Band of Nez Perce on the Colville Reservation in north central Washington, told me about a unique Fourth of July event on his reservation. It was called Pasapalloynin, meaning “to make them rejoice, to make them happy!”

It happened about 1903, shortly after Chief Joseph made his last trip to the Wallowa to plead for land in Oregon. The Indians were feared when he and survivors of the Nez Perce War of 1877 returned to the Northwest in 1885. Chief Joseph specifically could not be in Idaho or Oregon, so he and his close followers ended up on the Colville Reservation in Eastern Washington. By 1900 and that final pleading, the 15-year interval had replaced fear with mockery. The locals, said the local newspaper, “made sport of the old chief.”

In 1883, Congress had promulgated a “Code of Indian Offenses,” which encouraged Indian agents to strip tribal people of their cultures. Potlaches, the practices of medicine men, polygamy, scalp dances, sun dances, and any “warrior” dances were specifically banned. Wise Indians hid their drums and regalia, and some elders continued to practice language and religion.

And then, following war and the Nez Perces’ unsatisfactory return — the old chief’s being rebuffed in returning to his ancient homeland — came this Pasapalloynin. In Albert Andrews’ words, the main event was a circle of riders inside the ring of tipis.

“Amidst the group of riders, towards the front, are speakers calling out the why of this gathering and calling out some of the many names of those now gone or deceased, never to be seen or visited with again. The cantering pace allows the speakers’ voices to carry well and the camper’s responses can be heard as the keening begins while the procession passes by them. Grieving has begun.

“In ‘normal times’ this procession could occur anytime. But large gatherings of Native peoples still trigger suspicion and fear by white people and ‘peaceful Indians’ of another uprising. During this time. Chief Joseph had brought his headmen together to take care of themselves, to help the people of the Band come to terms with what they had just experienced. With the Nation’s celebration of its birth coming, it would be a time to carry this out. In this way, it would lessen the chance that the military would be called in bearing the arms and weaponry of war. The Soyapos [a term for Nez Perce settlers, called ‘crowned ones’ for the hats they wore] may think the Band is joining in on this ‘birthday’ celebration.

“Chief Joseph made it clear that this was a time for a collective mourning. They needed to grieve their losses of friends, of relatives, of family — of all lost since 1877. They must carry out this mourning service to grieve and ‘let go’ of all those now gone from their midst. They must let go and move on together, having survived the conflict inflicted under Manifest Destiny.

“The mourning begun, the second round proceeded at a faster pace. As the third round began, the horses were prompted into a faster-paced gallop. On this round, rejoicing began. Pasapalloynin!!! to make them rejoice, to make them happy! ‘Look around you!’ they shouted. ‘See and remember all whom you see here today and rejoice that we are all together, and that we are here! Today, we live to carry on, for all that are here with us, for all our children! Today we rejoice! Today!’”

There was also a powwow on the Fourth, and in a photo I can see the Nez Perce drumming and dancing fiercely, many of the men in the traditional “stovepipe” headdresses, the feathers all pointing directly upward and a halo rather than trailing as in the Plains custom, which became a norm for the Nez Perce and other Northwest tribes. I’m haunted by the face of a drummer, who has entered another space — eyes closed but all the muscles in his face alive and announcing joy at what he is doing.

There are still tribal powwows across the country on the Fourth of July, an annual show of resistance to an overwhelming system that has attempted to make Indians white (assimilate them) or make them disappear.

Albert’s story, and my learning about the Christianizing of Indians, the attempts at assimilation through boarding schools, allotment acts, and Codes of Indian Offenses, led me to see music as both a tool of assimilation — hymns and Bible books published in Lapwai — and a means of resistance, as in the Joseph story above.

But there was more: boarding school bands, and the Indian jazz and dance bands of the teens and twenties and into the seventies that the Indians created with their marching band instruments. “Julia Keefe’s All-Indigenous Big Band” of today, and the vigorous powwow dancing and drumming circuit that Tamkaliks (the annual powwow at the Nez Perce Wallowa Homeland in Wallowa), is part of that Native Fourth.

We made an exhibit of it a few years ago, and I am proud to say that the exhibit is now up in the McCall, Idaho city library, and will be until fall. You can also read the text and see the photos mentioned above in a virtual version of this exhibit on our webpage.

I will be thinking about all of this on my Fourth of July. May you enjoy yours — with some humility and appreciation for first peoples.