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| Volume XX Number 17 | November, 1997 |
Sweat Lodge Provides Night Of Hot Memories
By Michael James
BRIGHTON -- Equipped with little more than a camera, a tape recorder, and cotton clothes, I arrived at the Brighton Reservation's ceremonial sweat lodge at 5 p.m.
It was Nov. 1.Walking around to the back of the home, I found a group of people in various stages of dress sitting together in a circle, waiting for the next event leading up to the actual sweat itself. Some of those present were engaged in conversation, some chanted prayers to the steady beat of a drum.
As I approached the group, I was accosted by Tony Stonehawk, the man who would soon lead the guests in the ritual of the sweat. Introductions were made and I was asked if I was going to participate in the sweat. Apprehensively, I affirmed my intentions. The next step of my journey was ritualistic purification. This was quickly accomplished by Tony. He led me to the altar and cleansed me in the sacred smoke in a process known as smudging.
Stonehawk said that he was a member of the Nanticoke Tribe of the Delaware Nation and the spiritual leader of the sweat lodge. According to Stonehawk, the United States Government classifies him as a medicine man but he considers himself a spiritual leader. Stonehawk administers sweat lodge ceremonies in federal penitentiaries for Native People throughout the south. Stone hawk started his sweat lodges in 1989 in an effort to help his people redevelop their Native spirituality.
"Because of the missionary system and things like that it turned a lot of people off (from native spirituality). Anything that wasn't Christianity was considered paganistic," Stonehawk said. "The truth is though, just as there is a different name for water in every language, so is it with God. God is the same no matter what religion it is."
Stonehawk said that he has a lot of different people come to the sweat lodge and that he does not tell them what to believe. "We don't say, 'you believe how we believe.' We tell them to pray and to believe however they want to believe. We want them into prayer for life."
The events preceding my arrival were in preparation of the evening's ceremony. The sweat lodge had to be constructed and the grounds consecrated. The lodge itself was a dome-shaped canvas construction with an entrance flap. Outside of the flap were two rows of stones that made a path to the flap. If one were to exit the lodge, the stones would diverge a few feet from the entrance and form a large circle in which the sacred fired burned. Within the fire were the stones used in the sweat itself. A sacred pipe ceremony followed after the area was prepared and sanctified.
The time of the sweat approached and the keeper of the fire, a man named Bantu, came forth to speak to the group about what was taking place. Bantu said he was an Indian from a Caribbean tribe.
"One of the things that is indigenous to all of us is this right here," he said pointing to the sweat lodge. "It's done in different ways but the essence of it is the same. All tribal people have done this, even the tribal Europeans," he said. "For us it is a purification lodge, some call it the stone peoples lodge or the grandfathers lodge."
"The fire keeper is the first one to go into the sweat lodge and he usually goes by himself," said Bantu. "If that person who is going to fire keep is not in a good way, he has to come to the pourer," he said. "Western society would call the pourer the leader, in this case, Tony. Tony pours the water during the ceremony. If I'm not in a good way then I have to go to him and tell him that I am in a different space.
"The stones are called Grandfathers. There is a force within the fire that is the essence of the sun. Before we place the Grandfathers in here, the whole area is blessed. I come here and go into meditation, I smudge myself and the area and I lay tobacco all over the area. Then I bring in the Grandmothers and the Grandfathers, the six visible powers of the universe," he said. He was referring to the four directions and Grandfather Sky and Grandmother Earth. Bantu went on,
"They are brought in here before you do anything. Once you get that done, you lay your bridges down, that's where you put the Grandfather stones." It is the duty of the fire keeper to assist the pourer by delivering the stones to a pit within the sweat lodge. "I get the Grandfathers to go into ceremony and I pray over them. The one in the center lets me know how many stones he wants and each one of them is prayed over. If it is a special ceremony, we also paint something on the rocks, thunder beads, waters, one of the sacred corners or whatever," he said. Bantu said that by doing so it would bring more power into the grandfathers. "The more prayer you do over the Grandfathers the hotter they get," he said. Once the fire is set, a spirit trail is laid to the lodge. No one can break that trail and you must walk around it in a clockwise fashion in order to get into the lodge.
The time of the sweat was at hand and Bantu told the group that they had to remove their shoes in order to enter.
"When you go into the lodge, those people who have never sweated, you go in without shoes. You always go in without shoes, you want to feel your Grandmother Earth beneath you."
Bantu described the beginning of the process to those who had never sweated. Anxiety was mounting. I questioned my motives.
"You're going to go in clockwise. You bend down, that is why the door is made low, so you can enter in a humble way." You go in on your knees and as you pass through the portal you acknowledge the leader by saying 'All my relations' for those of us who did not know the Lakota words (Mitaku-Yasi). Bantu advised us of the pit in the center of the lodge. The pit where the glowing Grandfathers would soon be residing.
"Don't sit right beside the Grandfathers, get as far back as possible," he said. "There is enough room for everyone."
He continued by saying, "It gets hot in there, but if you focus your attention, like anything in life, you're going to suffer." Again, looking at me.
"Focus your attention on prayers, the meditation, the Grandfathers or whatever," he said. "If it gets too hot just grab the person next to you, grab their hand or their arm for support. If it is still too hot then I suggest that you get as close to the floor as possible," he said. If all else fails, said Bantu, one must ask the pourer for permission to leave.
"If you have to leave, then leave, it's okay. I've had to leave lodges, we've all had to leave," he said.
I had been advised that the lodge was no place for a camera so I took my last moment of liberty to run it to my car. I came back toward the lodge and passed Bantu.
"Has anybody ever died in a sweat lodge?" I asked.
"No, some get sick though. When did you last eat?," he questioned, only adding to the apprehension I was feeling. "Try to sit near the entrance," he said. "Go in there in a good way."
We walked together toward the lodge where the quests were lining up to enter. Tony gave instructions at the starting place and called for the first timers. He instructed us to reach into a pouch filled with tobacco and to proceed around the circle of stones in a clockwise fashion toward the entrance. The tobacco was for sprinkling on the ground as you went. When the group had reached the entrance, Stonehawk went in, and then the first of the participants.
The only light was a meager bit of fire light that crept between the people entering and the edges of the flap. We entered one by one. It was my turn.
"All my relations," I said as I proceeded to crawl clockwise through the blackness to my spot. A spot that was geographically the furthest from the exit.
At first there was light conversation, an exchange of questions and answers. Everyone found their places and Stonehawk gave a few last second instructions. The ritual of the sweat lodge had begun.
Sitting there in the darkness reminded me of early childhood camp outs. I pondered the invisible surroundings. Memories of being in a pup tent in the Florida summer without a breath of air came flooding back. I thought to myself, 'Self, this isn't so bad.' The 15 other bodies in there with me had elevated the temperature to a balmy 98.6 degrees.
Stonehawk called to the fire keeper for seven Grandfathers. Bantu the fire keeper retrieved the first glowing Grandfather from the fire with a pitch fork and passed through the portal of the lodge. The Grandfather came through and the group responded, "Ah Ho Grandfather." A man sitting near the pit used a set of deer antlers to maneuver the Grandfather into the pit.
"Still OK, I can handle this," I thought.
The remaining six sacred stones came in one at a time, each with a prayer. When the Grandfathers were in place, Stonehawk closed the flap. We were now in complete, perfect darkness except for the glowing Grandfathers in the center of the lodge. We were instructed how to pray. Stonehawk the pourer ladled his first scoop of water into the Grandfathers.
The heat from the glowing Grandfathers was intense. When the water hit them it felt like all of the breathable air left the room. I felt mild panic, the woman sitting next to me felt more severe panic and decided to exit. I considered joining her. I regained composure, I stayed.
Stonehawk passed the prayer feathers to the first person to pray. After the prayer he affirmed it, "Aho Grandfather" and then passed the feathers "All my relations."
I was feeling miserable already and the ceremony had just started. Intense discomfort coupled with my inability to pray spontaneously before large groups of strangers added to my anxiety. More people prayed. I prayed to myself that they would not be long-winded. I struggled with the discomfort. I tried to imagine what Mark Twain would have said in the same situation and then I felt a gentle nudge. I was handed the prayer feathers. I felt both charitable and cautious as I took them from the person beside me. I wanted to have the best experience possible in the lodge so I prayed. I prayed with strong heart and with good intentions two simultaneous prayers. Out loud,
"Great mystery, give me the strength and wisdom to communicate this experience to others." In silence, "Please let me live through this and make the ringing in my ears go away." "Aho, all my relations," and I passed the feathers. At this point I was down on my knees with my face in the floor, gasping for a complete lung full of air. Then the first round was over.
Stonehawk raised the flap and let some of the fresh night air into the lodge but nobody left. I wanted to leave, I wanted to go outside and stretch and breath the sweet night air. The thought of crawling over the strangers in the darkness between me and the flap prevented me. The next flap was about to begin. This one was prayers to the Earth.
This time Stonehawk called to the keeper of the fire for six Grandfathers. I watched and counted as each one came in. "Aho, Grandfather," we would say. I counted five Grandfathers when someone said, "How many was that?" Another voice "Three I think." The count resumed at three and instead of just one more Grandfather, three more came in. I thought I was going to die for sure.
Heat piled upon heat this time. I knew this was my last flap. The prayers started and I was immediately down on my knees. Again, a gentle nudge but this time it was a skin sack filled with sage. I whispered, "What do I do with this?"
"Rub it on yourself, it will help."
I rubbed on the herb and put my face back on the floor. The sweat was so profuse that I was completely and thoroughly soaked. My fingers and hands were wrinkled, I did not feel good. Others began to share their pain. Hands reached out in the darkness on either side of me. Their hands were wrinkled, too. The prayer feather once again reached me but I passed it to my neighbor. Barely audible, I said, "All my relations."
The prayers for the Earth, sky, forests, pristine places, eagles and water filled the lodge and then it was over. Stonehawk raised the flap and I began my exodus from the lodge. I passed him in the darkness and he said, "Remember how this breath of air will feel. Remember who gave this breath to you and know that someday you will return it to the great mystery."
"Aho, Grandfather," I said. I had given water back to the Earth, water that the Earth had given me. I will never forget this night.
--Michael James covers rodeo and other subjects for the Tribune from his home in Okeechobee.
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