Celilo: an intensely personal diary on betrayal, loss, identity, and silencing the voice of the Gods

I probably have no right to feel as intensely wounded this week as I do.  After all, my loss in the matter of this diary is so far less than the true victims of the story that the groanings of my heart must seem to many akin to a Southern aristocrat bewailing his plight as an heir of American slavery.  Nonetheless, I grieve, and have many times this weekend been brought to tears...

http://www.opb.org/...
Photo of Celilo Falls before 1957, contributed by Kossack, Melvin. (Source: U.S. Corps of Engineers)

I'm a middle-aged white guy who grew up in a town along the banks of the Columbia River in Oregon.  A few miles up river thundered one of the wonders of the world, a mighty rapids and falls which spanned the width of the river, Celilo, at the time second largest cascade on the continent.  This weekend we commemorate the 50 year anniversary of its disappearance, submerged under the reservoir created by a massive hydroelectric dam.

This weekend, the date has been marked by gatherings of native peoples, whose home, livelihood, and a major portion of their culture (and most certainly their way of life) was also submerged on the same day.  There are special exhibits at local museums.  Our local NPR affiliate has been running a documentary segment series during its news broadcasts all week.  The newspaper printed a special "commemorative edition."

Photo of Celilo as it appears today, also contributed by Kossack, Melvin."

I was a first grader the day the spillways closed, and the sounds of the great falls ceased to ring out and echo from the rock bluffs and promentories of the gorge.  The Celilo Wy'am tribe had resisted, asserting their treaty rights, in vain.  My parents, like the most of the townfolk, could speak only of "not standing in the way of progress."  There were few dissenting voices in the white community, and those few were marginalized in so many ways that I have only recently understood their courage.  In a later diary, this will be related to my reluctance to use the preferred term, "Progressive," as self-identification amongst those with whom I feel closest politically.  I'm not up to it right now.

At this moment, I too strongly miss being able to stand in awe of the presence of the majestic falling water, its sound indescribable in its power.  Even as so small a child, it could carry me to depths of contemplation I have rarely experienced since.  When my mind turns to Celilo, it is an understatement to describe my feelings as grief.  

Yet, the children who grew up in its presence lost so very much more.  I am aware of the selfishness I betray in claiming even a small portion of their great loss.  I am overwhelmed to hear their descriptions of life in Celilo Village the night the falls fell victim to progress.  They recall the oppressive silence which replaced the thunder of the falling water being pierced by the mournful cries of their elders.  It was not just a natural wonder which had been extinguished, but they knew too well it was also a proud and happy way of life.  The few who remain and still call Celilo Village their home live now in the sound of freeway traffic and the occasional freight train, the sounds of the God of Progress.I am embarassed by my tears for the loss of an element of my town's river view, and a place I enjoyed for recreation, but they are genuine, my tears, and I cannot deny them.

I wish I could post an action item with this diary.  Would that there was a piece of legislation or a campaign which could repay the Celilo Wy'am people for the sacrifice we extracted from them, and restore the mighty voice of the Gods with which we, like them, were blessed in this land on the banks of the Columbia.  But all I can do is resolve, and beg all within my meager voice likewise, Never Again.

John-Mark

Links:

http://thedalleschronicle.com/ - Kathy Gray's article, "Silenced Thunder," which ran on page one of the Celilo "commemorative edition" of The Dalles Chronicle. (Note: this link was substituted for the Chronicle's home page, on which the linked article was featured at the time this diary was first published.

http://www.opb.org/... - Oregon Public Radio's feature on Celilo with sound and video files.

An update already:  I forgot to mention the ceremonies and fanfare of the dedication of The Dalles Dam fifty years ago, replete with marching band and motorcade for then Vice President Richard Nixon, who cut the ribbon, and gave the dedicatory address.