Christmas blizzard

I woke early on Christmas morning. The first thing I did was to make myself a cup of tea and wash my face. Stripping everything back makes me realise which of my pleasures and luxuries I value the most. Washing my face with a flannel and hot water and Dr Hauschka cream is definitely a good one, as is a cup of tea! It took me a while to dress and put all the layers on. A blizzard was expected later on that day. The camp had been preparing for it all of Christmas Eve, bringing in wood and making sure we had essentials such as food and water to hand. I went over to the kitchen to light the two fires in the stoves, placed a large pan of snow to melt for washing dishes, and put on the big pot of water for coffee. The lights had been left on all night, so the solar charge was drained and I worked with a head torch. (Americans laugh when I say 'torch' instead of 'lamp'. I think it sounds medieval to them!)

Mike Goodshield, an elder from the Rosebud Reservation came in to the kitchen with a friend named Bo-Ling. We wished each other Merry Christmas and waited by the stove for the water to boil. I asked Mike how Natives kept warm before hi tech thermal underwear, hand warmers and super insulated boots. 

'The sacred fire kept us warm. The buffalo kept us warm. We used buffalo skins for our tipis and for our clothes. The buffalo is very sacred to us because it gave its life, it kept us warm, gave us meat, and allowed us to live. We took care of each other. That's how we kept warm. Everything is sacred. This too.' Mike tapped the stove. 'This metal came out of the earth, it came from the rock. We give thanks for everything. All these things are here to help us live. There is enough for all of us. So long as we don't try and line our pockets, there's enough for everyone.' Mike spoke about the importance of resting over the period of the winter solstice. 'It's not all about work.' After a cup of coffee, and sharing more stories with me and Bo-Ling, he returned to his tipi for a nap.

Anis came in and we prepared the food together. We eat some hearty breakfasts here at Standing Rock. This morning I cracked 144 eggs for scrambling and we also served chopped steak and sausages, rice pudding and, particularly exciting to me, slices of apples and oranges! Other mornings we make pancakes and eat them with syrup and bacon. Since I have been here, I have eaten all kinds of food I wouldn't usually, including baloney sandwiches on white sliced bread, eaten at Donald Little Thunder's tent after the inipi sweat lodge. The fact that everything we eat here is a gift from someone, whether an individual or a business, that it sustains us in these harsh conditions, that it is prayed over, overrides any ideas I may have had about what kind of food I eat. 

I helped cook Christmas dinner. Just in case any of you are feeling sorry for us, please don't! D.J heroically grilled steak for everyone out in the snow. Tony mashed up potatoes with butter, Lisa made potato salad, Anis made stuffing, gravy and (a real treat) abundant, fresh kale. I made Italian creamy garlic mushrooms in an enormous frying pan, which went down well with the steak. The cooking timings came together effortlessly.

Before we ate, as always, a small dish with some of each of the food was prepared for the spirits. Mike held the dish and prayed that the spirits all around us be nourished so that they can keep us strong. He acknowledged that today, Christmas Day was a special day. 'But to us Lakota people, every day is a special day, a day to be grateful, a good day to be alive.' He made prayers for the water, for the earth, for the next seven generations. 'We are the prayers of our ancestors. They prayed that we might come together in this way to protect the earth.' He spoke of how it was no coincidence that we had all come here, that we had heard a call and acted upon it. 'Everyone here once lived on this land and knew the old ways. This is a process of remembering together.' Many, many thanks were given.The spirit plate was taken out and placed by the fire outside. 

To stand at the table, heavy with good things to eat, to feel such good will and friendship all around me, my heart felt warm. All agreed, the food was delicious. The tiny Christmas tree stood on one of the tables, surrounded by candy and cookies, soft animal toys and colouring books for the children, and some odd presents salvaged from the 'mall,' the hut full of donated clothes. 
Someone had tidied up the room, had cleared the tables and laid down a rug by the stove. The new second stove burned, warming the room both ends now. I realised that I have one more week here and that I will miss this place, miss these friends, and more than anything, miss this atmosphere. It may be difficult for people to live here, but in some ways it's harder for people to leave.

And then, as we were clearing up dishes and sitting around the stove, blue lightning flared up the dark tent, followed immediately by cracking thunder. Snow thunder and lightning! I never saw that before. I made my way towards the compost toilets. The snow was coming down fast. Now I needed my goggles. It was hard to recognise anything and I could see how easily one might get lost. Angela, always so gallant, called out, 'is that you, Miss Sophie?' I waved back yes, and we laughed as we trudged through drifts of snow up to our knees. We went together to the loos and she accompanied me back on my way home. Yet another act of kindness. 

A new acupuncture team are on their way from California. First to arrive was Teresa, who is in her first trimester of pregnancy and has taken time away from her boyfriend and family to be here. I will need to move out when the others arrive, but for now we two are sharing the yurt. In the night she called my name. One of the top window flaps around the chimney was flying open. The wind was whistling all around us and we were fast losing precious heat. I eventually managed to free the piece of wood, which had trapped the flap open, with the broom handle. Then it was a matter of standing on a chair and reaching up as high as I could upon my toes and tying it down. It flew open again. The wind was winning. I went through the process again, while Teresa rummaged around and found some plastic ties. I just managed to loop the tie around the piece of wood and the yurt frame and fix it tight. This time it held fast. We slept on and off, both of us loading wood upon the fire, each time we woke. The wind howled all around and shook the yurt so forcefully, that I wondered if it might take off with us. I could feel the odd powdering of snow upon my face. It must have got in through a crack in the yurt. 

In the morning I woke to hear snow being shovelled from the our door. There was a knock and one of the night team was there to check we were OK. Many had stayed up all night, digging people out of their tents and tipis in the morning. Just now, two good men delivered us logs for the fire. More love. It was reported in a local newspaper today that, 'a strong blizzard may have helped put an end to the camp of protestors at Standing Rock.' Not so. It sounds like wishful thinking to me. These people are stronger than that.

This morning Teresa and I trudged across the snowy, frozen river to join the women's prayer circle. Several feet of snow had fallen in the night. Every muscle in my body strained to make my way through the snow drifts, some as high as my thighs. The circle of women, including one honorary man, was small today, but the prayers were strong and the songs were good. As we walked back, the sun was out, lighting up the powdery snow flying across the ice.

Teresa in the yurt