Burying the Beads

A few weeks ago while visiting with Vann Bighorse, director of the Wah-Zha-Zhi Cultural Center, we looked at an old photo album of Osages. It was the type of scrapbook with black pages where the long-forgotten owner had glued sepia-colored pictures onto each sheet. Most of us have one or two of these in a box of keepsakes and junk, stored away.

The photographs in this little album may have dated to around the 1930s and, as in so many instances; the people and events were unidentified. It does not seem possible that we could forget our ancestors. But they are forgotten. The photos become damaged or worse discarded.

The seconds caught by the photographer were just moments in their everyday life. None of them probably considered for even an instant that eighty-five years later those photographs would be coveted, revered, and become the center of lengthy studies at museums and universities.

Today, I attended the burying of beads at the site where old arbors stood at Pawhuska and where a new one was under construction. I listened to the people talk. Most of the two dozen or so in attendance on this breezy, cold morning were acquainted with the Osage dances. Many of the people talked about how history was being made. I walked around and snapped a picture here and there. I had no concept of what they were speaking about or why they were compelled to get up early to be there on such a cold morning.

As an employee of the Osage Nation and also having worked for the Nation in the past learning has always been a plus to the job. I did not grow up in any of the three Osage districts. My parents divorced and the Osage connection that I could have had was a father whose personal demons got the better of him. Alcoholism was his life and eventual early death. It seems odd as an adult to realize how I grew up just one hour away from my Osage families.

The things I know are from books. At work I listen to coworkers and sometimes ask them questions. The language classes have been helpful in providing history and again just listening to people with Osage knowledge.

Today’s ceremony of burying a bead was at first just another job duty. As the morning went on, I listened to the people talk. One man pointed out that the future was among them. He was referring to Otto and Geneva Hamilton’s little girl, Wahreshe.

The Chiefs spoke to the audience. Congress members also spoke. Archie Mason made the comment that this would be the last arbor he would see in his lifetime.

As everyone began walking away I realized something that I had been thinking about since coming back to work for the Nation. On this cold morning with the wind blowing in my face, it was easier to just look down as I walked. All I could see were people’s feet. And I figured out the thing that has been nagging at me. I get to walk among Osage people. I get to take pictures of the Chiefs of the Osage Nation. I get to sit at a table and hear them talk. They know my name. Sure this is my job and these are photo ops, but these are important moments.

And I am taking the pictures.

by Anna Jefferson, ON Communication Staff