Stories from Standing Rock, a perspective on the #NoDAPL camps pt.1

I wake up and it's dark still, I'm warm and comfortable. As I try to roll onto my side to check the time on my cell, I realize I'm unable to move. Panic crushes my chest, and for a moment I completely freak out- until I remember I'm wrapped up like a little activist burrito in my mummy bag. As I uncover my upper body the air hits me like a punch, the fire in the stove went out overnight. I laugh to myself as a touch of my phone reveals that the cold sapped my battery again. It doesn't really matter since time means very little here, and the closest signal is a 15 minute drive away. I dress quickly and hop foot to foot to warm up before placing my wool lined feet in boots, it's cold and I REALLY need to pee. As I push open layers of blankets and then the door of the yurt, sunlight greets me. The warmth feels good, my eyes water from the sudden light. Half way to the compost toilet my eyelashes are frozen from the moisture. I'm feeling really grateful, and excited for the day ahead.

Like many other people, I closely observed the situation at Standing Rock through social media as it developed and experienced outrage. I remember crying when I saw the footage from the dog attacks, one year ago tomorrow. I remember declining invitations to dinner on thanksgiving, glued to my phone watching live streams of militarized police deploying "non lethal" bullets and water cannons against unarmed people in prayer. I'll never forget the moment I learned that I knew two of the individuals being tear gassed, or the feeling of hearing their stories in person. At this point in time I had the best job I'd ever had in my life, making more than enough money to survive for once. I was reluctant to leave my boyfriend of three years, my home, and my security behind. As fate would have it, I lost my job early December, two weeks before my friend Gus was set to return to camp. The tribe had turned on the camps, as indigenous residents of Cannonball asked people to stay. I watched a video of Ladonna Brave Bull urging people not to turn their backs on the cause, to stay and fight. It was time for me to go, better late than never I told myself.

I arrived in camp the third week of December, with the supplies I could muster in my short period of preparation. I had no idea what to expect, and I often laugh at how useless my donations were. On the 22 hour trip from Ohio to North Dakota we had taken a 6 hour detour on a quest to purchase a wood burning stove. If only I had known what a pointless endeavor this was! I was so proud when I showed up, as if I felt people would be impressed by my effort. This was only the first of many humbling lessons I would receive at Sacred Stone camp. I soon fell into a new pattern of living, and a new way of life.

The first time I hung out with Gus, who shared many mutual friends, was on our trip to North Dakota. She is a robust and energetic woman, who often seems to more willing to do the things than talk about them. It's almost impossible to convey the things that happened in Standing Rock, or accurately express how things were. She told me all about her experiences on the drive, and we both glowed with anticipation. I was told of the beauty and strength in community that I would find there, but I didn't really understand it until I arrived sleep deprived with a woman I had just met! The sun had set, and we were in the middle of a blizzard when we stopped at the casino up the road for the night. We decided we would go inside and see who was around from camp, and sleep in the car if another option didn't present itself. I was astonished to find the casino was filled with groups of water protectors, and a few of them excitedly welcomed Gus back. We parted ways for about an hour, as she searched for people and I took it all in. As I passed various people I was overcome by the smell of wood smoke, and greeted with smiles. One group of people noticed my awkwardness, and motioned for me to join them. Within five minutes I had made a new friend named Sarah, who insisted that there was no way she would let Gus and I sleep in the car. With an open heart she offered to share her hotel room with us, a gesture which still fills me with emotion. We were warm that night thanks to Sarah, and I had my introduction to the magic of my new family.

Camping had always been some quaint thing people did from my point of view. I had never pitched a tent, started a fire, or survived outside of a house. Aside from a low level of experience on how to pee outdoors, I was an idiot when it came to "roughing it". So many aspects of my first week at camp were humbling, everywhere people were helping one another. I didn't bring a structure to live in, or attempt to put one up- I didn't need to. With the winter temperatures averaging a few degrees on a warm day and the tribe's insistence that people needed to go home, not many people were left in what was once a large camp. Sacred Stone never housed the volume of people Oceti did, but a few months before it had several times the meager population that was left in December. There were plenty of beds across camp that needed bodies, and I had many people welcomed me into their structures. For a time I slept all kinds of different places, keeping my belongings in Gus's car. She purchased a hotel room for two weeks, so that people could come up to the casino for showers. There is almost nothing better than a hot shower and a warm bed when you're in a great plains winter, and I certainly spent a few nights there with various groups of people who Gus brought in. That woman worked nonstop all day, and then spent the evening and night shuttling people to and from the room to shower. I was overwhelmed by how extreme things were, so much so that I fell in love. I have a rather odd reaction to stress. I woke up happy and filled with purpose within a week of arriving at camp. I was learning so many new things daily, with every job I worked on and every wonderful soul I met. I spent my first few weeks at camp helping with the construction of a structure called a paragon, which was to become a kitchen. I enjoyed hot meals made by those who felt drawn to the kitchen, and shared conversations late night by the sacred fire. When I started feeling the effects of the weather, I visited the medical Woganagan (I'm certain this is spelled incorrectly, and google can't help me) and was blessed with care from calm helpful volunteers who had an impressive apothecary at their disposal, along with many careful organized medical supplies. The three weeks that I planned on staying passed by quickly, and before I knew it my return to Ohio was only a few days away.

I hadn't spent much time with Gus at camp, outside of meeting up every few days. We were sharing our morning coffee when she smiled and said you're not leaving. It wasn't a question, we both knew what was up. I couldn't leave, and I believe my resolve must have been apparent. No, I'm staying I told her with a sheepish grin and she nodded her approval. Driving back across the country alone isn't an issue for a woman like that.