Today the Waccamaws of Colum- 

 bus and Bladen counties celebrate a 

 kind of cultural revolution with 

 traditional craft workshops, an annual 

 powwow, oral histories and a detailed 

 research report that helps fit together 

 missing pieces in an ancient puzzle. 



As far as any kind of written 

 history, language or songs, there are 

 only a few things that the Waccamaws 

 can put their hands on. "That's one of 

 the biggest problems with the 

 Waccamaws," says Brenda J. Moore, 

 community developer for the N.C. 

 Commission of Indian Affairs and a 

 Waccamaw from Bolton. 



And the Waccamaws are not 

 alone. 



By the early 1700s, most of the 

 Indian tribes in what is now eastern 

 North Carolina were killed or dis- 

 persed by war, disease and European 

 settlement. 



In the decades before, the 

 Waccamaws, a Siouan tribe, hunted 

 and traded peacefully by the waters of 

 the Cape Fear and the lake and river 

 they called Waccamaw. They mi- 

 grated to fight in the Tuscarora War of 

 171 1, then the Vocamas War near 

 South Carolina in 1720. 



After that war, the Waccamaws 

 and the Cape Fears, another Siouan- 

 speaking tribe, could not be found. 

 Historians suggest that some may 

 have assimilated with larger tribes 

 such as the Catawbas of South 

 Carolina or the Pee Dee Indians. 

 Others may have fled back to their 

 swampy homeland near Lake 

 Waccamaw. 



Cloistered from adversaries and 

 white settlements, the Waccamaws 

 kept quiet. For the next 160 years, few 

 accounts except U.S. Census records 

 tell the story of the survivors. 



A resurgence in Indian heritage 

 stirred in North Carolina's eastern 



band of Waccamaws in the 1880s. 

 By 1910, they had formed their first 

 tribal council called the Wide Awake 

 Indians. The struggle for education 

 eluded them for several decades to 

 follow. With few educated members 

 to record the history, more traditions 

 were lost. 



THE WIND SPEAKS 



TO THOSE 

 WHO WILL LISTEN. 

 IT WHISPERS 

 THROUGH THE PINES 

 AND DANCES 

 ON THE WATER 

 AT LAKE WACCAMAW. 



IT BLOWS OVER 

 SCRUBBY FLATLANDS 

 AND THROUGH 

 THE FORESTS. 

 AND IT BREATHES 

 COOL COMFORT 



FORA PEOPLE 

 STRUGGLING TO 

 FIND THEIR PAST. 



Growing up, Brenda Moore felt 

 the void. 



"I feel like I'm just missing part 

 of my heritage because those things 

 weren't passed on. And I don't know 

 the history, and I can't associate with 

 it that well," she says. "There's an 

 empty space." 



From the day her twin sons were 

 bom 21 years ago, she vowed to 

 change that. 



"I want mine to learn as much 

 book education as they can, and I 

 want them to learn as much heritage- 

 type education as possible," Moore 

 says. "It's like part of you is missing 

 that you never regain ... you never get 

 back." 



Other Waccamaw-Siouans in the 

 communities of Buckhead, Ricefield 

 and St. James share her conviction. A 



regeneration of Indian heritage began 

 in the 1960s. 



The daughter of the tribal chief 

 met the challenge with an idea. 



"I realized we had lost our 

 language, and I realized we were 

 losing everything else unless we 

 preserved it," says Chief Jacobs. 



With help, she started an annual 

 powwow to celebrate the past and 

 bring together the community. The 

 idea caught on. Last year, more than 

 4,000 people attended the 21st 

 annual Waccamaw-Siouan Powwow, 

 held the third weekend in October. 



Indians young and old dance the 

 Rain Dance, bless the ground, sing 

 and parade a newfound heritage. A 

 highlight is an elaborate regalia of 

 tanned hides and suedes, colored 

 feathers, bells, shells, bone breast- 

 plates and beadwork. 



The dances and the costumes 

 mirror the Plains Indian culture. But 

 Waccamaw traditions and pride 

 shine through. 



The tribe held its first powwow 

 about 1970 on known tribal grounds 

 at Lake Waccamaw. Such harvest 

 gatherings are typical of their 

 ancestors, tribal members say, as are 

 many of the skins that dancers wear 

 and the foods that they eat such as 

 com soup, venison and fish. More 

 than that, though, the powwow 

 evokes a rich community spirit. 



"What you see when you go, this 

 is Indian, this is Western," says 

 Patricia Lerch, a cultural anthropolo- 

 gist at the University of North 

 Carolina at Wilmington. "The people 

 are involved. They make these 

 costumes. They bead them. They 

 work on the designs themselves. 

 They become very personal. ... The 

 entire community gets behind the 

 kids as they weave in their own 



Continued 



COASTWATCH 17 



