By Lara Updike
A few fierce notes from the lead singer and the heavy drumbeat began. Eleven men strained their jaws forward to belt out the minor intervals, their chins quivering to create a sort of vibrato. They pounded in unison on a drum the size of a manhole cover.
From the corner of the arena, four flag bearers led in hundreds of dancers while spectators stood reverently in the bleachers. Feathers, ribbons, shawls and beads of every color jogged with the beat. Some dancers moved softly, stepping toe-to-heel. Others showed off athletic footwork. All held their heads high, their expressions solemn as they filled the dance floor.
Every year, the scene overwhelms LaVay Talk.
'As you listen to the song, as you watch them come in, it shakes all your worries that you might have about what''s happening in today''s world,' says Talk, a Navajo with long waves of black hair. 'Powwow is really about faith, hope and all those things.'
Talk has coordinated the annual BYU powwow for 15 years. It''s the third largest in Utah and attracts hundreds of American Indians from all over the state, from the Four Corners Area, and from other regions of the western United States and Canada. They gather to sing, dance, honor one another and spend time with family and friends.
Caucasians who attended the event might have expected simply a dance demonstration, a reenactment of life before the white man came. To the contrary, powwows as intertribal dance and drumming competitions are a modern phenomenon only a few decades ago. Their popularity among all ages and their esoteric use of traditional symbols and customs show that American Indian culture is alive and well.
From the sheer length of the event - 15 hours over two days - to the quiet manners of the audience, BYU''s powwow reflected the character of a serene, stoic people.
'The powwow''s kind of different,' says Sky Young, a 22-yearl-old Navajo student who grew up in Gallup, N.M. 'It''s something to celebrate, but at the same time it''s kind of like a ceremony, something to honor.'
Powwows are also compared to family reunions. The elderly and the middle-aged, young parents with their children, and teens with their friends came to BYU''s celebration.
Mothers on the sidelines braided their daughters'' hair after meticulously parting it with a comb. Old men in Wranglers and cowboy hats sat with their arms crossed. Members of the drum waited their turn to play, soda bottles on the floor around their chairs. Some wore basketball shorts or baggy pants, and dark sweatshirts, their hair pulled tied back in ponytails.
A seven-year-old boy with black eyes and skin like caramel pudding hopped up and down on the risers, kicking his feet to the drum beat, anxiously waiting for his turn to compete. Two feather bustles fanned out behind him, their yellow ribbons and white feathers shaking with his movements.
Before he had his turn, the 'golden age' competitors took the floor in more somber regalia. Four wrinkled men waited for the music. But when the drum started, one refused to dance. It was a woman''s song, he complained.
Later, the matter was cleared up. The drum group that played for him was from Canada and their tribe''s song for men sounded like the southern tribes'' songs for women. The accuser apologized publicly, giving money to the Canadians to compensate for his discourtesy.
The 'golden age' women danced with shawls draped over their left arms, purses on their right arms. They danced elegantly, making only slight movements while the emcee spoke of the honor owed to mothers and grandmothers who bring people into the world.
The tiny tots competition included newborn babies carried about the dance floor in papooses. Toddlers and small children danced, some with surprising skill.
The powwow dances are usually learned from a family member, says Corey Smallcanyon, 25, who competed in powwows when he was a child. Smallcanyon, who wears a football jersey and turquoise ring, explained some of the dances'' symbols.
The grass dancers'' ribbons represent the prairie, he says. Their movements mimic stomping because the plains Indians had to trample down tall blades to clear a space to dance.
The men''s traditional dancers mimicked prairie chickens scratching the ground. Most wore porcupine roaches draped over their heads like skunk tails. Attached to their waist, circular bustles displayed a collection of eagle feathers.
The right to wear the sacred eagle feathers is earned by one''s experience as a dancer and accomplishments at powwows, Smallcanyon explains. Young boys and beginners usually use something like turkey feathers instead.
One dancer lost an eagle feather while dancing. A tribal wise man had to bless it before it was returned. The powwow stopped for this ceremony, which was followed by a gift exchange - money from spectators for the family of the misfortunate dancer, and money from the family for the wise man who helped their son.
Other parts of the dancers'' costumes have special meaning as well. From their belts, to their jewelry, to the way a woman''s hair is done, their clothing is symbolic.
'You''re kind of like a walking storyboard,' Young says.
The women''s dresses for the jingle dance come from the Chippewa tribe along the Canadian border. There''s a legend behind the rolled-up snuff can lids that are tied to the dresses with ribbons. A medicine man''s spirit guides showed him the dress and dance in a dream as a cure for his granddaughter''s illness.
The jingle dance is slower and more subdued than the women''s fancy shawl dance. The shawl dance also comes from the northern tribes. In this dance, women draped a shawl over their shoulders. They hopped and spun, their shawls spread out on their arms like butterfly wings.
'Intertribals' interrupted the whirling and stomping of the competitors. During the 'intertribals,' people of all races, in regalia or not, danced in a clockwise parade, smiling and talking.
Giveaways also interrupted the competition. BYU''s graduating Native Americans were recognized. Following tradition, they gave gifts to those who helped them earn their degree, as well as some of the powwow''s head staff. In a giveaway, at least one gift must be given to an elder, says Rutheyi Thompson, who will soon graduate in civil engineering and leave behind her post as president of the Tribe of Many Feathers.
Others were also honored, such as the powwow organizers, and the new Miss Indian BYU. The host drum honored them with a song. Spectators, crowded the arena to thank and congratulate them, leaving them little room to dance.
Just before the powwow ended with an exit similar to the Grand Entry, one more group was honored: the competition winners. Altogether, they received about $9,000 in prize money - almost double the amount handed out at last year''s powwow.
While the crowd congratulated the winners with loud cheers, to most American Indians, the powwow isn''t about money or competition. They talk about it as a chance to remember that they''re part of a bigger family.
The powwow blends together a few customs from an eclectic group of tribes, creating etiquette of its own. The powwow is new. It ignores traditional distinctions. However, it preserves many fundamentals of American Indian culture: reverence for the earth, for the elderly, for ceremony and for one another.
Mike Dugi, who grew up in the traditional Navajo way, says the powwow reflects nothing of his tribe''s customs, music or ceremonial dress. The powwow, he says, is a way for displaced and modernized American Indians to remember their roots.