Niskithe Prayer Camp Update — The Journey thus far…
by Erin Poor
Citizen of Cherokee Nation, member of Niskíthe Prayer Camp
It is mid-March. Nettles are beginning to break through the ground, the Sandhill cranes have arrived, and the Thunder Beings will soon make their return to the prairie. As the sun rises over southeast Lincoln, Nebraska, the landscape has once again changed, but not from natural causes. Snell Hill, the highest point in Lancaster County, and a place of historical, spiritual, and environmental significance to many, has been desecrated by bulldozers. Trees and medicine plants have been ripped from the ground; bird relatives displaced. Just east, flags fly from the tops of tipi poles.
The people of Niskíthe Prayer Camp, made up of Tribal citizens, environmental advocates, and people from all walks of life reconnecting with Mother Earth, mobilized again on February 6th, 2023, to protect Indigenous ceremony, and defend the land and waters. One of our relatives who lives near Snell Hill alerted us to the arrival of the machines the week prior. It was the thing we had been dreading since the proposed development was brought to our attention in March of 2022.
Nearly one year ago, signs were placed by city officials along south 1st street between Pioneers Boulevard and Old Cheney, alerting area residents to a proposed change of zones. The area, then part of Lancaster County, had been zoned for agricultural purposes for generations, and before that, it was part of the Otoe Missouria peoples’ territory. In addition to being Otoe Missouria homelands, it was (and will forever be) an intertribal gathering place. People of many tribal nations came to the area to harvest salt from the Salt Creek, which winds its way through what we now call Wilderness Park. Undoubtedly, the original Indigenous stewards of this land would have gathered at the highest point in the area, what we now call Snell Hill.
Around the turn of the 20th century, a house was built not far from the banks of the Salt Creek. That house would eventually come to be known as the Flying Fish Farm and would be surrounded on three sides by Wilderness Park. On that property, tucked between the trees and set back from the road, a sweat lodge was built. Though we know that lodge was consecrated by the great Sicangu Lakota medicine man Chief Leonard Crow Dog in 1979, oral histories tell us that it had been there even before then, operating clandestinely when it was still illegal to practice Indigenous ceremonies in the United States. Chief Leonard Crow Dog was instrumental in advocating for Indigenous People’s right to religious freedom and was a part of the movement that led to the Native American Religious Freedom Act of 1978. His work and his subsequent consecration of sweat lodges across the country is American History, and we are fortunate to have a lodge in Lincoln that bears that history. For generations upon generations the Inipi ceremony has been life-sustaining and powerfully healing for countless people. Native and non-Native people alike will tell you stories about how that ceremony saved their life, helped them in their recovery from substance use, supported healing from acute and generational traumas, helped them reconnect to their ancestors, Mother Earth, a higher power, find community, and feel at home while away from their reservations. Impermanent and humble as the structure may be, the sweat lodge at the Fish Farm represents life, history, healing, and Indigenous resistance.
It was a shock then, when the ceremonial family who prays at the Fish Farm learned of the proposed housing development to be constructed directly across the street. The development, called Wilderness Crossing, would create nearly 600 housing units, bring in 1200 motor vehicles daily, and dramatically change the environment. Ceremonial practitioners raised the alarm at official city meetings in March and April of 2022, stating that a peaceful natural environment is vital to the practice of the ceremony there. Building a dense neighborhood across the street and annexing that area into the City of Lincoln would make the lodge vulnerable to city code violations like noise ordinances and open fire laws. New residents of Wilderness Crossing may hear loud singing or drumming late into the night and call the police. Likewise, our large sacred fire may scare new residents into calling first responders. Each scenario with the potential to disrupt ceremonies and lead to citations. Such a situation is no minor inconvenience, it is the contemporary version of Indigenous ceremonial persecution.
In addition to threatening ceremonial practices, the annexation into the City of Lincoln places financial burdens on the landowner of the Fish Farm, requiring major construction costs to connect her property to City Water and Sewage systems. The cost would likely be impossible for the landowner to meet and could force a sale, again threatening the future of the lodge and the ceremonies practiced there.
Environmental advocates and residents of the area near the proposed development also raised serious concerns about the destruction of natural habitat for plants and wildlife, light pollution, run-off and pesticide drift from the development into Wilderness Park and Salt Creek. Area residents who had seen flood waters at their doorsteps in 2015 warned that the development could make their homes and lives even more vulnerable with the loss of porous land to absorb excessive rainwater. With concrete roads and shingled roofs replacing soft earth, rainwater will run into the storm sewers and into Salt Creek, which have already been maxed out in extreme flooding events—events we can expect to see more of as the climate crises worsens.
Despite thousands of letters and hours of public testimony advocating for Indigenous ceremonial rights and warning of the environmental and personal property damage, Lincoln’s Planning Commission and City Council swiftly approved Wilderness Crossing. It should be noted that in six hours of public testimony at the City Council on April 18th, 2022, only one person testified in favor of the development, and that was a representative of Manzitto, the developer who stands to make millions from this project. The people of the city of Lincoln resoundingly rejected the development, citing numerous moral and environmental reasons, pointing to Lincoln’s 2050 comprehensive plan and demanding the city be accountable to the sustainable and ethical growth plan they themselves developed and published. But the elected representatives ignored the will of the people and approved all ordinances and amendments in support of Wilderness Crossing.
The day of the City Council’s vote, April 25th, 2022, there was a strong showing of Lincoln’s Native Community. Elders, teens, long-time advocates for Native Rights were sitting side by side with their Environmentalist allies. Though hundreds of letters, phone calls, and testimonies had addressed the concerns for the sweat lodge at the Fish Farm, the word sweat lodge wasn’t uttered once by the council members. The Native Elders in the room went unacknowledged and attempts made by Council Women Raybould and Washington for Environmental Impact studies were batted away like a bothersome fly. The motions passed. We were gutted.
One week after that decision, dawn rose on Snell Hill, illuminating seven tipis that had been erected overnight. Niskíthe Prayer Camp was established, and with our presence we stated, “We are still here. We are strong. We will remain.”
From May 2nd-May 18th we camped on Snell Hill. Through freezing rain, blazing hot days, and countless thunderstorms, our tipis stood tall. We were in ceremony, constantly in prayer, educating visitors, making new relatives, decolonizing our minds and hearts, singing late into the night, feeding the fires, reconnecting to the Land and each other. We made earnest attempts to negotiate with the Mayor, the City Council, with Manzitto, the developer, and the Catholic Diocese of Lincoln—the landowner prior to Manzitto. One thing was clear, no one was willing to take responsibility. Each entity, with their unique positioning, had ample resources to make decisions and effect change. All claimed powerlessness and abdicated responsibility for, yet another community of Indigenous people displaced for the sake of “development.” Demonstrating that neocolonialism is alive and well in this country, and even so-called liberal city administrations would not defend the land or Indigenous ceremonial rights when dollars were at stake.
With heavy hearts, uncertain if we were doing the right thing, many of us deeply conflicted, we took our last tipi down on May 18th, 2022. We needed to return to our homes, our jobs, our responsibilities. Our negotiations had not led to the protections for the land or the lodge, and Manzitto was threatening to send the police in the day they became the legal landowners. Rather than see our relatives in jail, and our tipis and sacred items in the hands of law enforcement, we changed tactics. We would come off the hill and continue our fight in the courts.
During the summer of 2022 we were blessed to be connected to the ACLU of Nebraska and Big Fire Law and Policy group, who agreed to represent the Niskíthe community pro-bono. This was the answer to many prayers, and thanks to the diligence of our dear friend Ken Winston. Our Indigenous-women led legal team went to work and on August 2nd, we formally filed a notice of appeal with the city, requesting a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals. It is our position that the City approved their actions in support of Wilderness Crossing outside of the legal administrative timelines and in violation of several parts of the 2050 Comprehensive plan. Nebraska State law mandates that a board be appointed to hear zoning disputes within the city of Lincoln. Our legal team sought to utilize that right. The City of Lincoln disagreed. On September 21st, the same day Mayor Leirion Gaylor Baird signed a proclamation declaring that day Otoe Missouria Day, her administration filed a lawsuit against Niskíthe representatives and the Indian Center, requesting a judge formally deny us our right to a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals.
On November 18th we were called to court. We came with our relatives, and we came with our tipi. Again, we gathered, brought our drum, sang our songs, brought our medicines, made our prayers, held up our signs, and shared our story with local journalists. We sat on the lawn of the courthouse in our tipi while our legal team argued for our rights.
Months passed, the calendar year changed, and finally on February 1st, 2023 we were given a decision. The Judge had ruled in Niskíthe’s favor. The City could not sue to block us from the Board of Zoning Appeals. The same day we celebrated our court win, the first bulldozer was moved onto Snell Hill. The city had tied our hands with their lawsuit for months, and now time had run out. We needed to get in front of the Board of Zoning Appeals and ask for all progress to be stopped while the entire project was reviewed. We began gathering, organizing, and strategizing. However, on Friday, February 3rd the City indicated to our legal team that despite the Judge’s ruling, we would not be offered a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals. We were out of time. We needed to act to defend the land.
Monday, February 6th in the early morning hours, we gathered in prayer, laid down tobacco, and raised our tipi polls yet again. The quiet of the morning dawn was broken by the sound of diesel engines. The desecration of Snell Hill was about to begin.
The land and ceremony defenders looked on in horror as the first trees were ripped from the ground. We could only take so much until we were compelled to step in. Several of us moved to put ourselves between the machines and the trees. The police arrived moments later. While we were up on the hill, witnessing the beginnings of the destruction, we saw a string of prayer ties in a heap on the ground. A bird that had been placed in a tree during a ceremony last spring was also displaced, laying in a heap next to splintered wood.
For months we had thought that Manzitto and the City were not listening to us. But that morning they demonstrated that they had heard us. They had heard us when we said that land was sacred, that hill held our prayers, and was home to many spirits and non-human relatives. With trees all over that property, they started there, on Snell Hill, where we had camped, where we made our prayers, the part of the land we were striving so hard to preserve. We understood then that they were listening, and that they wanted to hurt us.
Over the course of that painful day and the next, we had many relatives stand with us in support. Six of our people were arrested. Countless tree relatives lost their lives. The Lincoln Police Department established a large presence with multiple road blockades, nearly 20 police officers, and a 24-hr surveillance station. They had the land surrounded, and they ensured the desecration would continue undisrupted.
What could we do then but pray. Night fell and we once again walked the land, careful to avoid the eye of the surveillance cameras. It looked like a battlefield. The bodies of slain tree relatives laid in heaps on land scarred by giant tire treads. We stepped over broken limbs, said prayers for the fallen, laid down tobacco, and let our tears fall.
Our tipi still stands just east of Snell Hill. We gather there to pray and be with the land as she experiences these deaths, like sitting with a relative before they make their journey to the spirit world. Our prayer leaders tell us to be proud of what we have done, to keep our heads high, even as our hearts hang heavy in our chests. But we are lifted by one another, by the sacred fire, by our prayers, guided by our ancestors, and connected to one another through Spirit. We are still here. We are strong. And we will remain. The desecration and disrespect we experienced here in Lincoln has been going on for 500 years. It is not new, nor is it close to done. But we stood up and disrupted that system. And we will continue to do whatever we can to protect Unci Maka, Grandmother Earth, and to carry on the legacy of our ancestors who lived and died so that we could pray in our way.
Our legal fights continue. Now our relatives who were arrested make their way through the injustice system. We have trials set for April 24, May 1, and June 7th, 2023. Our legal team at Big Fire and ACLU of Nebraska submitted a new case against the City of Lincoln on Monday, March 6th, alleging that the city denied us our right to due process by withholding a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals. We will see this through using every avenue available to us. For we are committed to our Mother Earth and sustained by our ceremonies. We are blessed with new relationships, new kinship bonds that have formed over this past year, newcomers to our ceremonies, new supporters looking to do their part. We are focusing on healing and renewing our work to rematriate the land to Indigenous stewardship. We encourage everyone to move to be in right relation with each other and with Mother Earth, to see yourself and understand your role in the land back movement. We are all related. Mitakuye Oyasin.
Citizen of Cherokee Nation, member of Niskíthe Prayer Camp
It is mid-March. Nettles are beginning to break through the ground, the Sandhill cranes have arrived, and the Thunder Beings will soon make their return to the prairie. As the sun rises over southeast Lincoln, Nebraska, the landscape has once again changed, but not from natural causes. Snell Hill, the highest point in Lancaster County, and a place of historical, spiritual, and environmental significance to many, has been desecrated by bulldozers. Trees and medicine plants have been ripped from the ground; bird relatives displaced. Just east, flags fly from the tops of tipi poles.
The people of Niskíthe Prayer Camp, made up of Tribal citizens, environmental advocates, and people from all walks of life reconnecting with Mother Earth, mobilized again on February 6th, 2023, to protect Indigenous ceremony, and defend the land and waters. One of our relatives who lives near Snell Hill alerted us to the arrival of the machines the week prior. It was the thing we had been dreading since the proposed development was brought to our attention in March of 2022.
Nearly one year ago, signs were placed by city officials along south 1st street between Pioneers Boulevard and Old Cheney, alerting area residents to a proposed change of zones. The area, then part of Lancaster County, had been zoned for agricultural purposes for generations, and before that, it was part of the Otoe Missouria peoples’ territory. In addition to being Otoe Missouria homelands, it was (and will forever be) an intertribal gathering place. People of many tribal nations came to the area to harvest salt from the Salt Creek, which winds its way through what we now call Wilderness Park. Undoubtedly, the original Indigenous stewards of this land would have gathered at the highest point in the area, what we now call Snell Hill.
Around the turn of the 20th century, a house was built not far from the banks of the Salt Creek. That house would eventually come to be known as the Flying Fish Farm and would be surrounded on three sides by Wilderness Park. On that property, tucked between the trees and set back from the road, a sweat lodge was built. Though we know that lodge was consecrated by the great Sicangu Lakota medicine man Chief Leonard Crow Dog in 1979, oral histories tell us that it had been there even before then, operating clandestinely when it was still illegal to practice Indigenous ceremonies in the United States. Chief Leonard Crow Dog was instrumental in advocating for Indigenous People’s right to religious freedom and was a part of the movement that led to the Native American Religious Freedom Act of 1978. His work and his subsequent consecration of sweat lodges across the country is American History, and we are fortunate to have a lodge in Lincoln that bears that history. For generations upon generations the Inipi ceremony has been life-sustaining and powerfully healing for countless people. Native and non-Native people alike will tell you stories about how that ceremony saved their life, helped them in their recovery from substance use, supported healing from acute and generational traumas, helped them reconnect to their ancestors, Mother Earth, a higher power, find community, and feel at home while away from their reservations. Impermanent and humble as the structure may be, the sweat lodge at the Fish Farm represents life, history, healing, and Indigenous resistance.
It was a shock then, when the ceremonial family who prays at the Fish Farm learned of the proposed housing development to be constructed directly across the street. The development, called Wilderness Crossing, would create nearly 600 housing units, bring in 1200 motor vehicles daily, and dramatically change the environment. Ceremonial practitioners raised the alarm at official city meetings in March and April of 2022, stating that a peaceful natural environment is vital to the practice of the ceremony there. Building a dense neighborhood across the street and annexing that area into the City of Lincoln would make the lodge vulnerable to city code violations like noise ordinances and open fire laws. New residents of Wilderness Crossing may hear loud singing or drumming late into the night and call the police. Likewise, our large sacred fire may scare new residents into calling first responders. Each scenario with the potential to disrupt ceremonies and lead to citations. Such a situation is no minor inconvenience, it is the contemporary version of Indigenous ceremonial persecution.
In addition to threatening ceremonial practices, the annexation into the City of Lincoln places financial burdens on the landowner of the Fish Farm, requiring major construction costs to connect her property to City Water and Sewage systems. The cost would likely be impossible for the landowner to meet and could force a sale, again threatening the future of the lodge and the ceremonies practiced there.
Environmental advocates and residents of the area near the proposed development also raised serious concerns about the destruction of natural habitat for plants and wildlife, light pollution, run-off and pesticide drift from the development into Wilderness Park and Salt Creek. Area residents who had seen flood waters at their doorsteps in 2015 warned that the development could make their homes and lives even more vulnerable with the loss of porous land to absorb excessive rainwater. With concrete roads and shingled roofs replacing soft earth, rainwater will run into the storm sewers and into Salt Creek, which have already been maxed out in extreme flooding events—events we can expect to see more of as the climate crises worsens.
Despite thousands of letters and hours of public testimony advocating for Indigenous ceremonial rights and warning of the environmental and personal property damage, Lincoln’s Planning Commission and City Council swiftly approved Wilderness Crossing. It should be noted that in six hours of public testimony at the City Council on April 18th, 2022, only one person testified in favor of the development, and that was a representative of Manzitto, the developer who stands to make millions from this project. The people of the city of Lincoln resoundingly rejected the development, citing numerous moral and environmental reasons, pointing to Lincoln’s 2050 comprehensive plan and demanding the city be accountable to the sustainable and ethical growth plan they themselves developed and published. But the elected representatives ignored the will of the people and approved all ordinances and amendments in support of Wilderness Crossing.
The day of the City Council’s vote, April 25th, 2022, there was a strong showing of Lincoln’s Native Community. Elders, teens, long-time advocates for Native Rights were sitting side by side with their Environmentalist allies. Though hundreds of letters, phone calls, and testimonies had addressed the concerns for the sweat lodge at the Fish Farm, the word sweat lodge wasn’t uttered once by the council members. The Native Elders in the room went unacknowledged and attempts made by Council Women Raybould and Washington for Environmental Impact studies were batted away like a bothersome fly. The motions passed. We were gutted.
One week after that decision, dawn rose on Snell Hill, illuminating seven tipis that had been erected overnight. Niskíthe Prayer Camp was established, and with our presence we stated, “We are still here. We are strong. We will remain.”
From May 2nd-May 18th we camped on Snell Hill. Through freezing rain, blazing hot days, and countless thunderstorms, our tipis stood tall. We were in ceremony, constantly in prayer, educating visitors, making new relatives, decolonizing our minds and hearts, singing late into the night, feeding the fires, reconnecting to the Land and each other. We made earnest attempts to negotiate with the Mayor, the City Council, with Manzitto, the developer, and the Catholic Diocese of Lincoln—the landowner prior to Manzitto. One thing was clear, no one was willing to take responsibility. Each entity, with their unique positioning, had ample resources to make decisions and effect change. All claimed powerlessness and abdicated responsibility for, yet another community of Indigenous people displaced for the sake of “development.” Demonstrating that neocolonialism is alive and well in this country, and even so-called liberal city administrations would not defend the land or Indigenous ceremonial rights when dollars were at stake.
With heavy hearts, uncertain if we were doing the right thing, many of us deeply conflicted, we took our last tipi down on May 18th, 2022. We needed to return to our homes, our jobs, our responsibilities. Our negotiations had not led to the protections for the land or the lodge, and Manzitto was threatening to send the police in the day they became the legal landowners. Rather than see our relatives in jail, and our tipis and sacred items in the hands of law enforcement, we changed tactics. We would come off the hill and continue our fight in the courts.
During the summer of 2022 we were blessed to be connected to the ACLU of Nebraska and Big Fire Law and Policy group, who agreed to represent the Niskíthe community pro-bono. This was the answer to many prayers, and thanks to the diligence of our dear friend Ken Winston. Our Indigenous-women led legal team went to work and on August 2nd, we formally filed a notice of appeal with the city, requesting a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals. It is our position that the City approved their actions in support of Wilderness Crossing outside of the legal administrative timelines and in violation of several parts of the 2050 Comprehensive plan. Nebraska State law mandates that a board be appointed to hear zoning disputes within the city of Lincoln. Our legal team sought to utilize that right. The City of Lincoln disagreed. On September 21st, the same day Mayor Leirion Gaylor Baird signed a proclamation declaring that day Otoe Missouria Day, her administration filed a lawsuit against Niskíthe representatives and the Indian Center, requesting a judge formally deny us our right to a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals.
On November 18th we were called to court. We came with our relatives, and we came with our tipi. Again, we gathered, brought our drum, sang our songs, brought our medicines, made our prayers, held up our signs, and shared our story with local journalists. We sat on the lawn of the courthouse in our tipi while our legal team argued for our rights.
Months passed, the calendar year changed, and finally on February 1st, 2023 we were given a decision. The Judge had ruled in Niskíthe’s favor. The City could not sue to block us from the Board of Zoning Appeals. The same day we celebrated our court win, the first bulldozer was moved onto Snell Hill. The city had tied our hands with their lawsuit for months, and now time had run out. We needed to get in front of the Board of Zoning Appeals and ask for all progress to be stopped while the entire project was reviewed. We began gathering, organizing, and strategizing. However, on Friday, February 3rd the City indicated to our legal team that despite the Judge’s ruling, we would not be offered a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals. We were out of time. We needed to act to defend the land.
Monday, February 6th in the early morning hours, we gathered in prayer, laid down tobacco, and raised our tipi polls yet again. The quiet of the morning dawn was broken by the sound of diesel engines. The desecration of Snell Hill was about to begin.
The land and ceremony defenders looked on in horror as the first trees were ripped from the ground. We could only take so much until we were compelled to step in. Several of us moved to put ourselves between the machines and the trees. The police arrived moments later. While we were up on the hill, witnessing the beginnings of the destruction, we saw a string of prayer ties in a heap on the ground. A bird that had been placed in a tree during a ceremony last spring was also displaced, laying in a heap next to splintered wood.
For months we had thought that Manzitto and the City were not listening to us. But that morning they demonstrated that they had heard us. They had heard us when we said that land was sacred, that hill held our prayers, and was home to many spirits and non-human relatives. With trees all over that property, they started there, on Snell Hill, where we had camped, where we made our prayers, the part of the land we were striving so hard to preserve. We understood then that they were listening, and that they wanted to hurt us.
Over the course of that painful day and the next, we had many relatives stand with us in support. Six of our people were arrested. Countless tree relatives lost their lives. The Lincoln Police Department established a large presence with multiple road blockades, nearly 20 police officers, and a 24-hr surveillance station. They had the land surrounded, and they ensured the desecration would continue undisrupted.
What could we do then but pray. Night fell and we once again walked the land, careful to avoid the eye of the surveillance cameras. It looked like a battlefield. The bodies of slain tree relatives laid in heaps on land scarred by giant tire treads. We stepped over broken limbs, said prayers for the fallen, laid down tobacco, and let our tears fall.
Our tipi still stands just east of Snell Hill. We gather there to pray and be with the land as she experiences these deaths, like sitting with a relative before they make their journey to the spirit world. Our prayer leaders tell us to be proud of what we have done, to keep our heads high, even as our hearts hang heavy in our chests. But we are lifted by one another, by the sacred fire, by our prayers, guided by our ancestors, and connected to one another through Spirit. We are still here. We are strong. And we will remain. The desecration and disrespect we experienced here in Lincoln has been going on for 500 years. It is not new, nor is it close to done. But we stood up and disrupted that system. And we will continue to do whatever we can to protect Unci Maka, Grandmother Earth, and to carry on the legacy of our ancestors who lived and died so that we could pray in our way.
Our legal fights continue. Now our relatives who were arrested make their way through the injustice system. We have trials set for April 24, May 1, and June 7th, 2023. Our legal team at Big Fire and ACLU of Nebraska submitted a new case against the City of Lincoln on Monday, March 6th, alleging that the city denied us our right to due process by withholding a hearing with the Board of Zoning Appeals. We will see this through using every avenue available to us. For we are committed to our Mother Earth and sustained by our ceremonies. We are blessed with new relationships, new kinship bonds that have formed over this past year, newcomers to our ceremonies, new supporters looking to do their part. We are focusing on healing and renewing our work to rematriate the land to Indigenous stewardship. We encourage everyone to move to be in right relation with each other and with Mother Earth, to see yourself and understand your role in the land back movement. We are all related. Mitakuye Oyasin.
