Ken Thomas shares about a home whose surroundings hold spiritual connection and historical significance for him and his ancestors. 
Where do you go to feel a deep connection to a place or body of water? 

Transcript:
I'm Ken Thomas. I'm a member of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Dakota Community. I'm an elder, and I'm 72 years old. 
I had a house on the reservation, and I sold that house to my son, Zachary. He didn't want to build his house, so he said, “Dad, can I just buy your house and you can build again?” And I said, “Sure, that would be great.” 
So in the meantime, I was looking at properties, and I was in Eden Prairie, and high on the river bluff was this house and it overlooked the valley below. And in the distance I could see Mystic Lake. And if I brought my vision in and I looked down, I could see the Minnesota River and a beautiful bend in that river. I could see that view from every window on the south side of that house. As soon as I was in that house, I knew that this was the place. 
There was a spiritual connection with the Minnesota River. In that one single view, I could see the past and the present because the Mdewakanton People used to use that Minnesota River as their source of water and as transportation. So if I look to the right, I could see approximately where Shakopee's village was, and if I look to the left, I could see where Black Dog’s village was, and I could just envision the ancestors taking their canoes and going down the river from village to village. And if you went past Black Dog’s village, you went into Mendota, and that's a sacred place where the Minnesota River and the Mississippi River come together. And then you enter the Mississippi, you go down to Little Crow’s village, which was Kap’oża, (“those who travel light”), and then down farther from that was my great great grandfather's village, Medicine Bottle’s village. So it was a special place. 
I did not grow up on the reservation. I grew up in South Saint Paul, Minnesota, and in South Saint Paul, they were big on Kap’oża, the Kap’oża Indians. I'd never heard of the Kap’oża Indians, and then I did some research when I got older, and I found out that it's not the Kap’oża Indians, Kap’oża is the name of the village that was Little Crow's village in South Saint Paul, right along the river, and you can still visit that site. There's a big sign there that says “site of the Kap’oża village,” and it gives the years that they were there. That house in Eden Prairie, man, that was a special holy place for me, anyway. I lived there, until I could get my land assignment and then build another property here on the reservation. I still drive up there every now and again, just to make that connection. And that's my water story.

Ken Thomas

For Sheldon Bryant, moving from southern California to Minnesota was eye opening. He describes his ancestors’ connection to this area and his hope for action that protects water. 
What inspires you to protect water? How do ancestral connection and caring for future generations influence your view of water?

Transcript:
My name is Sheldon Bryant or Waŋbdi Ohitika, which is Strong Eagle in Dakota. I am an enrolled member of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. I am 67 years old, Scorpio with a Bad Moon Rising, which is a water sign, I think.
I was born at a Naval Hospital in Riverside, California. I spent the first 48 years of my life in Southern California. I moved to Minnesota in 2002. I lived less than an hour to the beach, less than an hour to mountain skiing. I really didn't appreciate what I had out there, until I moved to Minnesota, and I noticed the sky was really blue. There were trees, no concrete walls, and there was water everywhere. And I really attached myself to the water. It's just part of me now, the lakes, the rivers, it was just something then, a background, and now it's more of a major thing for me. 
Things are smaller. When I moved here, I noticed, you know, 12 cars was a traffic jam. And I think my favorite place would be Minnehaha Falls because of the movement of the water. Stillwater, you know, the lift bridge, or just hanging out in that little town. It's just, I like to go thrift shopping. It's just, there's too many people in California. 18 hours a day, the freeway is bumper to bumper, five lanes each direction, and if you go to the beach, there's no space anywhere. 
I am pushing for the tribe for Father's Day sometime is to take us upstream and then let us canoe down to Murphy's Landing, and kind of get an idea of how the ancestors used to travel back and forth. My uncle, Little Crow, he led the Indian war in 1862, traveled extensively, because you would take wives—he had several—and you'd get them from other villages. And he was in the Lakota lands building a structure for his expanding families, and I know that they, we had horses, and we traveled well, so we were on the rivers, and that was our freeways. 
And I know that climate change and the weather patterns and the water's not going back into the ground, and it seems like we have drier years, and it's all a cycle, but one person can't do it alone. However, 350 million people, if they did the same thing, it would save a lot of water. Every little bit helps.

Sheldon Bryant

Cyndy Milda shares stories from her involvement in three water-centered protests. She reminds us of the importance of taking action to protect water, even if that means starting with small changes. 
What actions—big or small—can you take to protect our waters? 

Transcript:
Haŋ mitakuyepi Cyndy Milda, Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. Hello, my relatives, I am Cyndy Milda from the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. 
Water, in our language, or how we look at water is, water is life, because without water you cannot live. You need water for everything - to hydrate yourself, to plants, animals, everything really needs water to survive. In our culture, that is Mni Wiċoni, water is life. We can go without water for four days. We know that for sure. After that fourth day, that's where it becomes harder to go without water. 
So I've been on three horse rides. My main one was NoDAPL out in Standing Rock, South Dakota that my husband and I, we went and we rode against it. The other one was Winona LaDuke. We went all the way to Enbridge’s main site. We rode all the way there. So from Standing Rock to Enbridge, main facility up in North Dakota, couple hundred miles. The other ride that I did was Line 3 up in northern Minnesota. That was affecting Leech Lake, our Anishinaabe relatives, is where we were raising awareness. 
What I want to talk about NoDAPL is how it all started through a prayer. It was a prayerful protest. It wasn't no harm or anything like that. It was all through prayer. We would just go and we would sit there, and that's all we did, was sit and sit and sit and we'd be in prayer that whole time. And some people are like ‘that has to be pretty boring,’ but when you live that prayerful way of life, our Dakota life, it's not bad because you're there with like-minded people, so you weren't protesting violently or bringing violence at any time. 
That's just one step to save it for our future. We need to start cleaning up the water. There's so much that we can do on every level. It's just not water. It's every level to help Uŋci Mak̇a (Grandmother Earth). How can we cool Uŋci Mak̇a down? Less pollution, less cars, less using water. 
If we just take one small step every single day, we can make this world and this earth Uŋci Mak̇a, we can make her better. We can heal her over time. That would be my biggest thing is for the future is to heal her, to help clean up these bodies of waters, especially in Minnesota. 
Then look at our waŋbdi, our eagles. Growing up, I never saw eagles. Right now, I see at least an eagle a day. I never saw that when I was growing up. And so just making that small change. If we can do that with one animal species, we can do that with all of the water in Minnesota. 
If we make life simpler, it's so much easier. If we look at our ancestors, our ancestors looked and used the resources that they had around them. If they didn't have it, they didn't do it. Some of us, to this day, try to do that as much as possible. Yeah, things are a lot easier to buy. Yes, I have a gas line coming to my house that I need for heat. But if I didn't have that gas line, I could still use firewood. There's pros and cons to it all, like anything with our Dakota values and our Dakota teachings, how do we find that balance? As we go on and think about in the future, that's what we need to think about more is, how do we find that balance of life of how much is too much, how much is too excessive, and how much is okay?

Cyndy Milda

Kadence Lorinser invites listeners to imagine a young girl who embodies the symbiotic relationship between humans and water. Through this visualization, we can consider our responsibility for water.  
What images or people come to mind when you think about our responsibility for water?

Transcript:
Hello. My name is Kadence Lorinser. I am a member of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community, and this is my water story.  Water is the essence of life, an indispensable resource that sustains ecosystems, supports agriculture, and nurtures all living beings. Its importance cannot be overstated, as it plays a critical role in everything from hydration to sanitation, from transportation to recreation.  Amidst this intricate tapestry of water significance, imagine a young girl. She embodies the symbiotic relationship humans have with water, recognizing both its practical and recreational value. Her daily routine includes swimming at her grandparents’ house that happens to be on a lake. As she glides through the cool, refreshing water, she not only exercises her body, but also connects with nature on a profound level. With each stroke, she feels the rhythm of the water, a reminder of its life-giving properties.  Beyond the joy of swimming, she understands the broader implications of water's indispensability. She learns about water conservation and is mindful of the finite nature of this precious resource. Through education and advocacy, she strives to protect the lakes, rivers, and oceans that sustain life on earth.

Kadence Lorinser

Transcript:
In the Dakota language, our word for water is Mni. Mni is one of the sacred elements that has been given to us. With Dakota culture, Dakota worldview, we recognize and respect the power of Mni. Mni Wiċoni, water is life, Mni Wak̇aŋ, water is sacred. What makes something sacred or wak̇aŋ? One definition our elders and teachings explain that if something is wak̇aŋ, it has the power to give life or to take life away. The sacred element Mni is used by all living things for survival. Mni Wak̇aŋ, water is one of these sacred elements. 
A few years ago, I was teaching the importance of water to my younger son, at the time his age was around five years old, and he asked the question, “Where does water come from?” That's a great question. I wanted to show him an example of where we get fresh drinking water, so I brought him to one of our Dakota village sites, Ṫíŋta Oṫuŋwe, along the Minnesota River. And we were able to go down there and fill our own water bottles. And he got to drink water straight from a freshwater spring. 
And so I think the light bulbs were going off in his head that he drew the connection that water comes from this Earth. And so he walked away, I think, that day, knowing that not only is he getting his water from the Earth, but generations before him got water from that same location. And if you look at our Dakota village sites along the Minnesota River, most of those village sites were chosen, those locations, based on the availability to fresh drinking water through freshwater springs. It's great that he has that teaching now, and hopefully he can strengthen his relationship and understanding of where water comes from and why it's such an important resource for our people. 
Historically, for the last couple hundred, if not thousands of years, Dakota people have relied on these water sources for survival. Much of their food comes from these water sources – fish, beavers, muskrats and the great migratory patterns of waterfowl that come through this river valley area, it was just an abundance of food associated with water, and some evidence of that is so many of the arrowhead points and spear points have been found on the shores of all these great lakes in Minnesota. And so it proves that Dakota people relied heavily on these waterways for food. 
We still do today something that's, you know, maybe more regulated, but certain times of the year, we’ll go out and harvest certain foods from these waterways, and we do have ceremonies that are tied to these certain seasons, and these certain food sources. 
One of the most important food sources Dakota people relied on in southern Minnesota and northern Minnesota area was psiŋ. Psiŋ is wild rice. This wild rice is a very sensitive plant. It requires good water quality, constant water movement, and just the right depth of water, and really we harvest it in ptaŋyetu, the fall time. And there's really about two moon cycles that are dedicated to harvesting this important food source to get through the winter. We call it Psiŋhnaketu Wi, the moon where the rice is harvested and set up to dry. 
So our Dakota people have harvested this for hundreds of years, maybe thousands of years, and recently, this wild rice returned here in southern Minnesota with our recent drought the last few years. So we got the opportunity to go out and harvest this wild rice. And it's just a great time to be out on the water knowing that this is something our ancestors relied so heavily on. We were able to get a couple of different canoes full, and we went through the process of blanching that over fire and getting it prepared to dry. The grains here are a little smaller than the ones up north, but just happy that we're able to harvest psiŋ once again. 

Continued in Comments

Andy Vig

Caitlin Welch has fond memories of spending time fishing with family as a child. Since then, her learning of the Dakota Language and involvement with NoDAPL have shown her the need to protect our waters. 

Does your family have any traditions with water? Has your view of water changed over time?

Transcript:

Haŋ mitakuyepi. Dak̇ota ia Winuna de miye waṡicu ia Caitlin Welch emakiyapi ye. In Dakota, I am called Winuna, and in English, my name is Caitlin Welch, and I'm a member of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community.  

Water is life. Mni Wiċoni. We can't live without it. It sustains us, from drinking it to eating the food it gives us. We need water to live, and that's why we're here, because we have water. No being can live without water. Protecting our water is very important. As a Native American person, we have had our rights taken away, and now we're trying to reclaim our water rights specifically. And this includes, you know, the ways we fish and the way we use water in everyday life. It needs to be protected and cared for, just like any other being. Almost all of my childhood, all my summer activities, revolved around water. I was swimming every day out on the lake, out on the boat. As a kid, most of my memories are out on the boat doing a lot of fishing.  

Fishing was very important to my family. Every summer, we'd go up to our cabin and we'd fish almost every single day, my dad had all these secret spots on the lake we'd fish, that weren't really that secret. It was right at the end of the dock.  

He taught us everything we needed to know, from tying the knot to setting the hook and then fileting the fish. Fishing was a part of life for me, really. I remember spending hours and hours out on the lake and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, and it was all worth it for all those amazing family fish fries we would have. I remember at the end of summer, we'd have these huge stores of fish filets, and my dad would invite all the relatives over, and we had these big fish fries out on the shore, and it was just a beautiful experience. And that was like our family time, and like our way of feeding ourselves and feeding our relatives as well. Just the phrase Mni Wiċoni, water is life, I fully understand that now. I guess I didn't even know those words before I started learning the language a couple years ago. I think that it was really the NoDAPL pipeline that really made me understand, yeah, we need to protect our water, and it can get very bad, and we need to not have these pipelines. And I know that there's even more pipelines everywhere else, in, one here in Minnesota too, and it goes right up north, right through up north, and that's where all the good lakes are. So that does worry me that the water will one day be polluted by that pipeline.  

There's a lot of place names in Minnesota and towns that are still named in Dakota that we kind of mispronounce, Owamniyomni. That's where the St Anthony's Falls is, and that was our sacred waterfall. And there's used to be an island there, and that was very sacred place to our people. And then where the two rivers met, that was mdote. So mdote was where Fort Snelling is now still is  mdote. Our people, Mdewak̇aŋṫuŋwaŋ’s, we are the Dwellers of the Spirit Lake. That was considered, there's some debate, but it was mostly considered to be Lake Mille Lacs, and that's where our people traditionally gathered and also fished. That water is very sacred to us, and still is. There's many words in Dakota that involve water. We have a word for everything. So, Mni is just water. Wakpa is river. Mde is Lake. Water is life, and we need to protect water. It's the most sacred thing on Uŋci Mak̇a, Grandmother Earth, and we need to protect it.

Caitlin Welch

Shea Bryant recalls childhood memories of water from swimming pools to the ocean. She describes the deep ancestral connection she discovered after moving to this part of Minnesota. 
What cultural values have impacted your view of water? 
Where do you feel most at home? 

Transcript:
My name is Shea Bryant. I am a member of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. My true earliest memory of water was when my brother Michael and I were very small, and our mother had taken us to Palm Springs. And while she was still sleeping, we put socks on our hands and climbed into the pool so that we could crawl around the edge of the pool, like sideways, around the entirety of the pool. And that's how my mom found us was in the pool with the socks on our feet. She wasn't very happy, but I recall it quite fondly. 
We were pretty young. We lived in an apartment complex that had a public pool as well, and kind of not long after that, she started having us actually learn how to swim instead of just going around the sides of the pool. 
Our dad had a sailboat, and we were in between Long Beach and Catalina Island for whatever reason. I don't know if I jumped off or fell off, but I was in the water, and there was so much seaweed wrapped around my legs, and I didn't know how to comprehend that, really, at that age, and it scared me. And I still, to this day, don't quite love going in the ocean, because that fear is still pretty strong. 
Having transplanted here in my 20s, when I think of Minnesota, I really gravitate towards the Minnesota River and everything that's off 101 here in Shakopee, because it really speaks to what this place is, where my ancestors are from. One of the more incredible things about being here is that it's not just significant in the sense that, oh yes, it's a river that's a part of – no it's here, specifically here, they were here. My blood is here. That's a different way to look at your culture as you try to find it. 
Because of where I was raised, in Southern California, we had a lot of that drought culture. Growing up, wanting that water, needing to conserve water, was always really big. You could watch a commercial on TV, and Shaquille O'Neal would tell you to turn off the water while you were brushing your teeth until you were ready to rinse. I think that made getting that weather that much better at that moment right before it rains, and you can smell it, and it's like right there. There's an abundance of that here, which I think is very enjoyable. I think there are an incredible amount of things that need to and should be occurring when it comes to how we care for our environment and how we care for our planet in a way that will create more sustainability for future generations.

Shea Bryant

Charlie Vig recounts childhood memories of the Minnesota River, as well as changes he has seen to the Community’s water infrastructure over time. 
Have you seen your community’s use of water change over time? What hopes do you have for the future of water in your community? 

Transcript:
My name is Charlie Vig. I live in the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. I've grown up most of my life here. I retired as the Chairman of the tribe. 
When we moved to the reservation around 1969, we all had wells on our property, but that took a while to get. I remember, I don't know how old I was, and we would travel to two different springs, both in Eden Prairie, I believe. We had grown up in Eden Prairie, close by there. I just always remember having this big milk jug in our kitchen, and then we would dip water out of it to drink. Fast forward to 2024 we have sophisticated systems for all of our members, including running two different water lines to each home, one for irrigation and one for drinking. 
So as a child, I always remember the trips that my mom and I took, and my sister probably. We’d go down to the river and find snapping turtles, go fishing, and collect sweet corn. From what I remember, it was mostly if we were going to a large gathering or a powwow at one of the other tribes. And so we would bring gunny sacks of sweet corn. But in that process, we'd we would definitely go fishing on the river. I remember a little stream that came off of it, and a little bridge. That's where we'd catch most of our fish. In fact, I think it came from the springs that we would get the water from. And then we'd also pick up a snapping turtle or two. And I don't believe I knew what that was for, other than it was fun to catch. And I remember them very large. The last one I remember, I stood on it, and it stood up and started walking. So, I don't know if I was just that small or if it was that big. And then later on in life, I realized that every time we did that, we had turtle soup. It was very good. I remember that. 
I don't remember my mom having any fears of the water, but when we would be down by the river, she would warn us of the dangers of the currents. It's pretty powerful, watching the river, you know, and seeing how fast the current is. And when we'd fish in the water, you know, in the river, you'd just see how fast your bobber would go downstream. And I probably heard stories of my siblings in the river, and maybe that was enough to keep me out of the river. Being the youngest of eight children, I learned a lot, I'm sure, by their life lessons. 
The river was always just a real memorable place because it was such a large body of water, I guess. Our community has set some high standards for our drinking water. I mean, we put out a water report to all the members periodically. I know early on, the past council had looked at other alternatives to reuse the water, and now we have a pretty elaborate filtration system. So we bring all of this sewage to our central plant, and we process the liquids and we filter it out, and then we release it back into our ponds that goes naturally into the river. So by the time it comes out of our plant, you can drink it. It seems to be working, and it relieved the need to have to rely on the local sewage treatment plant so we're more independent.

Charlie Vig

Allene Ross describes water’s centrality to Dakota names, culture, and the countless beings who depend on it to survive. She shares concerns about its future.  
What concerns do you have for our water and the creatures who depend on it?

Transcript:
My name is Allene Ross, K̇éya Abdeza emakiyapi ye (I am called Watches Over Turtles) is my Dakota name.
Bdewak̇aŋṫuŋwaŋ taŋyaŋ yahi, that's where I'm from. Mni Wiċoni, water is life. Mni is water. Wiċoni is life. Bdewak̇aŋṫuŋwaŋ, by virtue of its name, is the water spirit people, and I don't take that name very lightly in my everyday life. 
When my dad told me what defined that name was that I look over and watch out, over or looking into is abdeza, turtles. And so turtles, by virtue of their existence, live in the water, and so their environment needs to be protected. And all of the water spirits need protection, our protection. 
I've spent all of my life around water, swimming in the Minnesota River, living along the river valley, swimming in cricks and ponds. I feel like I'm partially fish. Some of my earliest memories are fishing in the cricks with just safety pins and string and a stick, eating turtle soup. And it didn't matter what kind of turtle soup it was, it was snapper or if it was red sliders – they’re the ones with the red on the side of their ears. Eating fish, every kind of fish you can imagine – cleaning fish! I worked along Lake Travers with a big family. They were the James family. And as kids, we used to clean fish who did the most, who could clean the fastest. Fish scales in my hair was designer at that time. Smelling like fish, I'm sure. I did it all. So everything was about fish or the river. 
When I was a little girl, I was lucky to have my grandfather in my life, and he would take me on walks, and he’d tell me stories. He took me into the state park where there's a lot of granite stone, and there were little, looked like erosion basins with water in them. And my grandpa said the ċaŋotidaŋ, the little people. He's told me a lot of stories about what they do and, but he said, this is their wash basin. They wash in this water. So try not to disturb those. Those don't belong to us. 
I have a pond in my backyard, and I attract all the birds and turkeys and woodpeckers, and I have some ducks who come flying in, providing a good water source for some of the animals. They need good clean water sources. The water itself is a spirit, is a living creature, and the inhabitants of the water need protection. And I'm not even talking just about the fish or the turtles. I'm talking about the microscopic beings that need to survive in that environment. 
That is my greatest fear for my children and my grandchildren. The winters are getting drier. I remember 12, 15-foot snow drifts, driving down McKenna Road, and now they're maybe two or three feet, and that's all groundwater, and it's essential to springtime. 
There are already battles being fought across our country for water, for cattle, for swimming pools. Those are the least of our concerns. The concern should be for the water itself.

Allene Ross

Danny Crooks expresses a deep appreciation for water, one that has evolved through different seasons of his life. He describes feeling calm when he is around bodies of water. 
How do you feel when you spend time near water?

Transcript:
Hi. My name is Danny Crooks. I'm a member of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community.
I'm originally from Granite Falls. I was born in 1949, and we moved away from Granite Falls, I think in 1959. We were maybe a mile away from the Minnesota River, and that's where me and my cousins played a lot out in the woods and down by the river. We used to seine minnows and cook them up, stick a little stick through their mouth, and then put them on a fire and eat them like chips.
In our house, we didn't have running water. Our water source was a hand pump up in a golf course. We used to run up there with some steel milk cans and hand pump and fill them up and then take them home. And that's what we use for drinking, cooking and bathing. I would go with my dad, and sometimes my uncles and my older brothers. We’d go up there, and he'd fill up the cans and we’d put them in the back of the trunk and bring them down. I think it was only maybe two miles from our house, the golf course. I think around ’57 or ’58 my dad plumbed the house, and he got this big fuel oil drum that he put up, and we used to fill that up. It was a clean one, not a used one. We'd fill that up, and he'd have gravity flow into the house. So that's how our running water came to be, and we had a sink and a faucet. It's just that there was no pressure, it was just dribbling out. 
When we moved from the Cities out to Prior Lake here, we didn't have water. My dad built a house there, but we didn't have water. But they did dig a well, and that was, that was a big deal back then. My uncle and my dad, they actually dug a septic system, and they used, I remember, cinder blocks, you know, like you build a basement. So we did have an indoor toilet. 
Before that, we had an outdoor outhouse that was up next to the this, this field, and that's where my dad, on the east side, had a window cut. And every time you went in there, while you were in there, doing your business, this horse would come in, Dexter, he'd put his head in there, and God in the wintertime, you'd rub his muzzle, and it's nice and soft and warm, you know. But every time somebody would go in there, he'd come on there and keep you company.
People out here used to live in trailer houses and little old houses that they built, and most of them were just well water. But once the Community got started, and we had a water tower put in, and we had septic systems put in and water lines put in. That's probably in the 70s and 80s. You really appreciate water and you didn't waste it. That was pretty important. Like, if you had a glass of water and you didn't drink at all, you know, and they threw it away, that was just a waste there. Now, even when I go to restaurants, they give me a glass of water, I drink it right up. I hate it when they fill it right back up, because I hate to leave it, but I'll drink it up. And I think that's just from my childhood.
I like being around the river or any body of water. I just like the shadows in the water. In the summer, when the sun's going down, you can see the reflections in the trees in the water. You know, it's just, it's just a calming place, especially when me and my brother or my son and some friends go up north and we go kayaking, it's just serene and quiet and calming being on the lake. You know, it's just enjoying nature.

Danny Crooks

The Minnesota Humanities Center offers a new way to think about our future—grounded in the humanities. Our state is rapidly changing and growing even more diverse. Look around. In case after case, in community after community, we too often choose not to listen to each other. As a result, we experience gaps and breakdowns.
 
The Humanities Center’s approach affirms we’re all in this together—using philosophy, literature, art, music, history and language—we focus on what unites us not divides us.

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