Ohpemenshee (American Chestnut) Reflection

On Earth Day, members of the Nanticoke, Lenape, and Nanticoke Lenni-Lenape Tribes came together to rekindle our relationships with the only known mature Ohpemenshee (Lenape for American Chestnut) tree in the state of Delaware. Our tribes have a long history with Ohpemenshee and our stories are interwoven. The tree and our people have survived foreign disease, withstood erasure, been hiding in plain sight, and we are still here.

At the inter-tribal event, over two dozen people made Prayer Ties, hiked to the tree, recognized it in Lenape and Nanticoke (Ohpemenshee (Lenape), Īhkwamins (Nanticoke), made commitments to the tree and natural world, and hugged and reunited with the plant relative. This program was a collaboration between tribal leadership from the three tribes, Delaware Nature Society, and NRFF. 

Rebecca Lamar (Nanticoke), an author and consultant in early childhood education, reflected on the experience in this article for Skirt in the Dirt:

This Earth Day I had a truly intimate experience with nature. Many times in the past, my inner educator would delight in creating opportunities and lessons surrounding why we need to keep the earth safe and what the impact on humanity would be if we lost all our beloved trees and water sources. What I experienced this particular Earth Day was a different kind of action bringing about protection and connection to our sacred Mother Earth. Deep within the forest of the Coverdale Farm Preserve is a majestic marvel of the past; the American Chestnut Tree, once populating the east coast like a blanket of green canopy from the deep south, through the northeast is now in danger of extinction and we were on a journey of love and protection. I remember one tribe’s member sharing that, “it was said that a squirrel could make it from Georgia to Maine without touching the ground.” The tree once provided a great amount of resources to the Indigenous people of this region hundreds of years ago. And it was because of that detail, that I found myself in the forest, far from the buzz of Wilmington, walking, touching, feeling, breathing in the gift that is ours: PURE nature. A year ago, I was still looking for my connection to the land, and even though I was aware that in some way, I was connected to the land, I didn’t know where it was coming from, and how I was supposed to strengthen that tie. In the chaos of the world around me I had forgotten that you just have to start your own journey back to your native roots. And even though I was not sure how to take care of the land, I certainly felt a need to do it.

Last Saturday afternoon, the air was stirring, but not more than a gentle breeze. The sun was out, but not particularly hot, and the creatures were quiet, as humans walked through their homestead, carefully stepping over critical flowers and food sources on the forest floor. As I began down the hill, I quickly noticed that the leaves were moving steadily as we entered the forest away from the gravel trail. I noticed bright outbursts of color from the wildflowers on the side of the path. I began to hear some birds singing, possibly discussing their tasty breakfast of bugs. I walked over a fallen, rotted tree and smelled an earthy woody musk, quickly transporting me back to Girl Scout camp. I knew this smell, I knew those flowers, and I knew I was supposed to be in the forest, walking carefully on a land that my ancestors and their sister tribes walked, lived and cared for as a community. And while in my 2023 mindset, I was considering how I was going to “post this adventure on my Instagram,” but I also felt the need to put my phone away and tap into the undercurrent of the magic of the wild. My peers, fellow tribe members of the Nanticoke Indian Tribe, Lenape Indian Tribe of Delaware, Nanticoke Lenni-Lenape Tribal Nation, also began to quiet down as we got closer to the very last American Chestnut Tree in the state of Delaware. In Nanticoke, the word for American Chestnut is “Īhkwamins,” and hearing that word for the first time, had me reflect on how much more I was hoping to learn about this treasure. A treasure that was sick, and it needed its people, the Native caretakers of the planet, to stop what they were doing, come to the forest and provide a great healing, at the request of the Creator and the sacred tree. It suddenly became very clear that we, the natives of this land, were needed in a way I had not been personally used before. We became a collective of healers, and we were using traditional, not modern methodology to bring life back to this tree. In our ceremony of connected love, we revered the tree, we spoke our native language to the tree, and we left a part of ourselves at the side of the tree to ensure that others knew a sacred moment had happened in that spot. By placing Prayer Ties on the stump next to the Chestnut Tree, we left a message to those who passed by, encouraging them to show honor and move slowly. The drumming and chanting brought a mighty wind that blew hats and chairs over. The wind confirmed that our ancestors had joined us in ceremony, and they were pleased that we came to their call.

As we began to make our way back down to the quarters where some tasty treats and cold drinks awaited us, I noticed that the wind did not follow us. In fact, the forest was as quiet as ever. I began to listen for the different sounds of the birds calling, and the trickle of the little stream, as I crossed the bridge. Once again, in my natural kingdom, I noticed the shades of purple among the green, not just purple flowers. I noticed how other sisters and brothers were experiencing the land around us. They were joyful, engaged and taking in the smells and sounds around them. The very healing that we had attempted to bring to the tree was now reconnecting us to pure joy of land love. We had been called to the center of the forest to perform a great healing. It was clear that an invocation of community was needed in the moment to continue the legacy of a tree that helped our ancestors when they were in this land before us. No one human or creed could have brought that confirming wind to the ceremony. It was through community that showed love to a tree so that the tree has brighter and taller days ahead. And, just as it was spoken by a great elder on that spot, that our communities also need a great healing, much like the vine that crawls up the trees, so does the crime and violence in our communities. We must band together and bring a great healing there as well.

On the top of that hill, with one hand on my heart and one hand on the trunk next to our cherished Īhkwamins, I committed to that tree that I would come back next year and check on it. I sent it a heart intention, smiled, and wiped away one singular tear. In that moment, I had never felt more alive and more Native than right then in that space. I was anchored in my connection to mother earth and the Creator. All that was required from me was to take a walk, off the path and follow my tribe and our community. That sense of community brings light and joy to my soul. And that sense of community is all around me, and all around you. As I continue in my delightful tour of spring, I will remember the tree, and I will remember the commitment and community. I will encourage myself and you, to take action so that someone else can get a sense of community that fills their heart with light and joy.