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Channel Nine, Harmony Alliance, KCP&L, the Anti-Defamation League, McDonald's, and IBM present Dancing In Moccasins.

When it comes to this country's 1.5 million American Indians, there is a mystique, a sense of intrigue, a shroud of mystery that is unlike the aura surrounding any other minority. They have lived and maintained a sense of pride and dignity, despite a history of near annihilation, the humility of being stereotyped, and the agony of being forced to accept a value system which is not their own. Tonight, you can meet some of these people, find out where they get their resilience, as we look at people who Dance in Moccasins.

I know every one of those songs that is rendered belongs to a very important person. And with that, I dance with respect to every song.

It makes you real happy and proud that you're an Indian.

Used to be a long time, they used to fight one another. Now different tribes, now they get together and pow- wow and celebrate.

To understand why they celebrate, you have to look into their past to see who they are, where they've been. To see what it's like dancing in moccasins. Each nation has a different story, but you might find that collectively, they celebrate the preservation of a way of life as much as life itself. To make sense of that, we went to the Kickapoo Reservation to talk to Paul Guiseppe, a tribal elder who is well respected because he has seen a lot.

At one time, this whole continent, the United States, was our country. It was taken away from us. We was forced to go on. Like my people, they had come from round the Great Lakes. And when we were one nation, one tongue called Algonquin.

The land that was their livelihood. Their's is and was an ecological approach to life, designed to bring man in harmony with nature. In one person's words, the earth is alive, a living organism. Streams of water are her blood, the rocks her skeleton, the winds her breath, the topsoil her skin. And the Indians felt if treated right, it would take care of them.

We had the game, and everything was here.

They called it The Paradise, until the white man came and expansion got underway.

I've been told by my elders what they've done to them, it's not in history. Them things are not in the history. But today I think about it. I don't even like to talk about it.

You don't have to be Kickapoo to understand.

This country is built on aggression, wars, fight, battles, and they even gave it a name, massacres.

The Kickapoo stemmed from the Algonquin the Great Lakes region. Forced to move from that area, they and the Pottawatomie, a neighboring tribe, were pushed to Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Missouri. As they fought to maintain their place in nature amid a disappearing forest, leveled by white settlers who wanted land for farming and agriculture.

My people was from the start, from the beginning, were peaceful people. They would not kill anyone. But as they were pushed and pushed, it made them angry, mad, and they were the warlords of this country at one time. And then the white man called us savage. He's the one's that's savage. He invaded this country. He discovered but he invaded it, took over the whole country today, put us on what they call reservation. To tell you the fact of it is, these reservations are something like Fort Leavenworth.

Dancing in Moccasins: Keeping Native American Traditions Alive

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Outgunned, outnumbered, and facing a diminishing food supply, within an 18 year period the Indians lost 48 million acres of the land they called home.

They just kept pushing them and forcing them.

In 1940, the Kickapoo came to Kansas with a government promise that they could stay on 768,000 acres of land, as long as the tribe remained a tribe. That treaty was broken. Eight years later, their land was reduced. All but 150,000 acres was sold to the US government for $0.49 an acre. In 1877, the land base became even smaller as the government forced the tribe to split its property among individuals of the tribe. The chief got 320 acres, the head of each household got 160 acres, and everyone else received 40. The rest was sold to Pike's Peak Railroad for $1.25 an acre. But it isn't the loss of land that hurts most.

I didn't like the way they treated my people. They treated them like dogs and cattle, or herd of cattle. The old couldn't make the trips, well the government soldiers shot them. Shot the old people and the ladies that had babies carrying them, they shot them like people and they just-- I don't know. I really hate to talk about it. It makes me mad in my mind and my heart.

Estimates show battles between white settlers and other Indians killed off 2/3 of the Kickapoo and the Pottawatomie between the 18th and 20th centuries. And even worse, the tribe split. Some moved to Oklahoma, others eventually went to Mexico. All of them faced hard times. The Europeans thought of them as savages. And in addition to taking their land, they wanted to civilize the Indians, make them more American. Children were the target, and religion and education their methods.

I got it from the adults, the teachers that the Indian was a backward way, was paganistic, all negative kinds of, to me, thoughts. So I tried to block them out of my mind, and tried to pick up what it was they were trying to teach me. And so I made good grades, because that was-- I guess I always thought education was my only way out of here. I know my parents sacrificed a lot for us to go to school.

Dwindling government funding for schools on reservations, and increased money for off reservation boarding schools pushed many Pottawatomie and Kickapoo young people out of their closely knit tribal and family life and into the boarding schools of places like Lawrence, Kansas and Genoa, Nebraska. There the children were lined up, scrubbed, given an American name, a haircut, and a uniform, and told to leave their Indian culture behind.

A lot of cases, a lot of tribes became extinct because they lost their language. They began to lose their culture.

Everyone learned the three Rs. Women learned to sew and cook. And men learned the trades of blacksmiths and carpenters. There are stories of beatings for those who tried to run away. Those who stayed were forced to accept Christianity, but many held tight to Indian ways.

There was nothing like my home. I wanted to hear the voice and the language and the drum and the gourd, or whatever it might what we used. I miss those things.

In the Kickapoo faith, it is Wisaka that created the world and named everything in it. He made the Kickapoo, taught them their way of life, how to build their houses, and which materials to use. He also taught them how to dance and perform religious ceremonies, and he gave them bundles containing sacred objects. It was his father, Kechi Muneto, who created everything in the universe except for this world.

And Indian way's a god's way of worshiping. It's not man made, it's was All Mighty, the Supreme Being who gave it to us.

Some say it is their religion, their beliefs, their Indianness that has kept their culture alive until this date. When we come back, we will travel to reservations around the country to see what life is like today, as we look at some of the people who are still Dancing in Moccasins.

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It is 1989, and this is the rugged desert of Northeastern Arizona. It's the kind of place most people shun. At the same time, it's the kind of place many American Indians dream about, a place that offers the ability to live off the land and be in harmony with nature. But there is an underlying nightmare created by what the Indians see as the white man, the US government.

Like you can't sleep, you can't eat, and all that. You just got to think about what they're going to do next.

16 years ago, Congress divided 2 million acres of land among the Hopi and Navajo living in that area. But when the boundary lines were drawn, little if any consideration was given to people staying on the land.

We feel that the United States government has not recognized the human rights, the human dignity of these people that are facing relocation.

The government is forcing each tribe to relocate into its own territory.

This is not my law.

The Indians object, and they are protesting loud and long, but peacefully. The Navajo do not want to move. It would mean leaving their homeland and Big Mountain, a place that is sacred to them, because many of their ancestors are buried there. This is a territorial battle, one many American Indians know about firsthand because of bouts on their reservations. Some old enough to know say it is reminiscent of what happened more than a century ago. In the Dairy State, during the predawn hours, it's against the peaceful backdrop of just about any upper Wisconsin lake that you find protests every year.

These are townspeople protesting against a treaty that allows the Chippewa Indians to spear fish year round, and bring in as much as they can catch, as long as they don't interfere with nature's replenishing process.

Police are taking us in for crossing a line in a public boat dock, because there are some Indians spearing up here that have more rights than anybody else in the United States.

The Indians say they deserve to go.

I blame the governor for not getting rid of these people in the exercise, the legitimate exercise of the Chippewa's rights. This is condoning, inciting violence, and you're virtually sitting on a powder keg.

Spear fishing is the livelihood of the Chippewa. It's their main source of food. The catch is spread among people of the reservation. Protesters in cold weather made the 1989 bounty fall short of the goal of 48,000 fish, only 16,000 were brought in. It's a small percentage of the lake's yield, yet protesters lined the docks. They're afraid the Indians will deplete the fish population and send tourists elsewhere. So they chant.

Goodbye Hopi, goodbye Hopi.

And they sing.

[SINGING] Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride.

Ironically, it's a song the Indians could sing too, because it's freedom they want. At the foothills of the Smokies on the Cherokee Reservation in North Carolina, it's higher paying jobs the American Indians there want. According to non-Indian standards, they are among the most developed nations, with elected officials, law enforcement, a fire department, and medical facilities. They exist as a sovereign nation, but their livelihood depends on the money of tourists passing through the reservation . There is some light industry on the reservation. A moccasin factory supplies shops with souvenirs, and people with jobs.

Well, it's just a job. Jobs are so hard nowadays, you have to hang on to what you get.

But still, it isn't enough for the young.

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I plan on getting away from here soon. Move to some money making area.

The most recent census figures show there are 278 Indian reservations located within the United States, each with their own problems. Anthropologists say the Kickapoo Reservation near Kansas City is probably one of the most typical.

Here at the Kickapoo Reservation, the fight today is for jobs. Many of the young people have to leave the area because of the lack of employment, and the need for more development.

US government budget cuts have left broken windows and boarded businesses scattered throughout the reservation. But a seven member tribal council the Kickapoo elected to govern its people is working for change. Tribal manager Fred Thomas says, it's a matter of survival.

Because of the present trend by the federal government, I see the tribe being pressured to enter into agreement with the state of Kansas or program funds. And if that would happen, I don't think the reservation would exist under state law.

To no avail, this sign has stood for nine years looking for help. The Kickapoo want to be self sufficient.

We wouldn't say no to anything that wants to come in. I think we'd look at it, and right now we're looking at employment for the people, and if we can help them out, then we help ourselves.

It was a drive for independence 10 years ago under the Self Determination Act that the Kickapoo built this water treatment plant, which employs two people. The $1.5 million facility is one of their most prized possession. It pumps water from the Delaware River into the reservation.

Many Indian tribes have an agreement or a situation with nearby communities or municipal operations where the water is piped in. But we wanted the responsibility and the right to take care of our own water needs.

They had to fight the state of Kansas to get that right, and they used an 1854 treaty to do so. The court decision said the Kickapoo were there before Kansas was a state, and it gave them legal power to build the dam. That was just the beginning.

I think that what has happened in these later years is we've had our Kickapoo people who have learned, who got an education and got some know how to operate and develop programs, community development. And we got into a real initiative, a real drive for self determination.

That drive has led the effort to build and acquire land for the Kickapoo Nation Farm, which employs five people, and houses eight buffalo and more than 200 head of cattle. The 3,000 acre facility represents just about all of the land the tribe now owns. Individual Indians have an additional 3,000 acres on the 19,200 acre reservation. The rest has been sold to non-Indians. It also led to the purchase of heavy equipment used in both road and building construction. Buck Joaquinas does the road work, and he's the tribal construction foreman. He has a four man crew.

The bingo hall was built in 1984. During the week the place sits idle, but Saturday through Monday, the place is open to the public, and the high stakes draw a crowd large enough to put seven people to work. The bingo hall, the farm, and the trading post are major employers and sources of income on the reservation. The gas station slash convenience store was built in 1977. It closed six years later, but was reopened in 1985 and, when we were there, there was talk of expansion, turning the building next door into a tire center. Mike Mattwaoshe, the manager of the store, would run the place.

The important thing that we need right now is jobs out here, and that will supply at least two more jobs for people out here. That's the whole idea of trying to get jobs, so we can more or less progress further than where we are at right now.

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The senior citizens home is a meeting place for those who've been around the longest and seen the most. They've watched people come and go. The Census Bureau says close to 300 live on the reservation. The Kickapoo say there's twice that many. Regardless of the number, just about everyone maintains images of what once was and what can be.

I don't know, we all have their own tribal pride, I guess.

They talk in terms of a brighter future. Gwen McKinney wants a silk screen business.

It's difficult, because I've got no money and I'm not working. But I'm going to the Bureau to try to get some assistance from them, so that I can start on a small scale. And then as I go, expand.

Charlie Holman moved to the reservation with his wife four years ago. She works in health services. He wishes others were that lucky.

I think that's the primary interest, is to increase the standard of living. And if we had local jobs, I think these people here would probably really enjoy that, because it'd give them something to do.

The people here know they have a roof over their heads, food on the table, and companionship. And they say that's enough to keep them here. To them, it is home. They can worship as they please, perform their religious ceremonies, and be as one with nature. People who've lived on the reservation say they have more than a lot of people.

There's a few people I feel like they may be poor in material things, but in their frame of mind, how they think, to me they're rich. But there's more people who don't feel good about themselves, don't know what they want or where they're going. And there's too many of them.

Starting with the young in school, they're trying to cut that number. The Kickapoo Indian School is attended by about half the students on the reservation. The others go to either boarding or public schools. Those at the Indian School say students there receive an education more sensitive to their needs, through what's called the circle of learning.

I feel like it's very important with self concept of any children, and particularly with Indian children, that we need to emphasize their importance and the strength that they give to being included in an educational circle. That their ideas are as important as anyone else's in that circle.

Indian culture is also fostered through teacher aides of Indian descent.

Virginia Potts here was our resource person to help with our K-12 project in art. And she's the one that was responsible for teaching the moccasin making. This is the high school level, this over here at the grade school level. She also helped with the beading, and we also had two other beading people in.

She says she helped so the craft would not be lost.

I just want them to learn, to carry that on, so they could pass it on to the next generations, maybe generations after the generations. And if not, who's going to tell them?

14 of the 16 teachers at the school are not Indian, and they say the aid program is a must.

It's hard I think for us to understand a lot of it.

To understand a lot of?

The culture and the heritage, because I don't know much about it.

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She and other teachers help the students learn every day life skills, and the subjects taught in public schools. The school is funded and monitored by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Tests of sixth graders show they are performing just below grade level in all subjects checked, except spelling, where they're well above the norm. And unlike the students of many reservations, the Kickapoo do continue their education. A self study report says most go on to college or a trade school. Those who go to college have to work harder according to teachers.

There needs to be more discipline stressed, I think. They have a lot of trouble with dealing with homework and skills of that nature, and that needs to be stressed. Because in college, you're on your own.

Because there are only 40 jobs on the reservation, most do leave, and there is concern about them losing their heritage. But some say there is a force that brings them back. When we continue, we will go to the city to meet some urban Indians who Dance in Moccasins.

At a distance, it looks fine. But what if you decide to move in?

Imagine coming to a city, any city. You have no ID, you can't drive, you know nothing about catching a bus or using a phone. It can be frightening. And that's the case for many American Indians who leave reservations.

Fears are felt even in a town the size of Lawrence. A nurse who works at the Health Services Department of Haskell Indian Junior College knows all too well. She left the Kickapoo Reservation seeking a better life.

One of the big things that I noticed when I moved off the reservation to go to college, everybody there seemed to have a phone. I never had a phone. I never could afford one. They say, what's your phone number? I say, I don't have one.

She found adjusting to a new culture, a new society, is not easy. 65% of the American Indians make the attempt, and it doesn't take long for many who thought it would be a smooth transition to think again.

Indians are not filtered into society. They're just rushed into it, they're just forced into it.

And a KU professor who has studied them says, they often find dealing with that pressure does not provide the life they dreamed of.

Many American Indians live below the poverty line. And I believe the statistics were Indians not on reservations, 22% of them fell below the poverty line, as compared to 12% of the US population in general. And that increased to 40% for American Indians on reservations,

The culture shock and the disappointment are often too much to take. And a large number, nearly twice as high as that of the general population, choose suicide as a way out. Jeanette Biggoose says it was a feeling of hopelessness that nearly did her in.

I thought of giving my children up, that somebody raise them that could afford them. But that wasn't what I wanted. So I thought of taking my life. But I couldn't leave them, and I couldn't justify taking their lives. So the only thing I had to do was I went to church. I was raised Catholic, and I tried to go back to Catholic church. Somehow I just couldn't find the comfort that I needed. So as a last resort, and it was from my thinking, that I would go back and pray with my parents. And I came out, so I went to church with them. And I came out. I was able to laugh, think of the future.

Making adjustments, she was able to achieve what came more easily to others. As a nurse, she now helps those dealing with everything from alcoholism to diabetes, a disease some say is at epidemic proportions among American Indians. Her insight is important.

If you want to heal your spirit, you go to church. In the Western thinking, if you want to heal your body, go see a doctor. But amongst the Indians, it's hard to separate them.

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The difficulties in the approach to medicine cross over into other aspects of life.

In a white man's world, you go 90 miles an hour, and achieve the highest and be the status. The ego takes you beyond whom you are. The ego says fight and excel and beat the other guy and do better.

For some, the cement, bricks, mortar, and fast pace of the city are too much. To them, the city is simply a place to work.

That's why I'm here. I have a job here, and I try to maintain my ties, traditional ties and things like that, by going home.

But others make the move permanently.

I wouldn't want to go back to reservation. No. Unless something really bad come up. And the worst thing that could have happened to me that would have made me go back was my mother and father, and they died and I didn't go home.

Such a commitment has its dangers, according to those raised by the tribal elders.

If you're gone, don't be gone too long. Because once you leave, your children's going to lose a little bit. And once your children lose a little more, the next generation will lose a lot more, And by the fifth generation, this family here in that generation do not want to be Indians.

Right now, Indians seem to have to make a choice between the city and their culture.

Kansas City has a crying need for a cultural center for Indians. A place that Indians can practice their culture and spirituality, and identify with-- not just for emergency assistance and poverty, but a place where they can tell the people of the city who they are, and a rallying point.

They are a courageous people. They have to be to survive.

Real typical in that I have diabetes. Alcoholism runs rampant in our family. I went to boarding school, which a lot of people in my generation did. A lot of them are going to college and getting married and having kids. So I really feel typical, I'm not saying I'm not no Superwoman, I'm a survivor.

When we come back, we will meet the next generation of urban Indians. They too are survivors. Each has chosen their own path, their own way of dancing in moccasins.

The city is now home to several generations of American Indians, and some say regretfully, they can see a scenario the elders warned about coming to life.

You let your tradition and heritage go down the drain, become a white man. And the next thing you know, you don't know who you belong to. You don't know who you are. And we have that problem today among a lot of the-- not only Native Americans, but the blacks, hispanics, and the rest of your generation.

Young people are confused, according to him. They have their feet in both worlds, but don't belong to either one. And the Indian culture is suffering. When it comes to losing Indian identity, he could have been talking about his stepson.

I don't have that drive that much. I'm more I guess integrated. I'm more of a white person I guess you'd say.

His decision doesn't bother everyone. Some say for each person who abandons their heritage, there is another who keeps it alive. In this case, they work side by side. Michael Noheart is in search of his Indian culture. A social service agency took him and his sister from their parents at an early age, and gave them to a white family the agency felt could provide a better life. As he grew older, Michael found their cultural differences were too much to handle.

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Just everything seemed like it was falling apart. So I just bailed out real quick and just left.

Last year he found someone who understood an emptiness he was feeling. She says she had no choice but to help him find his family.

I said, if you could have anything in this whole world you want, what would you want most? And he said, a family, my family. I'd like to find out who I am and where I came from, and who I belong to.

Father's Day the search ended. Two weeks later, they were together. They captured the moment on videotape, and didn't mind sharing it.

I'm happy because I found our family. We found our family. And I'm sad and angry because we were taken away. And I'm sad and anger a lot because it confused me a lot too. He also helped his sister develop a sense of Indian pride she'd never had, because she was accepted in the non-Indian world.

They didn't treat me any different. I guess in a way, a lot of times I wished that I was white. But I don't anymore.

They chose to keep their life in the city, although a piece of their heart will remain on the reservation. But they're finding living in the city is not always easy for young Indian people. If you look toward education, you will find part of the reason why.

On behalf of the Haskell Indian Junior College faculty, staff, and students, I welcome you to our 1989 commencement exercises.

At a moment when education is becoming increasingly important, there is close to a 75% dropout rate among American Indians who attend non-Indian colleges and universities. The number is much lower in Indian schools, but they are few and far between. Concord Career Institute is providing the training Darlene Lasley needs to make a living.

And I've always wanted to be a registered nurse, and I think I will make it.

She says she left the reservation to become an RN so she can return and give reservation Indians the type of care non-Indians are unable to provide.

They just don't open up to them as much as they would an Indian, another Indian.

In addition to scholastic problems, young Indians, like everyone else, are affected by drug abuse, alcohol, and teen pregnancy.

The percentage of our babies that are born to girls 19 or younger is about one and a half times what it is for the whole country. The birth rate among the native American girls 19 or younger is about double what that birthrate is for the whole country.

Some have found their niche by sticking to what the elders clung to a long time ago.

[CHANTING AND SINGING]

They sing the songs, beat the drum, and keep the heartbeat of the American Indian alive.

We're sitting down here trying to learn our old ways, trying to recover some of what the white people tried to take away from us. Because in the time of the 1800s, they told us that we couldn't sing our songs, that we weren't allowed to practice our religion. And the way that I've been taught is that the old people are dying. And the young people, my generation and the next generation after us, if we don't learn these ways from these old people, they're going to die.

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They say their beliefs are spiritual, that when God created the Earth, it didn't have houses, buildings, and cars, because the great spirit didn't intend for people to seek happiness in those things.

The only thing we believe we own is this body. And if you can't draw the happiness from inside your heart here, then you don't know what happiness is, because it can't be measured in any material things.

One of the places you find American Indians at their best is at pow-wows. They call the events a public relations tool. They may be, but there's more than what meets the eye. They burn in the heart and soul of many American Indians. When we return, you can meet some of them as we go out to watch them dancing in moccasins.

The dances and songs and everything, they're hundreds of years old usually, and it means a lot to me. It makes me feel closer to the ancestors before me that I never got a chance to meet.

I hope that people will walk away with the knowledge, or an understanding and awareness and sensitivity to the way the Native American person, Indian person thinks.

[DRUMS AND CHANTING]

I'll tell you something about Indians. When you make friends to an Indian, you got you a friend for the rest of your life. That's right.

This is a typical Northern American Indian pow-wow. It is the coming together of the past and present, and a link to the future.

You meet the old friends, get new friends, all fellowship like. I enjoy it more than I do going to regular churches myself.

The pow-wow unites the Indians of two worlds, those of the city, and those who choose to build their life elsewhere.

Some are reservation Indians. And they've lived that way so long, they just can't adjust to a civilized world, you might say.

There is an appreciation for the problems faced by many of the people here. There is a common belief that alcoholism and other diseases among Indians is due to the lack of time to build up the immunity other cultures enjoy. Their understanding creates a climate of understanding.

See, all these people are my brothers and sisters. And I respect them and they respect me.

It is a respect not only for each other, but also for tradition that brings people together. Most pow-wows are three day events that start at mid afternoon with special dances.

The table is open for all you dancers.

They are called Gourd Dances, and they are done to warrior songs. Out of respect to the drums, women who are Fancy Dancers wear their shawls, while traditional women dancers carry theirs. And both groups follow the men as they move to the rhythm of the gourd. There's what's called a Special Dance for the drummers, the head dancers and the head singers. And those people in turn honor the people who honored them by helping to make their day special in what's called a giveaway.

At this time, she has some things that she would like to giveaway. She has some people who she'd like to acknowledge. Calling our Northern Head Men Dancer, Lawrence Laflor.

For this lady, the Head Northern Dancer, it is an intangible gift that is most important.

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It's the coming together of Indian people, and them enjoying themselves and enjoying each other, that means a lot to me to see that.

There's also recognition of those who were unable to attend the pow-wow. A lone tee-pee sits across campus, in this case in recognition of a student who died days before the event. And on the pow-wow grounds, a dance is done in tribute to him as well as some others.

We that are living pay homage to our fallen brothers. And we also know that there's a lot of families that have lost members in different wars, and that we honor them.

They also feel they honor the great spirit with their presence.

This is a special occasion for all the Native Americans.

There are some who camp out over the three day stretch in order to take part.

Trying to get our supper ready so that we can dance.

And you're left here to cook?

Yes. Trying to get my fire going, and my fry bread burning. Oh no, it's all right.

Those who dance no more make sure there are others to follow. This family drove 23 hours on a Friday night so their four year old son could dance and gain the respect of the elders. Following his dance around the arena, they drove 23 hours to return to New Mexico for work on Monday morning.

All that day is a vacation, an initiation of dancing, fancy dancing. And I hope in the future, he will want to come here and be able to remember what happened here today.

Swift Eagle.

To the viewing audience, perhaps the most spectacular part of the pow-wow comes up as the sun goes down. It is the Grand Entry, led by the American flag, the state flag, an Indian flag, and the Indian staff. Everyone is dressed in their native regalia. You used to be able to tell each Indian nation by the colors worn. Because of intermarriage and loss of tradition, that's not the case anymore. But the reflection of the rainbow, the imitation of nature is still important. Feathers worn are from birds of prey. The most prestigious is the eagle feather. Legally it can only be owned by Indians. Traditionally, it must be earned by good or heroic deeds.

This part of the pow-wow, the sector following the Grand Entry, is what's known as the preliminary phase of the contemporary pow-wow. It sets the stage for what's to follow. The dancers get warmed up and ready for their call.

Charles Tebow, please come to the speaker stand, Charles Tebow

Some say it's even later, when the lights come that the real dancing begins. It is contest dancing, where people circle the drummers, moving to warrior songs, competing for anything from $50 to thousands of dollars. That is how a number of American Indians earn their living, traveling from pow-wow to pow-wow, sharing their expertise of traditional dances. The prize money and contest dancing are also one of the most controversial aspects. Some traditional Indians consider this to be too commercial, too much variation from tradition. But those who choose to take part say their efforts are sanctioned by the Indian people. And if that weren't so, the pow-wow would not continue to exist. And they say there's one other thing that keeps it going.

The most important person is observing us and looking at us, and that's Almighty God. And if the dancing and singing in good spirit, he's going to smile.

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He says that smile kept the Indian people alive in the past, and it helps them presently. And as long as it remains, there will be Indian people, people of tradition, people dancing in moccasins.

[DRUMS AND CHANTING]

American Indians who choose to move to the city do get some help. One third of those who come into a seven county area surrounding Kansas City go through the Heart of America Indian Center. But the Center itself is in trouble. Government budget cuts have limited its resources, and it's being forced to move because the property it's on is being sold. The city has offered a new location, provided the Heart of American Indian Center officials can get funding for a new building. Some say it is a task that is insurmountable. But challenges of that nature are not unusual for people dancing in moccasins. To learn more about American Indians, you can visit your local libraries, or contact the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

The proceeding program, Dancing in Moccasins, was brought to you by Channel Nine, Harmony Alliance, KCP&L, The Anti-Defamation League, McDonald's, and IBM.