Dozens, if not hundreds of people from the Pacific Northwest, including a contingent from Port Townsend, have visited the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation over the past three months to join a protest over the Dakota Access Pipeline.

Some are still there; others have returned.

The Leader invited several people from Jefferson County who are there in North Dakota or have been there to share their experiences.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers announced Dec. 4 that it would not allow the pipeline to be drilled under a section of the Missouri River that was the source of concern for the “water protectors,” as the protesters call themselves.

That decision has not deterred people from continuing to go to Standing Rock and from those at the camps deciding to stay until President-elect Donald Trump takes office in January. There is concern about what Trump, a former investor in Energy Transfer Partners, might do once in office.

Terry DuBeau, who was still there last week, said the weather was becoming harsh – with wind chill, below zero – and that many were leaving.

KAREN SULLIVAN

“When you’re sitting in a chilly, crowded tent with people of all ages who are preparing for peaceful protest the next day, knowing they may be beaten, tear-gassed, arrested, strip-searched, thrown into jail and charged with a felony, you realize with awe that the purest and highest forms of citizenship are all around you, in a ragtag army whose courage makes you reassess your own.

“When you listen to an elder from the White Mountain Apache Tribe quietly tell of a DAPL [Dakota Access Pipeline] truck that swerved to hit her as she prayed by a bulldozer, and how she stood there, afraid but resolute as the men furiously approached, with one brandishing a bat, you find it almost incredible.

“And when she tells you of how they spewed their rage at her, and how she prayed aloud for the Creator to heal the hate in their hearts, and how upon hearing that, the venom went out of them as their chins dropped to their chests, you begin to wonder about the faith you thought you’d lost so long ago; maybe it’s not lost after all.

“I returned home profoundly moved but sad at the prospect of watching our dreary history with Native Americans unfold again, and was overjoyed at news of the decision. There’s still a fight ahead, but for indigenous peoples, this is a global win.

“It’s also a measure of the Sioux tribe’s integrity and desire to have their stolen lands returned when you realize that in 1980, the government gave them $100 million for that land, and that it has now grown to $1.3 billion, but despite 80 percent unemployment and life expectancies rivaling Haiti’s, the Sioux refuse to touch the money.

“Some things just cannot be bought.”

TERRY DUBEAU

“Now it was time to be at Standing Rock. I have never felt so at home in my entire life. There is community. There are five kitchens serving all types of food – all donated, all free, and everyone pitches in.

“Construction crews work from dawn to dusk. And then they lend the tools out to anyone who leaves an ID or phone. The medics and healers serve with love and tenderness. They operate out of Mongolian yurts heated by wood. You can get herbal medicine, massages and acupuncture or see a midwife. There are doctors and nurses on around the clock. The security greets you with a ‘welcome home’ and a smudge.

“In the mornings, natives are riding Appaloosas bareback through the camp. The sacred fire burns always, and the day begins with prayer, singing and drumming. Announcements permeate the air all day long. There are water protectors of all ages, sizes and from over 300 tribes.

“They all have one thing in common – one heart, not two. They serve the right wolf.

“There is caring and sharing. A car gets stuck, and 20 people show up to dig it out.

“It is home for me for now and perhaps 15,000 others. I can’t imagine leaving; I will be here for Christmas and the new year – until we stop the raping our earth mother with pipelines. These people have opened my heart. The land speaks to me as well. The water is calling me to serve. Water is life.”

STANFORD SILVER

“The Standing Rock movement is about more than the local, direct environmental issue. It is about indigenous rights, civil rights, human rights and resistance to abusive corporate rights. It is about the water we drink and feed to our nonhuman neighbors and plants and flowers. It is about how we treat each other as humans, all of us, and whether the economic interests of a few, greased by the political and legal tricks of the corporate class, can continue to dominate our reality and our nation.

“The indigenous elders at the camp have created a community that is based in sacred prayer and ceremony. It is not a protest movement. It is a sacred prayer and ceremony movement in protection of the water. Mní wičóní (me-knee we-cho-knee): Water is life.

“It isn’t perfect but it is beautiful, powerful and growing stronger still. There are problems, as any social movement has.

“Many of the nonindigenous participants refuse to attend the orientation, which the elders have asked every camper to do, assuming that they already know all about social sensitivity towards others, but if they did know, they would not disrespect the wishes of the elders by not attending and might find that there was actually much to learn from them.

“Some take part in direct actions without attending the direct-action training sessions, again disrespecting the wishes of the elders, which are intended to ensure a shared sense of communication, tactics, purpose, safety and restraint.

“And some come with their own agenda, perhaps based on personal trauma and history and anger, which begins to look like hatred of the police and of any authority. Some would pursue violent tactics. They are asked to leave. And some come to party, hoping for a music festival, wanting late-night jams. They are asked to be silent and prayerful.”

PAUL MAGID

“When we first drove in to Oceti Sakowin Camp, Sonny NyTom Francis, an elder from the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe, said that once we passed the gate, we need to stop our bus, loaded with 28 people right there on the road, and get out to sing an entrance song to the camp and to pray.

“I parked the bus to the side of the street, leaving enough room for the 26-foot Penske truck filled with donations and hundreds of pounds of salmon. We all filed out, stood in a circle. Sonny beat on his drum and sang the song entrance. Then Sabrina, a Makah woman, who had come with her 3-year-old and 5-year-old, said a prayer and asked to be welcomed in camp. As she was speaking, a Native American security guard began to ask us to move our large vehicles out of the road. Words barely escaped his lips when he saw Sabrina, palms heavenward in prayer. He went silent and joined us. That is what this camp is all about. The sacred, the simple, the sacrament of communion with Mother Earth in the company of friends and family trumps all.

“During the next few days, I went to orientation, I went to training for actions on the line. I went on the line. I faced the police. I linked arms with strangers and held space for prayer.

“Our Northwest camp consisted of natives and nonnatives working together as one to make some astonishing meals for an astonishing number of people.

“Up to 500 salmon meals [were served] on our last night there, as the word spread far and wide that the Northwest folks were flying their finest colors. I am so proud of our community and of those with whom I had the honor to serve.

“The announcement on Dec. 4 that pipeline permit was being denied by the Army Corps was a victory. But it was only a small battle in a long fight that we have just begun. But this battle will not be waged with bullets, arrows or cannon balls. No, this war will be waged with truth, love, peace, prayer and compassion.”