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Alligators, Thanksgiving and Leadership

A seed by: Zainab Amadahy
Project: MT/AT ToolKit - Creating common ground for engagement
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Zainab Amadahy is an author of screenplays, nonfiction and futurist fiction. The most notable of her academic writings is “Indigenous Peoples and Black Peoples in Canada: Settlers or Allies” (co-authored with Dr. Bonita Lawrence, Mi’kmaq). Zainab currently sits on the Advisory Council of Muskrat Magazine, where many of her writings appear. Of mixed heritage (African American, Tsalagi and Seminole), Zainab lives in Nogojiwanong, Ontario, Canada and has authored works of fiction and nonfiction. Now semi-retired, she has worked in community arts, nonprofit housing, Indigenous knowledge reclamation, women’s services and migrant settlement. For more on Zainab and to access to some of her writings check out swallowsongs.com.

Disciplines:

Literature
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This is an original seed

“Why,” you might ask, “do the Haundenosaunee (People of the Longhouse), whose communities were (and still are) located in what is now New York, Ontario, and Quebec, have a social dance named for the alligator?”

Well, as the story goes, they adapted it from a dance shared by Seminoles from Florida. And every time I hear someone in the community clarify that, they proudly note the long distances over which our peoples explored, traded, and visited each other before Europeans were aware of our existence. But I digress.

The Alligator Dance is typically done in a circle around a double row of seated singers, one of whom, the leader, plays a water drum while the others bounce cow horn rattles off their knees in a style characteristic of Haundenosaunee singing societies. The drummer sets the rhythm and signals different dance moves with the change of beat.

The dancers are coupled but not necessarily in romantic pairs. At a typical social, you’ll see parents with children, friends, cousins, and various other relationship pairings. As dancers stomp around the rows of singers, a single-stick drum roll cues half of the couple, the one on the inside of the circle, to symbolically swing their partner out of reach of the snapping jaws of an imaginary alligator.

When they stop their spin, the person who was on the outside of the circle is now on the inside. The person who was on the inside is now on the outside. In other words, they switched positions -- and roles.

The Alligator Dance is not only a teaching on being wary of alligators that may have somehow migrated north, but also on balancing leadership roles. One day your partner is appropriately positioned to take leadership but when new challenges arise, you’re the best person to be in that position. Leadership requires different skills and qualities in different moments. Man, woman, Two Spirit, or child, there are times when your specific abilities, your specific perspective, will be needed and you are expected to step up.

My late mentor, Pauline Shirt (Plains Cree Elder from Saddle Lake, Alberta, Red-Tail Hawk Clan and member of the Three Fires and Buffalo Dance Societies) taught me decades ago how to lead a Full Moon Ceremony. I thought I was just her Elder’s Helper, which meant I was her chauffeur and gopher but she was one of a few who subtly prepared me to take on leadership roles in the pan-Indigenous community of Tkaronto.

The first time I was asked to facilitate a Full Moon Ceremony, I went to Pauline and sheepishly asked if I should do it. I wasn’t, after all, from this territory and hadn’t been training long. Was I qualified? It was the only time I remember her voice as snippy. “I didn’t teach you all that for fun. You have a responsibility now. When the community needs something and you can provide it, you step up.” So I did.

Later, when I started singing with Wahahi:io, Tkaronto’s Haudenosaunee singing society, I started learning the Ohèn:ton Karihwatéhkwen (Words That Come Before All Else / Thanksgiving Address). It’s the opening spoken at social, business, and spiritual gatherings. As you can imagine, it can be a long address as it thanks all classes of beings on planet Earth and beyond for their contributions to our survival and thrival.

As the designated speaker delivers the address, each paragraph begins with Akwe:kon (All of us together) and ends with ne onkwa’nikon:ra (and now our minds are one). The repetition of these words over and over is a nod not only to an emphasis on consensus decision-making but also a recognition of the spiritual power of group consciousness. When our intentions align and we are all feeling the same sense of gratitude, we are measurably attuned to each other. Our hearts beat in sync and our creative capacities are at their height.

These are a few of the concepts that have informed my understanding of leadership in collaborative and cooperative settings. What have you learned about leadership from your ancestry?

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Photo: Water Drum surrounded by Horn Rattles. The water drum sounds different from any other kind of drum. It is used for both ceremonial and social songs and is usually accompanied by the Horn Rattle. The base has a plug and is partially filled with water. Buckskin is stretched over the top. Hickory, cedar, or hard maple can be used to make the Water Drum.

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