of motives, sensitivity, and the willingness to work together. I take heart that the repatriations of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Afraid of Hawk are examples of that confidence and cooperation.
Through this compliant give-and-take, dialogues have opened up, forming pathways to learn from each other. I can testify that the science of archaeology has benefited from its association with Indigenous Peoples around the globe, and we hope that Native populations have also gained from the relationship. Most archaeologists have acquired a degree of sensitivity, and Native Americans have come to appreciate the contributions of archaeology to an understanding of their past.12 We are not enemies; we all make mistakes and are constantly learning. With any change of direction, it can be a long, slippery road to mutuality, but we are working together and making remarkable advancements. The pendulum has swung from exclusive control of Native American artifacts and human remains by museums and archaeologists toward Indian communities exerting their rights to have those objects and remains returned and reburied according to their own cultural prescriptions. We can envision a day when the pendulum will settle supported by shared respect and partnership.
The repatriations of Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Albert Afraid of Hawk did not fall under NAGPRA review because they represented the private actions of individual families requesting the disinterment and re-interment of a genealogical ancestor. Had the reburials of Henry and Albert come under NAGPRA jurisdiction, consent would have been required from tribal governments, including lengthy reviews and a six-month wait after publication in the Federal Register of the intent to repatriate. The process would have been more formal and protracted. Be that as it may, all families have the right to disinter and reinter the remains of their ancestors. The deaths and burials of Henry and Albert, far from their homelands, were the result of historical happenstance. In returning them home, the completion of their journeys has had significant personal meanings for their families and Native communities, and, subsequently, special and surprisingly emotional connotations for the research teams that assisted in their repatriations. Although ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Afraid of Hawk will endure in Connecticut history, Hawai‘i and Pine Ridge will always be “home” and where their mortal remains should rightfully reside.
As I tell the story of these amazing young men and their families from a Western scientist’s perspective, it unavoidably relates my own personal development as an archaeologist. Like Henry and Albert, I unconsciously set out on a profound journey which began when I started listening to, and learning from, Native Peoples over four decades ago, hearing their voices and concerns.13 It took time, but through dialogue and development of personal relationships, I like to think that confidence was built. I was the outsider, the government official relegated with legal responsibilities and decision-making authority. Yet I assumed my duties seeking to understand a Native perspective toward my actions as a state archaeologist. Eventually, like Debbie and Marlis, I, too, would hear Henry and Albert, though not through dreams and inner feelings, but through a calling to use my training as an archaeologist in returning these young men home. From a Native perspective, I have been told, and I do believe, it was not an accident two such repatriations occurred during my tenure—they were meant to happen.
In many ways, though, this is not my story to tell, and I do not claim to speak for the families or for any Native Peoples. However, my involvement in these repatriations serves as the hinge between the two narratives, the bridge that connects Henry to Albert. My contention is that the science of archaeology does have a meaningful role assisting Indigenous communities in the return and respectful treatment of their ancestors. Our archaeological and forensic teams had to meet legal obligations defined by the State of Connecticut for the removal, identification, and return of Henry and Albert. These are secular requirements using Western state-of-the-art scientific techniques and methodologies, but we never lose sight of the fact that we are human beings handling the remains of other human beings. Hence, there are also solemn concerns demanding the ethical and sensitive approach in accordance, in these particular cases, with traditional Native Hawaiian and Lakota belief systems. Our role was to partner in the respectful excavation, sensitive analyses, and preparations for the subsequent reburial directly with the families of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Afraid of Hawk, who have contributed in innumerable ways to this book.
The long journeys home of Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Albert Afraid of Hawk are genuine American stories, embarrassingly recounting the disgraceful dealings of the government toward Native peoples in Hawai‘i and the High Plains of the North American continent. The United States, soon after its forming, was not content to simply trade with Indigenous Nations. With westward expansion the government wanted their land, seeking to conquer and undermine their cultures through dominance and colonial tactics. My involvement and telling of these stories are inescapably part of this long history of oppression and subjugation, but I hope that my respect for the men whose remains were returned to their families comes through on all of these pages. The author makes no claim of being Native Hawaiian or Lakota and does not speak or read their languages, so I take on the responsibility of telling these stories with a degree of apprehension and humility, knowing that I cannot convey the complexity of their cultures or the colonial quandary they have been exposed to from a firsthand, insider’s view, but only hoping that my outsider’s perspective does some justice to these historical accounts and their interpretations for the general public to appreciate.
Told through the personal account of the participating archaeologist, The Long Journeys Home transcends historical narrative in its relationship to contemporary Native Hawaiian and Native American families dealing with culture change in the modern world, seeking respect and honor through their collective pasts. It chronicles the Polynesian discovery of Hawai‘i, Kamehameha’s wars of unification, the establishment of the Protestant Christian missions in the Pacific, the political coup appropriating Hawai‘i from Native control, Hawaiian efforts to obtain sovereignty, Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery, Red Cloud’s War, the Battle of the Little Bighorn, the establishment of the Sioux reservations, the horrific carnage at Wounded Knee, and the resurgence of Lakota culture.
Furthermore, the book is about modern archaeological and forensic science and the partnership created with Native families in order to find common ground in the appropriate treatment of their ancestors by bringing them “home.” The assertion of this book is that archaeology and Native concerns are not mutually exclusive, not even in opposition, but strongly interrelated. Archaeologists are not “enemies” and neither are Indigenous Hawaiians and Americans. Working in partnership, scientists and Native Peoples can bring closure for families and honor to the ancestors by completing their journeys home. My goal in writing this narrative is not to enter into debates about repatriation, for others have represented both sides of the argument more effectively than I can; my hopes, though, are that the reader comes away with a better appreciation of repatriation, as well as a greater understanding of the process of “working together” through a personal account. The Lakota say, “Mitakuye Oyasin”—“We are all related.” In many respects, it has been a journey for all of us: archaeologists have listened to Native Peoples and in return they have listened to us. This book also aspires to introduce the reader to the lives of these two remarkable Indigenous men, their individual and family struggles, and the resurgences of Hawaiian and Lakota culture that Henry and Albert have in part contributed toward.
With these factors in mind, we embrace the spirit of Maria Pearson and Native oral tradition by employing a narrative approach, story-telling, weaving the past and the present throughout the book, a hybrid of history and memoir, not necessarily in a linear, chronological order but in an informal manner that emphasizes the circular notion of time without losing sight that these are as much contemporary stories as they are also American history.
PART I
THE REPATRIATION OF HENRY ‘ŌPŪKAHA‘IA
State of Connecticut highlighting places associated with Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia
