Tucked away in a corner of Sue-meg State Park in Northern California lies Sumêg village, a recreated Yurok village designed and constructed in 1990 by members of the Yurok tribe and park employees. Although a recreation, the village was built in the traditional way, by splitting redwood and tying the planks using hazel to create the structures. The grounds consist of the living houses, the changing house, the sweat house and a dance house which are all cared for by the maintenance crew at the park. Skip Lowry, now an Interpretive Ranger at the park, recalls when the village was first created and when he later began his journey working for the park as a volunteer helping the maintenance crew restore and care for the buildings.
Lowry, 41, was studying at a community college nearby when his then girlfriend, now wife, pushed him to help at the village during his spring break. His work ethic and personality made an impression on the elders working there and when his break was coming to an end, they told him about a grant they had received. The grant allowed for the crew to hire one more maintenance member, and for them, Lowry was the perfect fit. He went from volunteer to getting paid as a state maintenance employee in 2005.
For Lowry and the rest of the native people of the area, the village is sacred. Original village sites are considered archeological sites by the government. This means they are protected by laws and even the native people who resided in those sites cannot use them for what they were created for, celebrations, ceremonies and living.
“First, they tried really hard to get rid of us and now they want to protect us, even from ourselves,” Lowry said.
This site, Sumêg village, is one of the only places where ancestral ceremonies and celebrations can be enjoyed by the native people of the area, and Lowry has been working hard for over 15 years to keep things that way.
Lowry is a tall man with broad shoulders, he uses a woven beanie and walking stick to stabilize a barely noticeable limp. His long hair is tied back in a ponytail and his calloused hands tattooed on the tops of each of his fingers, excluding the thumbs. His eyes are kind, but when he speaks of his tribe and the horrors experienced by his ancestors I can see a small fire there, one he keeps tame by doing the work at the village and protecting an atmosphere where his culture can thrive.
“This place was designed with the intent of restoring and revitalizing cultural continuity between the native communities, themselves, but also for educating the public.” Lowry said. “It’s a place where they can come ask questions and engage with and establish a better relationship than what was established historically here in California with European immigration.”
Everything about the site is important. Not only is it a space for healing, as Lowry said, but it’s an active center for the Yurok people, Hupa people, Karuk people, Wiyot people and Tolowa. All native tribes from the area share the site, and its construction remains true to the Yurok creation stories of village houses. For the tribes it’s not about evolving and adapting, it’s about being one with the surroundings and building specifically for the geographic ancestral territories. Each one having the best knowledge of how to be sustainable and harmonious in their respective geographic spaces.
Lowry believes that it’s only fair for parks to employ native people to speak of their homes, traditions and practices.
“This place was here for 30 years. It was built in 1990, and they never hired a Native American interpreter for this place,” Lowry said. “They always had a non-native person talking about our story for us, in past tense, just because they have an anthropology degree or a natural resources degree. I was 10 years old watching the first dance that happened here and ever since then I’ve been immersed in this culture, and before that. You can’t get that kind of immersion from going to school. You can’t buy that type of education. It should be equal, when you’re gonna get a job as an interpreter of an ancient culture or a people, that you’re of that people. It only makes sense, it’s respect.”
He has been living on this land and his ancestors before him for as long as his family line can remember. His great grandmother was involved in the conversations to build Sumêg village back in 1924 and her brothers donated one of their hand-made canoes, which now sits beside the sweat house, to the park. Lowry’s life is steeped in this culture. He has been to ceremonies in the big house, has witnessed the ladies going into the changing room before a dance and experienced the Brush and the Flower dance amongst his people. That’s something that can’t be taught. It has to be passed down and lived, the trauma carried and processed by each new member, to keep everything that makes a Yurok alive.
While Lowry was in maintenance, he remembers hearing the interpreter at the time talking about his culture and his people in the past tense. Every day he would hear things like, “the Yurok people would…” or “when they had ceremonies…” as if the culture and traditions were dead. One day he decided to talk to the visitors himself, to speak on behalf of his people and the visitors responded. The interpreter at the time quit and the park hired two women back-to-back for the open position, neither one of Native American descent. Over the years thing have progressively become more inclusive. There are two native women working for interpretation at the park and Lowry scored an intermittent full-time interpretive position not long ago.
One of the biggest draws to the native population and the Sumêg village is the ability to come together as a group and hold ceremonies and dances in an ancestral environment. Every year there are two ceremonies that are held in the village. The Brush Dance, which is for purging any negative energy away from a baby, and the Flower Dance, which honors a girl turning into a young woman.
13 years ago, the parks’ superintendent changed, and with that came a lot more change to the park, more willingness to work with the tribes and an open mind to suggestions.
“Instead of having someone who tells you the 10 reasons why we can’t do something. He comes in and says, ‘hmm, I’ll come back to you tomorrow and I’ll figure out a way to get it done’,” Lowry said of the superintendent, Victor Bjelajac. It was during the beginning of his time here that a dance was restored. A dance which had not been performed in 130 years, according to Lowry, was done within state park boundaries and with the help of Bjelajac.
The Parks system has a long way to go, but Lowry is happy he has been along for the ride, witnessing change and aiding to create harmony between the tribes and visitors. His favorite part of the job is speaking to people and sensing in them a willingness to listen and bond with somebody from the native tribes like him.
“Having that moment, that experience with people where I grow, and they grow, and we grow together in a good way is amazing,” he said. “That’s what makes me keep coming back. This place was designed for healing. The first step in healing is a truth telling process and it’s not just native people who were hurt. Not just victims are hurt when an altercation happens. When there’s somebody who’s a perpetrator they’re hurt too and not that it should overbear the victim’s pain and testimony, nor that they shouldn’t have to restore anything, but there’s something that they’re going through too.”
Those moments of healing have helped Lowry during his time at the park, and little things keep happening that bring more and more joy to his heart. Starting this summer, anybody from the local area of the park can go to any interpretation event and have their park fee waived.
More importantly, just this past September of 2021 the State Parks and Recreation Commission voted unanimously to change, or better said to restore, the name of Sue-Meg State Park. For centuries the park was called and referred to as “Patrick’s Point State Park” named after Patrick Beegan, an immigrant that laid claim to Yurok lands and was accused of murdering numerous Native Americans, according to the LA Times. This change is monumental, although the Native tribes never stopped calling the area Suemeg, now the country recognizes its dark past and faces it by restoring the name for themselves and all others.