Nansemond Indian Nation Pow Wow 2019-A Family Affair

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

Cousins, Bob, Debbie, Rod, and his beautiful daughter.

There are moments in life that leave us breathless and our hearts beating to a new rhythm. Memorable moments. Moments we file in the deepest recesses of our hearts and souls. I had many such moments this past weekend.

My family and I attended the thirty-first annual Pow Wow of the Nansemond Indian Nation in Suffolk, Virginia. I had no clue what to expect as I’d never attended a pow wow of any kind, anywhere. Indeed, it wasn’t until about three years ago that I knew this was part of my heritage.

This one was special to me because it was my first and was held on lands in possession of my Mama’s family for centuries. Since before my European ancestors arrived in the new world, the Nansemond were here. They hunted and fished on those lands. They made their homes and raised their families on those lands. The name Nansemond is Algonquian for fishing point.

The Bass and Nansemond Meet

When Nathaniel Basse arrived from England in the early 1600s, I can’t imagine what they all must have thought of one another. But in 1638, Nathaniel’s son, John married the Nansemond maiden, Elizabeth. Their story has twists and turns that I won’t go into here. But I can trace my lineage from Elizabeth down to me and my children, and now to my grandchildren.

There are no words that will relay to you the level of emotions running through me as I stepped onto this land for the first time. One of my dear friends and cousins once said, Elizabeth is calling her children home. That is exactly what I experienced. You could see it in the wisps of smoke that rose and spread soft fragrance through the area. You could smell it as they walked the inner circle with bowls from which even more fragrant smoke rose to the heavens as prayers were invoked for a good and peaceful pow wow. You could feel it in the gentle breeze which caressed our faces as we stood in awe.

Drummers and Dancers

Photo courtesy of Robert D. Maness

The drummers beat an ancient rhythm and sang songs known to their people for generation upon generation. You could see the pride in the faces of the men of the Nansemond who had recently been sworn into the Nansemond Indian Nation Chapter of the Sons of the American Revolution. You could see the pride and humility in the face of my cousin, Bob, who had the honor of bearing the American flag on its journey around the circle—the drummers beating a new rhythm and singing a new, yet ancient song, honoring the flag of our country.

And then the dancers came in all their regalia, moving this way and that to the beat of the drums which called them to dance in honor of the ancestors who had left them such a legacy. Silently, they moved their feet while their dresses jingled, and the bells on their feet rang out across the land. They brought honor to the ancestors, to the Chiefs, to the family, and to those of us who came for the first time to witness. Sights our own ancestors had experienced in days long past, and yet are a regular experience for many of our cousins. The generations came together . . . as one.

Chief Sam Bass

Meeting Chief Sam Bass

Meeting Chief Sam Bass was an honor I will carry with me for the remainder of my days. He’s a quiet man who speaks lovingly of his people, who honors those who’ve come before us all. He knows the weight he carries on his shoulders to bring all Nansemond together as one family. It was with his leadership and that of the Chiefs who have gone before him, the work of the Tribal Council, and the work of several genealogists, that they were able to become federally recognized in 2018, after many years of hard work. They are no longer the Nansemond Tribe, but now proudly proclaim the title, Nansemond Indian Nation.

As I walked away Sunday afternoon, my heart was full. Full of love for my people, the cousins I got to meet, for the Chief who leads them, and a reverence for the land that has been theirs for centuries. The land where they hunted and fished, the place they still call home—Mattanock Town.

We heard you calling, Elizabeth—and we came . . . home.


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