Alameda Native History Project

Category: Native American Art

  • Growing Up on the The Alameda Shellmound

    An old sunlit room with peeling walls and dusty floorboards, a faint human silhouette visible through a fogged window. Overlaid text reads “Growing Up on the Alameda Shellmound” with the URL nativehistoryproject.org at the bottom.

    Ohlone people buried their loved ones in mounds long before any of us ever came here.

    They’re called shellmounds.

    The “Ancient Indian Burial Mounds” of Ohlone people–ancestors of the present-day Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area.

    They were built long before any of this was here.

    Long before some old dead white dudes squatted on what was then a peninsula. Before it got dredged into an Island and eventually called “Alameda.”

    Long before this place was called la Bolsa de Encinal to Mexicans, land grant parcels on the extension of former Mission Lands that stretched north from San Jose de Guadalupe, to the Carquinez Strait.

    Long before Ohlone were called Costanoan, when Portola came through in who-cares-when. Before the missions were founded in 1776[–which is the same time a meddlesome group of colonists declared their independence from England on the East Coast of this continent.]

    Even longer before: when this area was just a valley with a little river in it…..

    THIS PLACE HAS BEEN OHLONE TERRITORY SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL

    10,000+ years of habitation meant those shellmounds were real, and big.

    There were thousands of shellmounds all over the San Francisco Bay Area. Some of the biggest recorded shellmounds were in Emeryville.

    At least 4 shellmounds were right here, in Alameda.

    And while many may not exist above ground.

    Ohlone Ancestors still lie in wait below.

    To be discovered during foundation upgrades, trenching, and in-ground pool installations.

    The Shellmounds of Alameda

    I grew up in a pre-victorian house on Court Street, about a block away from my grandparent’s house, which was firmly on the edge of the Mound Street Shellmound, around Santa Clara and Mound Street.

    Being an Indian kid, adopted out of his tribe from birth, raised on an island that’s just as well known for its racism as it is the former naval air station, things were tough. And, I’ll be honest, I only ever wanted to go home.

    So, maybe it was my spirit calling that influenced what I saw as a child. Because my white adopted parents’ money paid for all the psychological and physical testing that proved I wasn’t suffering from some psychosis or more serious condition. [Laying down in a dark room with electrodes attached to my head was an interesting experience.]

    I never really got a lot of peace in that house when I was alone. From an early age, I learned not to go too far into the basement by myself. Not necessarily because it was dangerous; but because other things lived there.

    The House on Court Street

    The Bad Dream Light

    Before my sister came to live with us, (she’s adopted, too; and came home in 1989,) I slept in the room which would become hers.

    It was a small, narrow room, with popcorn ceiling, and walls; with access to the attic through a panel in the ceiling of the closet.

    Next to the was an old “ancient” light fixture which had probably been there since the house was electrified. [It was also moved from the corner of Benton & Santa Clara to the place on the 1300 block of Court Street where this all occurs.]

    My dad remembers that I called that the “Bad Dream Light”. He doesn’t remember why specifically. But, he told me, when it came time to pick which room I would sleep in once my sister arrived, I picked the room at the front of the house–not the one with the light.

    This is only a footnote about myself that was told to me. And it shrouds the next story in even more mystery because it makes me wonder if it came from the attic.

    Ruby In the Attic

    My earliest memory of something being a little off seems somewhat inconsequential. It’s more of a passing note.

    But, at some point, I remember finding some jewelry in my mom’s jewelry box and somehow knowing that it was the kind of jewelry that Ruby used to wear.

    I never met someone named Ruby; and I have no idea how I could know that. But I remember telling my dad that Ruby was the woman who lived in the attic.

    Of course, nobody could live in the attic; it was just a crawl space.

    This whole thing was forgotten until many years later, into my adulthood, when I remembered this, and asked my Dad who Ruby was. [In fact, I asked both my parents, and my birth mother.]

    It turns out: Ruby is the name of my father’s great aunt.

    The Procession in the Hallway

    I don’t like talking about this. Because, out of all my experiences, this is the one that legitimately makes me seem crazy. Despite the confidence of having had a total psychological and physical work up, and knowing this wasn’t the product of some kind of illness: it’s still something that bothers me to this day.

    Have you ever had a light shined in your eyes that you could see even after you closed them? Like a silvery, shadowy afterimage burned into your retinas? Some people call them “eidetic images”, mental images with unusual vividness–an exceptional ability that only children between 6 and 12 are able to possess.

    Now, imagine you’re a 6 year old who can’t sleep; so you went into the living room, and are watching late-night/early-morning television on the big recliner in front of the T.V.

    At some point, you become aware of something moving out of the corner of your eye. So you look. And what you see is the outline, a silvery shadowy outline of a person. And it’s walking down the hallway.

    You watch, as it walks down the hallway, behind the living room wall…. And then appears in the other living room entryway, at the same pace, in the same manner. Just minding its own business.

    It can’t be real. Because it looks just like the afterimage of a bright light shined in your face. And you know no one’s there, because it’s too late, it’s night time, and there’s no one there.

    But it is.

    Except, it’s not minding its business. It has noticed you. So it’s stopped, and turned to face you directly, staring back. With no face, no details, just this weird shadowy figure.

    You will the thing to go away, to leave you alone. But it does not disappear when you close your eyes and open them again. It turns back and walks down the hall on its own time.

    In the beginning it was just one figure watching me from the hallway. Then it was two or three.

    If I kept my eyes on the TV and pretended like I didn’t notice them, they would keep going, only occasionally stopping to look at me.

    It terrified me to see them. But my room was also terrifying on its own, too. Sometimes the bed would move, vibrate, or I would … feel like there was something waiting to pour forth from my closet the whole time.

    But it wasn’t as simple as just ignoring them.

    They never came into the living room. Never approached me. Never made a sound.

    But there were so many that the hallway seemed crowded.

    Something changed that made it stop. I can’t remember what.

    But it’s worth noting that from the time I was born and lived in that house, the neighboring block, the former site of Lincoln School, had been razed and was being developed into the south-west inspired houses that sit there now. [From 1986 to 1991 at least.]

    Considering how many burials are still being unearthed in 2025: Who knows how many burials were hiding just below the surface of the former high school grounds.

    Is it possible that I saw Ohlone ancestors wandering through my house, searching for their way back home? Or were they the figment of an overactive imagination?

    The Basement Double

    Because the house had been moved from its original lot at Benton Street and Santa Clara Avenue, it never had a real foundation. At some point, my dad had paid for a foundation to be built underneath the half that held our bedrooms, but the rest of the “foundation” was a collection of 4×4 posts sitting on piles of bricks.

    This meant the “basement”–the ground floor of the house–was mostly dirt, covered by plywood.

    The basement was always spooky. Not because it was dark, or dangerous. But because I could tell something else lived there. And that I was an interloper. It’s a feeling that never left me, no matter how well let, or how cozy it ever became.

    When it was still mostly unfinished, the two most recognizable rooms were the laundry room, and the workshop. Early on, my dad spent a lot of time in both. Mostly doing laundry, and sometimes tinkering in the workshop. If he couldn’t be found upstairs, he was downstairs doing either.

    To get to the “basement”, you would go out a side door in the back of the house, and walk down a staircase that wrapped around to the exterior door–which was padlocked shut when no one was in there.

    Usually, I could be left to my own devices. I would entertain myself or play games, read books. But at this point in the day, I got bored and went looking for my dad.

    I checked the bedrooms, the kitchen, and the bathroom. No one was around. So, I figured he was probably downstairs.

    When I poked my head out of the side door, I saw the back of him turn the corner at the bottom landing.

    I shouted, “Dad!”

    And jumped down the stars a landing at a time. Reaching the bottom and turning just in time to see him disappear into the basement.

    At this point I’m thinking he’s playing a game. So I rushed into the basement calling out for him.

    But the basement was dark. There was no sign my dad was down there. The washing machine wasn’t running. There were no lights on anywhere, not in the workshop. Not in the garage.

    I realized very quickly that I was alone.

    That, maybe, this was a trap.

    And with these realizations, things started to feel like they were closing in on me. I felt exposed. Viscerally. Almost … in danger.

    Even though I knew I should probably run, I felt frozen.

    It wasn’t until I heard the toilet flush upstairs that I was able to gather my wits, and zoom out the door.

    I caught my dad just as he was coming out of the bathroom door.

    Not wanting to let on about the terrifying experience I just escaped, I cried, “Oh, there you are!”

    The Vertebra

    I found a bone in the dirt in this little room in the back of the basement. The room itself was squared off by walls, and it had a large step of poured concrete, much like a bulk-head–but very much unlike every other part of the basement. This looked like the most built up part of the whole house to be honest. Even though it lacked real walls, and a real floor.

    I was messing around in the dirt in the back there, because it was so powdery and light. It was just dust, I liked running my hands through it because of its smooth, silky texture.

    And that’s when I found it.

    A bone, pale, pitted, but whole. With no obvious cuts or missing pieces: I could tell it was a vertebra. [Because reference books were my only friends.]

    When I showed my mom, she told me it was a dog.

    Or a cow, when I pushed back. But I knew.

    I kept that bone for years. The last time I saw it was in my room, on my bookshelf. But I can’t tell you where it is today. It’s probably somewhere in storage, waiting to be re-discovered.

    Living on a Haunted Island

    My house wasn’t the only place where I experienced things. Most of Alameda is haunted by its own past. The Shellmounds of Alameda had long been used as overspread, the bones of Muwekma ancestors used for fertilizing rose bushes … and paving Bay Farm Road.

    But even its more contemporary history echoed in the abandoned halls of buildings long forgotten.

    My personal history of exploring the abandoned buildings on the former Alameda naval air station as a teenager is extensive.

    And some of the most heart-pounding experiences I have ever shared with my friends have taken place in buildings that no longer even stand today.

    This is not to introduce a story so far away from home as it is to introduce the fact that I have had experiences which have been shared and witnessed with other people.

    The Swaying Woman in the Closet

    At some point during my teenage years, I had removed the door from my closet. My childhood fears of what lurked inside had been abandoned.

    In that version of my bedroom layout, my bed was positioned directly across from the closet.

    One night, a friend was sleeping over. The lights were off. We were getting ready to go to sleep. I was just starting to relax when I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye.

    In the doorway of the closet, there was the outline or shadow of a woman with long hair.

    She was standing there. Her feet were planted. But she was swaying side to side–moving left to right unnaturally fast. Ping-ponging in place between the door jambs.

    No human could move that way. And no one else was in the room besides us. This woman wasn’t really there. Even though I could see her, and feel her angry, unsettled energy.

    I saw it. But, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare my friend.

    After a moment, they asked, “Do you see that?”

    Which meant they saw it too.

    I just replied, “Go to sleep,”

    And pulled the blanket over their head.

    Rosa in the Den

    Rosa was a rescue dog from Guatemala. A collie type dog with calico colors and spots.

    At this point, I was in my 20’s. The house had been renovated almost a decade ago, so there was a den in the basement now, with a real locking door to the rest of the still-unfinished basement.

    My sister’s dog had recently passed. He was a miniature Dachshund who succumbed to old age. This happened not long after.

    Rosa and I would sit downstairs on the couch in the den and watch TV together. (She had actually started watching it with me, commenting in her own way on what was happening on the screen. Which was … almost more fun to watch than TV.)

    Tonight was no different.

    Except, Rosa suddenly cued up on something.

    She started, and looked at the recliner across from us. Then she seemed to watch something go from the recliner to the floor. And continued to track something as it went under the coffee table directly in front of us.

    Then she let out a whimper. And covered her eyes with her paws.

    I couldn’t ask her what she saw. But it seemed like it was small, almost like another animal. I still wonder about it to this day.

    The Bureau Shadow

    Sometimes it was hard to tell if I was just imagining things. If something was really there. Or if I were somehow picking up on the echoes of the past.

    Upstairs, on the main floor, the renovations to the house saw an addition of a bathroom in my parents’ room, as well as the removal of the walls separating the living room from the hallway and the dining room. We now had an open floor plan, and stairs leading down into the den from the dining room.

    Other changes had been made. For instance, the front door now had a frosted glass oval window in the center, and another window frame on top. This allowed the porch light to illuminate the whole space with a gentle glow.

    I could basically walk in a diagonal line from my room to the bathroom. I guess that’s not really a big deal now that I think of it. But I wonder why I didn’t just take that route one night when I saw a shadow in the hallway.

    It wasn’t one of the things I used to see walking through the hall when I was younger. This was different.

    In the hallway, along the wall between my sister’s bedroom door–the narrow bedroom between my parents’ and mine … was a bureau of draws, about waist height, with a mirror mounted lengthwise on top.

    It was long, sturdy. And it used to belong to my mom’s parents. My grandmother used it, and it used to have a picture of me and her wedged in the frame. But that was long ago.

    Now it was in the hallway. And it held linen and place settings for the dining room table.

    But there was something else there tonight.

    A shadow of a person. Standing in front of the bureau, its hands flat on the table top, gazing into the mirror.

    I could have walked around it, like I said. I probably should have. But, for some reason, I didn’t. I thought, like all of the other strange things, it would just disappear as soon as I came too close to it.

    I was wrong.

    It only became more solid the closer I got.

    Until I was standing next to it.

    Realizing that it was blocking the light.

    And that I could sense its presence like you can sense someone standing next to you.

    I didn’t walk through it. I didn’t touch it. In fact, I moved around it, and said, “Excuse me”, as I passed.

    Then I went into my room. Locked the door. And didn’t leave for the rest of the night.

    The Grandparents’ House on the Shellmound

    My dad’s parents lived three blocks away from us. At about Santa Clara Avenue, and Mound Street. Well within the bounds of the shellmound on Mound Street.

    I never felt alone in that house. And I never really felt at ease. It always seemed like I was just one corner away from seeing something I was really prepared for. Whatever that thing would be. I felt it lurking in the walls, behind every door, and inside every cabinet.

    The place vibrated with a strong, unsettling feeling. Even outside, I felt like everything inside was watching me through the windows. Was waiting for me behind the trees. Even in the open space of the backyard, the detached shed–which was actually a nice, newer, single room building–had that vibe to it.

    Something not necessarily foreboding, but just not entirely welcoming or at-ease.

    I was the most scared of the dorm room on the third floor my dad and his three brothers (my uncles) shared growing up. But the basement–real basement–with my grandpa’s den and the cellar were a very close second. However, I felt like I could stay there for a little longer without feeling too creeped out.

    Up on the third floor, I became paranoid that things were happening on the floors below me, just out of sight. But down in the den, I didn’t want to turn my back on anything.

    My fear of the house was so strong that I never wanted to stay the night. Ever. And I don’t think I ever stayed more than one night at any time.

    The last time I slept there, I slept in the living room on the couch because I didn’t want to go any deeper into the house.

    My dad’s cousin said he and my uncles used to dig up arrowheads in the cellar. I never ventured onto the dirt over there. Even after both my grandparents had passed, it was my job to pack up the house. My partner at the time was there, working with me.

    Our workflow was to pick up stuff, wrap it in packing paper, then put it in a box, label the box, seal it up, and transfer it to storage.

    One of the first things I did was teach myself how to use the security system, and assign myself and all my family members separate pins for the alarm. It seemed important because I wanted to make sure the house was secure since no one was living inside it anymore. It was a basic system that chimed and announced when a door or window was opened.

    So my partner and I had managed to make really good progress on packing everything up, and had managed to work our way down to the den.

    At some point, we ran out of some packing supplies. My partner stayed working in the den as I locked the door and left to get more.

    When I came back, he was visibly shaken. And he wanted to know if I had come back earlier.

    When I asked him why, he told me that he heard someone come into the house, and walk all the way to the back room, where my grandparents used to sit and watch TV all the time.

    No one else was in the house. The alarm would have announced an open door. But there was no record of any event other than my return.

    Maybe I never saw anything in the house because I never wanted to. Because I was scared enough just being there that I didn’t need to.

    I still dream about both my childhood house, and my grandparents’ house. They’re usually nightmares about growing up on the burial mound.

    It wasn’t until I started doing local research that I learned about the other shellmounds in Alameda.

    I know I’m not the only one who’s had these experiences.

    Hopefully this gives other people the courage to reach out and share theirs.

    Thank you for reading this.

  • Acorn Granary Challenge Produces Storage For 2024 Harvest

    What is an Acorn Granary?

    Acorn Granaries are traditional Native American storage containers used to hold foods like dried berries, rice, squash, and tree nuts…. (In this case: acorns from the city-wide acorn harvest happening this fall.) …And keep them safe from animals and the environment over winter.

    What is the purpose of an Acorn Granary?

    To store food that people needed to survive during the coldest parts of winter, when no plants grow, and all of the animals are hibernating, or have migrated to warmed areas.

    Why are Acorn Granaries important?

    Acorns were one of the single most important food sources in California [Heizer 1957]. Over winter, the bounties of California’s many edible plants, and the abundance of wildlife normally acquired through hunting, trapping, or fishing, is replaced with a barren landscape.

    This is why it’s so important to gather as much food as possible; and to protect it from water, wind, rain, and the animals–who also depend on caches to survive through the winter.

    How widespread is the use of Acorn Granaries?

    It cannot be overstated: Acorns were one of the single most important food sources in California [Heizer 1957]. Most families had an acorn granary [Gifford 1932; Fremont 1843]. Granaries were meant to hold acorns as they dried over winter, however, granaries would be kept and maintained for many years.

    How many acorns does an Acorn Granary hold?

    Some granaries would hold just enough acorns to support a family until the next harvest. Other granaries could hold “ten to twenty sacks of acorns” [Gifford 1932]. Although, there’s no specific weight or volume measurement for how much a “sack” is. Heizer (in 1957), noted that Patwin communities had granaries with a capacity of about 6 to 10 bushels of acorns.

    Several studies included dimensions of varying types of granaries made by different California Native Tribes:

    On average, the granaries were about 3-4 feet in diameter, up to 10 feet high, and at least 2 feet off the ground.

    How many acorns were harvested during the Acorn Harvest?

    The only limit to how many acorns could be harvested was dependent upon the method of collection, and how many people were involved in the harvest.

    The Acorn Harvest happens once a year, when there is a nearly limitless supply of acorns adorning the more-than 87 million oak trees which are endemic to California. [Oaks 2040]

    Competition for Acorns

    Over 100 different kinds of animals eat acorns, including (but not limited to):

    • Bear
    • Chipmunk
    • Crows
    • Deer
    • Ducks
    • Foxes
    • Jack Rabbit
    • Jays
    • Mallards
    • Mice
    • Oppossums
    • Quail
    • Raccoons
    • Squirrel
    • Turkeys
    • Voles
    • Wild Hogs
    • Woodpeckers

    Every single one of these animals would gladly take a pre-foraged “snack pack” [that’s what a bear would call it] in a season when no other food is available.

    This is why it is necessary to create: (a) a sturdy food container that (b) hides the scent of food, and (c) deters animals from eating through the container into the actual food inside.

    What are the different types of Acorn Granaries?

    Below is a list granary types–but the names aren’t official. There are no standardized names for granaries because over 300 unique languages were spoken in California.

    • Coil-type –
      Acorns chill under a coil basket made from cordage. (Usually on a platform.)
    • Hanging basket –
      Hung from sturdy tree-limbs, or from a frame made from lashed wood.
    • Tree platform –
      Resting on platform build in the crook of a tree.
    • Free-standing –
      Made with sturdy legs to resist wind, and other forces.
    • Rock-butt –
      Granary resting on a rock. Sometimes stabilized by legs, or tied to frame/tree limb, or all of the above.

    Construction Materials

    Willow reeds & poles, and California Bay boughs, were gathered from the Indigenous Land Lab

    • Willow reeds and poles
    • Leaves and boughs from:
      • California Bay Laurel (Umbellularia californica)
      • Bay Laurel (Laurus nobilis)
    • Natural twine
    Bay Laurel boughs were gathered during the Acorn Granary Challenge Session #3, at the Alameda Point Collaborative Farm2Market, where our events were held.

    Acorn Granary Construction

    After learning about the history, usage, and types of Acorn Granaries, we began granary construction over four sessions in July 2024.

    Rolling the frame onto the hoops.

    Completed granary frame.

    Loosely woven base of the granary. (Take note the base is larger than the frame.)

    Granary frame stuffed with bay leaves, sitting on base base, on top of tree rounds (with willow shims, lol.)

    Shoring up the granary, using willow poles to stabilize with tension & compression. (MIT undergraduate remix.)

    Granary Status: Ready for Acorns

    Special Thanks & Acknowledgments

    A huge shoutout, and special thanks goes out to the APC Farm2Market, for hosting our event, and the acorn granary.

    Another huge shoutout goes to the Land Partners, who are hosting the Indigenous Land Lab, another Acorn Granary, and have graciously allowed us to harvest all of the willow and California Bay we used (and will use) for Acorn Granary Construction.

    Special thanks goes out to everyone who participated in the Acorn Granary Challenge: Sandra, Liz, The Li & Pan Families, Natalie, Skipper.

    We also want to acknowledge the Alameda County Arts Commission’s ARTSFUND for their part in funding this awesome, and ongoing, experience.

    What’s next?

    The First Annual Acorn Harvest begins this Fall!

    Stay tuned for more announcements!

  • BART Decolonized: Travel the Indigenous Bay

    It’s The Bay

    The Indigenous Bay, that is.

    Alameda Native History Project has remixed the San Francisco Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) System Map to show:

    • Bay Area Tribal Regions
    • Station Names
    • Indigenous IATA [Airport] Codes

    Travel the Indigenous Bay with Native Pride!

    A small run of prints are available now on our merch page.

    Get yours before they run out!

    For real, though, once they run out, it’s going to be a minute before another run is printed. And you’ll be forced to make due with one of our other awesome maps.

  • 2024-2025 Cultural & Education Programming Announced!

    The Alameda Native History Project is proud to announce their Cultural & Educational Program Offerings for 2024-2025.

    2024 Acorn Granary Challenge

    Beginning July 1, 2024; and,
    Ending on July 31, 2024.

    Mix modern and traditional methods of acorn granary construction to create a semi-permanent structure which will hold the acorns from our First Annual Acorn Harvest.

    The challenge is creating something that will withstand the elements over winter.

    We will meet as a team to construct these Acorn Granaries. Together we will learn about the different kinds of Acorn Granaries; integrated pest management uses of California Native Plants; and how indigenous technology works to keep food safe for centuries.

    This is a series of free events which happens 10am-2pm Every Sunday in July.

    Sign Up Happening Now

    2024 Alameda “City-Wide” Acorn Harvest

    September – October 2024

    Take part in the First Annual Alameda Acorn Harvest.

    Learn about the ancient Live Oak Forests of this place now called “Alameda”.  Learn about the nutritional value and the cultural significance of acorns.

    There are a number of different ways in which everyone can participate. Please check out the list of roles available on the Sign-Up Form, right after our Community Guidelines.

    Snacks, Water, Coffee, and Lunch, will be provided.

    Sign-Up Now

    Alameda Native Food Lab: ACORNS!

    Multiple Sessions Held in March 2025

    Learn how to process acorns.

    Sample traditional Acorn Mush.

    Make different baked goods using Acorn Flour made from Alameda Oak Trees. Leave with your own Acorn Flour, and recipes to try at home!

    This session is Free!

    Tickets Available in September 2024

  • Scarcity Mindset As A Hurdle to Museum Accountability

    By now there should be no doubt that most museums, which display or hold Native American artifacts, directly benefit from grave robbing, or the often racist, prejudiced language and ignorant beliefs regarding Native Americans first uttered by now dead anthropologists [like Alfred Kroeber], and perpetuated by the ailing volunteers and aging septuagenarians responsible for interpreting and curating these artifacts today.

    Many of these museums do no care to get the information or facts straight, and continue to present California Native Americans as “extinct”, “disappeared”, and brush off or dismiss any mention of actual living Native people as someone trying to raise trouble.

    Advocates for the truthful portrayal, accurate naming, and return of tribal objects and remains are often called “hostile”, dismissed as rabble rousers, and subjected to projection by the very people who should have read White Fragility.

    Even more infuriating is the belief consulting with any Native American individual on any subject–whether or not it’s related to the stolen Tribal Grave Goods or Ceremonial Objects in these Museum’s possession–is used as cover for the Museum to continue to disregard the wishes of the very real, and still living Native American people who have a lawful claim, and a legal right to demand the return and repatriation of these Native American Tribal Resources and Cultural Objects.

    In fact, many of the people museums choose to consult with regarding Native American artifacts are not Native Americans at all.

    Truthfully, Native American people are consistently shut out of events, exhibitions and lectures about their own culture and identity.

    A lot of apologists will say “it’s not like this anymore”; or dismiss the Standard Operating Procedures museums as a thing of the past…. But these conditions till persist.

    Native American People continue to be discounted, ignored; and their history, culture and contributions continue to be minimized and ignored.

    But the truth remains: The artifacts and objects on display in most museums have been stolen from Native American People, their graves, and do not belong to the museums who refuse to return them.

    There are three main reasons why Museums refuse to return Tribal Cultural Objects.

    The first is that there is no Federally Recognized Tribe which claims these objects to return them to. This is especially true for the Repatriation of Native American Remains.

    It’s a shame that these institutions are unwilling to do the research and work necessary to properly identify Tribal Cultural Objects and Native American Remains to repatriate the same way they did the research to identify and prepare the same goods and burials for exhibition.

    It’s despicable the way Museums claim such helplessness and ignorance when it comes time to give stolen objects back, even though the exact same objects are the she subjects of fundraising events and lectures proudly given by white anthropologists, and non-native experts, even today.

    Charlene Nijmeh, the Chairwoman of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area, talks about how the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe was removed from the rolls of Native American Tribes simply for the purpose of denying Ohlone people in the San Francisco Bay Area their right to a tribal land base; because land in the Bay Area is so valuable.

    In this same way, institutions like the University of California Berkeley (which holds the remains of thousands of Native Americans) are incentivized to claim an inability to identify which tribes the bodies in their crypt belong to.

    So, too, are Museums incentivized to weaponize their incompetence in order to keep their pilfered goods.

    The second reason is the fallacy that Native American Remains are “more valuable” as research or display objects.

    This is a completely reprehensible argument that bears no merit, as far as I’m concerned. Simply because these same people would not agree that their family members are more valuable being dug up, defiled in the name of science, and put on display without so much of a whisper of their name or life’s story.

    It’s worth saying, “If you’re not okay with your grandma being dug up and put on display, why are you doing it to mine?”

    The blatant disrespect of Native American Graves as things which can be dug up, broken, moved to a landfill, reburied, and used as overspread is something which has been enabled by the statements of people like Alfred Kroeber, who explicitly declared entire tribes of Native Americans (like Ohlone people) “extinct”.

    It s because these remains are considered “ancient”, or attributed to a time before our modern history where no living descendants exist–“pre-historic” for all intents and purposes–that oil companies, city, state and federal governments have dug up the bodies of our ancestors with impunity. And why money is still being given to universities to study our ancestors’ remains, even today.

    But this is a fallacy, because Native American people are not extinct; they have not disappeared. We are still here, today. And we do not want anyone digging up our relatives to build pipelines, parking lots… or “for science”. Period!

    (How come laws against the abuse of a corpse apply to every body except for Native American bodies?)

    The third, and final, reason why institutions refuse to even consider returning stolen Native American artifacts to tribes is an extension of the preceding “more valuable for science” reasoning.

    However, the very basis of some museums’ refusal to return tribal objects is clearly rooted in the scarcity mindset.

    Museum Fallacy #3:

    “If we give away all of our artifacts, we won’t have any left!”

    “If we give away all of our artifacts, we won’t have any left!” This was actually said to me by a volunteer at the Alameda Museum.

    This is dissonant because many museum’s holdings are made of stolen property. Repatriation is the only correct course of action; anything less is a travesty.

    This standing also presumes the only thing of value the museum has to offer is the exhibition of original artifacts, no matter how broken or uninteresting those artifacts are; and, in spite of the fact that curators and museum staff and volunteers have no […] clue how those objects are used, where they actually came, or what the history of their use and development is.

    In all of this, there is not even a hint of concern about whether or not the museum has a duty to investigate/research, find, and try to contact the tribe associated with the Native American objects and artifacts in their possession.

    Consideration of actual Native American People is so far removed from the discussion, it’s a little ridiculous.

    Representation of average museum volunteer docents. (AI-generated.)

    Especially given the fact that these Museum are inviting Native American people to give lectures during Native American Heritage Month. (But consider the audience….)

    The idea that there aren’t enough artifacts is a fallacy based upon a false sense of ownership and authority magically imbued by the mere possession of these stolen grave goods.

    The implied scarcity mindsight that the only thing which gives museums like the Alameda Museum any value is a handful of broken pieces of bones and tools–which no one knows the use for (or even the names of)–is laughable in its appeal to ignorance.

    The fact that Alameda Museum is not, and has never been, the place to see Native American artifacts belies this mindset as a straw man argument for the lack of interest or determination of the museum to change or do any better. But, in the end, it’s the museum which must do the work.

    So let’s get down to brass tax here:

    1. Museums need to get real about the fact that no one cares whether or not they exhibit real artifacts if their exhibits are trash and don’t actually provide any education value; especially if Museum Staff & Volunteers don’t know anything about them. [There’s no value here.]
    2. Returning Native American Grave Goods is the right thing to do. (It’s probably illegal for museums to possess them.) And Museums owe money, and other restitution, to Tribes for their illegal conversion of Tribal Property.
    3. Contacting Tribes to begin the repatriation process is necessary.
    4. Museums need to seriously consider purchasing replicas made by Native American artisans in exchanging for the return of Grave Good and Ceremonial Objects.
    5. Museums are required to pay Indigenous People for their time and consultation at a rate commensurate with like professionals in the same or similar industries–regardless of whether or not those Indigenous Consultants have any academic credentials.

    Indigenous Peoples’ lived experiences and actual subject matter expertise are more valuable than any degree.

    Indigenous science is valid.

    Indigenous science is a distinct, time-tested, and methodological knowledge system that can enhance and complement western science. Indigenous science is about the knowledge of the environment and knowledge of the ecosystem that Indigenous Peoples have. It is the knowledge of survival since time immemorial and includes multiple systems of knowledge(s) such as the knowledge of plants, the weather, animal behavior and patterns, birds, and water among others.

    Indigenous people are experts.

    Museums will do well to remember these facts when treating Indigenous People with the reverence and respect they deserve.

  • Landback Wildflower Mix

    What’s InsidePlanting InstructionsHow To Get the Landback Wildflower Mix

    A mix of hand-collected Native California Plants chosen for the semi-arid climate of Alameda, and places like it, below 1,000 feet.

    All of them are full sun; except for the Tomcat Clover, which is happiest with a little soil moisture.

    Tomcat Clover
    Trifolium willdenovii

    Credit: Jennifer McNew, BLM

    Most of the plants in the Landback Wildflower Seed mix were selected because they are easy to grow, and help to provide food and pollen for a variety of life-forms, the most popular of which would be butterflies, and native honey bee and bumble bees. But these plants also sustain Birds, and Moths.

    Gilia Capitata is beautiful, blue, self-sewing and easy to grow. Blooms throughout spring, well into summer.

    Blue Thimble Flower
    (aka “Globe Gilia”)
    Gilia capitata

    Credit: Amada44

    Many of these plants should look familiar, if you’ve ever been hiking around the East Bay. We live in a place where there are many places where you can observe wildflowers as they exist in nature.

    Goldfields are numerous, and can be found all over the shoreline of the Bay Area, for instance: on Doolittle Drive, along the Martin Luther King Jr. Regional Shoreline.

    Goldfields
    Lasthenia glabrata

    Credit: Cliff Hutson

    The California Coastal Poppy is a native cultivar developed for its drought tolerance, deer resistance, and self-sowing attributes. The orange dot in the center make the perfect landing pad for all kinds of pollinators.

    Coastal Poppy
    Eschscholzia californica var. maritima

    Credit: Paul Hermans

    Each seed pack has a unique ratio of seeds.

    Chinese Houses set themselves apart with their long stalks, which reach up to 2 feet high, and their distinctive purple petals. These wildflowers are especially attractive to pollinators, including the Variable Checkerspot, Edith’s Checkspot Butterflies; and the Bilobed Looper Moth (among others.)

    Chinese Houses
    (aka “Innocence”)
    Collinsia heterophylla

    Credit: Stickpen

    Some packets have a small amount of these beautiful and super drought tolerant California native plants:

    Elegant Tarweed
    Madia elegans

    Credit: Calibas

    Smells like pineapple. Drought & Deer tolerant. Reliably self-sows. Late-season bloom from Mid-Summer to Fall.

    Serpentine Sunflower
    Helianthus bolanderi

    Credit: Richard Spellenberg

    Grows up to 5′ tall. Doesn’t care what soil you plant it in. Goes crazy in compost-enhanced soil. Great cut flower. Self-Sows.

    About the Seed Packets

    The Landback Wildflower Mix has been specifically chosen to be easy to grow and drought-tolerant; requiring only a couple of waterings a month once they are established.

    These seeds require no pretreatment and can be sown directly into the ground where they will be grown. Coastal Poppy roots are fragile, and should not be transplanted or moved from their original plot, once established.

    Planting Instructions:

    Prepare seedbed by removing existing weeds. Mix seeds with compost, broadcast where it is to grow, rake in lightly, and tamp. If fall rains don’t begin, irrigate 1-2 times weekly until seedling have made good growth.

    Watering:

    Water 1-2 times weekly until the plants are established. Once these plants are established, they can be water 1-2 a month. [With the exception of the Tomcat Clover, which enjoys a little moisture in its soil.]

    Planting Time:

    Fall and winter are optimal for annual flowers. The sweet spot is mid-fall.

    Sowing Rate:

    The Landback Wildflower Mix seed packet can seed approximately 5 square feet.

    Source of the Seeds in the Landback Wildflower Mix:

    These seeds were purchased, mixed, and repackaged by Alameda Native History Project from Larner Seeds, and Klamath-Siskiyou Native Seeds, for give-away purposes only.

    Neither Larner Seeds, nor Siskiyou Native Seeds are affiliated with the Alameda Native History Project.

    A Note On Larner Seeds:

    Larner Seeds was founded by Judith Larner Lowry. She is an expert on local native plants, seed gathering, and propagation, and has written a number of books on this subject.

    Larner Seeds is based in Bolinas, California, and is definitely worth the visit, if you can make it over to their Seed Shop & Demonstration Garden.

    How To Get the Landback Wildflower Mix

    You can pick up a Landback Wildflower Mix seed packet from our booth at the:

    Blues, Brews & BBQ Festival
    September 17, 2023
    Noon to 6pm

    Call or Email Us ahead of time to reserve your packet!

  • Who are the Lisjan Ohlone? What does Chochenyo mean?

    Who are “The Lisjan Ohlone”?

    This article will introduce you to where Lisjan is; who “Lisjan Ohlone” are, what what “Viva Lisjanes” means.

    Where is Lisjan?

    • Lisjan is the big valley that spans the area from Pleasanton, to the Altamont Range (Amador and Livermore Valleys) which were also rancherias Alisal, Bernal, Del Mocho, and more.
    • Lisjan homeland of Jose Guzman, who is a Muwekma Ohlone Ancestor and Captain of the Verona Band of Indians of Alameda County.
    • Lisjan is a Nisenan (Maidu) name for the area now known as Pleasanton, California.

    Why does it seem like Ohlone people are only in the South Bay?

    Because the Spanish Missions in the Bay Area were in San Francisco and the South Bay.

    • Mission San Jose is in Fremont
    • Mission Santa Clara is in San Jose
    • Mission Delores is in San Francisco

    The present-day Muwekma Ohlone Tribe is comprised of all of the known surviving American Indian lineages aboriginal to the San Francisco Bay region who trace their ancestry through the Missions Dolores, Santa Clara, and San Jose; and who were also members of the historic Federally Recognized Verona Band of Alameda County.

    Secularization and Mission Abandonment

    When the Missions were abandoned, secularized (in 1833), or destroyed, indigenous people continued to live on Mission Land, in what was most definitely their tribal homeland.

    “Mission Indians” who continued to live on their homeland after secularization were not “squatters”; as the California (Military) Governor proclaimed in 1847.

    They were simply continuing to live and survive on their land, through the rise and fall of the California Mission System—which only lasted 64 year, yet had a profound and cataclysmic effect on all Indigenous people within their spheres of influence.

    Many indigenous people stayed in this area, and blended in with Spanish, and Mexican work forces to avoid the American treatment of Indigenous People–which was well-known by the mid-1850’s to be sadistic and unpredictable. It was in the interest of survival that people blended in, and kept a low profile.

    Verona Band of Alameda County

    The “Verona Band” was an administrative name used to refer to a group of indigenous people who lived around the area where a train station named “Verona” was built by William Hearst in 1901. This is the Niles Canyon/Sunol Region of the Bay Area. Relatively close to the Mission San Jose.

    Yo Soy Lisjanes

    In 1921, a linguist interviewed a member of the Verona Band known as Jose Guzman. Guzman was considered an “Indian captain” and shared much of his language and life stories with John P. Harrington—the linguist. (Jose Guzman was not the only person Harrington interviewed.)

    So where/who is Lisjan?

    One of the things Jose Guzman said was, “Yo soy Lisjanes.”

    As in: I’m Lisjanes, I am from Lisjan.

    He was saying he’s from the area North of Verona: valleys now known as Amador and Livermore–but which had been split into many different rancherias by Spanish and Mexican colonizers, including Alisal, Bernal, and Del Mocho, among others.

    One of the reasons that Guzman may have referred to the area around present-day Pleasanton by its Nisenan name could be that Jose Guzman’s parents were both from Maidu Territory, farther north, in a region where people spoke Nisenan.

    Indigenous people are polyglottal by nature.

    What does Chochenyo Mean?

    Jose Guzman was the last fluent Chochenyo Speaker. Chochenyo is an Ohlone Language spoken in the East Bay.

    When Jose Guzman passed, in 1934, some people thought Chochenyo would never be spoken again. But, his words and phrases from 1921 make it possible for the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe to reawaken the Chochenyo langauge today.

    It all started when Jose Guzman said, “Yo soy Lisjanes”.

    So when you recognize “The Lisjan Ohlone”; you’re recognizing Jose Guzman.

    You’re recognizing the historic Verona Band of Indians of Alameda County. The present-day Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area.

    Viva Lisjanes!

    Jose Guzman (1854-1934)

  • Alameda Shellmound Map

    Please Note: A new version of the Alameda Shellmound Map (Version 2.0) was released on July 18, 2024.

    There’s a new map showing the Shellmounds of Alameda.

    It transposes the historic alameda shoreline onto the modern-day silohuette of the city. The map shows historic wetlands and tidal marshes, and the four Alameda Shellmounds.

    Map of the
    Shellmounds of Huchiun,
    ~Muwekma Ohlone Territory~
    Showing the Area Now Known As The
    “City of Alameda”

    By: Gabriel Duncan

    Description of The Map:

    The base map is comprised of the present-day shoreline of the Alameda and Bay Farm area, indicated by a gray-hashed outline; with the land-mass filled in white. The overlay to this map shows the pre-1900 shoreline of Alameda as a solid black outline.

    The Areas shaded in green comprise historical wetlands in the Alameda and Oakland Area. Alameda and Oakland were once connected. Alameda used to be a lush oak tree forest (Coast Live Oak), with verdant wetlands, and a thriving ecosystem. Alameda was also called la Bolsa de Encinal, or Encinal de San Antonio (a land grant reference.) First Peoples called this place Huchiun.

    The green dots (or markers) indicate the approximate positions of historic Ohlone shellmounds present around 1908, and before. The shellmound locations indicated in this map were compiled from three different sources:

    1. N.C. Nelson’s “Shellmounds of the San Francisco Bay Region” [1909, University Press.]
    2. Imelda Merlin’s “Alameda: a Geological History”, [1977, Friends of the Alameda Free Library]
    3. Oakland Tribune [“Skull reveals mound”, Feb. 11, 1945]

    What are Shellmounds?

    Shellmounds are the resting place of the First Peoples of this area, Ohlone people. Ohlone people built these ancient structures over thousands of years. There are so many mussel shells in a shellmound they have a bluish tinge. Shells were deposited on land by birds, as well as humans, and the natural course of the circle of coastal life.

    In the 1800’s until around 1980, Archaeologists and Historians thought that Ohlone people were extinct; and that these shellmounds were “trash heaps”. And they treated the mounds accordingly.

    Americans used the shells and bones inside the mounds to make aggregate for concrete; landfill for levees; overspread to grade train tracks; and even fertilize plants. Grave robbers stole things from the Ohlone people buried inside the mound, and sold them to museums or collectors. The famous shellmound that Mound Street is named after (the “Sather Mound”) was used to pave Bay Farm Road on multiple occasions.

    Shellmounds today are one of the most endangered historical sites in the Bay Area. But they still exist as a sacred resting place of the Ohlone ancestors. Alameda is the tribal homeland of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area, survivors of the Missions Fremont, Santa Clara, and Delores, and the Verona Band of Alameda County. For at least 10,000 years, Ohlone people have called this place home.

    Get an 24×18-inch copy of this map:

    Get this map as a thank-you gift for your donation of $25 or more to the Alameda Native History Project. 10% of your donation goes directly to the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area.

    References:

    1. Historic Wetlands; Gabriel Duncan 2023
    2. Historic Shoreline (1851-1877) Datasets produced by NOAA National Ocean Service
    3. Present-day Shoreline; City of San Francisco Department of Telecommunications and Information Services
    4. Tribal Regions; A Time of Little Choice: The Disintegration of Tribal Culture in the San Francisco Bay Area 1769-1810, Randall Milliken, Malki-Ballena Press, 1995
    5. Shellmounds of the San Francisco Bay Region, N.C. Nelson, University Press, 1909
    6. Alameda: A Geographical History, Imelda Merlin, Friends of the Alameda Free Library, 1977
    7. “Skull Reveals Mound”, Oakland Tribune, Feb. 11 1945
    8. Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area, Personal Interviews with Tribal Chairwoman Charlene Nijmeh, Vice Chairwoman Monica Arellano, Tribal Member Joey Torres
    9. Muwekma History Presentation to Alameda City Council, Alan Leventhal, Dec. 5 2022
    10. Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area Website, http://muwekma.org, Accessed Aug. 10, 2023
    11. “Road Paved with Bones Grewsome [sic] Covering On Bay Island Thoroughfare”, Alameda Daily Argus, Apr. 23, 1901
    12. “Fixing the Streets”, Alameda Daily Star, Aug. 13 1908
    13. “Mayor Has Idea on Roadbuilding: Takes Exception to Old Mound Being Used for Dressing on New Road”, Oakland Tribune, Oct. 9 1908
    14. “Routine Ruled the Meeting”, Alameda Daily Times, Sep. 29 1908
    15. “End Hauling Dirt to Island From Mound”, Oakland Tribune, Nov. 22 1908

    About the Cartographer

    Gabriel Duncan is the founder and principal researcher of the Alameda Native History Project. He is a recognized descendant of the Utu Utu Gwaitu Paiute Tribe. Gabriel was adopted at birth, and born and raised in the city of Alameda, California. ANHP is devoted to researching and documenting the Indigenous History of Alameda, fostering indigenous representation and awareness in Alameda, and educating Alamedans about their local (living) history in a modern, nuanced way.

    NOTE: This map was updated on 08/17/2023 to show the “Pre-1900 Shoreline”, Historic Wetlands, and Present-Day Land-mass; which are layers 1-3 on the list of references, above. Subsequently, those references have also been updated to reflect this change.
    Please Note: A new version of the Alameda Shellmound Map (Version 2.0) was released on July 18, 2024.

  • Ohlone Curriculum

    In 2015, the East Bay Regional Park District published their second edition of the “Ohlone Curriculum with Bay Miwok Content and Introduction to Delta Yokuts”. This was meant to be third-grade curriculum about the indigenous people of the Bay Area, created by (then) District Cultural Services Coordinator, Beverley R. Ortiz.

    This curriculum came with several resources, including: student resources on Ohlone, Bay Miwok, and Delta Yokut people; Native Peoples Map and Brochure; and the 106-page Ohlone Curriculum, itself. The curriculum is primarily directed at the Grade 3 “Core” and History-Social Science standards; as well as Grade 4 & 5 History-Social Science Content Standards.

    But, the reason it’s remarkable, is because the student’s resources are made mostly of stories and history told by indigenous people, themselves. In fact, it looks like a big family photo album. Which is pretty cool, very personal. And teacher resources and supplements are super helpful.

    Native Peoples of the Region Now Known as the East Bay

    Ohlone Curriculum Map; East Bay Regional Park District; March 24, 2020

    It feels kinda dumb to even point this out.

    The map itself is an extension of all the great energy and intention and wonderful work and the personal, lived experiences of indigenous people.

    Not only that, but the map is also:

    But it contains some really obvious catographic, and typographic errors.

    These seemingly “small errors”, or “minor mistakes” have the profound effect of being repeated in classrooms, and by park interpreters, and educators for almost an entire decade.

    And it’s comically contrary to one of the main intents of the curriculum: to dispel stereotypes and clarify misperceptions about the First Peoples of the East Bay.

    Ohlone Curriculum Map, with Markup

    So what’s wrong with this map?

    1. Huchiun Is Listed Twice.
      Huchiun appears in two different areas; the northern-most is actually supposed to be Huchiun-Aguasto.
    2. Huchiun Aguasto is Not Where Vallejo and Mare Island Are.
      Huchiun Aguasto is actually in the Richmond area; where the northern-most Huchiun label occupies.
    3. Jalquin/Irgin
      Yrgin and Jalquin are two seperate places/areas. Yrgin is spelled incorrectly.
    4. Inconsistent Capitalization
      There’s no reasoning or explanation for why any of these areas/places are spelled with upper-case or lower-case letters.

    The effect is a false sense of understanding; the continuation of misconceptions and proliferation of “educational materials” which are wrong/inconsistent with the sources cited in the Ohlone Curriculum, itself. [Like Randall Milliken’s maps.]

    Alameda Native History Project tried to tell ’em….

    It’s been almost 3 years since we first notified the East Bay Regional Park District of problems with the map they have so widely distributed and prominently displayed, we have yet to hear from the Park District.

    The East Bay Regional Park District has neither acknowledged their mistake, not made any move to correct it.

    So, we fixed the Ohlone Curriculum Map for them.

    East Bay Tribal Groups Map, made by Gabriel Duncan, for the Alameda Native History Project (2023). Map services and data available from U.S. Geological Survey, National Geospatial Program.

    lol, the invoice is in the mail.

    For information on how to get copies of this map, contact Merch.

    If you are an institution which would like large-format, or data designed to meet your cartographic and display needs, contact Collab.

  • Foreword to A Land Defender’s Guide, Vol. 1

    The following is the Foreword to A Land Defender’s Guide to: Making the Exploitation of Land Expensive & Unappealing To Would-Be Colonizers, Volume I: Work-Site Blues.

    Foreword

    You told them this was Native Land, Indigenous Territory, A Sacred Site, or even the place where your great-grandparents are buried. But they laughed in your face, and hid behind a wall of lawyers. And a wall of militarized police.

    And, then, they shook hands with the very politicians who promised to protect your tribal homeland, and your great-grandmother’s grave, as they broke ground right on top of her.

    This is not figurative, or metaphorical, in any sense at all. You literally watched the shovel break the ground above her resting body. Desecrating forever the sanctity of this place, and guaranteeing an afterlife without rest, or peace.

    It made you feel ridiculous; a welling of impotent anger, aggrieved frustration, and justified indignation at this betrayal; at the destruction of the most precious and pristine place you were proud to call your home.

    Now, it’s become the site of a lithium mine; host to a four foot wide petroleum pipeline; or worse, a dumping site for nuclear waste that won’t be safe for hundreds of thousands of years (if ever.)

    Meanwhile, your ancestors are pulled out of the ground like empty corn husks. The prairies and forests you used to visit, pray and play in have been flattened and become a parking lot for heavy equipment, modular offices.

    The water flowing from the springs smell bad now, and none of the animals will drink it, anymore because they will get sick, and die—just like the trees and plants that used to grow around this place.

    You tried to tell them they were destroying the place you held close to your heart. Tried to tell them that the well-being of this land wasn’t just important to your people, but that it was integral to the survival of all life on earth.

    Other people agreed. They said deforestation, not only led to loss of habitat for the animals you depend on, and who depend on you; but that the earth would never be able to recover from critical damage to its carbon reducing, oxygen producing, infrastructure.

    Your new friends got lawyers, and held protests, made t-shirt slogans, eye-catching signs, and raised awareness on social media. But it didn’t mean anything to the people who only saw profit in loss and exploitation. And your new friends left as soon as their GoFundMe’s reached their goals—never giving you the help they promised, or the money they raised in your name.

    Now your ancestor’s resting place has a metal fence around it with big signs saying “KEEP OUT”, “PRIVATE PROPERTY”. But you know the signs should be for them, instead of you, and your people.

    Now what?

    The guide is available by request through email, or via direct link to the PDF on Proton Drive.