The White Eagle Pow Wow honors the late Ralph Moisa III and celebrates multiculturalism. (Photo: Jerry Rodriguez)
The 25th annual White Eagle Multicultural Pow Wow returns this weekend to Jester Park. Although most pow wows are primarily for Native Americans, this one is open to the general public “to mend the sacred hoop of life by bringing the community together and celebrating our differences,” according to the event’s website. A full schedule of performances — music, dance, stories and more — is set for Friday, Saturday and Sunday at the county park in Granger.
Ralph Moisa Jr. and his wife, Carol, of West Des Moines started the annual tradition as a way to memorialize their son, Ralph Moisa III, who died in 1995 and received the name White Eagle from a Meskwaki elder who spoke at his funeral. Shortly after his death, his father, a member of the Yaqui Nation with roots in Arizona, wrote the following story as a tribute.
“Red Tale”
By Ralph Moisa Jr.
His mother and I taught him for over 19 years. Till the day he left to walk his own road. He was always tugging at the strings, wanting to go just a little further than we thought he should. But the day had come, and he left.
I wondered at what kind of man he would become. I saw the things he was doing and was proud for most of them. I accepted what I did not understand as his own way of using the thoughts and tools given to him by his elders.
Even in the face of oppression, he stood tall in his Indian pride and would not be silenced by his teachers or his school. I saw him stand up to two carloads of young men shouting obscenities at our race and family. I saw his anger as someone drove by our home and shot out the window in our car. I thought I should have prepared my young better, to know that being an Indian in the city meant having a strong sense of fortitude. But also that being one of only a handful will make us a target for any idiot.
We hoped that he would grow to understand and be a leader among our people. Perhaps to one day teach the ignorant and, in so doing, protect our very young and very old from unbridled racism.
I do not know what thoughts were going through his head when he made his morning walk. Maybe he remembered his mother nursing young animals found disturbed from their nest, giving them life and returning them to their home in nature. Maybe he remembered our talks on the sacredness of our winged family members — the Hawk, the Eagle.
Whatever the reason, he saw a hawk in need and tried to help his winged brother. So he climbed to the top of the power line to do what he could. Did he know the danger? Yes. He climbed them for a living. He knew the power surging through the transformers and wires. I will never know why he did not ask for help. Perhaps there wasn’t time for that.
December 5, 1995.
The coroner said, “They both died at the same moment.” It looks like he was working the hawk’s foot free when the bird became startled and spread its wings. The tips made contact with the bare lines and thousands of volts went through them both.
I remember the service. We put the hawk on our son’s chest, with his wings spread in an embrace that would keep them in our memories forever. Hundreds came that day, including many we didn’t know.
It seems our hopes were met. He walks in places we cannot yet go. He has taught many.
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