Cacique of the river imprisoned for fishing fights for sacred rights

THE DALLES, Ore. (AP) — Wilbur Slockish Jr. was shot and stones were thrown at him. He hid underground for months and then spent 20 months serving time in federal prisons across the country, all for fishing in the Columbia River.

But Slockish, a traditional river chief of the Klickitat Band of the Yakama Nation, would endure it all again to protect his right of access to the river and the fish his people believe the Creator bestowed upon them.

“It’s a sacred pact,” he said. “Nothing is more important.”

Tribal fishermen like Slockish have drawn the ire of commercial and recreational fishermen as well as government officials for decades for taking part in a leap of faith. For Slockish and his ancestors, who have inhabited the Columbia River Basin “since the beginning of time,” stewardship of the land, the river, and its fish, animals, and plants is a divine contract at the core of a practice ancient religious. . They have fished the river not only to practice their faith, but also to earn a living.

Tribal fishing rights along the Columbia have sparked bitter and protracted legal and legislative battles. This despite an 1855 treaty with the federal government stating that the tribes would give up most of their land, but retain their fishing rights.

In April 1983, Slockish and four other fishermen were convicted in US District Court of selling out-of-season salmon to undercover federal agents in a sting operation that became known as the “salmon scam.” Slockish was charged with illegally removing 16 fish from the river.

Tom Keefe Jr., a Washington-based civil rights attorney who represented the fishermen in that case, said federal agents maintained that 40,000 salmon were missing from the river, but later discovered that the fish had migrated into tributaries due to pollution.

Keefe said that for Slockish and the other fishermen, the fight to save the river and its resources has always centered around religious freedom. As a practicing Catholic, Keefe said depicting the fishermen gave him a window into the spiritual lives of the “river people.”

“To them, the Columbia River is a giant cathedral stretching from the mouth of the Pacific Ocean to the mountains of Canada,” he said.

Slockish is “a man of integrity and commitment,” Keefe added. His voice cracked with emotion as he described the moment the Klickitat boss took off his wedding ring just before going to prison and placed it on Keefe’s palm for safekeeping.

Slockish hasn’t stopped fighting for the river. After his release from prison, he focused his efforts on water quality and health issues related to the Hanford Nuclear Reservoir in Benton County, Washington, which was decommissioned in 1989. The facility dumped significant amounts of radioactive waste. into the river, causing irreparable ecological damage. .

For the past two decades, Slockish has given presentations at local elementary schools around Thanksgiving about the spiritual significance of the river and its fish. She has represented the Yakama Nation on various river-related commissions and committees and is still on the Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission, which represents the tribes and their rights along the river.

The high-profile case of Slockish and the other fishermen helped draw attention to their problems and gave the tribes better access to the river, said Jeremy FiveCrows, the organization’s spokesman.

The 20 months Slockish spent in prison “were hell,” but it’s about fulfilling a promise he made as a 14-year-old — to the first salmon he caught — to be a good steward of the land.

Slockish still remembers the way the fish looked at him “dead in the eyes” as if to say, “I’ve done my job. Now make yours.

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Associated Press religious coverage is supported through AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. AP is solely responsible for this content.

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