I was struck with a sense of Native-American atmosphere as soon as I stepped from the car. In the distance, I could hear the rhythmic pounding of ceremonial drums at the Clark County Museum, and thanks to a packed parking lot, I was stepping into the brush of the nearby desert. It was last weekend's 17th Invitational Native-American Arts Festival, and I was there to take in the sights.
The sound of the drums brought me to an outdoor stage, where a family of turquoise-clad Zuni Indians performed a traditional Moon and Star dance. The youngest of them couldn't have been more than 7, and was barely twice as tall as her furry, ornamental headdress.
"Now we will perform the Eagle dance," her father said, pulling feathered wings onto his arms, "to give honor and respect to the eagle's mighty spirit."
At the concession stands, authentic Native-American food was on hand, including Navajo corn cake, Indian tacos and buffalo stew, with the less traditional offerings of Coke and Pepsi to wash them down. And in the nearby craft-making tent, children used Indian weaving techniques to make small mats, which would actually make nice decorative coasters for the beverages.
In a much larger tent, the work of many Native-American artists was available for sale, everything from woven baskets to kachina dolls to silver and turquoise jewelry. I stopped by a pottery exhibit to admire the fine craftsmanship of a wedding vase and something called a "fetish bear" (which I believe was a rejected name for one of the Care Bears). It's all very intricate work—much nicer than anything available in the museum's own gift shop. (Thirty dollars for a "Yucca Walking Stick?" It's a stick!)
But then I noticed that the pottery vendor's child was absorbed in his GameBoy, and it was a little saddening. The Native-American heritage really is fading into obscurity, assimilated by mainstream American culture like everything else. Each performer on the outdoor stage made sure to show his gratitude for this event, and no wonder. Nowadays, it takes a special event to remind us how lively and colorful this culture truly is.
But it's still far from forgotten. And for every 10 Paiute, Navajo and Zuni-descended kids who succumb to the lure of Nintendo, there's still one strutting her stuff in an oversized headdress to the beat of a buckskin drum.