The complex is organized around a central “wellness garden” composed of native medicinal plants, fed by rainwater captured from roofs. It is all encircled by a 20-acre restored wetland, along with two miles of walking trails wending their way though a “basket garden” of native grasses used for weaving. A 2½-acre organic garden and orchard supplies produce for the clinic’s seasonal farmers' market, where native cooking demonstrations are part of the repertoire.
Cultural traditions are a route to healing, Allen explained. “We were forcibly disconnected from our food, just as we were with our language and our culture,” she said. “People who are connected to community are more likely to take care of themselves.”
Potawot was one of 17 Indian organizations nationwide chosen to receive a $100,000 grant from the CDC’s Native Diabetes Wellness Program. The clinic is using the money to develop a comprehensive Food as Medicine program for patients. In conceptualizing the grants, the CDC conferred with tribal leaders.
“They said culture is the source of health,” said Dawn Satterfield, team leader of the wellness program at the CDC’s Division of Diabetes Translation. “They made that connection very clear.”
Although the reasons for the devastating impact of diabetes on American Indians are complex, many experts believe that historical trauma – including the forced abandonment of traditional practices and native habitat – have been contributing factors.
Mariana Leal Ferreira, a medical anthropologist and associate professor at San Francisco State University, said government policies – such as forcibly taking children from their homes and placing them in boarding schools – had deleterious, long-term effects. Children were taught to abandon native language and culture, wrenching entire generations away from skills like hunting, fishing and gathering.
In Northern California and elsewhere, access to native foods has become both an environmental and human rights issue. Karuk elders recall eating salmon three times a day.
Joy Sundberg, a 79-year-old resident of Trinidad Rancheria and a Potawot board member, recalls when the skies over Humboldt and Del Norte counties “were black with ducks,” she said.
“When I was young, it was disgraceful to be fat,” she continued. “We always had deer, and smoked salmon was a staple. There were acorns and fish and berries for every season.”
Everything changed within her lifetime. Slim and vivacious, Sundberg is nevertheless dealing with diabetes. “You’ve got a McDonald’s here and a Hooters there,” she said. “It’s like Mothers Against Drunk Driving; it’s going to take dedication to change.”
At Potawot, about 500 schoolchildren a year visit the demonstration garden to learn about traditional food ways and healthier eating habits. Allen and her colleagues are working on adapting ancestral foods to contemporary life, emphasizing healthy organic foods that can be found at the supermarket, such as grass-fed beef and sustainably harvested fish.
Allen recently was diagnosed with diabetes herself. She notes that bad food choices often reflect the day-to-day pressures on families, especially in a down economy. “As a parent, you’re stressed out, trying to get the bills paid,” she said. “Do you buy cauliflower for $6 and cook for an hour? Or zap something in the microwave for 99 cents?”
To Allen, making healthier decisions, including growing fruits and vegetables in the backyard, is an embrace of both culture and wellness. “We are trying to make people aware that food comes from people and places,” she said. “We need to be eating food that represents our values.”
Editor's Note: This post was excerpted from Brown's original story, which you can read here.
