Mattaponi River is the tie that binds them
By ROBIN LAWSON, Editor
Tidewater Review, July 11, 2007

KING WILLIAM - After reading "The Chief and I" by Karen Tootelian Westermann I wanted to take a long swim in the Mattaponi River and find the same peace it has given the author and her dear, late friend.

For centuries the river has nourished the lives of the Mattaponi Indians. Today, it also nourishes Westermann's soul.

In the summer of 2002, life presented the writer and environmentalist a rare gift: she began caring for the 89-year-old Chief of the Mattaponi Tribe, Webster Little Eagle Custalow. What began as her personal journals evolved into a book about their deep friendship, compassion for one another, and their love and spiritual bond with the river.

"[Westermann's] love of nature and the Mattaponi River are as profound as her relationship with her beloved Chief. Full of poetry, wisdom, and heart, 'The Chief and I' will make readers cry, then go for a restorative walk in the woods or a swim in the nearest river," environmental advocate Chuck Epes notes.

Westermann, who penned the book under her maiden name, said she was hesitant at first to print the journal and reveal such raw feelings, but in the end she did it for the chief and for the river.

"I think the main thing that kept driving me to publish was that I believed it was not really a choice, that Web (Chief Webster Little Eagle) wanted me to, maybe the river would be protected, and that the book's theme, if there is one, is about love. And I believe this world desperately needs that," she explains.

"As I say in the book, like the eagle, we fly for the sake of flying. Period. Not for any kind of expectation."

According to Chief Carl Lone Eagle Custalow, his father was "a small person in stature but a giant in the public's eye. Because of his powerful, yet humble presence he was loved and respected by all. As he grew older and weaker, Chief Webster Little Eagle became fearful of hospitals and doctors, as he always said he wanted to pass from this life in his home on the reservation. He resisted the family securing outside help for him because he didn't want to feel he was losing his independence. He didn't feel comfortable with strangers telling him what he could and could not do in his own home."

That wasn't the case with Westermann.

"...I could feel there was an instant mutual bond, trust, and understanding between them. He did not resist her helping him," Chief Carl Lone Eagle writes in the book's forward. "As time went on, I could see that Karen understood him and tried to give him what he wanted and not what she thought he needed. I sensed that during their visits, they both learned something from each other, and both understood each other."

Just a month after her first day with him, Westermann wrote, "I just let my time with him be whatever it is and take whatever it is. I take care of him and show him respect. He takes care of me and shows me respect. I come away with much. A simplicity and part of his spirit touches mine."

Chief Little Eagle died March 21, 2003 at the age of 90, in his home. A descendant of Pocahontas, he had served as the tribe's chief since 1977. Prior to that, he served as assistant chief for 28 years. Among his many environmental, political and civic contributions and achievements, in 1996, when Newport News first sought to build a reservoir that will withdraw water from the Mattaponi River and harm the reservation's shad fishery, Chief Little Eagle initiated the battle against the proposed project that still wages on today. Some say his action broke the tribe's centuries of silence against political actions affecting them.

"In so many Native American traditions, leadership is the responsibility to make way for new leaders. In 'The Chief and I,' [Westermann] not only shows the way for today's new leaders but takes the reader into the Native world view to understand the deeply profound qualities of just such egalitarian leadership," writes Rebecca L. Adamson, Founder-First Nations Development Institute and President and Founder of First Peoples Worldwide.

In the days following the death of her close friend, Westermann recorded her thoughts. "I knew, again, that no matter what path we take, what actions we choose, whatever our personality, we must strive to be loving and kind above all else. These must direct us; otherwise we spin out of balance. We become fearful, lost, or angry. This was indeed the Chief's legacy. This was his life, the gift he gave this world."

Thanks to Westermann, and her journal, the message of that gift can be shared with others; many of whom can only hope for a friendship as strong and valuable as theirs.

"Seems silly in a way, but not really. Something as deep as that river has happened between us. A bond of caring for one another. A mutual sense of what it is to live in this world, to be a human being," she writes.

"Despite all that was done to break them [Indians], they have remained of dignity, kindness, love and humor. I see it in my Mattaponi neighbors. I am not putting them on a pedestal, nor am I romanticizing the Indian. These are real people with real problems and real flaws, but many have been steadfast in the face of this civilization's folly, and their ways have survived."

Rebecca Wodder, president of American Rivers, writes that Westermann's lyrical tale "snakes along like an old, wise river. It weaves together many stories: the Chief's story, the story of the Mattaponi and of all American Indians, but mostly it is the story of one woman's battle to save the river that nourishes her.."

Westermann continues to go again and again to the river, to find her peace, silence from the outside world, and to remember the lessons the Chief shared. "I keep falling back in my mind. I am sitting in the quiet of talk between Webster and me, in his house on the reservation. His strong hands, his dark eyes, his voice that spoke of saving the Mattaponi River . I believe in the mysteries of this riverworld. I believe in the seasons that cycle upon her."