Grounding

Where I Come From

My name is Wayne Buchanan. I come from the Katherine Daniels and Frank Ross line of the Daniels/Ross families here on the Muckleshoot Reservation. My father is Pete Buchanan, the son of Kathy Ross Crombie, and my mother is Cheri Buchanan. I grew up on our family’s allotment, right here on the reservation.

Even though I wasn’t formally enrolled at that time, I was raised as Muckleshoot through my grandma’s teachings, and also as a Nooksack descendant through my bloodline. More than anything, I was raised in the day-to-day life of living on my family’s allotment. I went to Chinook Elementary and Olympic Middle School before my family moved to Centralia in 2004. My parents had separated, and my mom thought it would be best for us to leave Auburn. It wasn’t until my grandma was near her death bed that my dad eventually enrolled Muckleshoot so we could. In my dad’s eyes, he was Nooksack, got into many fights with other Muckleshoot's for them calling him a Nutsack (hahaha, I also experienced this). But for us, we were Muckleshoot. We have some good memories over at our Nooksack allotment, but overall we were born and raised Muckleshoot, living off the land in this area, not in Nooksack. And, I think, that more than anything, the land is the uniting factor that ties us all together.

That was a hectic time in my life. Before moving away, we had experienced homelessness—living in a motel, sometimes in our van, and before that, in an unpowered trailer on the allotment. We got water from Pussyfoot Creek, spent most of our days there, and every so often my dad would run the generator long enough for us to watch TV. I remember battling mice in that trailer, but I honestly miss those days. They were humble, but they rooted me in a way I will always carry.

It still amazes me that I grew up not only on the reservation, but right where my ancestors’ village once stood. At the time, I didn’t know the history beneath my feet. To me, Pussyfoot Creek was simply home, a safe place, almost sacred in how it held us. Years later, through my research and the teachings of Hoagie and Tallis King George, I learned that creek is called wiya’los (or weya’los, depending on the source). Waterman wrote, “wiya’los for a creek on the Fred Ross place. This stream runs under a culvert near Daniel James’ place and flows into the White River.” Phillip Starr also documented that there was a winter house there called ƛ́əq́əwadəb, and that the people from there were known as ƛ́əq́əwadəb’abš. Their headman was tčadᶻəxʷab (father of Beaver Tom). And one of my favorite memories of my grandmother is going under the culvert on our allotment; boy, I remember thining "Grandma, you're old, how are you climbing down this hill and going in this cold water with me!?" Good memories.

Through oral history and family connection, we believe my grandma gʷaɫačaɫ, the mother of James Daniels, was tied to that same family. This makes sense, since the archaeological record confirms it: that very site (45KI938 / 35-b Allotment) is the largest on the reservation, with over 40,000 artifacts recovered I only a 5% area of the total volume excavated. What was once just Pussyfoot Creek to me as a child is now revealed as a place of cultural and historical significance. Today, it remains in our family through my brother, Chayne.

My preservation work actually began with this archaeological site. The same year I joined the Preservation Committee, we worked on the ARPA permitting process for the area. That work was the true beginning of my journey into history and heritage protection. Looking back, it makes sense. Those early experiences, growing up without stable housing, without electricity or running water, and spending all my time outdoors by the river and creek, shaped my deepest values and very identity.

I spent my childhood catching fish and animals, learning directly from the land. Those memories are forever ingrained into me, and they taught me that life is about kindness, sharing, and helping one another, and my goal as a father is to encompass that as much as I can... but I am not perfect :). In our language we have words for those values, however: ƛ’ububƛ’ub, kʷaxʷalikʷ, ʔabalikʷ; Be Kind, Be Helpful, Be Sharing.

Those teachings have carried into my adult life. They’ve guided me as I sought knowledge from elders, through higher education, and in all my work today. My beginning may have been humble, but it is the root of everything I stand for. Tribal sovereignty.

This website is for my children, and for creating a better world for them by reporting on issues that may impact us or erode our Tribal sovereignty. I will report on things I am incredibly passionate about, or what i think may be of value to my own children. One day, when I am gone, I hope they can return here to read my words, to see my life, and to learn things about me they might not have known, in addition to seeing what my interests and passions are. More than anything, I want them to know my heart and the path I walked.

But this space is not just for them. It is also for anyone who wishes to listen to my voice, to understand my journey, and maybe learn something along the way.

As I raise my children alongside my partner, I know that life is no longer only about me. It is about our little family. They are part of my story, and in truth, they are the most important chapter of my life.