"School For Six Nations Children Helping to Keep Ancient Arts Alive"

OHSWEKEN - David Burning isn't sure what he's making.

It's a corn husk doll. But David's not sure how it will look until he gets finished.

David, 11, winds wet corn husks round and round and ties them tight. The doll's shape is there. Head, arms and legs.

What sort of doll it will be - warrior, hunter, dancer - can wait until he gets the anatomy right.

"Look, Cindy, here's his belly button," he calls to teacher Cindy Skye, pointing to a corn husk knot about mid-way up the doll.

"Which side is his face?" she asks.

David points to the other side of the doll. Cindy sees a problem: "The belly button is on his back."

They laugh. There's a lot of laughter as about 50 young Iroquois like David go about the serious business of learning traditional native crafts.

Corn husk dolls, beading, leather, sculpture, crochet, braiding and art are taught at this two-week school for boys and girls aged nine to 14.

Six Nations Arts Council is spending about $7,000 on the school. It's an investment in keeping the ancient arts alive.

The school has been held each summer for about 30 years. This summer it's in an old barn across the Grand River from Chiefswood. On nice days, classes are outside under the trees.

The barn has been freshly painted and desks set up for the kids. The school ends Aug. 1 with a display of things that were made.

"There are a lot of handicrafters on the reserve and a good majority of them started here," said Reta Monture, the school's co-ordinator.

Kids learn to work seriously and to respect one another and their property.

And they learn about their heritage. "Some children don't really know they're native," Mrs. Monture said.

The students move from class to class as they finish projects. There are a dozen teachers, many of whom got their start at this school.

Judy Jamieson makes her living at leather work. She's been teaching for 20 years. Today, eight boys are around a table under the poplars making deer hide pouches.

Leather is expensive and Mrs. Jamieson cautions the boys not to waste it.

They carefully cut pieces, punch holes and sew it up with lace.

"It's all in the hands," a boy says. "It's all in the brains, too. It's called thinking," says another.

Mrs. Jamieson checks the sewing on a pouch. It's too loose. "Look at this," she says, tugging on the lace until a hole gapes in the side. "Your money would fall out."

The boy looks sheepish and returns to the table to sew it over again.

Back at the corn husk doll table, a girl needs help winding arms.

"Ask David. He knows how to make arms," says Mrs. Skye.

"I don't want to learn from him," the girl says. "He's too sickening."

Corn husk dolls are one of the oldest crafts, Mrs. Skye said. Iroquois have made dolls as long as they've grown corn.

A skilled doll-maker can turn one out in an hour. The kids, of course, take much longer than that. Some will make three or four dolls that they can group in a dance.

The husks are wound up wet. A wire underneath enables the arms and legs to move.

A finished doll dries in two days and is tough enough to take a child's punishment.

Doll costumes give the finishing touch. David will decide on his later.