
- Details
GUEST OPINION. Most of us in southern Michigan, including the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi (NHBP), knew that we shared our area with pipelines, but few of us knew much about them. On July 26, 2010 that changed forever. What had been silently beneath our feet delivering crude oil to refineries since the late 1960s suddenly became front and center in our collective consciousness, particularly that of the Tribe’s.
The Kalamazoo River has been a primary element of the Tribe’s lifeways and traditions for countless generations. It provided food, foraging opportunities, habitat, and transportation throughout its 130 miles of channel, which ultimately discharges at Saugatuck (which means ‘mouth of the river’) where its waters meet the waters of Lake Michigan.
Through the years, the river has been considerably abused through dams and pollution, including toxic chemicals, agricultural nutrients and oxygen-robbing sediment, yet the river has proved to be resilient and continued to provide habitat and recreational opportunities. Its resiliency was compromised when Enbridge’s Line 6B released approximately 1 million gallons of crude oil derived from the oil-sand fields in Alberta, Canada, bound for the refineries at Sarnia, Canada. The 30” diameter pipeline had a six-foot-long rupture and discharged its contents near Talmadge Creek in Marshall, Michigan. The creek is a tributary to the Kalamazoo River, and the entire Kalamazoo River watershed lies within NHBP’s traditional territory.

It was a disaster beyond the scope of any previous inland oil release in the United States. The impacts to wildlife were substantial and the cleanup along the area of the 35-mile-long spill was enormous. The use of the river for recreational, fishing and foraging purposes was prohibited until June 2012. This was particularly harmful for the Tribe because a number of tribal citizens rely upon the river, its tributaries and floodplains for not only the sustenance from the Wild Rice that grew naturally in the waterways, but also for medicine and spiritual nourishment.
Ten years later, we have learned much but many questions remain unanswered. Although much of the spill area now may appear to have been restored, the plant and animal diversity has been reduced and there is an entire generation of turtles missing. Effects to the smallest organisms, the ecosystem as a whole and long-term human health may never be fully understood. Certainly, the spirit of the people residing within the watershed and beyond has been permanently stained.

Perhaps the most important lesson we have learned is a heightened level of awareness. We are more aware of possible environmental hazards and are developing baseline inventories of where these potential hazards exist, how to possibly mitigate these hazards and what resources could possibly be impacted. The river has rightfully become more integrated into ourselves and is viewed less as an entity separate from ourselves. Our ancestors knew this and it is our responsibility to pass our lessons learned to those who follow us, so that this important lifeline is clean and accessible for the next Seven Generations and beyond.
Jaime Stuck is the tribal chairman of the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi based at the Pine Creek Indian Reservation near Athens, Michigan.
John Rodwan is the director of the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi’s Environmental Department.
Help us tell the stories that could save Native languages and food traditions
At a critical moment for Indian Country, Native News Online is embarking on our most ambitious reporting project yet: "Cultivating Culture," a three-year investigation into two forces shaping Native community survival—food sovereignty and language revitalization.
The devastating impact of COVID-19 accelerated the loss of Native elders and with them, irreplaceable cultural knowledge. Yet across tribal communities, innovative leaders are fighting back, reclaiming traditional food systems and breathing new life into Native languages. These aren't just cultural preservation efforts—they're powerful pathways to community health, healing, and resilience.
Our dedicated reporting team will spend three years documenting these stories through on-the-ground reporting in 18 tribal communities, producing over 200 in-depth stories, 18 podcast episodes, and multimedia content that amplifies Indigenous voices. We'll show policymakers, funders, and allies how cultural restoration directly impacts physical and mental wellness while celebrating successful models of sovereignty and self-determination.
This isn't corporate media parachuting into Indian Country for a quick story. This is sustained, relationship-based journalism by Native reporters who understand these communities. It's "Warrior Journalism"—fearless reporting that serves the 5.5 million readers who depend on us for news that mainstream media often ignores.
We need your help right now. While we've secured partial funding, we're still $450,000 short of our three-year budget. Our immediate goal is $25,000 this month to keep this critical work moving forward—funding reporter salaries, travel to remote communities, photography, and the deep reporting these stories deserve.
Every dollar directly supports Indigenous journalists telling Indigenous stories. Whether it's $5 or $50, your contribution ensures these vital narratives of resilience, innovation, and hope don't disappear into silence.
The stakes couldn't be higher. Native languages are being lost at an alarming rate. Food insecurity plagues many tribal communities. But solutions are emerging, and these stories need to be told.
Support independent Native journalism. Fund the stories that matter.
Levi Rickert (Potawatomi), Editor & Publisher