09/24/2025
In November 2019, I traveled with members of our Pimicikamak community on a Hydro impact tour in New England. We visited Augusta, Maine, where the Edwards Dam had been removed from the Kennebec River. There, we placed our asemaa (to***co) upon the water, a prayer rising with the current, linking our story to theirs.
We carried the stories of our homelands—how the sîpiy (river), the Nelson, once the lifeblood of our people, was reshaped by dams. The late Chief Tommy Monias and his wife Rita came as kêkiwêwak (elders), Carlton Richards spoke for the oskâpêwisak (youth), Norretta Miswaggon walked with us as a nôhkom (mother, grandmother) and language keeper, and I carried my part. Together, we told how our waters were broken and our people forever changed.
It was then I learned that the people of Maine, too, knew this story—that dams along the Kennebec had brought harm to their sîpiy, to their namewak (fish), to their way of life. We saw that the struggle was not just ours, but shared across nations and waters.
Today, news has come of an extraordinary victory. The Kennebec River is being restored through the persistence of allies and the steadfast voices of Indigenous people—the Wabanaki, whose lives and mîthosâkahikan (foodways) are tied to these waters. A new trust has been formed to take responsibility for the dams, to heal the river, and to walk in partnership with the people of the watershed.
This is no small thing. It is proof that sîpiywak (rivers) can recover, that namewak can return, that mîno-pimâtisiwin (the good life, balance) can be renewed. It is proof that when people stand together—scientists, communities, Tribal Nations, and advocates—the power of dams can give way to the greater power of pimâtisiwin (life) itself.
For us in Pimicikamak, this victory is both a mirror and a teaching. The Nelson River still waits for healing, and our hearts still ache with what was lost. But the Kennebec shows us that persistence can bear fruit, that broken waters can flow freely again, and that justice for the land and for the people is not beyond reach.
And I believe somewhere, my mentor Tommy—êhtê-aya (true elder), who spent most of his life speaking on these matters—is smiling. His voice is in this victory too, carried on the waters and remembered in the persistence of those who never gave up.
Kinanâskomitin—gratitude to The Nature Conservancy in Maine and to all who have walked this long path of restoration. May this moment strengthen all who carry the work of bringing balance back to the waters. May it remind us that our sîpiywak remember their songs, and if we listen and act together, they will sing again.
—Kanipawit Maskwa
John Gonzalez
