Perspectives on Puvungna

STORY BY

KELSEY BROWN

PHOTOS BY

AHTZIRI AGUILAR

Members of the Acjachemen Nation explain the historical and spiritual importance to Native people of the sacred 22 acres of land that remains of Puvungna.

The hill where California State University, Long Beach now stands used to be a plentiful village. Surrounding the hill, the city of Long Beach was marsh and wetlands. But here, on this raised land, was a freshwater spring, so Native people settled and made it home. For members of the Acjachemen Nation, or the Juaneno Band of Mission Indians, who are the native peoples of Orange County, and the Tongva Nation or Gabrieleno, the Native peoples of Los Angeles County, this

Louis Robles, Acjachemen Nation member.

land is more than what appears at first glance. Louis Robles’ ancestors walked this land for generations. A mission record from San Juan Capistrano in 1769 documents his family’s lineage, though that year by no means marks their origin. Because of colonization, missions, farming and ranching, what remains of Puvungna, which was once a vivacious village site spanning a two-mile radius from the beach past the 405 freeway, is now just 22 acres of open land. According to Robles, this now “stands for something much, much larger.” “It’s really rare for a person to be able to stand somewhere where they know that their family has stood for generations,” said Robles, who is a member of the Acjachemen Nation. “Especially here in America, we tend to lose track of our family lineage.” For generations, Puvungna, which translates to “the place where people gather,” was a crossroads for those traveling along the coast. But beyond being a

Louis Robles tends to the shells that lie at the foot of his parent’s ancestor poles. significant geographical point, Puvungna was a place where prophet Chinigchinich emerged, who introduced the Native peoples to a whole new way of living that spread south throughout the desert and influenced Southern Californian tribes. The enriching history of the land, paralleled with the current purpose of the institution that now stands on it, is a point of optimism for Robles. “He taught them rules to live by,” Robles said. “He taught them new prayers, new songs. So how perfect that it’s still this institution of learning — that there’s growth and learning still continuing.” Puvungna, though surrounded by campus, still exists as a sacred place for Native tribes. They gather and hold ceremonies, recently to celebrate the summer solstice with a sand painting and gathering ceremony. A family recently held a coming of age ceremony for their twin daughters. In the sycamore trees lining the creek beds, a hawk lives, circling above, screeching during some gatherings, Robles says. Native peoples walk through the land daily. The land is marked with ancestor poles, which are erected by families after a loved one passes as a reminder of them. The campus is scattered with archeological sites, like near the gym and swimming pool, where piles of crushed shells disposed by Native peoples’ shellfish diet and jewelry-making stand as reminders of Native peoples’ prevalence on the land. In the morning before her classes start, Heidi Lucero, a member of the Acjachemen tribe and an American Indian studies professor at CSULB, can be found walking at Puvungna. “It’s always there for me to go, just to reconnect with that place and with my community and with nature,” Lucero said. “Our religion is based on having a connection with the natural world, so being able to go there is something that’s priceless to me.” In the ‘90s, Robles was part of a protest and lawsuit, where the tribe was represented by the ACLU, which stopped a mini-mall from being built on the land. During that time, he remembers being asked why they have to pray on the land and can’t just pray elsewhere. Robles explained that, where nonNatives may just see a grassy field, there is spiritual significance for Native people. People can be walking the land, alone, praying. They don’t need spectacles or homages to worship — being with the land is enough. “It’s just you, connecting with the land, connecting with the creator,” Robles said. “It’s a real, personal thing. Whereas the Westerners are used to going to a big church with a whole bunch of people. That too, makes it difficult for the Western mind to comprehend.” Differences in perspectives have been the cause of schisms not only with Westerners, but within the Native community as well. Because Puvungna is such a personal

tion Act at CSULB.

LOUIS ROBLES, ACJACHEMEN NATION MEMBER

and impassioned piece of the local Native community, there is discourse on how to deal with the land. What is most important, though, Robles notes, is that decisions of the land be made by tribal people native to the area. Prior administrations were hesitant to acknowledge the tribes, but in Robles’ opinion, President Jane Close Conoley having knowledge of local tribes prior to her administration was a positive sign. In 2019, controversy emerged over the dumping of debris-littered dirt on Puvungna, which has resulted in the California Cultural Resource Preservation Alliance, a nonnative organization, filing a lawsuit. Lucero feels as if the situation was not intentional, but a result of poor communication. Lucero explained there had been long-term plans to make Puvungna easier to access for elders and to make it ADA compliant. Though the community-driven discussion wasn’t planned to be implemented anytime soon, Lucero believes the university’s planning committee saw the future plans, which sparked the dumping of the dirt. “They were giving the construction people the direction to move the soil there, not knowing that there was all this debris in it,” Lucero said. “I think that the parties that have filed the suit are the ones that are just kind of jumping the gun and laying blame that the university is trying to do something nefarious.” Lucero, who studied anthropology with an emphasis on cultural anthropology and California archeology at CSULB in 2017, explained that because the soil is around burials, there are body fluids and DNA. In extracting soil, you don’t know what’s being removed, which is why all the soil is sacred. For the tribes, it is imperative that soil on campus isn’t exported and replaced with imported soil that they deem clean. In pitching future solutions to the school, descendants from tribal communities native to the land have begun meeting on a regular basis with members of the community to discuss their needs and to establish a more cohesive approach. “We’ve put together this group called the United Descendants of Puvungna,” Lucero said. “It has members from all the community groups — the Tongva groups, the Acjachemen groups, the university groups — the only people that don’t participate are the group that filed the lawsuit.” In creating a united front for the Native community, they hope to be more effective than if the individual groups approached the university with their ideas and solutions. Robles works as the chair of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) at CSULB with professors like Lucero to attempt to return any found Native American remains or related goods.The NAGPRA committee at CSULB has returned hundreds of ancestors to their tribes and recently reburied ancestors that had been kept in the college’s basement since 1953. Robles looks forward to continuing the “good work.”

LOUIS ROBLES, ACJACHEMEN NATION MEMBER

Some Native people oppose any building on the land, but both Robles and Lucero mentioned the difficulty when an elder needs to use the restroom during a gathering and there’s none nearby. Or in the winter, when women are weaving, but their hands are freezing from the cold. Even just some type of covering to provide protection, Robles said, could help. Lucero mentioned that other ethnic groups on campus have resource centers and expressed the benefits of providing a resource center for Native peoples. Not only would it be beneficial for the Native community, says Lucero, but for students and community members who are interested in learning as well. A walkway restoring the wetland area to how it traditionally looked with information on why the land is important is another vision Lucero shared. If not, Lucero fears that the land will always be in somebody’s mind as a plot that can be developed. Robles, who has seen this land through more than most, is optimistic about the future of Puvungna. Though there is no monolithic vision for how Puvungna evolves, Robles also feels it’s important to get stakes in it before outsiders do. He worries that in 20 years, there may not be anyone to advocate and fight for the land. A struggle within the community remains, keeping the younger generations engaged in community gatherings in the exponentially growing modernization of society. Robles says it was hard enough for his mother, who in her 70s slept in a tent on Puvungna to ensure it wasn’t developed, to keep him and his siblings engaged. “It should always be protected as a gathering place, in some form or another, but it needs to change with the times and with the people,” Robles said. “How do we keep the next generation interested?” Some will continue to walk obliviously on the site of Puvungna. But for those who know what rich history and tradition lie underneath the surface, the land may look a little different. When you walk, remember the Native people who walked here before you, lived here before you, and thrived here before you. Maybe then, you’ll see the land in the loving light that the tribe’s members do.

Puvungna spans a two-mile radius from the beach past the 405. Today, it is 22 acres of open land.