Giving Life to Dying Cultural Traditions : Tribes: Bill Martin teaches drum-making; Sue Daly and Sarah Natani teach weaving. But the younger generation’s interest in the ancient ways often falls victim to the demands of the modern world.

Bill Martin perches atop a homemade wooden stool in his Cochiti Pueblo workshop, his knife searching the face of a log for a shape to suit his drum.

As he carves the aspen wood, Martin is mining a rich heritage--centuries of drum-making expertise his grandfather entrusted to him when Martin was a boy. This devotion to craft and culture could help save Cochiti Pueblo, just south of Santa Fe, Martin says.

“There are no books that tell you which steps to follow,” he says. “It takes a lot of things you learn from the people who take it from experience.”

Now retired from teaching Keres, the Cochiti native language, to children at Cochiti Elementary School, Martin considers it his job to help preserve his craft for future generations.

Many young Native Americans aren’t maintaining the beliefs and practices of their elders, Martin says. “When you lose the elders, many things go, like knowledge, like wisdom, the skills,” he says.

The drum is essential to Cochiti life because the native dances and ceremonies are a cornerstone of pueblo culture, Martin says. Drum-making, which can take a month, is what the Cochiti are famous for.

Martin, 66, began teaching drum-making to his grandson, Ruben, continuing the tradition passed on by his grandfather. But Ruben’s parents sent him home to Colorado to baby-sit for the rest of the summer, and Ruben did not get to learn the finer points.

“The challenge as parents is to integrate them into our culture,” Martin says. “Kids nowadays would rather go to the movies, watch TV, go swimming or play basketball.”

Many young Native Americans on the reservation are leaving home to go to college or find jobs, Martin says. “Kids have to make that choice to either stay home and be a poor person on welfare or go out and be self-sufficient. Kids have to leave because there is no employment on the reservation.”

Even young Native Americans off the reservation are torn between two worlds, he says. “Others are going through our same crisis--trying to maintain our culture but be successful in mainstream America. We’re trying to retain our culture, and this is very difficult.”

At Cochiti, people can stay involved in the tribe’s year-round activities, Martin says. But in many cases, he says, the connection young Native Americans have to their parents and culture has already been broken.

Sarah Natani, 57, a Navajo weaver, sees her culture unraveling too. Younger tribe members are losing interest in the sheep-herding lifestyle that is an integral part of Navajo weaving, she says. But she teaches her craft to those willing to learn.

At Laguna Pueblo, west of Albuquerque, Sue Daly follows in her mother’s footsteps as a sash weaver.

Sashes are always in demand on the reservation, and Daly says there is great meaning attached to each belt. “You spin in the four directions that we pray to, and the feelings you have while making it stay with the sash,” Daly says. “You can never weave while you are sad, because those are not the feelings that you want people to have from your belt.”

Daly, a Zuni and Laguna Indian, says she learned to spin wool and weave belts from her cousin just five years ago.

“My mother went to class for weaving but she never brought it home,” she says. “My sister also used to weave, but she has forgotten by now. A lot of people don’t weave anymore.”

Daly, 40, says she regrets not learning weaving and other aspects of her culture while she was growing up. “Our mother didn’t teach us our tradition or our language like she should have,” she says. “The religious dances are very difficult for me to understand because they say everything in Indian. You feel left out. If I knew the language, I would appreciate better what they were saying.”

Daly has learned most of what she knows of her native traditions from her husband, Lloyd, who has been teaching her and their children how to speak Keresan, the Laguna native language.

“Our children stick with our traditional beliefs. Their father tells them to keep praying and dancing, and they do,” she says. “They are learning. I’m even still learning.”

She has also tried to teach her children her sash-making craft.

“My oldest daughter, Leslie, knows how to spin,” she says. “But she has not spun for four years. She said it takes too long. She was in college and is home looking for a job off the reservation.”

Much as at Cochiti Pueblo, teen-agers at Laguna must leave the reservation to find work, Daly says. She says that becomes a barrier between young Native Americans and their culture.

“The kids should go out and get jobs, but there is always time to come home and participate,” she says.

Daly taught a sash-weaving class last year through a mentor program established by the Southwest Assn. of Indian Arts. She continues to teach two of her Native American students, although it means long hours with no pay. She said teaching to preserve her craft is worth the effort.

She will have a new student this winter--daughter Kortney, 9. “What was taught to us, we need to teach to our children,” Daly says.