By Donald H. Harrison
SAN DIEGO – When Richard Greyson reached up and rotated an acorn on the branch of a Coast Live Oak between his thumb and finger, he was reenacting a scene that may have occurred many thousand times over the centuries in the area along the San Diego River that today is called Mission Trails Regional Park.
Acorns, pounded into a mush, were one of the staples of the Kumeyaay people’s diet . As volunteer guides Jan and Jim Corbett led a Sunday morning tour of perhaps 1.7 miles, including a detour to the nationally recognized Grinding Rocks, Greyson and others in the small group of park tourists gained insight into Native American ways.
Both Corbetts had worked for the U.S. Navy before retirement—Jan as a civilian employee and Jim with the Civil Engineering Corps. After a 13-week course that met for three hours on Wednesday evenings and four hours on Saturdays, they were certified as volunteer guides, and trained to explain the botany, zoology, geology and history of the 5,800-acre urban park, which Jim noted is more than six times as large as Central Park in New York City. Jim, who says his grandfather’s cousin was the “Gentleman Jim Corbett” of heavyweight boxing fame, also teaches U.S. History and Introduction to Shakespeare at Southwestern College.
Bill Edwards, who also has completed the guide course, joined the tour to pick up techniques and factoids from the Corbetts for the tours he later will give. But he also answered a question now and then, including one about why the Coast Live Oak (Quercus Agrifolia) is called “live?” Clearly it’s not dead, so why differentiate it by calling it “live?” Edwards responded that whereas some oak trees are deciduous – shedding their leaves seasonally—the Coast Live Oak is an evergreen. It doesn’t turn all brown and dead looking like other oak trees, but keeps its “live” appearance. A better name might be the Coast Evergreen Oak, Edwards suggested.
Once the acorns were gathered by the Kumeyaay, the acorns’ outer shells were removed or winnowed, and they would have water poured over them to remove the tannic acid. Then, at the Grinding Rocks, where holes created by the constant pounding of pestles dot the landscape, the acorns would be pulverized into a powder, and then made into a mush called “shawee.” Nearby Western Sycamore Trees—which Jim said has the largest leaves of any California tree—were used to wrap the shawee, in the manner of a modern Saran Wrap, so the food could be easily transported.
Bland in itself, shawee was often flavored with what the Kumeyaay, a semi-nomadic people, could find along the river that led from their summer homes in the mountains to the winter homes at the coast – shellfish, fish, small game, and sage all possible ingredients.
Even so, said Edwards, he has heard shawee compared to Hawaiian poi—which is said to have a taste not unlike wallpaper paste. As no one in the group had ever tasted shawee, no one could confirm or contradict such reports.
At the Grinding Rocks, on the bank of the San Diego River, Jan told us that the Kumeyaay women sat for hours on end on the granite pounding the acorn. That occupation was so hard on their bottoms that they sewed extra padding into the back of their skirts, said Jan, who was adorned with a necklace of dried acorns.
Pointing to some sage, which had turned brown but still retained some of its scent, Jan said it was known throughout the Western United States as “cowboy cologne.”
“Supposedly the cowboys didn’t bathe that much, and they would use it on Saturday night,” she explained. “Native Americans would use it to hide the scent of the human body and some people would use it as protection against fleas.”
At another point of the tour, Jan told us a Kumeyaay legend about the orange parasitic plant known as dodder that spreads itself over the branches of laurel sumac.
“They said at one time the band was going out to hunt and they left a female –a young woman – behind to take care of everything and she fell asleep,” Jan related. “Some other people came in and took everything they had. When they (the local Kumeyaay) came back from the hunt, they banished her, because it is important to remember that when you have commitments and responsibilities you are supposed to live up to them. She supposedly runs through the park, her hair turned orange, and she hides behind the bushes.” Dodder is also called “Witch’s hair” and “Love Vine,” Jan said.
Laurel Sumac has a nickname too. Because its leaf resembles a taco shell, it is sometimes called the “Taco Plant.” Parts dry into little clumps of brown growth that resemble tiny trees – and they are used by San Diego’s Model Railroad Museum for decorations around the track.
Another plant in the park is a broom baccharis. Jan said it is part of the sunflower family, but, as its name suggests, it has a practical use. Kumeyaay would cut down a branch, turn it upside down and use it to sweep out their dwelling place known as an ewaa.
California Buckwheat grows along the Visitors Center Loop as well, and Jan had us look at it through a magnifying glass. “If you look at the white part under the magnifying glass you are going to see some pink anthers sticking up; it is the male part of the flower,” she instructed. “In the spring they are beautiful with the white color and the pink anthers all over and then come September they turn a rusty brown color. … Native Americans used it for a variety of things, they boiled it, for headaches, treatments of coughs … They boiled not only flower heads, but stems and leaves to make a brew.”
In addition to the beneficial plants, the Corbetts pointed out the harmful ones as well. The white jimson weeds were used by the Kumeyaay in coming-of-age ceremonies for young boys. Untrained people, seeking to utilize its hallucinogenic properties, have died from improper use of the Jimson Weed, known in Latin as Datura Wrightii.
Another harmful plant is poison oak, which can be recognized by its three leaves—two of them with their tips pointed toward each other or “kissing” and the other pointed in a perpendicular direction, or “running away.”
*
Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World. He may be contacted at donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com