Editor’s note: This story is part of NWPB's efforts to report not just on problems, but on how our communities are seeking solutions. Want to see more stories like this? Let us know at [email protected]. This story was additionally edited by Joseph Lee of the Mountain West News Bureau.
In northeast Oregon, on the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, Colleen Sanders pops open a 5-gallon bucket.
Inside, there’s decomposing food waste. She digs in with both hands.
“You can see we have some fry bread someone didn’t want to eat,” Sanders said. “We have some meat that people didn’t want, lots of bread and there it is, celery … there’s some of our beautiful sister.”
These three Columbia Plateau tribes — the Cayuse, Umatilla and Walla Walla — believe that they return to the Earth when they die and that their traditional foods, like wild celery and salmon, are relatives coming back. This food is viewed as sacred and something that deserves the utmost respect. So, they're working to save food from the dump.
Sanders is the co-director of this food waste project — called Nixyaawii, Don’t Throw It Away! — for the Confederated Tribes.
“There are some things that are happy and shiny and photogenic and beautiful, and people love and want to participate in,” Sanders said. “And then you have shadow things, moon things, that need to be done but are less glamorous. And so this is what we consider that moon work.”
She said that with something like food waste, they’re looking at decomposition.
“It’s inherently the idea of death and transition,” Sanders said. “Which makes people uncomfortable a lot of the time.”
In 2024, the Confederated Tribes received a U.S. Department of Agriculture grant to get started on their food waste recovery initiative.
The Bokashi fermenting system —which is what Sanders is rifling through — is one way the tribes are addressing food waste. It uses bran to break down the food and create nutrient-rich soil.
DeArcie Abraham is the project’s contractor. She collects all the food waste from various kitchens and does most of the food-digesting prep. Abraham said that part of this work helps her to honor her grandmother, who taught her the importance of not being wasteful. Abraham thinks that the draw of convenience has put “a damper in that teaching.” She said seeing people engage with the food waste project is really exciting and rewarding.
“Understanding the importance of diverting food waste, it makes me happy and it makes me feel like my work that I put into it is worth it,” she said.
What’s been recovered
In about a year, the tribes’ food waste recovery initiatives have already diverted about 2 metric tons of the stuff. The project also encourages people on the reservation to use reusable cutlery and bring their own water bottles.
All that waste used to go to the landfill. Now, the soil they create goes into local people’s gardens.
Some other tribes have also been working on food waste — it’s part of food sovereignty. One such example is the Tribal Solid Waste Advisory Network.
But now, there’s so much recovered food waste that there’s too much of it to process. Winter temperatures mean the food breaks down more slowly. Even chickens on the reservation are eating some of the highest-quality food waste.
The project’s leaders have bigger ambitions for diverting food waste — like at the nearby Wildhorse Resort & Casino, and more businesses in nearby Pendleton. But for right now, they want to change the culture in the core of the reservation first.
Lessons in food waste
Sanders and Abraham also attend events like Culture Night — a weekly program held throughout the school year for families. They teach others there about the best ways to take care of food waste.
At one Culture Night in late February, 7-year-old Kwynn French is playing a game called “Recover Our Resources.” It challenges children to pick the correct place — a digester, a worm bin, the Bokashi fermenting system — for each type of food waste. She did great and gets to pick a prize. Kwynn carefully considers stuffies and other prizes.
“I like slime, but my parents wouldn't like it because we have carpet,” she said, picking out a children’s stationery set.
Kathleen Elliott brings Kwynn here nearly every week — she’s her grandma.
“This is what grandparents do,” Elliot said. “My grandmother taught me how to take care of the land and take care of ourselves also. So, I am just doing what my grandmother did.”
Ultimately, Elliott said she wants Kwynn to learn to take care of the food and land, like she did years ago.
