Giving Away // Giving Back
Craig Simpson of Massachusetts Catholics for Indigenous Rights at his former cottage on Cape Cod. In 2022, Craig transferred the deed of his cottage to the Native Land Conservancy, returning it to the Wampanoag Peoples who originally inhabited the land prior to European settlers.
In the spring of 2022, on my 76th birthday, I gave the Native Land Conservancy the deed and keys to my Cape Cod cottage. It was a modest two-bedroom escape with a wonderful screened-in porch, surrounded by an acre of towering old trees and Cape foliage. It was the only place where I could relax.
During the summer of 2016, while hiking the Camino Santiago in Spain, I processed my life, how much I had, and what little I needed. Many pilgrims begin the Camino Santiago, a 500-mile path, in the foothills of the French Pyrenees, visiting ancient churches and shrines along the way. Through rain and incredible heat, they trek up and over the mountains and walk through deserts and vineyards, before reaching the historic, holy city of Santiago and its cathedral, which houses the remains of St. James, a disciple of Jesus. Sometimes, you walk alongside other pilgrims and hikers. Often, you are alone for days. You think about yourself and your God. You think about what you have done in your life and what you still need to do.
There was much discussion among Camino pilgrims. What will you do after the Camino? What would you do differently?
For most pilgrims, this pilgrimage takes 33 days to complete, but I was 70 years old and had just retired after 45 years as a preschool teacher. I didn’t need to rush; it took me almost two months to reach Santiago.
Somewhere on these Galician mountains, I realized I would be happier living with less. I gave up my car years ago. I gave up watching truck commercials on TV. I gave up meat. But I realized the biggest thing I owned was this cottage and acre of land on Cape Cod. What was I doing owning a house I wasn't living in, while others were houseless?
Not long after I returned home, I attended a powwow on Mashpee Wampanoag tribal land in southeastern Massachusetts. The Mashpee Wampanoag Powwow is one of the biggest powwows in New England. Wampanoag families gather there each year to dance, drum, sing, and celebrate their culture.
The Wampanoag lived in Southeastern Massachusetts for more than 12,000 years. In the 17th century, English pilgrims landed on the coast near present-day Provincetown and invaded their land. The Wampanoag welcomed these foreigners and assisted them through the harsh winters, teaching them how to grow corn and squash in order to survive. Yet violence still broke out. Many Wampanoag remained in the area, and their descendants thrived in Mashpee; however, they lost their language, were forced to hide their spiritual and cultural practices, and struggled to gain federal recognition. Now, the Wampanoag tribe works in a variety of Indigenous justice initiatives, including restoring the land of southeastern Massachusetts. More and more, they are asserting themselves politically and publicly and gaining the recognition they deserve.
Craig and his friends in front of his former Cape Cod cottage.
It was at this powwow that I met the Native Land Conservancy, a Wampanoag project that rescues land and restores it to its original state. At that time, the NLC was in the process of training Indigenous youth in traditional ways of taking care of the land. After talking with an NLC leader for nearly an hour, I walked away already having made the decision that I would give my house to their organization.
But many of my friends and acquaintances weren’t so sure about this decision. Oh, you don't want to sell your cottage—it is an investment, they insisted. You have to worry about yourself! You are not getting any younger.
I decided to email Ramona Peters, a Mashpee Tribal elder and founder of the Native Land Conservancy. When we spoke, she asked me questions about the house and the land: What it meant to me, and how I was connected to it. She asked about my motivations, my life, and my experiences with Indigenous people. She asked about my specifications; I said I had none. Whatever they wanted to know about the house and land was fine by me; it would be fully theirs. I knew that Native Land Conservancy would do whatever they needed to, even if it meant selling the cottage or exchanging land with others.
Members of a Wampanoag dance group perform a ritual outside Craig's Cape Cod cottage to celebrate the deed transfer.
When Ramona told me that the Native Land Conservancy would take the cottage and land, I cried. I was so overcome with happiness and gratitude. I’ve never regretted my decision to give this land back to its original owners.
On my 76th birthday, my friends and I cleaned the cottage, sorted through dishes and knick-knacks, and gave away furniture. We held a little ceremony with my friends and members of the Wampanoag; the Wampanoag Dance Group performed a ritual, dancing upon the land and all through the cottage. After I handed over the keys and deed to the cottage, Ramona presented me with a pottery bowl that I’ll cherish for my remaining years.
Last summer, following months of remodeling and painting, Indigenous youth from around the country stayed in the Cape Cod cottage; they traveled there to learn about Indigenous conservation practices so they may continue restoring the land. They call me often and continue to invite me to events and happenings in the region. I can say now that I have new friends that I least expected—a new community.
And embarrassingly, the house has been renamed Simpson Cottage. I guess that's okay.
Craig Simpson is a member of Massachusetts Catholics for Indigenous Rights and works with CTA's Indigenous Solidarity Collective. He lives in Boston and participates in many Indigenous rights and healing initiatives.