Built on Tribal Wisdom

Built on Tribal Wisdom

Oakland’s American Indian community constructs a $32 million mixed-use building that is an architectural jewel in the Fruitvale.

It is hard to decipher emotion in Martin Waukazoo’s timeless face. As the 6-foot-4-inch head of the Native American Health Center leads a tour of his brand-new building in the Fruitvale District, Waukazoo seems uncertain about what he will find behind the next door and mildly surprised to realize that he has landed here—in a $32.5 million, 81,175-square-foot structure called Seven Directions that reflects his heritage and serves the neediest in his community. “It will take two to three years for it to hit the community, for it to really sink in,” he explains.

The building—a health-care center topped by low-income housing—with its bright mosaic story pole, feather marquee, medicine wheel colors and patterned tile parapet is eye-catching from as far away as an elevated BART train, making Seven Directions and its mission suddenly visible to the public.

The new building—named for East, West, North, South, sky, earth and the seventh direction that comes from within—grew from the dedication and foresight of many, including Waukazoo, community members, developers and a sensitive architect. “Pyatok was our translator,” says Waukazoo of Michael Pyatok, whose firm, Pyatok Architects, Inc., specializes in housing, like Jingletown Homes for first-time buyers, Swan’s Marketplace historic renovation in downtown or the pending Harrison Street Housing, all in Oakland.

The dreamers and doers behind Seven Directions sometimes had to push for what they wanted, Waukazoo says, especially when it came time to cut back features to stay within the budget. The architects worked with American Indian elders and women, in particular, to translate the needs of the community into a physical setting through participatory-design workshops. Because women comprise 80 percent of the organization and 60 percent of the patients, Waukazoo says it was critical to consult them from the get-go. Women were adamant about creating a welcoming and comfortable place to foster spiritual healing and a sense of community.

This health clinic is an institution in the Fruitvale neighborhood, having provided medical and dental care on a sliding scale to American Indians and people of every culture and race since the early 1970s. The Center, which also offers after-school athletics, tutoring and substance-abuse prevention programs, seeks to improve the lives of American Indians and Alaska natives and advocate for the most vulnerable in the community. But like most social service agencies, the clinic’s facilities were always modest at best.

In the neighborhood since 1972, the health clinic once operated out of a tiny rented office nearby where a handful of employees was crammed together. By 1973, the staff mushroomed to 72 people. Ten years later, the Center had purchased its first property, a four-story building for $380,000, also in the Fruitvale. “We spruced it up like an old car. Becoming property owners got us to where we are today,” Waukazoo asserts. “We went from a renter’s mentality to an owner’s mentality, from the backseat of the car to the frontseat. We are taking back bits and pieces of this land.”

In 2002, the Center took back even more land. The organization bought three-fifths of an acre on International Boulevard to build this new facility, just completed in October. Private and public foundations and the city of Oakland gave millions in loans and grants toward the $14 million health center and $18.5 million apartments.

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Core aesthetics: The Center’s courtyard offers lush ferns, birch trees and vines that climb the stone wall, all irrigated by a recirculating pump. Photo courtesy East Bay Asian Local Development Corporation.

The new auburn stucco clinic and housing complex rises five stories above International Boulevard. Colors from the medicine wheel—rectangles of red, yellow, black and white—mark the facade. When mixed together, says Waukazoo, the palette of the wheel creates the color of earth. Inside, curving spaces and earth tones, as in the stained concrete floor and wood paneling at the front desk, prevail, lending the clinic a serene, natural air.

During a private tour before Seven Directions opens to the public, Waukazoo leads me to the generous lobby and we chart a course: either up a flight of sculptural stairs to the clinic, or fork to the right and head for the lounge or courtyard. The lobby’s high ceiling, open plan and transparent doors allow a peek into the interior spaces. The stairs lead up from the lobby to reception rooms that are round like typical Navajo dwellings or traditional American-Indian sweat lodges, and showcase American-Indian art donated over the years. It doesn’t feel clinical or institutional inside, which is exactly the intention.

Waukazoo follows the radiating concentric circles on the concrete floor of the lobby outdoors to the circular concrete bench in the courtyard. The floor-to-ceiling glass partitions overlooking the courtyard allow light to stream into the center of the building and flow into the two floors of the clinic. Birch trees and shrubs grow among the boulders in this compact outdoor room. A recirculating pump keeps water constantly moving and provides irrigation for vegetation to grow on the stone wall.

Waukazoo, a member of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe, talks about the organization, the new building and how his personal history intersects with each. He says the stone water wall with small plants growing between stacked slabs looks like home to him, 1,000 miles away in Rapid City, S.D., where he grew up.

The “talking circle” is the soul of the building. It forms a ring about an earth floor and was designed for meetings and ceremonial dancing. Sitting here, we can see directly into the hallways and waiting rooms that wrap around us, though the commotion of unpacking (it’s moving day and the building is set to open tomorrow) seems a world away.

Though just a few yards away, Fruitvale’s street life seems remote, too. Seven Directions is a retreat from the poverty visible along gritty International Boulevard lined with Latin American eateries and shops in one of Oakland’s most diverse and densely populated neighborhoods. Three blocks from the Fruitvale BART station, the Center is just one block from the group’s other agency that serves women and children and diagonally opposite the César Chávez Education Center.

Traditional welcome: A feather marquee and mosaic story pole proudly greet visitors to the Center. Photo by SpiralA Photography.

Executive Director Susan Jamerson says that of the 5,145 people who visited the Fruitvale medical and dental clinics in 2007, 4,926 were living below the federal poverty level. American Indians come from as far as the Stockton area in San Joaquin County for “culturally competent care,” says Jamerson. Practitioners infuse alternative and traditional American-Indian medical care into their practice for those who want it. They also specialize in the treatment of alcoholism and diabetes, conditions that affect a disproportionate number of American Indians.

Waukazoo and others have high expectations for the new clinic. With three facilities (two in Oakland and one in San Francisco), the Center currently serves 15,000 to 20,000 Californians a year, he says, 40 percent of whom are American Indian. With a new medical and dental clinic that has twice the capacity of the old one, administrators anticipate that Seven Directions alone will serve an additional 10,000 to 12,000 people annually. “I expect a healthier community out of this,” says Waukazoo. Because the clinic will be able to reach and serve significant numbers, he says the next generation of American Indians in Oakland (a group that represents four percent of the city’s population) will have a healthier start.

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The organization’s leaders see a spiritual component to the healing process and hope to bring Navajo, Lakota and California-based Indian healers to Oakland to integrate ceremonies into the clinic’s health-care practices. For example, Waukazoo says, “The medical department could have a staff meeting here at the talking circle.”

While the talking circle lends itself to ceremonies, rituals and conversation, it is just one of several gathering places within the building. With its expandable spaces, Seven Directions doubles as a community center and meeting hall. When open, the large glass overhead garage doors of the staff lounge can accommodate a crowd that spills out into the lobby. The balcony at the main stair landing may be used as a speaking podium at gatherings. And two pairs of double doors open the lobby up to the courtyard.

Flexible architecture provides multiple opportunities for people to mingle and makes for some fun, architectural surprises. One intimate space is tucked under the main stairs below the podium. The little booth is a good place to chat after an appointment or share a cup of coffee before heading out.

While the flow of Seven Directions works for community building, the artwork and decorative features instill a sense of pride and “give parents the opportunity to pass along cultural traditions,” says Waukazoo. Each basket, piece of pottery or weaving behind glass in the gallery, which overlooks the courtyard, comes from a particular tribe and thus represents the eclectic nature of Oakland’s American-Indian community. Although American Indians have inhabited the Oakland area for millennia, the city’s pan-tribal blend hails from all parts of the country. Members of the Cheyenne, Chippewa, Lakota, Navajo, Wyandotte and Cherokee tribes sit on the health center’s board of directors and are members of the Center’s community.

The Native American Health Center owns both its Fruitvale buildings and operates a San Francisco center in the Mission district. It partnered with East Bay Asian Local Development Corporation (EBALDC) to create the health center and low-income residence under one roof. The dwellings are reserved for those earning 60 percent or less of the area’s median income.

The development corporation manages the 36 units of housing on the third, fourth and fifth floors. At 850 square feet, a typical two-bedroom apartment is small by today’s standards, but all units filled immediately. The housing is comprised of mostly two- and three-bedroom units for families, with a handful of studios and one-bedrooms, and one four-bedroom unit. A separate, glazed three-story residential entrance atrium illuminates the building as do two court-yards for residents only. One incorporates a play structure for the approximately 50 children living in the new housing; the other is a quiet, contemplative place for adults.

While the project took planning, patience and collaboration, other factors determined how Seven Directions landed in this largely Latino neighborhood. Asked why the Center chose Fruitvale as its base, Waukazoo deftly spins the question on its head: “Did we select it or did it select us?”

The answer relates to the history of American Indian displacement. From the 1950s to the 1960s the Bureau of Indian Affairs Relocation Program created seven reservation relocation centers throughout the United States, Waukazoo says. Those who participated in the program, like Waukazoo’s two sisters who arrived in the 1960s, received a one-way ticket to a city far from their reservation. Oakland was one of the cities, which explains the high concentration of American Indians in the Bay Area today. After arriving at the relocation center further north on International Boulevard, many found their way to Fruitvale.

At that time, the community lacked a gathering place, says Waukazoo, and some residents became patrons of the seven or eight neighborhood bars. “It caused problems,” says Waukazoo.

As a recovering alcoholic himself, Waukazoo used the services of the Native American Health Center. Part of his healing process, he says, involved recovering his own culture, family and traditions—and giving back to his community.

“I may not have been a good father, but I am a good grandfather,” he says. What’s important to Waukazoo is what his three grandchildren and two great-grandchildren think of him today. His legacy is entwined with his 25 years of work with the Center and with this new building.

When his staff brought their children to see Seven Directions early in the morning before school, just after the building opened in the fall, Waukazoo felt their deep emotion. “That’s what this is about,” Waukazoo says. “That’s pride. And when you have pride, you have hope that dreams can be realized. We can say to the next generation, ‘It can be done.’”

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Lauri Puchall writes about architecture and the environment and works for Turk Kauffman Architecture.

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