Tongva, Tovaangar, koy Wet

Indigenous knowledge saved Tongva and neighboring lands during the Eaton Fire—and could teach Californians how to protect even more. 

Tongva has several recorded words for oaks, which makes sense considering the critical place these trees occupy in our traditional food systems and culture. Tovaangar is our name for the Los Angeles region and our ancestral territory, where our people have cultivated oaks for thousands of years. We planted acorns with our digger sticks, used cultural fire practices to keep the land healthy for their growth, and harvested the acorns to sustain us. 

The most common word for oak I’ve encountered in our community is wet, also sometimes recorded as wiit or whet, but this word may refer specifically to the live oak rather than to oaks in general. Of all our plant relations, the wet is the most central. It is fitting then that The Huntington’s creation of the new Oak Meadow is honoring this tree. 

It is difficult to overstate the significance of the oak to our people and to many of our related Tribal communities. Our most critical food source before the colonial period was the acorn porridge known as wéwish, a staple for many California Indian Tribes. The gathering, storage, and preparation of acorns was and remains a central aspect of our cultural practice. The pacing of the acorn harvest affected where and when we lived and moved, and its seasons informed the cycles and ceremonies of our existence. 

In 2022, our community finally had an opportunity to receive returned land, a location in Altadena above Eaton Canyon featuring fifty live oak trees. The place would eventually become known as Huhuungna, the “Place of the Bears,” in our Tongva language. 

Most of these trees are likely fifty to eighty years old, and to us they are relations that have also had to navigate the challenges of surviving in an increasingly colonized and urban landscape. Our origin stories tell of how death first came into the world with the passing of Weywot, first son of the creator Quaoar. In this new era, our ancestors transformed themselves into the earth, the animals, and the plants that sustain us. None is more essential than the oak, and our duty is to steward that gift of our ancestors. 

However, we soon faced severe challenges on our journey. On March 27, 2022, after we finally received the transfer of the land over to the Tongva Taraxat Paxaavxa Conservancy, our work truly began. The land that was returned to us had three structures, a main house, a garage, and an old stone cottage, all in need of significant maintenance. The land was also home to one hundred eucalyptus trees. Oak and eucalyptus competed on a piece of land not much bigger than an acre. They crowded each other out, but more critically, the eucalyptus leaves made the soil extremely acidic, in some places with the pH of a lemon, and were a danger to the oaks. Eucalyptus is also a danger in fire and windstorms, threats we were well aware of in Eaton Canyon. 

The all-Tongva board of the conservancy made the difficult decision to remove all but two of the eucalyptus trees on the property. This great clearing of the land was much more challenging and difficult than we had imagined it would be. Understandably, we faced some criticism from neighbors who missed the overgrown foliage of the site, and even from Tongva community members who were concerned about the damage the removal caused to other plants and to the land itself. 

The importance of this decision would soon be demonstrated. On January 7, 2025, the Eaton Canyon fire started late in the evening, within sight of the land we now called Huhuungna. The fire swept up the canyon and onto our conservancy. It burned both the garage and the old stone cottage that sat on the edge of the canyon. Many of our wet

Many of these trees were initially tagged for removal. But, using both our traditional knowledge and the help of The Huntington oak biologists (including Nicole Cavender, director of the The Huntington’s botanical gardens, who generously came up to see the oaks as soon as we were allowed back on the land), we managed to convince the authorities who had tagged them that the trees would survive.  

They have since thrived. Though their trunks are blackened, they have grown new leaves and branches and seem almost invigorated in the wake of the fire. The main structure on the land was barely damaged, and the fire did not cross the property line or the street in our neighborhood. Many of our neighbors have expressed gratitude for the eucalyptus clearance and for the removal of other invasive species, which seems to have helped suppress the fire in our area.  

Since then, we have worked to share our message of the importance of respecting Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK), Indigenous wisdom passed down and improved upon from generation to generation for the continued stewardship of the land and the survival of its plants, animals, and people. Both our community and many other California Indian communities are advocating for the removal of non-native species and the return of cultural burns and other traditional practices that mitigate the danger of wildfires. The authorities are beginning to listen, and the practice of TEK is growing, mostly in Central and Northern California.  

In the wake of the fire, we had a chance to reimagine how we would be in relationship with the land at Huhuungna. Since the fire, we have built a new ceremonial space, where we just completed our first annual cycle of ceremonies on equinoxes and solstices. We also made a traditional gathering circle under the boughs of the replenished oak grove that shades what has quickly become the most popular place on the land. Our animal relations have returned since the fire. Hunar (bear), ‘iitar (coyote), kaweewesh (fox),

It is our hope that kuuyam, “guests” on our traditional homelands, will also help us restore Tovaangar and prioritize the planting of Indigenous species. As California Native American Day approaches on September 25, it is the perfect moment to remember that we all have a duty to be good stewards of this land and to care for the animal and plant relations that live on it.  

The celebration of the 250th anniversary of the United States—the occasion for which The Huntington built Oak Meadow—coincides with the 250-year anniversary of the founding of the current Mission San Gabriel. That institution took our people away from their traditional ways and attempted to strip them of their community and identity, but like the oaks, we are resilient, and “we are still here”: e’kwa’shem! 

Wallace Cleaves is Board President of the Tongva Taraxat Paxaavxa Conservancy as well as a faculty member at UC Riverside, where he serves as the Associate Director of the University Writing Programs, an Associate Professor of Teaching, and director of the California Center for Native Nations (CCNN).