Medicine of the Land: Harvesting Connection and Healing in Alaska

About the Author: Maka Monture Paki | Keixe Yaxti, a Lingit woman from Yaakwdaat, carries a rich heritage rooted in her clan's migration. Hailing from Yaakwdaat, a village in the Northern reaches of Southeast Alaska, Maka belongs to the Raven moiety of the Copper River Clan, and the House of the Owl, and is a child of the Kanien'kehá:ka people. Her understanding of humanity was deeply influenced by traditional practices, including harvest, song and dance, language, ceremony, and genealogy. Maka’s creative work emerges from a place where storytelling meets a vision for artistic abundance. She remains a lifelong student of Lingit history and art.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to hire a community member to go out into the forest of our home village of Yaakdaat and harvest s'áxt', or devil's club for her. In our small apartment, she set to work processing the medicinal stalks. She looked up at me and exclaimed “Take a picture, my grandchild!” while she grinned with all 4’11” of her from behind their spiky, sprawling, limbs. 

As I’ve grown, this lesson has deepened into a belief: developing relationships with place-based plant relatives is a path to connection and healing. Plants and food offer so much more than physical sustenance—they are teachers, healers, and reminders of our interdependence with the natural world.

I began to further develop a personal relationship with devil's club in college when I interned in Áak'w Kwáan territory | Juneau. My mentor at the time, Shaadootlaa, brought me to the forest to learn how to carefully and respectfully harvest. Respectful harvesting is essential. Learning to read the forest and its rhythms from an experienced practitioner ensures that harvest sites remain healthy and sustainable. I recommend reviewing the guide for people who want to learn to sustainably and respectfully gather local plants developed by the Kayaani Sisters Council, a group of Indigenous women across Alaska.

My family will utilize the bright emerald medicinal bark of the s'áxt' to make salve, tinctures, and teas, then carve and lightweight core for handmade beads that my people believe offer spiritual protective properties.  While I personally only make my medicinal salve to gift to loved ones, you can purchase the salve from some local shops, such as Juneau’s Sealaska Heritage Store, or other small businesses throughout Alaska. It is an incredibly powerful plant and is is believed to also have properties to assist with recovery from cancer.  Plant practitioners in our beautiful state have collected and shared knowledge on this. 

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In Alaska communities and villages, medicine comes in many forms, including food. Food is much more than sustenance—it's a profound form of medicine. Sharing traditional foods connects people to the land and one another, and the ancestral knowledge embedded in harvesting and preparing those foods. Meals become moments of healing, laughter, and storytelling, fostering a deeper connection to community and place.

Whether it's smoked salmon, slow-cooked moose, berries, or wild greens, these foods carry cultural teachings, sustaining both body and spirit. They remind us of our interdependence with the land and each other, nurturing a sense of belonging. This autumn holiday, my family slow-cooked a beautiful Moose Steak from the Bristol Bay region and a Moose Roast from north of the Palmer area. With each savory, gravy-laden bite, I felt great gratitude that these gifts were given to me by friends as an act of community and generosity. This act of coming together around food strengthens communal bonds and reaffirms cultural identity, grounding us in our shared humanity and the wisdom of our ancestors.

I think back to my childhood and at a young age, in Tlingit households, we were told stories of the Salmon people, their world parallel to humans, and the importance of treating them with reverence and respect. I have near and dear memories of fishing with family on the Situk River in my home village. My family practices the ceremony of saying a prayer and offering before any time that we fish. This summer, my brother, husband and I fished from the Kenai River to provide for our family, and I can still feel the cool water of the river's edge on my fingertips at twilight, while my husband murmured a prayer from his people in Te Reo Maori. I watched the small medicine offering we made float and rock down the river from our hands. I felt gratitude for the privilege of living in Alaska and having a harvest relationship with our food. In my family, each salmon is processed with gratitude and respect, and our ability to harvest and share is a distribution of wealth through gifting food to our family and community.

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As I reflect on my childhood, watching my grandmother transform s'áxt' in our kitchen, I see how these practices have shaped me. In Alaska, medicine truly thrives—in the plants, the foods, and the shared moments of connection. By honoring these relationships, we honor our ancestors, and the land that sustains us all. In Alaska Native cultures, the medicine of these plants holds stories, and knowledge passed down through generations, embodying resilience and harmony with the land. For visitors to Alaska, there’s a powerful opportunity to connect with these traditions and witness the many forms of medicine—physical, spiritual, and cultural—that thrive here in Alaska. By honoring these connections, we create space for deeper respect and understanding of Alaska Native ways of life and the wisdom that continues to guide them.