Mana from Heaven? It’s from the Land.

Edited by Marina Crouse

It is Given, It is Kept

Juli Vanderhoop says it starts with the land. Pulling up to her Orange Peel Bakery, you might assume it begins with the baked goods emerging from an outdoor wood-fired oven. Reading the flyers, you’d guess it was the events - ranging from potluck pizza bakes, to classical musician showcases, to DJ workshops - hosted at the Aquinnah staple. Consuming any newspaper, TV, and even textbook features on Orange Peel, you’d point to the politically-active resume, the outreach, the advocacy. But the origin, according to this community-driven business owner, is the ground on which she stands. 

“There’s so many stories about this,” Juli gestures to the property surrounding both Orange Peel and her residence. “This is Black Brook and it’s a known riverway on the state maps.”

The bakery (the smallest of its kind on the island, Juli notes) is her own kitchen. Surrounding Orange Peel is a sloped lawn adorned with an eclectic, welcoming arrangement of furniture. Patrons can select meticulously-crafted breads, scones, pies, rolls, biscuits, and many other creations on display in the front of the kitchen, then enjoy them by Juli’s thriving garden. A chicken coop can be spotted through the trees, a few hundred feet from her patio. When giving directions, Juli simplifies the spot by telling people it’s “one mile into Aquinnah, to the left,” but she adds that it possesses a quality not found via GPS.

“The Wampanoag people knew it was spirited. Because of the water in the ground, the spirits were close. It’s kind of like a solstice point. And my stepfather, who was the medicine man, said that through the smoke and the water (the spirits) can hear us.”

Juli, a member of the Aquinnah Wampanoag tribe, explains that the energy in the area is cleansed by the water running through it. As someone who has seen and felt the unadulterated splendor of the place so often, she acknowledges that “there’s something here and it’s very, very special.” With a tranquil yet engaging presence, Juli vividly conveys the island’s significance in her life. Her deeply-informed worldview is likely shaped by her family and former career as a commercial pilot, but her openness and love for stories is also palpable. 

“In Māori they say mana is the thing that happens when you gift something,” Juli begins and her son, Emerson, chimes in. 

“It’s the legacy of your ancestors which gets built up over time. As you do good in the world.”

Juli nods, continuing, “so this property was given to my mom, then she gave it to me, and we’re seeing it. If you buy it then there’s something that’s cancelled, that energy is not there.” 

Message Received

It was the ancestral legacy, the life force of the land, Juli states, that brought her back to the island and healed her. After growing up on the Vineyard, Juli spent almost two decades exploring other parts of the country and world. She recalls a day over 15 years ago when she was home alone and “was actually called, in this very strange manner.” 

“I heard a voice - it wasn’t my voice! I never heard the voice again. But I stopped for like ten minutes and I was just like ‘what the heck was that?’ And three days later I got really sick.”

The illness persisted for a year, resulting in numerous consultations and a seemingly inevitable path to surgery. However, when Juli was about to undergo surgery the doctor reported to her: “your body didn’t let me.” 

She describes her friend helping her off the hospital bed and walking out, never asking for further elaboration. Soon after the near-procedure Juli decided to return to the Vineyard. Coming back home, she insists, changed everything. 

“I would wake up at 3:30 in the morning and I’d go and sit out on the back porch and I’d hear the brook running. It felt like the whole island stopped moving for a minute.”

With the change in routine and scenery, Juli became “all better,” baffling her surgeon and making Juli a proponent of listening to her body. The endeavor instilled in her a sense of purpose, as Juli asserts that she is back on the Vineyard for a reason. 

 “If you really want health, then you come up here and just sit and give yourself that moment of time. I’ve thought about ‘oh I want to be able to do other things and not (be) tied by the property.’ But I can’t just bring myself to ever sell this, I know that.”

It seems as though Juli has taken the healing energy of her Aquinnah property and tries to share it with the community. For folks living up-island, the western part of Martha’s Vineyard, grocery stores are a far trek. Logistics were further complicated by the COVID-19 lockdown, so Juli offered a safe delivery of her goods to residents hesitant to leave their homes. Reviving a centuries-old tradition, Juli has also offered her wood-burning oven for folks bringing their own doughs and ingredients to bake off. Perhaps the most powerful manifestation of mana that the bakery offers is its honor system. Patrons are trusted with paying via Venmo or cash box that sits beneath rows of delectable treats. While the system enables Juli to leave the storefront when needed, she hopes that, above all, it will promote something bigger.

“Everybody says ‘Juli, go to a lockbox,’ and I haven’t done it and I probably won’t. My example is that even on the worst day, if we’re safe then we’re going to be OK,” She states with conviction, “I can afford to give that one day of work to someone who needs it, because if someone were to come in and ask me, then I would gratefully give it to them.”

Empowering Through Play

Prior to colonization, Martha’s Vineyard was called Noepe and occupied by Wampanoag tribes for at least 10,000 years. As the @chappaquiddickwampanoag Instagram page points out, Noepe’s eastern location made both the Aquinnah and Chappaquiddick Wampanoag tribes among the first indigenous peoples in the present-day United States to have contact with early European colonizers. The resulting loss of land and life - the Aquinnah tribe of once 3,000 now stands at roughly 900, 300 of whom still live in their ancestral homeland - is undeniably devastating. The two tribes are still working to secure reparations, though it is no small feat. Juli explains that some native people have become silent, exhausted, and discouraged, likely due to the numerous systemic issues oppressing indigenous communities.

“People are feeling powerless, used to being stepped on, used to being not respected. Take any abused person and they have that issue.”

Juli intends to amplify the silenced voices through a three-part initiative: building a children’s playground, a food forest, and an affordable housing unit.  

“We’re really trying to plant indigenous plants, then create that canopy, create that undergrowth, and build upon that,” Juli describes the projected layout with gusto, adding “I’ve got two master gardeners and a few landscapers that are willing to come up for a full day’s worth of work and get this started.” 

Juli happily reports that her team has started to break ground on the project and fundraising. At the same time, she concedes that August is an absolute whirlwind on the island.

“The summer’s burning by, everybody’s busy. But we have a promise to every kid in the town of Aquinnah who showed up for our design day. ‘Please, build us a playground!’” Juli smiles, “They all had drawings and talked to our designers about what they wanted. It gives me goosebumps.” 

Juli emphasizes that the Aquinnah youth need open space and a safe playground. 

“You gotta get behind them.” Julie shrugs, “we don’t have these places for them and they’re extremely expensive to build. But by hook or by crook we’re going to do it!”  

Targeting next April as the proposed deadline for the fundraising goal and late fall as the commencement of the affordable housing unit construction, Juli is motivated by the prospect of land. 

“These are all proper uses of our open space. And to create that community, to work and plan the gardens should be the way that we’re building a lot more on this island. To balance the scale of the wealth that’s here.” 

Among Juli’s intended goals for the project is the promotion of diversity, as well as “allow(ing) people to elevate their cultures and celebrate, rather than stomping over people to get wherever you’re going in a very selfish way.” 

When it comes to the Wampanoag people, Juli hopes to help folks vocalize and “create from their mind, then put it out to the world. From projects that I hope will be examples to other people to take over to run with and to exemplify it. That will heal us and we can make ourselves sustainably live here on the island, if we do that.”

It appears as though Juli is utilizing her understanding of connection to the land as an opportunity to uplift others. 

“This is something that I’m also trying to get people to understand. Fifteen years on this property and we moved from one place to the other making small changes to this fragile, fragile system.” She suggests that Orange Peel can serve as inspiration for “what you can actually do with the open space,” a means of “exemplifying it.”  

Burning Midnight Oak

Fourteen years after Juli’s nostos of sorts, Orange Peel boasts national and international recognition and a robust rapport within the community. The signature wood-fired oven has inspired a few culinary enthusiasts. A wooden structure adjacent to the parking lot will soon house all of the products to afford the bakers more space in the kitchen, just one of the many suggestions of growth. More than a few celebrities have taken note of the bakery’s inimitable charm and plan to showcase it on a massive stage. Despite these accomplishments, Juli maintains an unpretentious tone. 

“I’m just like the little bakery that could!” She laughs. Hearing regulars or first-time visitors alike rave about her baked goods seems to be fulfilling for Juli. In fact, fostering this type of environment is part of Orange Peel’s ethos. 

“When I used to work 14-17-hour days, that was what got me over. Wanting to make everything so that no one was ever without whatever they wanted. It’s definitely about working with no pain. Working for the love of it. That has just brought amazing things my way.”

Churning out the alluring scent of smoldering island oak, Julie’s oven is one of many vehicles for mana. As is the housing and playground project, the honor system, and, of course, the act of creating sustenance for others.

“Working and baking is kind of like my meditation. It’s given me an opportunity - watching the moon rise late at night - trying to figure out that question,‘why this island?’ It’s thinking about my own words and trying to come to that understanding of how to help people.”

If she ever encounters an obstacle while in pursuit of that understanding, there’s one place Juli is likely to turn.

“We are farmers and fishermen first and we need to go back to our roots.”

See the wood-burning oven for yourself and try some amazing baked goods by visiting Orange Peel Bakery in Aquinnah!

Stay posted for resources for donating to the Aquinnah Playground/Affordable Housing project!