There comes a time in all beings life that the eye within eyes see the color of life and all its wholeness.  Like  listening to a bird sing in a meadow of many flowers or the sounds of a child laughing as gentle drops of morning rain tickle rolling from her face, capturing the light of life only to let it go, feeding others we never know.  From the dust and dirt came the rooted and green that life moves on thru my past.
Throughout time I learned and heard it said and called Native things, like pouches and bags.  This is because people lack the real knowledge and understanding of what these gifts truly are.  So it does little or next to nothing to do justification to that which is us.  With its name, every thing had its reason and purpose of being, thus I say unto all that these are but gifts in our walk of life.  For those of the bags, shirts,  staffs and rattles, we as indigenous people carry them through life by earning them.