March 20, 2003
Awakened Woman's Circle is working for peace
Slow motion genocide of the Dineh people
by swaneagle harijan
We simply did not stop the worst human rights
violation within U.S. borders of the 20th
century....
Blessings Women of Peace 3-13-03
I have been home for almost 2 weeks busy with the work at hand to stop the drive towards global annihilation. Relieved to have somewhere to be with my young one, i still struggle with the horror of what so many other mothers suffer on the reservations and all over the abused earth. It takes discipline not to be overcome with despair and fear. Poverty eats at my consciousness daily as i see no way out. I borrow my daughter's last $20 to put gas in the tank so we can vigil tomorrow and march the next day. Food? Little fresh produce, but we have bulk. Thank goodness for the dried beans, rice and oil that still grace the cupboard.
Fighter jets manuver above our small remote cabin shattering any notion of safety we may feel far removed from densely peopled cities. The Canadian radio station lets us know how deplored the Bushites are and keeps us in tune with planetary dissent. Yesterday, i was able to reconnect to the internet furthering access to the global resistance.
On Februrary 15th, wearing my crocheted and beaded mask, i spoke and sang at the peace rally in Spokane where over 2000 people assembled to march and return to an open mic. (In Colville, 80 people marched led by my 10 year old daughter and her 8 year old friend. She remained with family and friends during my journey) There i met the crew of 4 young people i was to travel with to Big Mountain to deliver a 4 wheel drive truck to Pauline Whitesinger, Dineh resister, Grandmother, Weaver and outrageous defender of sacred land. After dinner with friends in their gracious home, we departed and drove til reaching the depths of Idaho. Slowed by minor mechanical challenges, we arrived at Pauline's on Tuesday.
Before leaving on this journey, i was warned that my life was in danger if i went down there. After much prayer and meditation, i felt the necessity of proceeding. The night before our arrival, we camped in Zion National Park. The hazey waning moon cast a diffuse light upon us as we circled around the lifeless firepit. I prayed for our efforts to bring goodness to all and for protection. An intense force nearly knocked me off my feet so that i had to step back and sit on the bench of the picnic table. I rose to resume the prayer and it happened again. I felt such a powerful flow from the moon to the circular firepit to my heart. I became dizzy and felt as if i would faint. Then we crawled into tents and slept soundly upon the sandy red soil thru the gentle rain and woke before sunrise ready for the last segment of the drive. The lovely, clear day was blessed by the sight of a large bald eagle perched on the top of a juniper tree.
Once in Tuba City, we stopped at the Basha's grocery store for last minute supplies. A truck drove up to the parking slot where i stood. I stepped back and saw that it was Dineh resister, Katherine Smith and her daughter Mary Katherine. After happy hugs, we talked, mourned the death of Arrick, the 19 year old shooting victim, and contemplated what should be done to address the increasing despair of the resister children who now are drinking alcohol and using crank. Mary Katherine told me of the passing of her brother, Julian. She said that she just never realized how much he did to help til he was gone. She also said that parents don't know what to do about their children and are in urgent need of parenting skills. So many resisters and a few supporters have died over the past year. The bleakness of the human condition weighed upon us.
We drove the last 60 miles to Pauline's and arrived at her hogan sitting on the rise above an expansive meadow. She was walking back from the winter hogan a mile south near the sheep corral hugging the interior of a small canyon. She grabbed me in a tight hug, sobbing. So much has happened in the 3 years since seeing her last. We showed her the truck and she asked us to take her to her daughter Bonnie's, 5 miles east.
We took the rutty dirt road to Bonnie's small home that shelters 7 people. Her husband, Bob, was there as were 3 of the 6 kids. Their welcome was enthusiastic and they asked about my daugher. Bob said that Bonnie and their son Jarron had hitchiked to check the mail in Hotevilla. It was already dark and he was concerned. Soon a call came on the cell phone from Bonnie asking if someone could pick her and Jarron up as they were still many miles from home. John, one of our crew, drove his truck to get them. Meanwhile, i prepared dinner in a home with no running water.
Less than a gallon of water remained in the bottom of two water coolers. Rene, 7 years old, asked if i could give her a glass of water. I poured some from a jug brought by my crew to give her. Her intense thirst spurred ache in my heart. How can this be?
Bonnie told me over the phone before i came that her house had been rennovated. Well, the walls were freshly painted in the sand stone dwelling. The concrete floor was partially covered with linoleum, some windows framed in, a sink and counter in the larger of two rooms. In the smaller room, a tub cupping a mattress and a sink as catchall completed the "rennovation". Tho there is electricity, the sinks and tub have plumbing filled with air.
People travel many miles with 55 gallon barrels in the truck beds searching for water. The springs have dried, the public water stations have been closed. Sink holes appear all over this area indicating irreparable damage to the Black Mesa acquifer. Peabody Coal Company continues to slurry ore in a 300 mile long pipeline to Laughlin, Nevada, that feeds the world's largest coal fired power plant.
Bonnie's family had little wood and no propane. I cooked potatoes on the decrepit corroded enamel encased wood heat stove while Pauline made fry bread. Finally Bonnie and Jarron arrived. She said they had walked 20 miles that day before catching a ride. Their Subaru transmission went out months ago and failed efforts had been made to replace it.
Three times a week, Bonnie is picked up by a Navajo Tribal van to take her to Tuba City for dialysis. Her kidneys failed in 1997 while she attended a human rights conference in Geneva, Switzerland. Leaving early, she flew home and i happened to drive over as she lay suffering. I took her to the hospital in Tuba City where they flew her to Farmington, NM. She has been waiting for all that time to get a kidney transplant.
We talked about using the truck the following day to gather firewood for both her and Pauline, as well as getting the family water. Then off we drove to Pauline's. She told the young people to sleep in her little cinder block house and had me prepare my bed in her hogan where her grandson Jarron also had a cot. She had trouble sleeping as her thoughts are filled with worry. In the wee hours she stoked the fire in her cut barrel stove before drifiting off til pre dawn. We cooked breakfast, cleaned up and then she asked to go to Tuba City to find a medicine person to perform a ceremony for her grandson, Bobby, who is in jail for shooting his cousin.
Jill, a young Sinixt from the Colville Rez, drove John's Toyota with Pauline and i. We had no luck finding the medicine man, so took her to Basha's to get groceries before we headed back. By that time, the truck we had delivered already hauled wood for both homes and was out looking for water. Later John and Jarron returned with full barrels. After driving to numerous places in the quest for water, finally they found a spigot outside a church at Hard Rock. While they filled dry barrels, a man rode up on a bicycle demanding money for the water. I say, we all face such scenarios....
The last night i spent with Pauline in her hogan, i showed her my crocheted, beaded mask, the hat, bag and "NO WAR" pendant i made as my "anti-fascist armor". She enjoyed it and asked me to crochet and bead her a bag big enough for her hand so she can put her sacred arrow heads into it. We communicated in the unique manner we have developed over the years when no one is present to translate. She agreed to attend an elders gathering in Las Vegas in May if she can find someone to watch her cornfield and another to care for the sheep. She asked me to keep an eye out for eagles dropping feathers as they fly. She asked that i gather such feathers and wrap them up along with flat cedar to send to her. Well, i had never seen an eagle drop a feather...
The next morning, i again prepared breakfast on the halved barrel wood stove and did the dishes in heated water used many times. Afterwards, Pauline dressed in her colorful finest so that John could photograph her with her grandson and the truck we brought for them. A 17 year old woman from Olympia who had been herding sheep briefly for Pauline had asked to catch a ride to Flagstaff with us.She just was not able to endure the demands of isolation and Pauline's scoldings. We said our good byes, Pauline thanked us and she took off with Jarron to meet Bonnie and Bob to meet with their son's lawyer in Tuba City. Their son had been in jail since the January 18th shooting without being charged. The police didn't know whether to charge him with manslaughter, self-defense or second degree murder in the tragic incident. The family fears for their children due to the dangers brought by the alcohol that has gripped youth suffering from poverty, isolation, harassment in school, premature deaths of relatives and friends and the irrevocable loss of culture, land and life. Slow motion genocide....
Pauline and i both cried hugging for the last time. She is my life's greatest teacher. Her strength defies description as she maintains her place on land inhabitated for centuries by her ancestors. The resistance is down to 2 elders who have never compromised and a handful of families at great risk due to the passing of their resisting elders. It is illegal for Pauline and Sarah Begay to be on their ancestral lands. I suspect the Feds and their agents wait knowing that once these women pass on, the land will be up for grabs. The children of these women face grave jeopardy as they are refugees once the land is taken. The elders who signed the "Accomodation Agreement" in 1997 were given their rightful home on 3 acres for 75 years not to be passed on to their children';one horse, one cow, 3 goats and 3 sheep. They must apply for permits to gather wood, herbs, conduct ceremonies and other customary ancient practices. Once the signers pass, what will happen to their descendents? We simply did not stop the worst human rights violation within U.S. borders of the 20th century....
We drove to Flagstaff with 6 of us crammed in various cubbies and seats. The young sheepherder stayed in Flag heading to Washington on her own. As i was doing laundry, Jill ran into a friend of ours who invited us to rest up at her place before the 3 of us women headed to Phoenix to catch a flight to Seattle. Kari had just been part of a performance that included Starhawk a week or so before. She is an active feminist in Flag and a friend of hers visited with me while all the others went to hear some music. The friend and i had met at Pauline's several years ago. I gave her some things to give Louise Benally, who i was not able to visit and whose son was shot by Bobby.
We departed Flag at 3 am. On the way, i told Jill and Sonya of my lifetime commitment to Pauline and the struggle, regardless of the outcome. We were all crying. Both young women and John expressed similar commitment that moved me very deeply. Rare, i say, rare. It is an extremely difficult issue, heartbreaking yet inspiring. We are witnesses to genocide and my naiive dreams are dashed. We have failed in so many ways. Grief is becoming a constant companion.
I have been infused with the war reality consuming the earth, my younger hopes and visions for the freedom of the Dineh people has seriously erroded. I have become so famfiliar with press blackouts that the critical reality facing indigenous people in this country endures. Word of mouth is nearly all there is with an occasional article, interview or documentary. Nothing that grabs the soul of the public is allowed. I have used my writing, performance art, drawings, poetry and speaking to communicate this issue since i first went down to see for myself in 1984. I am so sorry i have failed. At this time it hits me that all my struggles for justice, peace and a livable children's future have failed. I cannot shake it no matter how much i march, rally, vigil and educate. My heart is shattered and i can barely do anything to telieve the suffering of the people i love. How did it come to this?
In peaceful, dogged struggle, swaneagle