Please post. The story by Larry Lee is a slightly tweaked version
of the
story published in the current issue (Winter 1999) of the
Cultural Survival Quarterly. Cultural Survival, based
in Cambridge, MA, has taken on Black Mesa as a special issue.
During the week of Oct. 19-24, Glenna Begay and her interpreter,
Esther-Yazzie Lewis were hosted by Cultural Survival as representatives
of the Black Mesa Weavers for Life and Land
http://www.migrations.com/blackmesa/blackmesa.html
You can read a transcript of an interview with Glenna, conducted
by
Eileen Moore Quinn, anthropologist and research coordinator at
Cultural
Survival, at http://www.cs.org/AVoices/Living/GlennaBegay.html
Glenna, Esther, and I also spoke during that week at Tufts
University and
Brandeis University, as well as to interns at Cultural Survival.
We
showed the video, "Vanishing Prayer," gave out information,
answered many
questions, and, hopefully, raised the consciousness of students
and
faculty to whom we spoke.
During the weekend of Dec. 11-12, I was at the Cultural Survival
Holiday
Bazaar at the Harvard University Law School, selling weavings
for the
Black Mesa Weavers for Life and Land and giving out a lot of
information.
all the best,
Carol
_____________________________
From the Winter 1999 issue of the Cultural Survival
Quarterly, pps. 66-68:
>>Larry Lee, a Cultural Survival staff member, visited
the
Navajo (or Dineh,
>>as they call themselves) of Black Mesa from September
21-29, 1999.
During
>>his trip, he followed full-time activist Marsha Monerstersky,
who lived
with
>>the Dineh for 8 years. The following are excerpts from
Larry's travel
diary.
>>
Black Mesa is in northeastern Arizona, and its Dineh residents,
especially
>>the elders, are among the most traditionally oriented
Native Americans
in
>>the U.S. Their native religion ties them closely to
the land, where
nearly
>>everything is sacred --the ground where their umbilical
cords are
buried,
>>the land where their houses sit, the trees from which
cradle boards are
cut
>>for babies, etc.
>>
Black Mesa also sits on $30-$40 billion of coal, discovered
in
the early
>>1950s. Since that time, the region has been a battleground,
pitting
commerce
>>against religion and cultural autonomy. In the last
25 years, while
Peabody
>>Coal mined the area, over 12,000 Dineh were relocated by the federal
>>government, many to a uranium-contaminated site. The
remaining Dineh
have
>>been harassed by the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA)
and suffer
beatings,
>>threats, confiscation of property, arbitrary arrests
(some have been
jailed
>>for repairing their own homes), and extortion.
>>
In 1996, Congress passed the Navajo-Hopi Settlement Act which
will relocate
>> --forcibly, if necessary--the remaining 3,000 Navajo
living at Black
Mesa
>>on February 1, 2000.
>>
>>Monday, September 21.
>>My trip begins with a near-disaster: crossing the Black
Mesa
mine area in
>>the dark, I barely avoid being crushed by a 300-ton, 30-foot tall dump
>>truck. I later see the truck listed in the Guinness
Book of World
Records as
>>"Largest Land Vehicle." Marsha tells me that
these trucks have the
absolute
>>right of way because they cannot stop for anything.
It seems
symbolic--the
>>truck, like the coal company that owns it, rolls through Black Mesa,
>>apparently indifferent to things in
>>its path.
>>
Just after my brush with death, I arrive at the house of Glenna Begay, my
>>Dineh host. Glenna's house is warm and lit by kerosene lamp. Adults and
>>children sit around a table and on couches, some gnawing charred bones.
>>Boiled macaroni floats in a pot of water with no sauce.
I poke the
hard,
>>dirt-covered floor with my foot.
>>
Marsha and I go to her trailer, which is on Glenna's land. We talk until
>>late, smoking Marlboros under the stars, which glitter
sharply in the
deep,
>>blue-black sky. I see the Milky Way for the first time.
>>
Tuesday, September 22.
>>In the pre-dawn dark, a rooster crows. The sound, which
I've
only heard in
>>movies and cartoons, wakes me up. I try to sleep more,
but the rooster
crows
>>through dawn until mid-morning.
>>
Already, trouble is brewing at Marsha's trailer. John and Rena
Babbitt
Lane,
>>an elderly Dineh couple, sit in Marsha's RV sipping
coffee. They are
here to
>>see Marsha because some of their animals have been
impounded by the
BIA.
>>Rena has thick brown skin, deep-set but innocent-looking
eyes, and a
lined,
>>unsmiling face. John has white hair, brown skin, a wide face, and high
>>cheekbones. He looks 50, and he seems embarrassed when
I look at him.
John
>>Benally, our translator, arrives after breakfast.
He is an imposing
figure
>>with a round stomach, long braids, blue bandanna, and sunglasses.
>>
We go to on Keams Canyon to see the impounded animals and the BIA. While
>>driving on 60 miles of very bumpy dirt roads, my mind
dwells on the
sticker
>>on my rental car: OFFROAD DRIVING WILL VOID ALL INSURANCE
COVERAGE.
Two
>>hours later, we reach the impoundment yard. We slip
under the locked
front
>>gate and go to large, white trailers containing sheep.
Rena's face
lights
>>up--they are hers. She spots her cows in a corral behind
the
trailers.
>>We drive 5 miles further to the Keams Canyon BIA office,
which looks
like an
>>elementary school. We face the BIA officials inside.
Marsha instructs
me to
>>take pictures. "It makes them mad," she explains. I don't want to be
>>involved, but as we enter the Superintendent's office,
and I dutifully
take
>>a picture of him. He snaps, "Excuse me! Have
some courtesy! This is
my
>>office! No pictures!"
>>
The BIA representatives are Native Americans from other tribes
and
include
>>Wendell Honannie, Acting Superintendant (a youngish, tired-looking,
>>bureaucratic man), Fred Chavez, Head of Land Operations
(a wiry older
man in
>>Wrangler Jeans and boots; he actually participates
in impoundments),
and
>>Eugene Secakaku (a big-bellied man with Coke-bottle
glasses and long
braids
>>who dresses like Fred), a BIA range worker. Wendell
gulps Lipton Iced
Tea
>>and mumbles meaningless pleasantries, even during hostile
exchanges
(e.g.,
>>"Please tell John and Rena that we appreciate
their coming to our
office
>>today").
>>>
From the start, the meeting is confrontational. Marsha is full
of fire.
She
>>has fought the BIA many times, and, seeing her again,
the BIA officials
roll
>>their eyeballs. They argue, and Marsha raises her voice often. The BIA
>>officials, though annoyed, do not get excited. They,
after all, hold
all the
>>cards.
>>
Marsha and the BIA mainly argue about the issuance of an impoundment
notice.
>>Dineh on Hopi land may not have livestock without a
permit, which the
BIA
>>gives out sparingly to the Dineh. But the BIA must issue 5-day warnings
>>before impoundments, and warnings are good for one
year. Marsha keeps
Rena's
>>papers and has no record of any impoundment notices in 1999. During the
>>meeting, however, the BIA produce 5-day notices for
Rena dated February
1999
>>and May 1999. Marsha says the signatures on the certified
mail
receipts,
>>which ostensibly indicate that John and Rena acknowledged receiving the
>>notices, were forged, as neither can write anything in English.
>>
The BIA seems to be playing games with John and Rena, but Marsha
is used
to
>>this. She employs two strategies to get Rena's animals
back. First,
she
>>plays the BIA's legal game by arguing that they did
not follow their
own
>>procedures properly. Here, she has a point--the BIA
seems not to have
made a
>>good faith effort to make sure John and Rena received
notices. The
apparent
>>forgeries also seem fishy. Second, the weaker ploy,
Marsha makes
personal
>>appeals. She repeatedly asks Wendell to "have
a heart" and be lenient
to
>>Rena, a 79-year-old grandmother with heart problems.
>>
The BIA officials, however, don't budge. They seem unconcerned by the
>>apparent forgeries, which have appeared on Dineh documents
in the past.
Fred
>>Chavez even claims to have done everything possible to notify Rena,
>>including posting signs at a Navajo chapter over 30 miles away from her
>>homeóin English only. They also seem unmoved by Marsha's pleas for
>>compassion or by the sight of the frail grandmother
sitting before
them.
>>Instead, they present Rena an impoundment notice for
all of her
remaining
>>animals.
>>
This display of deep indifference and occasional malice disturbs me. The
>>BIA's idea of compassion is reducing a $1700 impoundment
fee (which
would
>>allow Rena to take her animals back) to $1300, knowing
full well that
Rena
>>has no money. Even if she pays, the BIA will impound
her animals
again.
>>The argument goes in circles. The BIA will simply not
return Rena's
animals
>>for free. Marsha looks into the hallway and jumps slightly.
She
scribbles on
>>her notebook and shows me this: "Hopi Police are
here," followed by,
"Take
>>pictures regardless of what happens if the police come
after me." I
look
>>back and see two men-in-blue wearing handguns and cheap
baseball caps.
Their
>>radios fill the air with tinny voices and static. We finally leave the
>>office after Marsha calls Wendell Honnanie "heartless"
and "a
criminal." We
>>walk to the car casually, but I worry about the Hopi police.
>>
>>Friday, September 24.
>>Marsha gets exciting news: in Boston, Dineh supporters
organize
a protest at
>>John McCain's booksigning. The presidential hopeful
is the man from
Arizona
>>who, in 1996, pushed the Navajo-Hopi Resettlement Act through the
>>Senate. ...
>>
>>Saturday, September 25.
>>We are accompanied by reporters on our rounds today.
We visit
four houses,
>>which gives the reporters a fairly broad sampling of
the problems faced
by
>>the Dineh. Some we visit live on Hopi land, facing impoundments,
>>relocation, and harrassment, like Rena. Others live
on Navajo land near
the
>>coal mines and face slightly different problemsódisease
(Dineh working
at
>>the mine suffer black lung and other mining-related
ills), explosions
from
>>the mine, and relocation. Some Dineh on Navajo land
live too close to
the
>>mine and are simply moved by the Navajo Tribal Council,
with no
warning, and
>>their houses bulldozed. The reporters seem impressed.
>>
>>Sunday, September 26.
>>We visit the mine in the morning. With help of Dineh
mine
employees, we walk
>>into a pit that has been strip-mined. We wander through tall mounds of
>>dirt, all unreclaimed land--that is, Peabody has yet
to replace the
topsoil
>>and vegetation after 7 years. This is illegal, but the land remains
>>unreclaimed.
>
>In the afternoon, John Benally, Marsha, Suzanne (one of
the reporters)
and I
>>go to Red Canyon to visit Rena Babbitt Lane. Red Canyon
is far. We
drive on
>>a highway and then turn onto a dusty, twisted road
straight into
beautiful
>>red-singed hills, a picture-perfect landscape. Red
Mesa and White Mesa
stand
>>in the distance, framing the setting.
>>
We arrive at dusk, or "magic time," as Dineh call it. Jerry, Rena's son,
>>starts a tremendous fire in front of the house to cook the goats, our
>>dinner. Marsha sits with Jerry, and I enter the house.
The house has
only
>>one room, which contains everything: two tables, a
bunk bed, a twin
bed, a
>>blanket-covered couch, and a stove. Rena prepares dinner
and, after
leaving
>>pots to boil, she sits to tell her story.
>>
Rena begins with the most recent episode, the impoundment of
her sheep
and
>>cows. She talks about previous impoundments. The BIA
and Hopi police
have
>>been brutal. Rena pantomimes the swagger of the large
men--hands on
hips,
>>chest out, jaw jutting--who took her animals before.
"Hmmph!" she
snorts.
>>They used their weight to push her around, and one even broke her hand,
>>shoving her against a gate.
>>
Rena weeps softly at the memory, gasping small breaths. Suzanne
also
starts
>>to cry. I do not, but I am riveted by Rena's tears
and overwhelmed.
Rena
>>dries her tears and then complains more generally of how her people are
>>treated. She asks, through John Benally, how can people
steal your
property
>>and make you pay to get it back? The monologue ends
when John Lane and
Jerry
>>return with food from the bonfire. We sit down to goat
ribs, corn,
blood
>>sausage, and flatbread. I stick with the corn and flatbread (I'm a
>>vegetarian) and prepare to eat goat, if asked, but no ones does. After
>>dinner, we sip coffee with condensed milk.
>>
Suzanne stands to leave. Her voice wavers and she almost cries
again
before
>>bear-hugging Rena. John Lane offers to help Suzanne
find the highway
but
>>drives off without her. Jerry goes with Suzanne to
show her the highway
and
>>retrieve John. Marsha and John Benally leave to talk,
and I am left
alone
>>with Rena.
>>
Conversation is impossible, but Rena speaks anyway, hoping I will
>>comprehend. We laugh and sit in further silence. I'm
struck by an idea
and
>>quickly fold a some notebook paper into a frog. I hold
it out
tentatively.
>>She doesnít see it at first, but when she does, her eyes widen and she
>>gasps--oh! Rena turns the frog over and examines it.
She then sings a
song
>>while walking the frog down the table. She looks at
me expectantly
while
>>singing, as if it is a lullaby from my distant childhood that I've
>>forgetten. I look at her blankly, and she laughs.
I also fold a crane
and a
>>box as she boils more coffee and cleans.
>>
When Marsha and John Benally return, I have John tell Rena
that the
Japanese
>>believe cranes to be good luck, and they also believe
that if you make
1000,
>>you will be granted one wish. I fall asleep on the
couch, making one
last
>>crane.
>>
>>Tuesday, September 28.
>>My trip has come full circle: today, we retrieve Rena's
animals.
Carol
>>Halberstadt, a Boston-based Dineh supporter, pays the
impoundment fee
by
>>buying a rug woven by Rena. With trailers, we speed to Keams Canyon.
>>At the impoundment yard I wait, while the others go
to the BIA office.
I
>>miss another sparkling office encounter. They return
with Eugene
Secakaku,
>>who releases the animals. While he does, we photograph and videotape
>>everything. As I film the feces-and-hay-mixture (the
sheep have not
been let
>>out of the trailers for 8 days), Eugene points and
says, slowly, "Good
...
>>green ... hay." I shrug stupidly, and he says, "You don't know much, do
>>you?" I give him an even stupider smile and bristle
inside. The sheep
go
>>into Rena's truck, and the cattle go into a trailer attached to second
>>truck. The cows have severe diarrhea and, occasionally,
green liquid
gushes
>>out the side of their trailer. Speeding back to Rena's,
I am astounded
at
>>how fast these old Dineh drive, even with animals in tow.
>>
>>Wednesday, September 29.
>>I wake up early, and Marsha and I breakfast together.
I show
her, briefly,
>>how to use her new computer. Then, after a hug and
an exchange of
thanks, I
>>drive back through the vast and beautiful desert, alone.
>
>
>
-- Carol S. Halberstadt, Migrations (carol@migrations.com)
Native American art and crafts
http://www.migrations.com