The Coronavirus will be with us awhile

A few days ago, I was talking with my two adult children that live with us. We were talking about how things seem to be escalating with the coronavirus. States have opened, people don’t wear masks, and there is now an increase in positive cases, nearly 45,000 today alone. I was particularly glad that our Governor Lujan-Grisham has delayed the second phase of opening, and there may be closures coming. A friend said today that he noticed there were cars from Arizona and Texas here, two of the states that have had spikes in the number of positive cases. Please go home.

We haven’t been anywhere but the stores for food, post office, a couple of fast-food places since we were tired of our cooking, and we haven’t gone to visit friends and family, only to the stores out of necessity. We’ve changed our lives to meet this coronavirus pandemic, to ensure that we do not get sick, but more so, so that KD does not get sick. We wear our masks when we go out, even if it is a drive-through. We put our masks on when we leave our cars. We have hand sanitizer, we have gloves. And we have this procedure where we clean whatever comes in the house, from food purchases, paper bags, FedEx deliveries, the mail, and we change our clothes immediately, and wipe down doors, and clean car interiors.

This pandemic is not going anywhere soon. To see that it has been politicized by the Great Orange Father in the White House just to save his campaign for a second term is sickening… he has done nothing, said nothing positive, and has in fact, been antagonistic to those doctors and epidemiologists who know their stuff. There were delays in getting PPE here, delays there, funding was cut for WHO, funding delayed for the Indian Nations. That person has not handled this pandemic well, and I say thee nay… he has not handled it at all. That one has politicized this pandemic to the point that people, whether they know they are infected or not, are not wearing masks, are not practicing social distancing and gathering in crowds and bars and beaches, and led by that person, state that wearing a mask is against their rights.

No. No, it’s not. It is not against their rights. What it is against is public health. What it is against is others’ right to stay healthy. What it is against is our right to stay healthy. What it is against is my right to stay healthy, and my family’s right to stay healthy. It infringes on any protections we have to stay healthy. We have an inherent right to protect ourselves from danger, and right now that danger is other people not wearing masks, not practicing social distancing, and not being diligent in hand washing.

American Indians have been through so much in the history of this United States. We had everything we needed in the landscape that we lived in. We adapted to the environment. Sure, there were wars over hunting grounds and such, but we lived within our environment. And then to have those explorers come here, create wars starting with the American Indians that lived in the east in order to take them as slaves, and proceed to mow down every tribe that was here in the ensuing years, and cause them to leave their homelands in order for the Europeans to take the land.

That mindthink exists today, and that is to do harm to American Indians and threaten our cultures, whether it is in the form of mascots, taking our lands, much of which has oil and other natural resources, to attempt to plow through and destroy a tribal cemetery just to put up a wall to increase security for this wonderful country, and also to have members of tribes killed in encounters with police, men and women both, though these are not sensationalized by the press and the news, because apparently, our lives don’t matter. And no one is nearby with a phone filming the encounters. Everyone is so occupied by the BLM. We’ve been dealing with this since 1492. Our world was not free for the taking. Our world supported us and would have continued to support us, had not the Europeans arrived. It was inevitable; we have only to look at the history of other cultures and countries where Europeans appeared.

So that being said, today I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that this coronavirus is not going anywhere any time soon. I know in the beginning there was this uncertainty about how long this would last, and when would it end. The unknown was weighing heavily on people’s minds. We see these recent increases in cases and hospitalizations – not good. For me, however, by accepting this fact, it places a finality on it. It makes it part of my life. It makes it reality. It does not matter how long, whether it goes two months, six months, another year. Recognizing that it is not going anywhere helps me to get on with what I need to do, and that is being stronger mentally, spiritually, physically, and emotionally in order to forge through the days ahead.

It has affected our classes, too, which went online after spring break. Summer classes are online. Fall is scheduled for in-class schedules, but if there continue to be increases, I’m sticking to online.

It is unlikely that there will be any powwows, war dances, or gourd dances for us for a long time, not just speaking for others, but specifically just my family. We have my husband who is 92, a former city firefighter, who, after 20+ years on the fire department, had damage to his lungs from smoke inhalation. So we are diligent and cautious in what we do, lest we encounter the virus and bring it home. And with these increases, with people from Texas and Arizona feeling free to move about the country, that is a distinct possibility. Perhaps this pandemic will continue over a year. Perhaps there will be a vaccine by the end of this year, or maybe next year. Will you take it? I’m not certain that I will. I think I’ll let others take the high road first and I’ll see how things go.

This year was my Chilocco Class of 1970’s 50^th reunion, our Golden Reunion, to have been held in May. I was supposed to be head lady dancer for the reunion powwow this year. I planned on attending anyway, but that was going to be a big honor for me, and I started collecting giveaway items. After postponing the reunion for May, the board considered having it in the fall, but the facility was unavailable. However, with the rise in cases, they likely would have cancelled. Perhaps we will be able to go next year. Perhaps not. There may be powwows, war dances, and gourd dances, but none that we will go to, not with the numbers of positive cases rising.

So, I just felt the need to write about my experience, put my thoughts out there for posterity. There have been changes, and there will be more changes, to the way we live and the way we do things. Being open to those changes helps bring a finality to the question of how long we might be living with coronavirus, likely a long time. To just accept it as such is good, and it is helpful for the psyche. Plan for it. Make it part of your life. Make it part of your family’s history, just as American Indians did when the Europeans arrived and affected their way of life.

Be well. Stay healthy, my family and friends. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Practice social distancing. Repeat. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Practice social distancing.

Women are Sacred

It has been some time since I have written in this blog for Voice of Native Women in We Are 1 Voice. My apologies to my adopted daughter, Susan, for neglecting this duty. I like to write and have written poetry and in a novel, along with screenplays. My coursework in film has taken up much of my time.

Much of that time has been in doing research for a documentary, some started nearly 20 years ago. I have been reading research papers, some complex with statistics, variables, ANOVA, and other such things that used to give me hives in statistics. With a degree in psychology, I relish reading research.

I ran across this particular piece of research done by Tamara C. Cheshire, which appeared in the American Behavioral Scientist, Vol. 44 No. 9, May 2001, 1528-1535 (c) Sage Publications, Inc. The study was “Cultural Transmission in Urban American Indian Families”. Very interesting reading, with some great results as far as how selected group of American Indian women saw themselves transmitting culture to their children. A great read… and I would share the link, except I don’t remember if it was off the ‘net or it was from JSTOR or EBSCO.

There were many “ways in which the urban American Indian mother fulfills her role in transmitting culture, the practices she uses to teach her child, and how the child recognizes the teachings and culture to be significant”, she being “the primary transmitter of culture to her child”. And again, very interesting results and outcomes in how urban Indian teach their children about their culture.

But in all the pages that I read, the conclusion was the most poignant. It begins with a quote that we have all read before:

“A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then it is done, no matter how brave its warriors, nor how strong their weapons. (Cheyenne proverb in Crow Dog & Erdoes, 1990, p. 3)

So, I write word for word from this study:

“This Cheyenne proverb reveals the significance of women in Indian culture. It is the women — the mothers, grandmothers, and aunties — that keep Indian nations alive. Even in the face of oppression, Indian women seem to grow stronger and more resilient in their efforts to transmit culture. Their strength is from knowing who they are and where they come from. The significance that Indian mothers in this study associate with cultural transmission leads to similar value orientation toward cultural transmission in their children. The importance associated with cultural transmission helps reinforce the use of practices that transmit cultural knowledge.

Cultural identity in children is fostered and valued to preserve the culture and empower the next generation to fight the injustices of oppression. In addition to cultural transmission and preservation, there is adaptation. All cultures change and grow. Ways of learning have changed in response to oppression so that there is ultimately preservation.”

I have written about this before here in Voice of Native Women, but I think these statistics need to be reprinted, everywhere. I find this conclusion poignant in that in other readings it was stated that “women are sacred.” The statistics, however, show a very different reality. And I find that this is such a stark contrast to what American Indian women face, just going to the store, walking down a dark street toward their home, back to their children and families. These are the statistics about American Indian women as they appear on The Coalition to Stop Violence Against Women (https://www.csvanw.org/mmiw/):

“4 out of 5 of our Native women are affected by violence today. The U.S Department of Justice found that American Indian women face murder rates that are more than 10 times the national average.”

“Homicide is the 3rd leading cause of death among 10-24 years of age and the fifth leading cause of death for American Indian and Alaska Native women between 25 and 34 years of age. – Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Homicide.”

“The National Crime Information Center reports that, in 2016, there were 5,712 reports of missing American Indian and Alaska Native women and girls, though the US Department of Justice’s federal missing persons database, NamUs, only logged 116 cases (my emphasis).

We need to protect mothers, daughters, granddaughters, grandmothers, aunties, cousins and on and on. Often jurisdictional issues interfere with immediate response. There are many websites which offer ideas and initiatives to help families and communities when a loved one goes missing.

I believe that women are strong, resilient, and the keepers of culture, providing their children with the information that they need to know who they are and where they come from. And that these women need to be told that they are strong, resilient and keeping their culture. And that these women need to tell their daughters and granddaughters that they are strong, resilient and keeping their culture. We need to tell them everyday so they know their importance.

 

Thoughts about dancing at that festival

Every year, hundreds of people arrive in Albuquerque for the Gathering of Nations, more a festival atmosphere than a real powwow.

Modern day powwows are described as either traditional or competition. A few tribes have dances that are ceremonial in nature, but I’m not discussing those here.

So, back to this huge festival… I was told the original powwow was started by students at the university of New Mexico. And I was told that when the original organizer, a student at the university, was away, this current guy offered to help. And then the guy kind of took over on it.

At this time of year, for at least the last twenty years, or as long as social media has been around, people have objected to a non-American Indian person running the “powwow” and would raise a ruckus, writing things about the powwow and the organizer. I didn’t see that much of that this year.

A look at their 990 sees that they have registered with the IRS as a “church.” A church. With all of what churches and religions have done to the Indigenous people of this continent, you would think that the people would object to participating. But, alas. The almighty dollar is god.

I used to love going to this powwow, and when we lived in Oklahoma, we went a few years when our kids were younger, before bling bling and 12″ crowns and contemporary-style dancing. After we moved to Florida to work, well, my daughter and I would spend my hard-earned money and buy plane tickets, hotel, and rental car and fly out for the Gathering. I think we just came out for the chiles, tortillas and oven bread. Because we would go out with a bag of only that… frozen green chile and tortillas from Frontier, and oven bread from the Pueblo Cultural Center.

Anymore, going to this festival powwow has become more work to me than anything. Grand entry at this time, grand entry that time, lug your stuff in, can’t leave your stuff in your car coz it might get stolen, wait in line, wait in line for $12 turkey leg, $5 coke, or whatever they sell for.

If we were all to go, it would be at least $25/person X 6 = $150. Then food and drink for 5 and snacks, probably $80/day = $160. Parking, fuel = $50. I don’t mind buying from vendors because they have to pay a helluva lot to show their wares, or cook up those Indian tacos. So for about $400 that would get us all into this festival, and probably only dance our contests, if we were contest people, but we aren’t. I can think of a many thing I could get for $400, or even gas to get to the beach in sunny California, or Galveston Island.

At any rate, give me the true, old tyme war dance culture and societies and traditional modern day powwows. That is the real, the authentic. More meaning there than someone trying to make a buck to pay the electric.

And, of course, these are my opinions…

Colonoscopy – a scary procedure or life-saving test

My apologies to Susan for not writing before this. I will write again soon.

I often write about things that affect me, like my allergies, complaining, mostly. I hate being sick; not like anyone wants to be sick, likes being sick, but I hate it. I am independent, and want people to be independent, to take care of themselves (which is why I did not become a nurse or a doctor). I’ve had several surgeries in my lifetime. I write about my great test results, because I’m over 60 and I feel blessed in having good health, and I want all people to have great health. I thank my ancestors for giving me the genes that carry good health. 

Many of my first cousins have gone on due to alcohol-related accidents, alcohol-related illnesses, diabetes-related illnesses and cancers. Some preventable; others not. Many of my older relatives, both Pawnee and Cheyenne, are also gone due to the same medical issues. Many times, we’ve gone to dances, either at Pawnee, or in Cheyenne country, and there are few elders over 70. Few, if any, old singers with the knowledge of old songs at the drums. Few elders dancing at the powwows and war dances. That is very telling. And at powwows here and there, I notice young people whose weight may soon cause them problems.

Old story, as my grandma would tell my grandpa but I had bilateral total knee replacements, new knees, at the same time, in December 2010. I have not looked back. I was up the next day, walking, like a robot, but walking. The major pain was momentary, because had I not had them done, I would have been in constant arthritic pain. I worked through the post-surgical pain, doing whatever the physical therapists gave us to do at Healthsouth, an occupational and physical rehabilitation facility in Albuquerque. I knew what the alternative was. What I noticed at the facility was that there were many patients there whose limbs had been removed, a foot, a leg below the knee, or above the knee. And many of these were young people. Young people restarting life with one limb. Please follow your doctor’s orders relating to diet, exercise and medication. Be here for your children and grandchildren.

I have hiked many times since my surgery, and dance at powwows, and do many things, within reason. As many of you know, another “old story”, my third and final goal set in physical therapy was to hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, which I did in June 2015. I have hiked in the Rocky Mountains, at Chaco Canyon and in the Sangre de Cristos.

I know that a lot of folks don’t have insurance, or good insurance, and Indian Health Services only goes so far, given the number of people who need help. Sometimes, it’s too late. My mother kept trying to reschedule an appointment that had been cancelled by the doctor. She told me that she made another appointment that had to be rescheduled again, and that it took months to get her an appointment again. The appointment was in the early summer. She passed away a few months before. She had high blood pressure, which eventually caused an aneurysm in her brain. She died of a hemorrhagic stroke. Please follow your doctor’s orders relating to diet, exercise and take your blood pressure medication. Be here for your children and grandchildren.

My father died of colon cancer and diabetes-related illness. I have heard that colon cancer is hereditary, and I have also been told it is not. Either way, doctors and specialists tell you to have your first colonoscopy at age 50; but, if you have a first degree relative (parent, sibling, child) who has had colon cancer or a polyp before age 60, then you should get an exam starting at age 40. In either case, it is recommended that you repeat the exam every five years, as long as you are healthy.

Since my father had colon cancer, I was advised to have a colonoscopy done. It wasn’t at 40, as my father had not passed away at that time. Even then, in 1998, when he passed, I hadn’t yet informed any of my doctors about his having colon cancer. About 4 years ago, in a health history with a new primary care physician, I mentioned to my doctor about my dad. I had always brought up the grands and other relatives with diabetes-related and cancer-caused deaths. I am not diabetic, and for many years, have had great A1C. HDL/LDL/cholesterol and other test results. We eat healthy meals, not very much red meat at all, mostly chicken, pork, shrimp, salmon, sometimes tofu, beans, brown rice, rice cauliflower, lots of fresh vegetables, salads and then occasionally, pasta dishes, stews, and then sometimes corn soup, frybread, meatpies, Ndn tacos, Frito pies, enchiladas, and about four times a year, chicharones (fried pork fat). I used to love making big breakfasts with eggs, bacon, hash browns, corned beef hash, biscuits and gravy, but we only do that now and again, pancakes, too. Did you know that an entire can of corned beef hash has nearly 500 mgs of fat-that’s a lot of calories!

My mom thought I was diabetic, and was always bringing me stuff from conferences she went to, stuff about diabetes, recipes, medication holders, etc, etc, etc. I appreciated those things, but more so, though, that she thought of me and my health. For someone who grew up around lead paint, traipsed through the grandparent’s gardens which had been dusted with Sevin, eating same veggies dusted with Sevin, and ran behind the mosquito-dusting truck in Pawnee, and later, worked in a research lab and was exposed to radioactive isotopes, I am thankful and grateful for my health.

So, a colonoscopy was scheduled. But I did not make it to that test. Another was scheduled. And I did not make that one. And again. The most recent appointment over the summer was rescheduled due to the exam being scheduled on the first day of summer classes. So three times I did not do the colonoscopy due to family-related issues (spouse fell twice, breaking each hip once, and that required many weeks of hospitalization, in-house and outpatient therapy), and one for school. Finally, this time, I scheduled it, and I made it.

I’d heard from people who’d had a colonoscopy before and they reported the icky-est stuff to deal with. Horrible, they said. There were things not to eat within five days (nuts), things not to drink (red, blue or purple kool-aid stuff), and only chicken broth, jello, or other lame stuff, like black coffee, popsicles, soda, and water. And of course, there were several feast days that occurred just before my exam, so knowing how red chile can stain a white shirt, I stayed home, because I cannot be trusted around red chile! Haha! No solid foods after 10 a.m. the morning before. I like to eat, and 24 hours without food, and watching my family eat a delicious, great-smelling meal was agony. But, I was going to get this done and out of the way. Facing my fear and anxiety, I got ready.

I picked up the solution from the pharmacy which I would drink the day before, and yes, it really and truly turned out to be the most vile-tasting stuff you’d never want to drink, I kid you not. I had a final meal, breakfast, and then, after a certain time, was directed to drink half of the gallon of fluid the first day, within two hours. That’s eight 8-ounce cups, or one cup every 15 minutes for two hours. Yucky, icky liquid stuff, disguised with a lemony-flavored packet. Oh, my word, it was awful. They said you could put Gatorade or Crystal Light in it, but no amount of either could disguise the flavor of that stuff. But the colon had to be clean, so I was game for it.

The morning of the procedure, we arrive early. The receptionist was Navajo. She was great, very professional. When we went into the procedure area, the staff in the room were very professional and precise. They were so organized. Things were run just like clockwork. I was given something to relax me. The doctor came in to get my history, and tell me what would occur. He told me that colon cancer is the third leading cause of death. Hello, right before my procedure you’re telling me this? Now, right before I go under? I was already kind of anxious beforehand, but thanks, Doc! That’s the last thing I want to hear, just in case something goes awry.

My daughter was there with me, and was there during the prep, as she was for my knee replacement surgery. Just for a moment, lying on that gurney, anticipating what I did not know, I was nearly overwhelmed by anxiety, mostly due to the unknown. And then I remembered what my grandpa told me: never worry about anything until you know what it is. So, I had those anxiety tears roll right back into my eyes. I have told myself that time and time again, in all sorts of instances and issues. I love my grandpa for giving me that piece of advice, among others, which I have shared with the kids. And so I recovered my wits, because my daughter was worried, too, and I did not want her to worry. Never worry about anything until you know what it is.

With Claire directed to the waiting room, the personnel wheeled me into the procedure room. They told me they were going to give me this drug, to which I replied, “The Michael Jackson drug?!” They said yes, it will put you under. So, they did, and no sooner had I said that, I was apparently out, because the next thing, I was waking up back in the room, and complained that my feet, which were hanging over the end of the gurney, were cold. They brought me a nice warm blankie for my feet. I was somewhat groggy, but got over it rather quickly, as I was surprisingly alert and talking.

Claire was brought back in, and the male nurse was telling me what they did. They found one polyp, 3 mm long, and had taken it for pathology. Other than that, my colon was clear of any additional polyps or abnormal things. I thought I recognized a bit of Cajun in the nurse’s voice. I asked if he was from Louisiana. Yes, but he was born in the Carolinas and raised north of New Orleans. We chatted it up about one of our favorite places, the food, music, Cafe du Monde beignets and cafe au lait, the NOLA area, the people. And then it was time to get dressed and go home. I had no bad side effects, took a nap, and that was that.

I received my report today, and it indicated that the polyp was hyperplastic or inflammatory, with no cancer potential or increased lifetime risk of cancer. “Colorectal cancer usually begins as a “polyp,” a nonspecific term to describe a growth on the inner surface of the colon. Polyps are often non-cancerous growths but some can develop into cancer (mayoclinic.org).” The other, adenomatous polyps, are pre-cancerous and have the potential for becoming cancer, if not removed.

At the bottom, I have given three links to the mayoclinic.org and webmd.com, two credible medical online resources. If I ever need to look something up, research a procedure or get medical information, these are the two sources I look at, either before or after doctor visits. I researched the heck out of knee replacement surgery at least a year before, and prior to that, did research about Synvisc injections that I did for two-three years before my surgery.

I wrote this today, because, again, I am thankful to Atius Tirawahut for the blessings I have. We do not know when we will leave this world. We should do our very best to stay healthy for our children, grandchildren, elders and community, and to live a full and active live, eating well, exercising and following our doctors orders. Some people have knowledge and stories about our tribes that need to be told to the next generations, and to do so, you need to be here. You need to be here for those grandkids, greatgrands, and your family. Take care of yourself.

Good wishes to everyone for a healthy life! If your doctor says you need a colonoscopy, by all means, get it done. It really was not that bad, other than the drink stuff. Something has to make it taste better. Do not be afraid of this test. It could save your life.

Links to information about colon cancer:

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/colon-cancer/home/ovc-20188216

http://www.webmd.com/colorectal-cancer/guide/colorectal-polyps-cancer#1

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/colon-polyps/symptoms-causes/dxc-20346922

Cobell money

I never thought that I would see what is happening today at Standing Rock, or any place like this. I can only imagine what my great-grandmother, as a child of three, must have felt when she encountered the non-Ndn people, in the form of cavalry. Her father was a Pawnee Scout, but nothing like this.

I think of my Cheyenne ancestors and what they encountered from Chivington at Sand Creek in 1864 and at the hands of Custer at the Washita in 1868, and finally followed by Greasy Grass in 1876.

We lived through the 60’s and 70’s but nothing like this has ever occurred. A gathering of nations (not the powwow), but a gathering of the great Indian Nations, in solidarity with the Standing Rock people.

We need to pray, we need to burn cedar and pray for the people of Standing Rock, and all the tribes there at Standing Rock, witnesses to modern day attocities, from the youngest to the oldest, pray for their health and safety, pray for the hardened hearts of the corporations, the governor, the police, the DAPL workers, for the people in Iowa those with land that was taken, along the path of the “black snake”. Because that is what we do…pray.

It is a lawless country there, and the Great White Father, er…would that be the Great Black Father, in Washington, has abandoned his wards. Abandoned them in favor of money. Money you cannot eat. For oil you cannot drink. Ironically, to move fracked oil that is  not intended for use by the United States!

I can’t help but think…is this payback for Cobell?

The REAL Gathering of Nations: Standing Rock

In a video I saw just now, drum groups at the Navajo Nation Fair united to sing the American Indian Movement song for a show of solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux Nation. I watched the video, and heard the song which immediately reminded me of the old AIM days. I was never right in the midst, but rather on the fringe when I was attending the University of Tulsa, though many of my friends and relatives were involved in AIM from the beginning, in various instances and protests. Many of them have gone on. Over the years, my grown children and I have joined in on some protests, and supported many others. This is a good song, and it tugged at memories in my brain’s dusty files, remembering those folks and their commitment, and the change that happened as a result.

This showing of solidarity was special. Today, the judge denied the Standing Rock people’s injunction to halt the construction of DAPL under the Missouri River. But immediately an announcement turned that disappointment into a surprising victory for the Standing Rock people as the Obama administration, through the Department of Justice, the Department of the Interior and the Army Corps of Engineers, announced a requested halt to the construction of the DAPL, 20 miles east and west of Lake Oahe, and set in place measures to follow for change, a conference of tribal leaders to discuss potential infrastructures and policies and processes, and possibly changes to laws and the way these agencies work with tribes and treaties. We will no longer be ignored.

In another video found on Facebook, a spokesman relates to the people at the Standing Rock camps about the ruling and the announcement. In the end, after reading of the future plans he states “…this has opened that door to change their laws!” He went on to say “…they [heard] our prayers” and relayed that “seven generations ago” something that happened at that place (Standing Rock) helped the people “hear our cries. And today we are victorious again!”

What the youth runners did, just a few short weeks ago, in their run from Standing Rock to Washington, DC, was to bring awareness to the American Indian people across the United States and to people around the world, the issue that the Standing Rock people were confronting, and anyone living along the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers, should a pipeline break, and that issue was oil in the water. “Mni wiconi” – water is life. And confront it, they did, promoting protection of the water in a peaceful way, prayerful. My nephew held a Native American Church meeting for the people of Standing Rock and the other nations.

Even when faced with tough confrontation, they held together. When the dogs were there, videos show the people kept their cool. People from across the nation went to Cannonball, to camp, to stand with Standing Rock. The development of the camp, all the events that happened on a day-to-day basis, like the school that was set up for children to go to school, captivated the Indian people and those around the world. Tribal governments sent letters of support, likely knowing that they, too, could face just this situation.

I mentioned before on my Facebook page, as have others, that this gathering was epic, monumental, a “never-before-in-the-history-of-Indian-Country” event, where nearly 200 tribes, and counting, gathered together, in a great cause, to wield the power of our sovereignty and for our self-preservation. Indeed, the WORLD was watching. Flags of many of those nations flew over Standing Rock. 

The Standing Rock Sioux people made a stand. And they were victorious, not just for them, but for all the Indian Nations. We should all be happy and continue to encourage and support them, for the fight is not over. Victory is not quite complete.

Thank goodness for Facebook, live feeds, updates and such, because thousands of people were able to follow the progress of this peaceful, prayerful movement.

It is getting colder, soon to be winter. Please watch for lists of things needed for the camps. We plan to organize a coats and blankets drive to take up to the people along with other items needed in the next few weeks.

This has been a great day for the Indian nations! Celebrate. Support. Encourage. Pray.

 

One of the many tribal groups that went to Standing Rock.

The synopsis here is a compilation of my own thoughts as the day progressed. The images are those gleaned from various posts as they filtered through my Facebook feed. The images are not mine. I do not own them.

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Irene Edwards received a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the College of Santa Fe in May, 2010 and has applied for admission into the Master’s degree program in American Studies/Native American Studies at UNM. She is Pawnee-Cheyenne and Gros Ventre (a new revelation) and  was raised in a household that included her Pawnee great-grandmother and grandparents. Her grandfather received a degree from Bacone College in 1926, the first of her family to receive a college degree. He also attended the Chicago Art Institute. Her late mother received a degree in nursing from Kiowa Nursing School and was a professional nurse all her life. Irene is a bead worker, makes ribbonwork, moccasins, paints in acrylics and was accepted into the world-renowned Heard Indian Art Market on her very first try. After more than 25 years as an administrative/executive assistant, she semi-retired, though worked as a proofreader in the 2016 New Mexico legislative session and is working on a new business project. She also spends her time hiking, and in 2015, completed a hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, with a return trip planned for 2017 as well as thru-hikes on the John Muir Trail and Pacific Crest Trail.

Standing Rock: Eery similarities

This is a visual essay of images gleaned from a webcrawl today. Something I was thinking of when I saw the dogs a few days ago. Some images may be offensive. In that case, scroll on.

“May You Live In Interesting Times”

We were heading to see my niece dance in Arizona on Saturday. I heard about this #NoDAPL Altercation while traveling north of Gallup, right around Yahtahey as we turned to the west. I was so incensed at this senseless betrayal of the fragile law and order that has existed there at Standing Rock.

Using Siri, I called the White House, “Siri, please call the White House” and she called it. I listened to the message. They were off for the holiday.

So, I had to set down my anger because we were going to a dance where only good thoughts needed to pervade. I would have to leave it outside and call the White House later.

We have all been praying, ernest and sincere prayer to our Creator for guidance for the Standing Rock leaders and their people, their community, from the wee babes to the elders, their legal counsel and tribal council, praying for their strength, their health, endurance, protection and their safety. Praying for all the nearly 100 nations who have sent representatives to support the Standing Rock people. Praying for all the individuals who’ve gone up on their own. And for all the people around the US and the world who’ve voiced their support. And for those who have given money, food, prayers and other necessary items for the camp and the school.

This is an epic event in the history of American Indian people, and whether you look to the historical past or recent history, you will not see anything comparable.

Imagine. What if the 500 Indian Nations had sounded an alarm that went across the land when Cristof Columb had arrived. Or when Coronado, Oñate or DeVargas had showed up? 

It was foretold by many tribal leaders and medicine people that Europeans would arrive. Along with their control of time, the Industrial Revolution, and their reverance for individual achievement over collectivist cultures philosophies and ideals, in addition to their religions, the policy of federal recognition, genocide, and a governance model designed not to work for uneducated, non-business tribal people, these non-Natives inflicted a Hell on Earth for American Indian people.

What signal would we have used? Bonfires signaling that danger was coming would have been good. Oh, what a sight that would have been.

But, we are witness to the greatest gathering ever. I glad to see it. I wish our elders who’ve gone on could see it, too. I have an idea they are watching from above and very proud to see what is happening.

Sacred Water

It isn’t enough to just read, post and share about Standing Rock and the #NoDAPL anymore. 
You have to take action. 

You must take action. This could happen to any of us, any of our tribes, our nations could be next. With no regard for treaties, the army corps of engineers gave the “ok” to proceed. Tribe wasn’t contacted. 

This is a monumental event, reminiscent of the 70’s and DC, Wounded Knee, Alcatraz Island, but before that, Greasy Grass, Wounded Knee, Sand Creek and Washita and the Trail of Tears journeys nearly all tribes made.

Here are some things you can do:

• Sign a petition.
• Donate to Sacred Stone camp fund.
• Deliver some food; water.
• Drive up to Standing Rock.
• Help cook.
• Help with the kids.
• Help keep the camp clean.
• Stand with The People.
• Make tobacco ties.
• Pray.

Most importantly, pray. Pray that the peaceful non-violent occupation of the Standing Rock lands by Indian nations from around the country will remain so.

Our bodies cannot exist without water. We can go for days without food, but we cannot go without water. Water is a part of many of our ceremonies. We are taught that water is sacred.

Do something to help advance this cause, a cause that affects all the people living in the area and beyond.

Someone recently said that we cannot drink oil. So very true. We only run on water.

The money generated goes only to a few billionaires who care less what happens to American Indians and the lands, waters, the vegetation and animals that exist.

While the US and the world are occupied with the athletes of the Rio Olympics, while the US is occupied in finding justice in widespread police shootings, yet a large part of the population is unaware of what is happening at Standing Rock. Even the world knows what is happening.

Please do your part. Your families and generations beyond today will thank you for looking out for them.

If You Are Adopted Family, “We mean it.”

I have three sisters, an adopted daughter-in-law, and my auntie who all need positive thoughts and prayers right now. My auntie (my bio-dad’s sister, my only remaining aunt from that side) is recovering from quintuple bypass surgery and is recovering great at more than 80 years of age. One sister lost her companion a few months ago, and is so sad without him. The other sister unfortunately was thrown into the middle of her daughter’s problems and there are grandkids involved. I just found out that my other sister has been going through chemotherapy, and that radiation will soon be added to her therapy. And in less than one month, my adopted son’s wife is having a baby girl, to add to their little family of two boys who will become big brothers.

I recently had to unfriend and block some people  from my life, people who had called me family. I had done something for them before, and had offered to help with something additional, and it is unfortunate that what was offered, that the special something, unique and of cultural value was reduced to something that “had to be done” within a certain timeframe. Things don’t work that way for me when it comes to devoting my time to a special thing, especially if it has to do with my tribe and my culture. Do not be dismissive of what that means to me, because I was raised in my culture. It is not something I “play” at. There are things that have to be done in a good way, with good thoughts, prayers. Evidently, this “family” relationship was only as a benefit for them.

I have written about this before, that in Oklahoma, among the tribes there, if we call you family, as Richard Attocknie said about his “dad” Kenneth Dan, at the powwow in Marksville, “we mean it.” I keep going back to that, keep remembering that. “We mean it.” His dad took KD as a brother a long time ago, and that relationship has existed now for more than 60 years, well beyond the passing of Richard’s father. Richard’s daughter calls KD “Grandpa”, as she never really knew her Grandpa.

And there are formal adoptions. One tribe adopts someone, not of the same tribe, in a formal ceremony to replace a loved one who has gone on. They dress them.

Friends become relatives. I have a non-Indian friend in Florida who became my sister. We met them at a powwow, and though we haven ‘t seen each other for years, we are still, and always will be, sisters. I have an adopted daughter, too, in Florida. We met at a powwow, she asked me questions. I answered them truthfully and openly. We became friends, and now I am her “mom”. I have a friend from boarding school that I call sister. My brother is friends with someone who he called “brother” and the relationship was carried forward to his sister. When the “sister” needed help, we had a dinner for her and the family because my brother’s “sister” needed help and prayers. It doesn’t matter what the connection is. You are family if we say it. “We mean it.”

It is a big responsibility to take on and adopt someone.

My three sisters that I am talking about here, are not blood sisters. One sister is a cousin, because we are relatives within one of my tribes. One sister is my “sister” because my step-dad adopted her father in a formal way, feeding first the people, and then telling the people that he was taking him as a brother, followed by a giveaway. The other “sister”, that I am not related to, I have known since grade school. But we are all sisters in the truest sense of the word. And the daughter-in-law is as a daughter. I took her husband as a son when we were in Florida at a powwow. Nothing formal, I just said I’d like to take you as a son. He reminds me of my oldest son, quiet, yet witty and can make you laugh. He calls me ” mom”.

Family. Adopted family. No difference. That is how I thought of the two individuals that I had to let go. They called me “aunt”, which was fine. I love to be someone’s “crazy auntie”! I thought we were really “family”. But, I noticed the tendency for one to compartmentalize our relationship to just “powwow” family or “drum” family, not “FAMILY”, and emphasizing, it would seem, that we weren’t blood related, and that if we weren’t “powwow” or “drum” family, then perhaps we weren’t anything at all.

So, I was somehow taken aback, and no apologies were given, or nothing which would indicate that there was an understanding of my feelings, an understanding of my cultural ways, just a “sorry you feel that way”. Sorry YOU feel that way. So, it was just a mercenary relationship, not familial, at all. Who does that?

These adopted relationships expand our extended family by leaps and bounds. It is a feeling like no other. Yes, we have our blood relatives, but this just increases your family and connections. You are never without family anywhere you go. You learn from them, they have lessons for you, and so do you. You share likes and all kinds of great things. 

Yet another “sister” (cousin) needed help two weeks ago, and on our way back from Louisiana, we drove to my hometown of Pawnee, to pick her up and bring her out to New Mexico. No hesitation. You need a ride? No worries. We’ll come get you. And, while we were there, we stayed with her son and his wife, who introduced me right away to her girls as “this is your other grandma”, because I am related to her grandpa, who was cousins, “brother to sister”, to my mom. Our families are related. I now have grandchildren who I never met. On the way, we encountered a storm, in which there were tornado warnings. So we re-routed to the west of our route, and almost called on a sister in Shawnee to go to her home and wait the storm out. And she said, in a heartbeat, she would have given us a place to stay and fed us biscuits and gravy. No hesitation. Sisters. I love my sisters.

As I said, with so much negativity, I had to let these others go. My focus needed to be on my aunt, my sisters and the wee one on the way and her mom. Focusing only on good thoughts, positive thoughts and energies sent across the astral plane to each one, to help with healing them physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

In writing this, in mentioning this to the world, it is easier for me to focus. My mind is clear because it is not muddied with the drama. The situation is now dispersed and I can concentrate on sending the best thoughts and prayers for all of these strong Indian women, my auntie, my sisters and my daughter-in-law, each going through a difficult time, in different situations, at this moment in time in their lives.

Love them all, my adopted sisters, brothers, nephews and nieces and grandkids. Love me hearties, my friends.