Its amazing...

the beauty that life will bring you, if you have the gumption to say yes...

Today I learned:

-the basics of riding bike:
squeeze the clutch, slowly accelerate, release.
decelerate, squeeze the clutch, shift gears, accelerate, release.

-the basics of riding horse:
pressure and release.
don't let the horse ride you. ride the horse.
don't be afraid to let him know where to go and when.
don't be afraid to pet him.
don't be afraid of the natural handle that god gave you to hold on to: hair. (when bareback)
say thank you.

wonderful children's book I read last night. 

-Kimimila: Butterfly :)

of Love and Guts

"Something in her had created a perpetual defiance, of the very possibility of experience, an urge for flight. She had stood many times on the edge, and had to run away."

Livelihood: Valerie Brown Eyes & Henry Red Cloud

One thing I've learned so far is that the Lakota find a deep sense of pride and self identity in knowing where they come from. A true Lakota thinks and acts with heart. A true Lakota infuses their Native culture and spirituality in everything they do. Its like seasoning that they sprinkle here, there, and everywhere. You may not even notice it being done, but it sure makes everything taste good. You may have read, 80% of the people here are unemployed. This happens for various reasons: lack of transportation, lack of opportunity, lack of education, substance abuse, criminal record, fear of not qualifying for TANF or EBT, politics between "half bloods" and "full bloods," etc. As you can see, there are many barriers. HOWEVER, even with so much oppression, the Lakota as a whole can hold on to the fact that they are still able to find beauty in themselves and in the Creator. The Lakota are not a people of materialism. Thats something that I understood initially, but at the same time, didn't quite wrap my head around what that would look like. My perspective became clearer when Valerie came to the house the other week to show us how she makes mer famous porcupine quill jewelry! (Hopefully I'll be bringing some artisan crafts from here to sell for them back home in Nashville.) Valerie, like many other Natives on the rez, uses her crafts as a means to make money and survive. It is her livelihood. Most artists here have no formal schooling for their art; these are trades passed down to them by their elders. Valerie began her demo by telling us how she gets the quills off the porcupine and dyes them (really nasty, stanky process, by the way). Then, she began to explain how she chose to live off the rez and get a normal job for a number of years while she was in her twenties. After awhile, she hated it. She missed her people, the tradition, the way of life; she became extremely depressed. After overcoming alcoholism and moving back on the rez, she began selling her beadwork. She explained that as she and her brothers and sisters learned how to do the various crafts, her grandmother would use the time to pass down stories and teach them how to pray. Every beadwork is a prayer. There is much thought and intention behind the colors, the pictures, everything. Valerie works with a lot of Sunset and Sunrise colors because they hold a lot of personal meaning for her. The work is extensive, and yet...they don't sell the crafts for as much as one would think. She has thought about setting up ebay and etsy accounts, but lacks the resources. As she explained this, I could tell that it was not a huge concern to her that she could be making more money. Thats the part that clicked to me...she could make more money. But, as long as she can sustain herself on her income, I think thats all she really cares about. She has even taught a White man how to make beadwork. (He in turn set up a huge money making business out of it, using her techniques, but thats another story) Anyway, I thought that was really beautiful. She goes door to door selling beadwork around the rez and will take orders if people request them, but nothing really beyond that. Just goes to show that material wealth really is not at the forefront of her concern. All this to say, I guess I learned that we all have different views of what stability and success look like.

Porcupine quills, dyed.

Valerie doing her thang.

Finished product carrying the symbol for the sacred Black Hills, a shooting star, and a thunderbolt.
tied with buffalo hide. 

Henry Red Cloud. I cannot say enough positive things about this man's character, you have to meet him to really understand. All in all, he's a badass. In my eyes, he is what they call a "wica" in Lakota. A wica is what every Lakota man strives to be. The kind of man who demonstrates the highest of Lakota virtues: generosity, courage, fortitude, and wisdom. Henry began his work in solar energy as he looked for an alternative to woodburning in the winter for his home. So, one day he decided to Google "renewable energy." Long story short, he has since developed his own company, Lakota Solar Enterprises, in which he trains Native people how to do green, cost/energy efficient construction. He calls them "Solar Warriors." Bear in mind, this man has no "formal" schooling in any of the skill required to build these homes. He learned all of these trades and skills by volunteering for housing projects over many years. He is an absolute genius. The people I was with would ask, "Henry, how does this work?" and he would give a short, simple answer, that really was not simple at all. Physics equations and things of the like. However, he's such a simple, soft-spoken man that he is able to respond in a way that even the most clueless person can get a grasp of what he does. This is why I want to learn everything I possibly can from him over the next few months. What he hopes for is "homes by the people, for the people" to solve the extraordinarily high percentage of insufficient, unstable housing on the rez. All the materials used to construct the houses are recycled, energy efficient, and cost efficient. He takes 1970's concepts, 21st century technology, and what he calls "a little touch of Lakota" to produce these incredible straw bale houses. He is a recipient of the Nuclear Free Futures award, which is described as "the most important anti-nuclear award in the world." He stood side by side with internationally renowned scientists, activists, and other accomplished people from various fields. But, upon meeting him, you would never know. All he said about it when I met him and he gave a tour of his ranch was "and then I got a call and I received some award. The anti-nuclear something or other." HA! just goes to show how little he cares about getting praise or recognition. All he wants to do is help his people. The only reason I learned all this is because I had a feeling it was a  huge deal and researched it when I got home. Essentially, these kind of economic and business investments in the community, from the community's members, is the only way that Pine Ridge reservation will rise above poverty. Here is a man who has shown that it is indeed possible to learn how to thrive in both the White mans world of capitalism AND the Native world of Mitakuye Oyasin. He chooses his life of humility. As long as he has his livelihood and can continue his businesses that help his people, he really doesn't care about anything else. He is quite satisfied with his 20 acre land that he can officially say is his land. He's got a greenhouse, a herd of 10 beautiful buffalo, a workshop, gardens, and a home where his ancestors once were. Thats all he needs. Henry picks vegetables and fruits from his garden and gives it away to people on the rez. While he does this, he uses the time to talk to them about the importance of nutrition and educates them on diabetes (its a HUGE problem here because the only foods that people can afford on EBT that will last them all month is LOADED with preservatives. Its given me some health issues already and I've only been here about 2 wks.) In my naivete, still not knowing exactly how accomplished this man was, I asked for his number and if it would be okay for me to offer my help to him on his ranch. Without skipping a heartbeat, he gave it to me. Just like that. I am so honored to even have just met him at all. He is a descendant of Chief Red Cloud, the Chief who essentially owns this tribe. When Henry received his award, he wore his great, great, grandfather's eagle feather to NY to accept it (the Eagle is a symbol of the connection between man and spirit). This is the same feather that Chief Red Cloud wore to the signing of the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty (one of the 300 treaties that our country has completely ignored, but again thats another story).

*Sidenote: the significance of this all being focused around solar energy is such a beautiful metaphor for the hope of a better Lakota people. The sun plays a huge role in their spirituality, serving as a symbol of the Great Mystery (Wakantanka), death and rebirth. The most sacred Native American tradition, the Sundance, teaches the Lakota people their purpose. It is a four day fast and dance which reminds them of the importance of sacrifice and their connection to all beings in the Cosmos. I really like the way Kelly Looking Horse described it: "You know, by the end of the second day, after you haven't eaten anything and you've been dancing with your family non-stop, there are children crying and you see that the people are in so much pain. From this, you experience wisdom. You look at the ground and you notice the tiny ants, building away. You look in the sky, and you see the birds, floating toward the Heavens. You remember what life means. And you become thankful for it all. You are reborn."

More info on Henry:

http://www.motherearthnews.com/energy-matters/henry-red-cloud-renewable-energy.aspx

Outside- straw bale house

Inside- Henry, the man himself & baby doggies.

Greenhouse

Mix this with earth, water, and smarts. You've got a house.

You can even control the temperature!

Magic Machine

Shed & Workshop

The recycled insulation is not flammable and repels cockroaches, rats, and most other pests.

Office: where the genius happens.

He loves mixing flowers and peppers. Me too :)

Graffiti he spray painted a long time ago

Art depicting the Creation Story. Solar panel.

Green Energy!

More solar panels.

The Middle Way

I have been exposed to so much pain in so little time. It is hard to have good stamina when you are in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It is hard to remain hopeful and have energy when you are surrounded by a people constantly fighting against the grain of negativity and social injustice. When I first got here, the open space was absolutely refreshing (and it still is), but it takes at least an hour and a half to go anywhere; I can see why many Pine Ridge residents feel trapped or isolated. Furthermore, I can see why people are willing to hitch hike or walk to the nearest large city, even though it will undoubtedly take several hours and is extremely dangerous. I have my own safe space in my room and car, and that is helpful, but it is exhausting that the phone and door are constantly going off. People are constantly asking for things. Sometimes I have to check my patience before talking with people, because not all of them are appreciative or nice, or even sober, and I'm tempted to snap. That being said, here are a few tangible things that have brought me hope and reminded me to be grateful over the past week...

The Cross was given to me by a friend and resident of Tent City,
it was made by a gentleman at Riverbend Maximum Security Prison. If both of them can have hope, surely I can. 

close-up of the Sacred Heart Prayer that my dear Lindsey bought me for my trip :)
 I try to remember to pray it every night. 

close-up of the wall scroll. a nice reminder, I think. 

Even though these are small, seemingly insignificant, things they give me something beautiful to admire. That has always been important to me, finding beauty in life. It is the small things that count most, I think. Its part of the reason I still take the time to put on make up and perfume when I wake up, even though nobody here really wears it.

Wounded Knee

The only picture of the site I took.

I've been waiting for this day since I arrived. There's no way I could properly explain the atrocity that happened on this piece of land, so I won't try. But please, it would do you great justice to educate yourself. History classes sure as hell don't. The site is only about ten minutes away from the Center, so Karen asked Kelly Looking Horse and his wife, Suzie, to meet us there and speak with us. When we arrived, Kelly gave us a brief run-down of how the massacre actually happened, pointing out different areas of the prairie as he explained. He is able to give this detailed recount because his grandfather, who was fourteen years old at the time, survived the massacre. Kelly has never heard his grandfather's entire story because he always broke down into tears and began singing before he could finish. Before we walked into the actual cemetery, Suzie gave each of us a pinch of tobacco. Kelly explained that this was to be used as an offering to the people that died there. As we walked in, Kelly was very adamant about only walking in certain areas. He insisted that none of us walk in front of the large headstone (which carried many victim's names) because it would be, "like walking in front of your grandfather while he was saying something important." As we entered, I noticed there was a man that followed behind me. I turned and offered him some of my tobacco because he looked like he was there to pray. In offering the tobacco, Kelly asked that we raise it to the sky (to offer it to Grandfather), and then scatter it on the ground (to offer it to Grandmother). When this was finished, Kelly sang a song in Lakota and played a drum to honor the leaders that died there (a tribal tradition). As we continued to walk toward the headstone, Kelly said "Look down in front of you." There was a giant, rectangle shaped patch of grass. "Thats the pit where the cavalry shoved all of the bodies." The man behind me tapped me on the shoulder and showed me his tribal ID, which read "Melvin High Hawk." Then, he pointed to the headstone... sure enough, right in the middle of the list, his family name was engraved: "High Hawk." He then tried to peddle me into buying one of his handmade dreamcatchers. After explaining that I had no money, I knelt down to pray. As I was kneeling and had my hand on the ground, Melvin came closer behind me and began singing a prayer song in Lakota, very softly. Tears just started streaming down my face. All I could do was thank him. As we stood there, Kelly pointed out many offerings that people had tied along the fence: tobacco ties, sundance regalia, food, money, all kinds of things. He told the story of many people's graves and then said, "If any of you are feeling guilty because you are white, don't. I am not here to make you feel like you did something." Ironically, two white guys were walking around the site, cameras around their neck. All of the Indians in the area drew a silence, and the white men shyly said, "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something." Kelly firmly responded, "No." It was an interesting dynamic. The Indians didn't mind that they were there, but still... Kelly watched them very intently to see how they walked around the cemetary, making sure they were respectful. The place doesn't look very fancy on purpose. In fact, it looks pretty bad. There are weeds everywhere, and no flowers except fake ones. Kelly says this is because the local people believe there is a "black cloud that looms over this ground. Nothing will flourish here." There are still Indians that live in the immediate surrounding area, and they watch over the site. Many of them see white people visiting and use it as an opportunity to make money by selling their crafts. Anytime people try to fix the place up and build a nice brick fence, or anything like that, they usually come in packs and refuse the service. They don't want Wounded Knee to be a tourist attraction (it has been in the past, until the American Indian Movement had many of the surrounding facilities shut down). They want it to be left alone. After leaving, we went back to the Center and had dinner together. Then, Kelly showed us many of his handmade drums and Suzie showed us her beadwork. The stories behind their art were incredible. When someone asked "Do you have any of that written down?" Kelly replied, "We are a people of oral tradition. Writing everything down is a habit of the white man. Indians believe that if something is really that important, you should remember it." He told us a story about how when he was younger, his teacher asked him to record his grandfather's beautiful singing in the morning while praying. Kelly's grandfather told him, "If you want to know my songs, get up in the morning and stand next to me."

The Circle

Tonight, Will Peters came to speak with us at the Center. He is a renowned Native American activist, has served on Tribal council, teaches Lakota Studies, and has won a NAMMY (Native American equivalent of a Grammy). He actually came and spoke at Belmont last year. His main focus was explaining the structure of Lakota family. He explained that women are considered the backbone of the Lakota. In his culture, women are "stronger" than men. They are fierce lovers, nurturers and protectors. He then used the back of a traditional drum, a series of layered circles made from buffalo hide, to help us visualize the structure of Lakota society. In the very center is the "wakanheja," meaning the "sacred ones" (there is no word for child), surrounding them are the elders, next are the women, followed by the men. Their sacred animal, the buffalo, carries many important characteristics of Lakota culture. When a buffalo is born, it knows it's family unit. The man's purpose in Lakota culture is to give his entire life to protecting the inner circles. Thus, the"wakanheja" are the most protected, so to speak. In order to access them, one must first get through the men, then women, and elders. He then explained that the women are considered stronger because not enough men learn how to cry. To be an agent of change and to be a true protector, one must be able to empathize. "If a man doesn't know how to cry, he is not to be trusted. He cannot know Tunkasila (God), because he thinks he already knows everything. Those men...those people...have no place of honor." Crazy Horse was a leader selected by his people, he did not choose himself or ask to become a leader. People chose him not only because he was a brave warrior, but he had a humble way of showing respect. When he hunted, he would bring meat to the elders, women, and children first. He then explained how heartbroken he was to see that in many ways, "darkness" (thats the term he used) has penetrated the circle and harmed the "wakanheja," the sacred ones, the children. As a teacher, he has seen children lost to substance abuse, rape, and suicide, among many other things. Even on a day to day level, the way the children speak to, and refer to, one another is like they have lost their identities; they don't know who they are, what they stand for, or where they come from. There is no pride among most of them. He continued to convey how disgusted he was that the rest of Turtle Island (the original title that Natives gave to America) treated their war veterans like dirt when they should be welcomed like warriors, with honor and dignity. He carries a lot of resentment for being stuck on a  reservation, and explained that it often feels more like a concentration camp. It is so sad to see a strong people fighting one another for limited resources.

Crazy Horse. 

Love On Top

Beyonce is pregnant. Damn...that gives me a lot of diva feelings. If you know me at all, you know I love Beyonce. I mean, I'm a fan. But, more importantly, I respect her on a human level, on a female level, on a spiritual level, because she has tremendous heart (plus, she's from Houston!). Anyway, seeing how proud she was to announce her belly made me think about a lot of things. Right now, I'm in a place where I feel pregnant emotionally, intellectually, spiritually (not physically haha). I keep being filled and filled with all of these incredible experiences and wisdom; I feel like I need to use them to give birth to something really beautiful. I suppose thats not my own planning. :) When B walked on stage at the VMAs and said "I want you to feel the love growing inside of me," it wasn't a question or a suggestion; it was a statement. I thought to myself, "me too, girl." (...a LOT of diva feelings haha) Aside from "Love On Top" being such a feel-good arrangement, the lyrics are pretty on point (some of it is corny, in true B fashion), but honestly...what would the world look like if we could all sing “Love on Top” to even just one person in our lives and really mean it? What would happen if we all decided to do as we are intended and put someone else's well being before our own? Life would be so full. For everybody. Today when I woke up, two of the Fort Collins ladies were sorting quilts that were to be passed out to all the Indian boarding schools on the res. The other one, Theresa, drove about an hour away to help Mary & Harlen Standing Bear get new tribal IDs. Later in the day, Alicia drove all the way out to Chadron (almost 2 hrs away) to buy backpacks for rest of the kids before school starts. All day long, people were checking on my burn. THESE ARE ALL VOLUNTEERS, Y'ALL. None of this is required, and yet... look at what people are willing to do for one another. LOVE-ON-TOP! :) In the afternoon, Dorothy came over and I made us all tea. She really loved it, so I gave it to her as a gift. The expression on her face was unforgettable. She looked at me and said "This is the best gift I've received in such a long time." When I saw her sincerity, I just grabbed her hand and held it. Tea never tasted so good. 

Miss Dorothy & I

Around 4PM, the Colorado women and I made 40 chocolate almond butter empanadas for the kids after school snack. Thank God they were well behaved today haha. They played for a little bit (I helped the girls make bead keychains with the Standing Bears and Karen) and then we all sang together at the end. I think Alicia and I are gonna start planning songs to play every week.

Nom Nom Nom :)

Jane & BettyLou (who celebrated her 77th Bird Day yesterday!)

Felicia & her bunny, made at our beading station! ^.^ (Mary Standing Bear in the back: Queen of the Beads!)

Medicine Wheel

Marquis & I made a pretty rad kitty keychain, if I do say so myself.  

More beautiful graffiti

Humility

This morning was a little embarrassing. My burn was throbbing like a mother. I poured Epsom salt on it because the whole thing was swollen, red, and hot. The ladies from Fort Collins all suggested I go to the hospital for antibiotics to treat the infection, but when we called the locations it was a hot mess. Pine Ridge down the street doesn’t serve non-Indians unless its life or death, Gordon Hospital in Nebraska (hr and a half away) “had no physician present.” (I don’t know wtf that means, it’s a hospital for God’s sake) And no one in Chadron picked up the phone (also an hour and a half away). I can’t imagine the kind of bullshit I would have to go through if I didn’t have a car, money, or insurance. And yet, people wonder why 50 yrs is the approximate life expectancy at Pine Ridge. Anyway, all of those complications along with my culture shock over the past few days caused a brief crying episode in the kitchen haha. It wasn't even the burn, it was more the overwhelming sense of helplessness. These people sure as hell are strong. I don't have a working phone as of now; I can't call anyone. I never realized how much I take that for granted, especially in these kinds of scenarios. The Colorado women assured me they would take care of me and I felt much better to know I had a support system. (Middle aged women are the best cuz they tend to treat you like their own child haha) After deciding to wait until Monday so that I could go to the clinic instead of the E.R, we went to see Aisa preach at Makasan. Aisa and Trasita are two of the church elders here in the community and I’ve met them a few times at the Center; both of them are incredibly sweet. When I hug them I know they mean it because it feels like I’m hugging my own grandparents. :) Aisa has the most calming voice. At the service today, he wore a neatly pressed, white shirt and one of those cowboy things that loops around your neck; he looked so handsome with his long, white hair. His wife, Trasita, is a short, hearty woman who has long, dark hair and wears the most incredible jewelry. A lot of it is traditional Native American jewelry; the earrings are handmade by an artist here on the res.

Mmmm, those earrings. Swag.

Trasita's gorgeous hands. The circular ring on the right, middle finger is from Aisa's tribe in Arizona.
She has a charming habit of laughing to herself all the time; it’s the most amazing laugh you could ever imagine. She laughs at everything. When you know the kind of crap she and Aisa go through on a day-to-day basis, it just makes it that much more beautiful to listen to. She has pure joy. Trasita and Aisa live right next to the church in a quaint, yellow house. There are about 10 cars that live on the prairie right next to it, most of which don’t work. The church itself is really quite amazing; it basically looks like a log cabin. The whole thing was built by volunteers over the course of about 3 yrs—mind blowing to see what can happen when people get focused on accomplishing something and work together. During the service there was a miniature horse that kept walking by the door and poking its head in; I could also hear grasshoppers chirping outside the window. J

Alicia & the nosy little Babyhead who wanted to see the service.

Babyhead's friend who was really scared (he had a bloody nose :( may have been bit by a rattlesnake)

There were only about 15 people in the congregation, 7 of which we brought with us. I suppose its because the church is so remote and most people here don’t have cars. I think its important to note that almost everyone else that came had some kind of cough or illness that I could hear or see made them uncomfortable. After the service, we had a potluck in the dining hall. Aisa came up to me and asked why I didn’t sing in front of everyone today. I didn’t know he knew I was a singer Haha. I told him I would sing for church next Sunday; I think Karen wants me to start playing guitar for the kids worship on Wednesday and Thursday, too. I think it will be good for me. I really want to learn songs in Lakota; Aisa said he would try to find a cd for me. After eating, we went home and hung out for a little bit before going with Karen to do a prayer service in a retirement home. Apparently the residents there only pay like $5 a day. That’s insane. On the way, we picked up a beautiful older woman named Dorothy.

Sidenotes:

- During the potluck, I asked one little boy where he was going and he said, "TO POOOOOOP!" haha. What a gentleman.

- Turns out the horses we met are Gabby's son, BJ's. The brown one is Chili Pepper and the other one is Hudini. Trasita wants to keep them because they've been hanging out on her property. She and I are really concerned about Chili Pepper's nosebleed. Gabby called BJ today to make sure he checked it out.

My first Pow Wow, among other things.

Well, I realized why I heard so many fire trucks last night. The fire station is right behind our house haha. And the main hospital is just up the road. So, I’m bound to hear a lot of sirens. That explains a lot. I took a drive around yesterday just to see what was in the area and counted about 8 rehabilitation facilities (drug/alcohol treatment, VA clinics, etc.) and church organizations within a 5 mile stretch. After that, I started settling into my room and getting everything organized. It felt good to know this would be my room for a little bit; I’m so tired of moving. It feels weird when you basically carry your whole life around in your car for 3 weeks. Yesterday, Karen took the day off. She hasn’t done that in awhile and probably won’t have a chance to do it again for a few weeks. I think she works too hard, so do Gabby and Alicia. It’s crazy. The knocks on the door are starting to become a natural part of my day. Every forty-five minutes (at least) someone will come to the house asking for something, selling something, or looking for something. I wish every person had the opportunity to live at the Center. Its awful hard to ignore poverty when it literally knocks on your door everyday. Even if you can bring yourself to ignore the knocks, there are always people on our front porch.

Front Porch of the Center (my home)

Tabletop where people sit on the porch:
The circle emblem (symbolizing ongoing life) is a traditional Plains Tribe medicine wheel. The colors represent the knowledge and appreciation of all cultures.

Tabletop depicting Buffalo: the Lakota's most sacred animal, associated with the coming of the Pipe.

 Seeing people on the porch makes for good acclimation to the area, but it’s also a strange way to encounter people.  Its awful hard not to show compassion to someone when you’re looking them dead in the eye. When I arrive, I feel like I have a strange sense of power or entitlement because I can go inside the house. They can’t. Well, they can sometimes, but the Center is specifically volunteer housing. It’s not safe to constantly let people go in and out. Plus, it houses all of the donations. Most of the people who hang out on our porch are homeless or jobless—either way, they literally have nothing better to do (at least they think so). Alicia told me that people sleep in the gutter next to our house a lot; some of them will come ask for a blanket before night time. I asked if it was safe to sit out there and talk with them and she said, “Sometimes.” Some of the people are really enjoyable to talk to, but some of them have been extremely belligerent with her because they were drunk or high or both. Last week a man was drunk outside our house and told Alicia he was going to “drag her by her hair into his tipi and…” you get the picture. One of these days I’ll grow some ovaries and just sit outside and start talking to them. I can handle the belligerent ones as they come; there’s no reason to exclude myself from everyone that hangs out on our porch. After all, they really are just people. On another note, last night while I was cleaning I noticed that something smelled horrid, and then saw that trash was sitting downstairs in front of the door. I asked Alicia if I should take the trash out and she explained that there is no trash pick up at the Center; it is mostly just residential places where they pick up. Pastor Karen told me that we don’t have a dumpster outside the facility because it would attract critters and even more people. Most of the time Henry (a volunteer from the community) will come by the house and take the trash to the dump for us. This morning, I heard Gabby’s voice while I was sleeping so I got up and had breakfast/ devotion with them again. He’s so funny. I love to listen to his stories; only half of them are true, I’m sure. J I found out today he’s got 15 kids and about 26 grandkids. Crazy. He asked if I was ready to ride yet, and I told him I should probably wait until my burn heals. I think I’m going to try to learn bareback. He said I should be able to, there are tons of kids that learn that way. Today 3 middle aged women came in from Fort Collins, CO. We’re pretty much the coolest crew ever. Just me and 4 older, church-going, “liberal,” white ladies (including Karen). When I was helping them unload the stuff from the car I smelled something really awful and asked “Do y’all smell that?” To which one of them replied, “It’s vomit. You’ll encounter that a lot.” Sure enough, just a big puddle of dried puke right in front of my home. Awesome. Anyway, once they got settled we left for a pow wow at Woyatan which is about 2 hrs away. It was really casual, but incredibly beautiful. Since it was so laid back, I was able to take pictures and video! 

Handsome Lakota Warrior Boy <3 

All the brave boys lined up (I only got videos of the girls)

"Sneak Up" Dance

We watched traditional Native American dancing, singing, and drumming and ate food (including Indian Fry Bread…so good). After the pow wow, we went to a Lutheran service that was lead by one of Karen’s friends. It was really incredible the way they incorporated traditional Native American culture. In the beginning of the service, we participated in “smudging,” a spiritual ritual where they burn sage and waft it over your body as a way to cleanse the spirit. Throughout the service we sang in both Lakota and English, and the group of drummers sang a dedication to one of the older members of the congregation (that’s when I fell in love with one of them haha).

Here are some more tidbits I learned/realized today:

-       Everyone here eats WAY too much fast food. KFC and McDonalds seem to be the hotspot. Buh. No wonder there’s so much diabetes here. I wish that there was a better option, but hey… if you’re hungry and poor with no way to cook, that’s about as good as it gets.

-       This place is a clothing desert. The closest place to buy clothes is about 40-50 miles away. When people want clothes they either have to come up with gas money or if they don’t have a car, pay someone to take them. What a serious pain in the ass. Now imagine trying to do that on an annual income of $3,700. Yeah, that’s the median income on the res.

-       Native American activists have repeatedly tried to shut down the liquor town of White Clay, NE over the past 40 years, but to no avail. People have even tried to burn the damn thing down. It’s a huge moneymaking industry, but unfortunately preys upon the addiction of Pine Ridge residents. (The town is one of Annheiser Beusch’s largest distributors)  http://battleforwhiteclay.org/?p=479#more-479

o      Pastor Rupp found about 50 empty cans of hair spray in the trash this morning (used for home made alcohol)

-       Since tribal/federal law set it up that all people are basically “permanently leasing” land, their homes/ property don’t count as collateral.

-       Check this out if you’re interested, guaranteed to shock you: http://www.nativevillage.org/Messages%20from%20the%20People/the%20arrogance%20of%20ignorance.htm

The cupboards are bare, but the streets are paved with gold.

This morning Dr. Scholten and her husband, Paul, picked me up around 8:30AM. I was so happy to see a familiar face. As soon as she saw my gnarly leg, she asked what happened. I said, “first motorcycle ride.” She looked at me with that certain mischievous smile that she has and said, “you know…I may not look like it, but I used to ride a motorcycle. This is what your leg will look like in 30 years.” Then she proceeded to show me all her scars from riding—dirtbikes, sportscars, bikes. I adore her. So much. Once laughs were exchanged she went maternal on me (which I appreciated J) and gauzed my leg up.

After. 

Before. 

After that, we headed to Higher Grounds, a local coffee shop that’s like the Bongo Java of Pine Ridge (for all you Nashville folk). After that, she showed me the basics of the town. 1^st stop: Pine Ridge Hospital— a new facility that is a “one-stop-shop” for dental care, mental health, and hospital treatment. Then, we stopped by Suanne Big Crow Boys and Girls Club, which also has a health clinic. Apparently this facility is packed right now because the new hospital is inundated with so many patients. The Club was funded by the Clinton Administration and named after Suanne, a famous Lakota athlete, for her positive anti-drug/alcohol outreach to the kids here on the res. Sadly, like most places here, the facility struggles to maintain itself. People get things started with good intention and soon the Pine Ridge population finds it difficult to maintain on the day-to-day. Once we were finished here, things got super real and we went to White Clay, Nebraska—basically, its where people go to get drunk off the res. On the way there, Lorraina pointed out that the huge lights installed on the side of the road were done so because so many people were killed drunk walking/driving back to the res. When we arrived, it was a strip of shops on either side for about 2 miles and that was the entire town. I would say about ¾ of the stores there sold booze of some sort. It made me ill to see this place; it felt like the town’s sole purpose was to feed these people’s addictions. It was 9AM and there were already people passed out from drinking on the side of the road. After this, we went to the OST Health Administration—from my understanding, this is where I will be based for the time being. This was the old hospital they used before the new one was recently built. To be frank, the place is a complete shit hole. I mean that to give a reflection of the reality of the circumstances, not to complain. There is asbestos all over the ceiling, mold, walls peeling, lights flickering on and off; I could go on and on. The place is fixing to be demolished, if that gives you an idea of the condition it is in. Anyway, once we got to the meeting, I met a couple of important members of Sweetgrass: Richard Iron Cloud, the case manager and Eileen, community outreach coordinator…there were also two lieutenants that were somehow affiliated with mental health. They were there to assess the progress of the meeting and serve as the voice of the Feds, if you will. The other 30+ army crew that they came with were at the other hospital. The topic of discussion was reviewing a ppt which would be used for presentation at various schools in the surrounding area to train education professionals how to recognize signs of suicidal tendency, prevent bullying, etc. I’m so glad I will be certified to do school social work; I think the classes will prove to be very useful. While there, I heard several horror stories of suicide attempts on the res and learned several more relevant statistics:

-       The domestic violence shelter on the res shut down about a year ago, and since then there has not been any real, sustainable resource for domestic abuse clients.

-       Over ½ of the families here are single parent homes.

-       60% of the people on the res are under the federal poverty line and are EBT recipients.

-       Originally the organization served people from age 14-24, but has had to lower the age of acceptance because they have had people referred to them as young as 6 years old.

      Sidenote: I still have yet to meet my supervisor. Lorraina has continuously tried to call her, but no response. She also wasn’t at the meeting. However, I was assured that things would fall into place. Welcome to the res mindset, things can move slowly and the only natural rhythm of events here is that there is no rhythm at all. I have no idea what I will be doing with Sweetgrass yet, I don’t know if I will have my own caseload or if I will be doing group work. So, I’m trying to prepare myself as best as I can but bear in mind that there are certain things beyond my control. (Big Girl revelation)

Leonard's soon-to-be Montessori. It's main mission is cultural preservation (teaching Lakota language, dance, etc.)

After the meeting, we went to meet with Leonard Littlefinger (descendent of Chief Bigfoot) because Lorraina said he would be a valuable person and resource to me while on the res; she trusts him. On
the way out, I realized that I should have brought him a gift. I had met him once on a brief occasion before. I decided on half a pound of honeybush vanilla in an origami tin. Before we left, Lorraina and Paul went to buy sandwiches for he and another tribal elder in the community who was with him, Richard Broken Nose. Leonard’s Montessori, where we met them, is about 15 miles outside of the res in Oglala. Right now they are doing major construction on Hwy 18, which leads in and out of the res so its really bumpy and kicks up a lot of dust. When you drive through that long strip of bare road, it almost feels like you’re in a dream because everything hides behind a faint mist of white smoke and the prairie just looks so damn beautiful. There’s nothing but horses, cows, sunflowers, corn, and a few sparse ranches and houses. The sky is open and the wind is so present here. When we got to the Montessori, Richard and Leonard were both in the back. As soon as I was in the same room as them, I could feel their presence. They are both fluent in Lakota. After Lorraina introduced me and explained that I would be working with The Sweetgrass Project, Leonard said that he remembered meeting me briefly at a Belmont convo. He said, "you ask a lot of questions. They're good." I was kind of embarrassed; people have been noting that to me a lot lately, haha. After getting settled, Leonard suggested that Richard share some wisdom with me concerning suicide and the Old Way. Richard began to explain to me that until about thirty years ago, there was no such thing as suicide in Native American culture, especially among the Lakota. He explained that in Lakota, all people are connected; this philosophy is expressed by the phrase Mitakuye Oyasin (also known as Ubuntu in African culture, or comparable to empathy in American culture) and they all share the same cultural mindset. But, when the wasicu (whiteman­) came, their philosophy, ethics, way of life, everything was divided into two forms of thought: the Native Way, often referred to as the Old Way, or what Leonard refers to as Circular, versus the Western Way, also known as the Square. For too long of a time, these realms of thought were considered irreconcilable. So, when the western mindset was emphasized, it was at the cost of the Old way—thus was born the common boarding school/assimilation phrase: “Save the Man, kill the Indian.” It is fitting a circle into a square: you have to shove it in and there is a cost. 

"God hath not promised skies always blue." An appropriately embroidered blanket hanging in hallway of the Center.

Richard continued, “My ancestors died brave, fighting. Now, I see my people, most of them are cowards. I never heard of people in my generation, or generations before, killing themselves. In the Old Way, there is a respect for life in all phases, you don’t just give up somewhere along the way. You can’t. Your soul will wander lost among the earth because it is not it’s proper time yet. These people, they think that they die and go to heaven, but to me, this is heaven. Everything in front of us: Heaven. My people have lost the Old Way and that’s what they need. If they can’t feed their addiction, they want to die; if they can’t get what they want, they want to cut themselves. My ancestors used to mark notches on their bows and arrows when they accomplished certain honors or have overcome struggle. It’s like a tattoo.” I told him that I had my own bow and arrow notches and showed him the inside of my arm, which carries a sacred heart, and underneath says, “Little girl arise.” We all chuckled and he said, “See? I can just look at you and know your history. I could do the same thing on my own arm.” In a moment of complete honesty, I told Richard and Leonard that I was scared. I was scared because I didn’t come from their culture, and as much as I tried to make myself familiar with their history and spirituality by reading books before I got here, I knew I would be at a loss in comparison to the other people working for Sweetgrass. Their cultural identity is a valuable tool for working with their clients-- I don’t have that. Richard looked at me and said, “There is a balance. You have one mindset that you have cultivated; now you have come here to learn the other. To learn the circle. It is our responsibility to show you. Mitakuye Oyasin.” The wisdom in his face made me believe him. Leonard then gave me four pillars to help guide my practice with the Lakota—Identity, Spirituality, Respect of one’s self, Respect for others. As he told me this, it took all my strength not to nerd out and pull out the notebook in my bag. This is the basic gist of what he said, but not nearly as poetic:
1) Identity- In order to know yourself, you must know where you come from.

2) Spirituality- When you know yourself, you know where you are going. You know what guides you.

3) Respect of one’s self- This is what people often overlook. It is how they carry themselves, how they end up in addictions. Lots of times the best way to teach this is to show it.

4) Respect for others- If all of the others are in place, this should come naturally.

hanging in the children's playroom at the Center. 

When I got back to the Center, Karen was ready to pick up the older kids for dinner, worship and playtime. We drove through the neighborhoods stopping and saying hello to people, almost all of which she knew by name. I felt like I was in a township in South Africa again, except this is right smack dab in the middle of the United States of America: four leggeds running amock, little two leggeds running amock, completely dilapidated houses that housed generational families of about 15, trash everywhere, dust everywhere, everything was disheveled. Everything was rusty and dirty and torn. When the kids got in the van, there was snot smeared all over their faces, sticky things stuck to their hair, and their hands had cheetoh leftovers all over them. I realllly wanted to get maternal on them and wipe them down, but I held back. I figured I’d at least give them one day to get to know me J. When we got back to the house, there were about 9 more kids waiting outside. As we served dinner to about 40 children (some of whom had to stand and eat), I had to get them in check a couple of times because some of them didn’t say please or thank you. None of them really seemed inclined to pick up their dishes either, so I said “When you’re finished, please bring your dishes into the sink.” After the words left my mouth, I felt like an ass because I didn’t want Karen to think I was trying to take her authority. I just can’t stand when children seem to forget to be thankful, especially to people like Karen or Alicia who are so generous to them. After that, we went downstairs for a puppet show/worship and playtime. During playtime, I asked one of the girls who she was making paper hearts for and she said, “My brother, he is in prison,” then she just skipped away and started drawing on the chalkboard. We played more, and then took the kids back home in the van with no windows. The kids were generally good about staying in the seats but one of the tiny ones scared the daylights out of me because she got out of someone’s lap and was walking right next to the window. The girl (who could have easily been mistaken as a boy because she wore her brother’s hand-me-downs) is probably three years old. I just about had a heart attack. When we got back to the center, I helped Karen and Alicia prep for a church meeting that I was lucky enough to eavesdrop on while I washed the dishes. I heard 3 fire trucks tonight.

Dr. Scholten (Lorraina): One of the women who taught me how to advocate for myself and advocate for others.