I want to address the students from Monument Valley High School, Shiprock High School, Many Farms schools and other places of higher learning.
I know that you will be looking at the stories in the book, Navajo Spaceships which you are using in class. I want to apologize to you and all Navajo People for the poor grammar, mispelled words and poor way I used English in the book. The book was published as is, that is the stories are all first drafts that were taken as written from online discussion groups on the internet as I wrote them when I sat down at the computer. I did not forsee publication at that time and when the book was published it was done without any editing or proof reading and for thi sI am sorry. I want to you to know that proper use of the English language is necessary to achieve success in whatever you do.
I wrote the stories to portray life on Navajoland from the native perspective since there are so many misconceptions and hokey things written and hoped to provide some insight into the everyday life of our people, communities and how we get along.
Let me tell you something; I attended a gathering of Native Writers not too long ago, and there were people there representing various universities from the United States and Canada and they told me that because of the mispellings and grammatical errors in the book that it would prevent it from being used more widely at the college level.
I learned a bitter lesson that day that anything you send out should be well written and proper as it speaks for you and you are judged by it.
I monitor this site and will be making corrections to the stories you see online so that they may be more presentable to you for your English classes. I am sorry that the book went out that way as it represents how some perceive the Navajo People to be illiterate and backward which speaks more about me than the Navajo Tribe at large and for this I am sorry as I am Navajo and proud of my heritage.
signed "Johnny Rustywire"- Norman Cambridge, Author of Navajo Spaceships
Friday, January 22, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Where Did the Name "Navajo Spaceships' the title of my book come from?
As some of you may know or not know I wrote a book which is basically of all the short stories I wrote on the internet on sites like Native Web, At.Native; Navajos.Com; Indianz.com and many others over a period of ten years and these were put out in a book called Navajo Spaceships.
Some people think Navajo Spaceships means it deals with aliens, new wave ideas, or science fiction. It does not, it is about travel into the imagination and in particular into my imagination as a Navajo or a native point of view of the world as I see it.
This is also because I am the product of a parochial school, boarding school and public schools situated on or near the Navajo Reservation. I am the result of a government education on the Navajo Reservation.
I often thought of things but wondered how would it be. I have done a lot fo thinking and observed many things as well as being able to work on indian records and indian allotment records for a number of years at the federal regional record centers and National Archives where indian records are stored.
I developed an interest in the lives and stories those records told and some of the experiences of others as well as myself. Some of these stories became short stories that went into the book Navajo Spaceships.
During one of my off times I was looking at the records of Carlisle Indian School, one of the first boarding schools set up for indians in the last century. I often see many pictures in the files of indian students, lots of them but there are rarely ever named, except for their teachers or visiting dignitary.
I looked at them because I am sure there are pictures of me standing with others in particular one occasion I can remember was when Robert F. Kennedy came to the Flagstaff Bordertown Dormitory and all the big shots in the local area came to get their picture of themselves taken with Senator Kennedy and "those Indian kids" one of whom was Me.
Anyway I found a reference to Nellie Robertson, a Sioux girl taken off the plains and sent to Carllisle Indian School, who later became a teacher there until the school closed in 1908.
The thing about her was that once she learned to speak and write English she wrote about life from her native perspective, and on of these stories has survived and if follows. It is about how she envisioned life on the moon from a Sioux girl's perspective and her native upbringing. It amazed me and gave me the thought of writing from my own view of the world of the Navajo reservation, boarding school, growing up and life as it is out in the sticks if you will.
So from that perspective the name Navajo Spaceships came to me for my book, as it is a flight into the imagination of a Navajo from the rez, so I thought I would put here the story Nellie Robertson, a fellow indian boarding school brat wrote for you to see....rustywire
"This little nugget was pointed out to me in the June 27, 1890 INDIAN HELPER by Russell Eagle Bear of Sinte Gleske College. Of all the news he found in those papers, this is the item that caught his eye and he took a photocopy with him. Thank you, Russell, for finding this one.
A COMPOSITION BY ONE OF OUR IMAGINATIVE SIOUX GIRLS
Of the many strange lands and queer places I have visited in my life, the strangest and the one I have experienced more pleasure was my trip to the moon, in 1900. I got on board an air ship which was bound for the moon, one fine morning in June. Quite a number of people were starting for the same place.
For many days we sailed through the air. The scenery all the way was delightful both day and night, but the motion of the ship in air having the same effect as the motion of the ship on water, we did not enjoy the sights very much on the way.
After many days of travelling, we landed in a large city called Ujipa, which means in our language, Greentown. The lunarians resemble the people of the earth in every way but the color of their eyes and hair. The color of their eyes is a bright green and their hair a very bright yellow. Both men and women dress alike, in a loose gown,but you can distinguish them by their way of wearing their hair. The men have long hair and wear it in two or three plaits in the back. The women have short hair and wear little caps to match their eyes. They are a very kind and polite people.
Up in the moon they have no school-houses nor books of any kind from which to read or study. They are a blissful people. They know nothing outside of what is going on in their own world. Money is of no use to them there. Food of every kind grows all the year round. A sort of fruit something like our cheese grows on trees very abundantly, and they call it bread. Corn, potatoes, cabbage and numerous vegetables grow wild. Watermelons, pumpkins and squashes grow on trees, apples, oranges, peaches and grapes may be found in abundance. The people do not work very hard for their food. Their clothes are made from the leaves of a very large plant. These leaves measure about 20 square feet. They make very strong and durable clothes.
The houses are built only of wood and beautiful. The people are ruled over by their king, Nonboose Kiang, which we know as "The Man in the Moon." He is a good, kind man and is liked by all his people.
The amusements and habits of the lunarians are very much like ours. They were so kind to us that when the time came for us to go leave we werevery sorry. I hope sometime in the future to take another trip and see more things of interest.
-Nellie Robertson."
So now you know why Navajo Spaceships is called by this name, it is a book of short stories and in a way inspired by a young native girl who wrote this way before I came along. It is quite a story...idinit. rustywire
Some people think Navajo Spaceships means it deals with aliens, new wave ideas, or science fiction. It does not, it is about travel into the imagination and in particular into my imagination as a Navajo or a native point of view of the world as I see it.
This is also because I am the product of a parochial school, boarding school and public schools situated on or near the Navajo Reservation. I am the result of a government education on the Navajo Reservation.
I often thought of things but wondered how would it be. I have done a lot fo thinking and observed many things as well as being able to work on indian records and indian allotment records for a number of years at the federal regional record centers and National Archives where indian records are stored.
I developed an interest in the lives and stories those records told and some of the experiences of others as well as myself. Some of these stories became short stories that went into the book Navajo Spaceships.
During one of my off times I was looking at the records of Carlisle Indian School, one of the first boarding schools set up for indians in the last century. I often see many pictures in the files of indian students, lots of them but there are rarely ever named, except for their teachers or visiting dignitary.
I looked at them because I am sure there are pictures of me standing with others in particular one occasion I can remember was when Robert F. Kennedy came to the Flagstaff Bordertown Dormitory and all the big shots in the local area came to get their picture of themselves taken with Senator Kennedy and "those Indian kids" one of whom was Me.
Anyway I found a reference to Nellie Robertson, a Sioux girl taken off the plains and sent to Carllisle Indian School, who later became a teacher there until the school closed in 1908.
The thing about her was that once she learned to speak and write English she wrote about life from her native perspective, and on of these stories has survived and if follows. It is about how she envisioned life on the moon from a Sioux girl's perspective and her native upbringing. It amazed me and gave me the thought of writing from my own view of the world of the Navajo reservation, boarding school, growing up and life as it is out in the sticks if you will.
So from that perspective the name Navajo Spaceships came to me for my book, as it is a flight into the imagination of a Navajo from the rez, so I thought I would put here the story Nellie Robertson, a fellow indian boarding school brat wrote for you to see....rustywire
"This little nugget was pointed out to me in the June 27, 1890 INDIAN HELPER by Russell Eagle Bear of Sinte Gleske College. Of all the news he found in those papers, this is the item that caught his eye and he took a photocopy with him. Thank you, Russell, for finding this one.
A COMPOSITION BY ONE OF OUR IMAGINATIVE SIOUX GIRLS
Of the many strange lands and queer places I have visited in my life, the strangest and the one I have experienced more pleasure was my trip to the moon, in 1900. I got on board an air ship which was bound for the moon, one fine morning in June. Quite a number of people were starting for the same place.
For many days we sailed through the air. The scenery all the way was delightful both day and night, but the motion of the ship in air having the same effect as the motion of the ship on water, we did not enjoy the sights very much on the way.
After many days of travelling, we landed in a large city called Ujipa, which means in our language, Greentown. The lunarians resemble the people of the earth in every way but the color of their eyes and hair. The color of their eyes is a bright green and their hair a very bright yellow. Both men and women dress alike, in a loose gown,but you can distinguish them by their way of wearing their hair. The men have long hair and wear it in two or three plaits in the back. The women have short hair and wear little caps to match their eyes. They are a very kind and polite people.
Up in the moon they have no school-houses nor books of any kind from which to read or study. They are a blissful people. They know nothing outside of what is going on in their own world. Money is of no use to them there. Food of every kind grows all the year round. A sort of fruit something like our cheese grows on trees very abundantly, and they call it bread. Corn, potatoes, cabbage and numerous vegetables grow wild. Watermelons, pumpkins and squashes grow on trees, apples, oranges, peaches and grapes may be found in abundance. The people do not work very hard for their food. Their clothes are made from the leaves of a very large plant. These leaves measure about 20 square feet. They make very strong and durable clothes.
The houses are built only of wood and beautiful. The people are ruled over by their king, Nonboose Kiang, which we know as "The Man in the Moon." He is a good, kind man and is liked by all his people.
The amusements and habits of the lunarians are very much like ours. They were so kind to us that when the time came for us to go leave we werevery sorry. I hope sometime in the future to take another trip and see more things of interest.
-Nellie Robertson."
So now you know why Navajo Spaceships is called by this name, it is a book of short stories and in a way inspired by a young native girl who wrote this way before I came along. It is quite a story...idinit. rustywire
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Medicinemen for Hire
Medicine man for hire
I have taken a look at the Medicinemanforhire website and have found there are some Navajo men, the Morrisses from Sheepsprings offering their services as practitioners As medicinemen/peyote men. I can not speak for them but these things I remember.
An old man and women rode a matched pair of horses down a long windy dusty road somewhere over by Cow Springs, Tonalea. They carried saddle bags filled with hard goods, turquoise and silver jewelry, heavy stuff.
These would be offered to the man they were going to see. He was of simple means but known to many, even these two who had travelled a 100 miles to see him. They had left a couple of days earlier from the Chuska Mountains crossing along by Star Mountain, skirting Canyon De Chelly, past Round Rock and straight on to Rough Rock and up over Black Mesa. Their clothes were dusty and worn but they carried with them a request that this Singer come to the their place to restore harmony.
A call had gone out after the family and all the relations sat down for a meeting. Someone was ailing and it was decided a Singer was needed. There is a man from way over by Cow Springs someone said and so the old couple wanted to go. They had not been that way for a long time and they wanted to see this country again, so the horses were fed and watered. Family brought out the hard goods, heavy bracelets, three conchos made in the last century by Slim Silversmith. It was good, they packed it away and set out to the west.
The family scattered out into the area, there had to be three places found
where those families would host one night each. The sing goes on for three nights and in a different place each night. Preparations for a sing, cutting wood, gathering plants, these things are what nalis (aunts) do and the old Che’s (grandpas) do as elders, they talk about the important things, who was to sing, take charge of the animals, gathering food, blankets, and help from the local area. Each went his way to different places to ask for help and support for this sing.
As these messengers went out, they would come to a place far from where
they had started. On sighting a horse rider, the children would run into the hogan or chao-, shade house and summon the older folks and parents. In some cases the rider would go up to the place and someone from inside would say, Ohshde’, Come in, and so they went in and sat down reaching for whatever the family was eating without asking and sharing a meal. After some food was eaten they would commence to say in the long way of doing so, the circumstances of what happened at a certain time and exlain the need.
That is how it happens, someone gets ill or sick and so that is why they are there. The family considers this and after a little bit offers what they can, coffee, beans, a sheep, a son-in-law to chop wood, maybe a singer who can make the feet light in the night to the sway of many men and women who sing. My father is one of these men, he could all night and his voice carried far.
There is a cedar log bonfire. It is a beautiful thing to stand near the edge and look out on a group standing close together in the night, not too far from the fire. They sing long and with a rhythm learned over a long time. Some call this a squaw dance, but it is really called a Night Way, there is social dancing to bring good spirits to this place. They sing all night; their voices raising and following the embers that float into the night sky.
A little ways away there are those who dance to the songs as a group on a simple dance floor cleared in the brush. It is ladies choice, women in shawls move about and with a swish, a touch call on the men to dance. The men have to pay, some a dollar, others more. Some want to run and hide, others dance while the stars move slowly across the sky, it is a good night for all.
Not too far off there is movement not seen by many of those there. They come quietly without a sound and they have names like Corn Bug Girl, Pollen Boy, Monster Slayer, Bear Man and many others who move in passed the ongoings outside into the hogan, to the heart of it all. They step into the circle of the Rainbow Guardians and look about them at the Singer who has called them there.
This old man from Tonalea, he speaks each word carefully and slowly, taking care to do everything right, this is his time and he makes it so. Each grain of sand has it’s place, each rattle and song giving a call to those that can provide the restoration of heart, mind and soul to the patient sitting quietly listening and learning.
I stand not too far off on the outside and take a rest on the blankets
set aside for me. My grandmother and mother are making bread for tomorrow, kneading it so it is just right. As for me I take a break and lay down for little bit. I can hear them; those outside and their voices hanging in the air.
Yasho, I am Navajo, Dine’, I am glad to be born during this time. I shall dance in the house of my mother and sing in the places of my father, Dinetah, within the Four Sacred Mountains there is no other place for me…..
Medicinemen for hire, can offer me nothing…..nothing.
rustywire
For those who know a little about such things, it is good to know that the things that are not real fade away in time and are forgotten but those that real continue on with quiet way of life and some things endure and for this I am grateful...
I have taken a look at the Medicinemanforhire website and have found there are some Navajo men, the Morrisses from Sheepsprings offering their services as practitioners As medicinemen/peyote men. I can not speak for them but these things I remember.
An old man and women rode a matched pair of horses down a long windy dusty road somewhere over by Cow Springs, Tonalea. They carried saddle bags filled with hard goods, turquoise and silver jewelry, heavy stuff.
These would be offered to the man they were going to see. He was of simple means but known to many, even these two who had travelled a 100 miles to see him. They had left a couple of days earlier from the Chuska Mountains crossing along by Star Mountain, skirting Canyon De Chelly, past Round Rock and straight on to Rough Rock and up over Black Mesa. Their clothes were dusty and worn but they carried with them a request that this Singer come to the their place to restore harmony.
A call had gone out after the family and all the relations sat down for a meeting. Someone was ailing and it was decided a Singer was needed. There is a man from way over by Cow Springs someone said and so the old couple wanted to go. They had not been that way for a long time and they wanted to see this country again, so the horses were fed and watered. Family brought out the hard goods, heavy bracelets, three conchos made in the last century by Slim Silversmith. It was good, they packed it away and set out to the west.
The family scattered out into the area, there had to be three places found
where those families would host one night each. The sing goes on for three nights and in a different place each night. Preparations for a sing, cutting wood, gathering plants, these things are what nalis (aunts) do and the old Che’s (grandpas) do as elders, they talk about the important things, who was to sing, take charge of the animals, gathering food, blankets, and help from the local area. Each went his way to different places to ask for help and support for this sing.
As these messengers went out, they would come to a place far from where
they had started. On sighting a horse rider, the children would run into the hogan or chao-, shade house and summon the older folks and parents. In some cases the rider would go up to the place and someone from inside would say, Ohshde’, Come in, and so they went in and sat down reaching for whatever the family was eating without asking and sharing a meal. After some food was eaten they would commence to say in the long way of doing so, the circumstances of what happened at a certain time and exlain the need.
That is how it happens, someone gets ill or sick and so that is why they are there. The family considers this and after a little bit offers what they can, coffee, beans, a sheep, a son-in-law to chop wood, maybe a singer who can make the feet light in the night to the sway of many men and women who sing. My father is one of these men, he could all night and his voice carried far.
There is a cedar log bonfire. It is a beautiful thing to stand near the edge and look out on a group standing close together in the night, not too far from the fire. They sing long and with a rhythm learned over a long time. Some call this a squaw dance, but it is really called a Night Way, there is social dancing to bring good spirits to this place. They sing all night; their voices raising and following the embers that float into the night sky.
A little ways away there are those who dance to the songs as a group on a simple dance floor cleared in the brush. It is ladies choice, women in shawls move about and with a swish, a touch call on the men to dance. The men have to pay, some a dollar, others more. Some want to run and hide, others dance while the stars move slowly across the sky, it is a good night for all.
Not too far off there is movement not seen by many of those there. They come quietly without a sound and they have names like Corn Bug Girl, Pollen Boy, Monster Slayer, Bear Man and many others who move in passed the ongoings outside into the hogan, to the heart of it all. They step into the circle of the Rainbow Guardians and look about them at the Singer who has called them there.
This old man from Tonalea, he speaks each word carefully and slowly, taking care to do everything right, this is his time and he makes it so. Each grain of sand has it’s place, each rattle and song giving a call to those that can provide the restoration of heart, mind and soul to the patient sitting quietly listening and learning.
I stand not too far off on the outside and take a rest on the blankets
set aside for me. My grandmother and mother are making bread for tomorrow, kneading it so it is just right. As for me I take a break and lay down for little bit. I can hear them; those outside and their voices hanging in the air.
Yasho, I am Navajo, Dine’, I am glad to be born during this time. I shall dance in the house of my mother and sing in the places of my father, Dinetah, within the Four Sacred Mountains there is no other place for me…..
Medicinemen for hire, can offer me nothing…..nothing.
rustywire
For those who know a little about such things, it is good to know that the things that are not real fade away in time and are forgotten but those that real continue on with quiet way of life and some things endure and for this I am grateful...
She Will Ride With HIm to the Shiprock Fair
She Will Ride With Him to the Shiprock Fair
Early it was, twilight, the time before dawn. You could hear the sound of a hammer, like it was hitting an anvil. In the Cha'O -shadehouse, there was fire made from cedar that burned brightly giving off an orange glow lighting up the walls. He stood there, an old man in some ways his eyes looking at the besh la gai- silver, white metal he was hitting, there lay on a small table were files, and metal stamps.
He picked one up and set it upon an imaginary line on the silver concho and lifting the hammer struck it. It hit with a solid sound of being worked and marked for all time. His steady hand placed these lines and he filed away, the silver dust covering his levis as he worked it.
Outside the air was chilly, the cold time had come, the sound of thunder was gone, and in this early light there was dusting of white flakes, the first frost. He stood for a moment looking East and could see it, just a trace but enough. How is it the time of change comes, from summer sings to the coming of the yeibeche, the winter dance. The sound of a faint hoot was heard in the distance, he began to sing to himself,
Neyezani is coming from that place
Far off it is
at the head of the earth
off to the North
coming with pine, animal fur
and dancing around the firelight
He turns and sits down once again, feeling the soft silver in his hands and pounds it out, it takes shape and as time passes he takes a soft cloth and rubs it against his leg, over and over again.
In the faint light of dawn, the sun begins to change the twilight from dark blue to the colors of dawn. He slips the concho on a belt wit the others and it is finished, it is done. He setps outside the cha'o and in the blaze of pink and gold light with a touch of turuoise blue he holds the belt up and each concho matches the other, the chisel marks and stamps have made their mark, it is ready.
The blue bird sings its song and he reaches for a dipper of cool water and drinks it slowly. It is good to be alive, YIII!
He hears the sounds of his woman, making the sounds of early morning, making bread and cooking side the small house next door. He hears her feet walking about and remembers a time not so long ago.
Riding to the Shiprock Fair
She sits on a horse
a black one glistens from the combed hair
set with a silver bridle
She rides in the early morning dawn,
her brown skin glowing pink the early light
velveteen shirt of red, and a white skirt
deerskin legging cover her feet
a slight breeze catches her long hair in teh wind
Yasho she rides with me
Yasho she rides with me
In the pale light she rides with me
In the bright light of day she rides with me
Across mountain passes she rides with me
In the cool of twilight she rides with me
we go to the Shiprock Fair, Nataani Nez
to trade silver and see all that is there
beyond Table Mesa, Sanostee and along the river
There it is, and she will cook for me
we will stand in the fireiight and
watch as the sound of winter comes
the Yei-be-che will dance and we delight in it
so it has been for as long as we can remember
His mind can see the glint of light in her eyes
He hears her come outside,
the sound of screen door opening
he can see that the twinkle in her eyes is bright and clear
In this early light they stand together,
their hair now gray,
many years have come and gone
she stands with him at dawn
she stands with him at dawn
he tells her this is for you
a sterling concho belt glows
in the light of white metal
they will look at you say
who is that one with him
that is some silver belt she has on
a whisp of wind catches her gray hair
and she laughs at the thought of it
Come inside and eat, old man
then we can get ready to go
to the Shiprock Fair
so it goes in the early light of dawn
Johnny Rustywire
Early it was, twilight, the time before dawn. You could hear the sound of a hammer, like it was hitting an anvil. In the Cha'O -shadehouse, there was fire made from cedar that burned brightly giving off an orange glow lighting up the walls. He stood there, an old man in some ways his eyes looking at the besh la gai- silver, white metal he was hitting, there lay on a small table were files, and metal stamps.
He picked one up and set it upon an imaginary line on the silver concho and lifting the hammer struck it. It hit with a solid sound of being worked and marked for all time. His steady hand placed these lines and he filed away, the silver dust covering his levis as he worked it.
Outside the air was chilly, the cold time had come, the sound of thunder was gone, and in this early light there was dusting of white flakes, the first frost. He stood for a moment looking East and could see it, just a trace but enough. How is it the time of change comes, from summer sings to the coming of the yeibeche, the winter dance. The sound of a faint hoot was heard in the distance, he began to sing to himself,
Neyezani is coming from that place
Far off it is
at the head of the earth
off to the North
coming with pine, animal fur
and dancing around the firelight
He turns and sits down once again, feeling the soft silver in his hands and pounds it out, it takes shape and as time passes he takes a soft cloth and rubs it against his leg, over and over again.
In the faint light of dawn, the sun begins to change the twilight from dark blue to the colors of dawn. He slips the concho on a belt wit the others and it is finished, it is done. He setps outside the cha'o and in the blaze of pink and gold light with a touch of turuoise blue he holds the belt up and each concho matches the other, the chisel marks and stamps have made their mark, it is ready.
The blue bird sings its song and he reaches for a dipper of cool water and drinks it slowly. It is good to be alive, YIII!
He hears the sounds of his woman, making the sounds of early morning, making bread and cooking side the small house next door. He hears her feet walking about and remembers a time not so long ago.
Riding to the Shiprock Fair
She sits on a horse
a black one glistens from the combed hair
set with a silver bridle
She rides in the early morning dawn,
her brown skin glowing pink the early light
velveteen shirt of red, and a white skirt
deerskin legging cover her feet
a slight breeze catches her long hair in teh wind
Yasho she rides with me
Yasho she rides with me
In the pale light she rides with me
In the bright light of day she rides with me
Across mountain passes she rides with me
In the cool of twilight she rides with me
we go to the Shiprock Fair, Nataani Nez
to trade silver and see all that is there
beyond Table Mesa, Sanostee and along the river
There it is, and she will cook for me
we will stand in the fireiight and
watch as the sound of winter comes
the Yei-be-che will dance and we delight in it
so it has been for as long as we can remember
His mind can see the glint of light in her eyes
He hears her come outside,
the sound of screen door opening
he can see that the twinkle in her eyes is bright and clear
In this early light they stand together,
their hair now gray,
many years have come and gone
she stands with him at dawn
she stands with him at dawn
he tells her this is for you
a sterling concho belt glows
in the light of white metal
they will look at you say
who is that one with him
that is some silver belt she has on
a whisp of wind catches her gray hair
and she laughs at the thought of it
Come inside and eat, old man
then we can get ready to go
to the Shiprock Fair
so it goes in the early light of dawn
Johnny Rustywire
Navajo Skinwalkers ...Not Far From Table Mesa
Navajo Skinwalkers Not Far From Table Mesa
The snow was falling as the young Navajo man started walking from Bonds and Bonds store Across the old bridge in Shiprock. It was late afternoon and snow had come early to the rez.
Headed home for from up North, the day had started warm in Wyoming where he started out Getting on the road and sticking a thumb out, hitchhiking back to the rez for a few days, with luck a hot meal at home in the cedars.
The day had gone well but a time in Monticello, a bordertown where how ones looks can decide if you ride or not, and as each car passed he walked on along the old highway and the clouds began to gather and the wind started to blow. He wrapped himself up against the cold and walked on toward Cortez taking in the blue colors of mountains in Colorado, Dibensa, in Navajo and he knew he was not far from home and finally a trucker from Texas stopped and give him ride on toward Four Corners and as the sun set he was in Shiprock.
Bonds and Bonds is an old store with a coffee counter where he got a cup and warmed up. Hoping in a way that some headed south would come in and he could hop in and get a ride on toward home just beyond the horizon to the South in the Chuska mountains. In the distance as he stepped out he could see the outline of Shiprock and so he headed on down the highway, Route 666.
It is narrow thin road the disappears into the southern sky, it looked like a worn out spider web, it just one stretched out piece of patched asphalt so cracked it was as is Spiderwoman herself had woven a web and dropped it across the land and left it there.
He walked on, wet and cold. No one was on the highway and as a truck came up from behind he could hear it before he saw it and it neared he stuck his thumb into the air, asking quietly and silently for a chance to get out of the night breeze as the dark clouds came from the west.
After a long walk it began to snow and he could see Table Mesa start to come up slowly step by step and he just kept walking step by step shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other, but there was no ride as the night fell and it was a dark night.
Step by step, one foot in front of the other he walked, looking at the lonely strips of sage moving in the breeze and the snow started to fall. He looked back toward Shiprock and could not see anything, not a thing so he kept going and he started to think of home.
How would it be to be able to be there, to walk into the old house and hear the crackling of the wood stove and smell some stew and feel the warmth of being there, to be able to feel relaxed and to lay down on the iron spring bed, to rest…fur just a little bed in the old levi quilt…it would be so when he got there.
He pulled up his collar and walked on step by step and thought the Old Man, his pa who would always smile at him and say, “Hey Eshkee”, it seemed no matter what he
was always there and gave him with just a look all the things he needed and yet he gave him not much, but too know he was always s glad to see him.
He shook the cold from his shoulders, and looked up and saw that he was almost past Table Mesa, and on the East side of the road there were some big rocks, an old spring used to be there from the old days, from a time from way before he was born to his Chays’ grandfathers.time.
The snow was piling up and everything was white, but yet he was warm, it was as if was a summer day. It was the walking it had warmed him up and he could see that maybe he should find a place to rest for little bit until early morning and so he stepped away from the old road and walked to the big rocks and there found a cleft where two large rocks came together, out of the wind and the snow fell lightly on the ground and it was soft.
He turned his back to the snow, wrapping his coast up high around his head and sat against the rocks and found he was warm. He remembered that if the snow falls lightly it was like a blanket and could keep him warm and as he sat down he didn’t realize how tired he was, he slid to the ground and put the back pack in his lap and looked down the highway. It was late and there was no one coming or going and so he thought of home, of resting his head on his bed and leaned against the rocks and thought to rest his eyes.
He remembered at time when he was with Old Man and they had walked to the trading post to check the mail and talked about Old Man Turquoise.
He remembered he asked his Grandpa, “That Old Man Turquoise tell me about him,”
Who do you mean?
That one old man we passed on the way to the trading post, over by Natani's place, down by the wash, just over that way. Eshkee motioned with his lips to the Northwest.
Eshkee's father, who everyone called "the Old Man", looked up and could see the low mountain rising to the West, from here at Two Gray Hills it went up hill to the trading post nestled in the foothills of Toadlena. He remembered the day not so long ago, when they had stepped aside to let Old Man Turquoise walk by them.
"Well, I said I would tell you about him", the Old Man said. He sat back from the small table where they were standing, just inside the Chao-summer shade arbor where he was working on something. His eyes were old, sort of brown, wrinkled around the edges and his eyes looked as if they could see something a long ways off.
Old Man said let's go for a walk. They walked outside and to the South where the rocks rose to a ridge like a dinosaurs back running north to south, they climbed to a high point stepping through the sage brush.
It was after the First Frost, the time for Yei-Be-Ches, stories of coyotes and legends. The Summer Sings were over where the Blessing Way was done to restore the spirit, the body and to brings things back to harmony. As they made their way
through the sage, they slowly climbed the red sand stone rocks to a place they knew very well, from this spot they had many talks, it overlooked the whole valley running from Toadlena to Two Gray Hills.
The twin rocks were to the East nestled against the mountain, the road ran like a ribbon and the small houses and hogans dotted the valley below. It was from here they sat and looked over the valley. Though it was Fall, the day was warm one of the last few where it felt like summer.
Old Man sat down and Eshkee sat nearby, as the Old Man pointed to the wash that ran along the road connecting the mountain community of Toadlena to Two Gray Hills, running against the two mesas to the east, it ran all the way to the highway some sixteen miles to the East and way further North on the horizon was Table Mesa.
Do you see those mesas, the one to the North. Yes, Eshkee said, it was red, pink almost in the afternoon sun. There is a place on the mesa, where some gather at night, when it is dark sometimes when there is no moon.
Where is it at?
You can't see it right now but it is there, sometimes at night, late at night some say there is a fire that comes from a place there where the witches gather, the ones who follow the Dark side.
Have you been there before?
No, when I was younger I looked for it, but never did find it.
Who goes there?
It is the place where the Skinwalkers gather, where they meet and carry on with the sacrifices they make. They look like regular people, but they trade lives with each other, to belong to them you have to sacrifice someone to be with them. They are quiet about it, they don't tell anyone who they are. In our way there is a balance, between the Beautyway and the Evilway, these people have chosen to follow the dark
side.
They can take your spirit, cause sickness, misfortune and witch those don't know it. They are like bad luck that follows you around. Eshkee looked at the mesa, seeing every part of it, from it's flat top, to the large rocks that were cracked on everyside, there were many places one could hide on that mesa. He thought about where this place they gathered could be.
Old Man said, A long time ago maybe it was before World War II, one dark night, when I was young, we had a gathering down by the Bain bridge place. There was Mrs. Watchman, the cook at the boarding school, Mrs. Belone, Kee Mike, Wareen Natani and myself, those women weren't married then, they were single. We were all young.
We had gone down to eat, and to sing with the people gathered there. You remember the Bainbridge place, it is small, with an open area, but that night the whole lace around there was filled with wagons, and horses, people were camped there, some had come from Teec Nos Pos, some from Tohatchi, and some from off the Flat-Halgai it is called.
Anyway there was food, bonfires and dancing. In those days there not much liquor like there is now, it was very traditional. People had respect for the Navajo Way. We went down there and spent the evening, visiting with some of the old folks, the Benallys, Tellers, Deals, and some of the old folks who aren't here any more.
It was late when we left, when the stars were straight up, the Small Ring the comes up, when everyone takes a break. We decided to go home then. In those days we didn't have cars to we walked everywhere. People told us to be careful, since Skinwalkers were running around during that time of night. We laughed and headed out for home.
It was really dark, there was not moon at that time, we could not see very well. We knew the area so we knew where to walk through the sage, we had not kerosene lamp so we walked slowly and talked about who we saw that evening.
It was just over there, he pointed to where the Bainbridges lived and motioned to the wash nearby. They had gone into the wash to go home since it ran back up the mountain to Toadlena. The sand was soft and easy to walk on.
They headed back, the five of them. It was the middle of the night and there was no light they walked together and through the wash and from behind they could hear the sound of pounding hooves, the sound of wild horses running in a pack, wild ones. They were running as if they were scared, crashing through the sage with not light, but running out of fear.
These few young men and women turned around and could not see them coming but could hear them as their feet smashed into the ground and knew that had to get out of the way. So they ran up the wash to a Comb Ridge, up on the rocks and waited to see what was coming and then there was nothing. Not a sound, and they tried to look at one another but it was so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face.
They sat and waited and nothing came, but they could hear a commotion from the place they had come from, and then they heard a gun shot and a wild animal cry out in pain, whincing and yelping and yet they saw nothing, but hear it all.
From that night long ago they all remembered that after a few days Old Man Turquoise was seen limping, his leg dragging after him, and it became known in the community that he was somehow hooked up with the Dark side of life and everyone in the community knew to be careful of him.
Many years later, when Eshkee has grown a little he saw the bridge to Two Gray Hills was washed out and everyone didn’t use that road for a long time, and so he rode down that by horseback along the wash and there found a foot trail he followed to an old Hogan, it was Old Man Turquoise’s place. He could see from the looks of it that it was in disrepair, and when he stopped to see if any was there.
He called out in Navajo if anyone was there, and the reply came faint Oshe’-Come in, so Eshkee when in and saw Old Man Turquoise was sick, he was just laying in bed alone.
He talked to him and learned that his children had not been back to see him for sometime, and so Eshkee cleaned up his place all the time wondering about what the hack he was dong there when he had been told to leave this old man alone, everyone knew that but he could not turn away from him and so he returned every few days to check on him but told no one that he ever did this, but did so and always felt uneasy about the place and after the old man started to move about he left him alone as he could make his own way.
Old Man Turquoise never said anything to him after than never saying anything to Eshkee when ever he saw him, so the boy thought that is just how it is. At first the thought the old man would say something, and he a little upset by it, but then he realized he had helped him because e wanted to do it for himself not for the old one and the reward was his own and he let it go at that.
But he always wondered about what things Old Man Turquoise knew about the Dark side, but it was one of those things you will never know the answer to, so he let it go.
Eshkee had drifted off to sleep, he was in his bed at home, it was warm and he thought it was good to be home….when he was shaken awake by the touch of something that had grabbed him and in a flash he was awake. He was still there the snow and it was cold, he was stiff and the snow had covered him and brushed the snow away. In the distance he could see in the rocks of Table Mesa a distant fire and yet it seemed just a little ways away.
Eshkee was so tired his legs moved like molasses as he stood up, he was groggy and his walk was stilted and slow. He walked in a haze to the distant fire, and as if n a dream found that he was in a place where it was warm and there was a bedroll placed there for him, and there was kneel down bread for him to eat, so he ate and fell asleep.
Eshkee woke up and he was sitting in a truck headed up the road to the junction where he just lived a short way and it was morning and the ground was all covered white. The truck stopped and he looked at the driver and it was Manygoats.
Are you okay, boy?
Yes, how did I get home.
You were walking by the side of the road by Table Mesa just before dawn in a daze, you almost walked into the road and could have got un over. I stopped and you were standing there with Old Man Turquoise, he said he found you and you almost froze last night. You should know better than that didn’t your father teach you anything.
Eshkee said, Where is Old Man Turquoise?
He said he was at a Yei-be-Che at Bistai area, not too far from Table Mesa and on the way found you. I don’t know how that old man found you he can’t hardly walk himself, but he was there and it was a good thing for you he was.
Eshkee got out and walked toward his place just a little ways through the cedars. It was a clear day and sun had come out and he looked way off toward Table Mesa and remembered the stories of Old Man Turquoise and was just glad to be home. So it went one time years ago just before Halloween... johnny rustywire rustywire@yahoo.com
The snow was falling as the young Navajo man started walking from Bonds and Bonds store Across the old bridge in Shiprock. It was late afternoon and snow had come early to the rez.
Headed home for from up North, the day had started warm in Wyoming where he started out Getting on the road and sticking a thumb out, hitchhiking back to the rez for a few days, with luck a hot meal at home in the cedars.
The day had gone well but a time in Monticello, a bordertown where how ones looks can decide if you ride or not, and as each car passed he walked on along the old highway and the clouds began to gather and the wind started to blow. He wrapped himself up against the cold and walked on toward Cortez taking in the blue colors of mountains in Colorado, Dibensa, in Navajo and he knew he was not far from home and finally a trucker from Texas stopped and give him ride on toward Four Corners and as the sun set he was in Shiprock.
Bonds and Bonds is an old store with a coffee counter where he got a cup and warmed up. Hoping in a way that some headed south would come in and he could hop in and get a ride on toward home just beyond the horizon to the South in the Chuska mountains. In the distance as he stepped out he could see the outline of Shiprock and so he headed on down the highway, Route 666.
It is narrow thin road the disappears into the southern sky, it looked like a worn out spider web, it just one stretched out piece of patched asphalt so cracked it was as is Spiderwoman herself had woven a web and dropped it across the land and left it there.
He walked on, wet and cold. No one was on the highway and as a truck came up from behind he could hear it before he saw it and it neared he stuck his thumb into the air, asking quietly and silently for a chance to get out of the night breeze as the dark clouds came from the west.
After a long walk it began to snow and he could see Table Mesa start to come up slowly step by step and he just kept walking step by step shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other, but there was no ride as the night fell and it was a dark night.
Step by step, one foot in front of the other he walked, looking at the lonely strips of sage moving in the breeze and the snow started to fall. He looked back toward Shiprock and could not see anything, not a thing so he kept going and he started to think of home.
How would it be to be able to be there, to walk into the old house and hear the crackling of the wood stove and smell some stew and feel the warmth of being there, to be able to feel relaxed and to lay down on the iron spring bed, to rest…fur just a little bed in the old levi quilt…it would be so when he got there.
He pulled up his collar and walked on step by step and thought the Old Man, his pa who would always smile at him and say, “Hey Eshkee”, it seemed no matter what he
was always there and gave him with just a look all the things he needed and yet he gave him not much, but too know he was always s glad to see him.
He shook the cold from his shoulders, and looked up and saw that he was almost past Table Mesa, and on the East side of the road there were some big rocks, an old spring used to be there from the old days, from a time from way before he was born to his Chays’ grandfathers.time.
The snow was piling up and everything was white, but yet he was warm, it was as if was a summer day. It was the walking it had warmed him up and he could see that maybe he should find a place to rest for little bit until early morning and so he stepped away from the old road and walked to the big rocks and there found a cleft where two large rocks came together, out of the wind and the snow fell lightly on the ground and it was soft.
He turned his back to the snow, wrapping his coast up high around his head and sat against the rocks and found he was warm. He remembered that if the snow falls lightly it was like a blanket and could keep him warm and as he sat down he didn’t realize how tired he was, he slid to the ground and put the back pack in his lap and looked down the highway. It was late and there was no one coming or going and so he thought of home, of resting his head on his bed and leaned against the rocks and thought to rest his eyes.
He remembered at time when he was with Old Man and they had walked to the trading post to check the mail and talked about Old Man Turquoise.
He remembered he asked his Grandpa, “That Old Man Turquoise tell me about him,”
Who do you mean?
That one old man we passed on the way to the trading post, over by Natani's place, down by the wash, just over that way. Eshkee motioned with his lips to the Northwest.
Eshkee's father, who everyone called "the Old Man", looked up and could see the low mountain rising to the West, from here at Two Gray Hills it went up hill to the trading post nestled in the foothills of Toadlena. He remembered the day not so long ago, when they had stepped aside to let Old Man Turquoise walk by them.
"Well, I said I would tell you about him", the Old Man said. He sat back from the small table where they were standing, just inside the Chao-summer shade arbor where he was working on something. His eyes were old, sort of brown, wrinkled around the edges and his eyes looked as if they could see something a long ways off.
Old Man said let's go for a walk. They walked outside and to the South where the rocks rose to a ridge like a dinosaurs back running north to south, they climbed to a high point stepping through the sage brush.
It was after the First Frost, the time for Yei-Be-Ches, stories of coyotes and legends. The Summer Sings were over where the Blessing Way was done to restore the spirit, the body and to brings things back to harmony. As they made their way
through the sage, they slowly climbed the red sand stone rocks to a place they knew very well, from this spot they had many talks, it overlooked the whole valley running from Toadlena to Two Gray Hills.
The twin rocks were to the East nestled against the mountain, the road ran like a ribbon and the small houses and hogans dotted the valley below. It was from here they sat and looked over the valley. Though it was Fall, the day was warm one of the last few where it felt like summer.
Old Man sat down and Eshkee sat nearby, as the Old Man pointed to the wash that ran along the road connecting the mountain community of Toadlena to Two Gray Hills, running against the two mesas to the east, it ran all the way to the highway some sixteen miles to the East and way further North on the horizon was Table Mesa.
Do you see those mesas, the one to the North. Yes, Eshkee said, it was red, pink almost in the afternoon sun. There is a place on the mesa, where some gather at night, when it is dark sometimes when there is no moon.
Where is it at?
You can't see it right now but it is there, sometimes at night, late at night some say there is a fire that comes from a place there where the witches gather, the ones who follow the Dark side.
Have you been there before?
No, when I was younger I looked for it, but never did find it.
Who goes there?
It is the place where the Skinwalkers gather, where they meet and carry on with the sacrifices they make. They look like regular people, but they trade lives with each other, to belong to them you have to sacrifice someone to be with them. They are quiet about it, they don't tell anyone who they are. In our way there is a balance, between the Beautyway and the Evilway, these people have chosen to follow the dark
side.
They can take your spirit, cause sickness, misfortune and witch those don't know it. They are like bad luck that follows you around. Eshkee looked at the mesa, seeing every part of it, from it's flat top, to the large rocks that were cracked on everyside, there were many places one could hide on that mesa. He thought about where this place they gathered could be.
Old Man said, A long time ago maybe it was before World War II, one dark night, when I was young, we had a gathering down by the Bain bridge place. There was Mrs. Watchman, the cook at the boarding school, Mrs. Belone, Kee Mike, Wareen Natani and myself, those women weren't married then, they were single. We were all young.
We had gone down to eat, and to sing with the people gathered there. You remember the Bainbridge place, it is small, with an open area, but that night the whole lace around there was filled with wagons, and horses, people were camped there, some had come from Teec Nos Pos, some from Tohatchi, and some from off the Flat-Halgai it is called.
Anyway there was food, bonfires and dancing. In those days there not much liquor like there is now, it was very traditional. People had respect for the Navajo Way. We went down there and spent the evening, visiting with some of the old folks, the Benallys, Tellers, Deals, and some of the old folks who aren't here any more.
It was late when we left, when the stars were straight up, the Small Ring the comes up, when everyone takes a break. We decided to go home then. In those days we didn't have cars to we walked everywhere. People told us to be careful, since Skinwalkers were running around during that time of night. We laughed and headed out for home.
It was really dark, there was not moon at that time, we could not see very well. We knew the area so we knew where to walk through the sage, we had not kerosene lamp so we walked slowly and talked about who we saw that evening.
It was just over there, he pointed to where the Bainbridges lived and motioned to the wash nearby. They had gone into the wash to go home since it ran back up the mountain to Toadlena. The sand was soft and easy to walk on.
They headed back, the five of them. It was the middle of the night and there was no light they walked together and through the wash and from behind they could hear the sound of pounding hooves, the sound of wild horses running in a pack, wild ones. They were running as if they were scared, crashing through the sage with not light, but running out of fear.
These few young men and women turned around and could not see them coming but could hear them as their feet smashed into the ground and knew that had to get out of the way. So they ran up the wash to a Comb Ridge, up on the rocks and waited to see what was coming and then there was nothing. Not a sound, and they tried to look at one another but it was so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face.
They sat and waited and nothing came, but they could hear a commotion from the place they had come from, and then they heard a gun shot and a wild animal cry out in pain, whincing and yelping and yet they saw nothing, but hear it all.
From that night long ago they all remembered that after a few days Old Man Turquoise was seen limping, his leg dragging after him, and it became known in the community that he was somehow hooked up with the Dark side of life and everyone in the community knew to be careful of him.
Many years later, when Eshkee has grown a little he saw the bridge to Two Gray Hills was washed out and everyone didn’t use that road for a long time, and so he rode down that by horseback along the wash and there found a foot trail he followed to an old Hogan, it was Old Man Turquoise’s place. He could see from the looks of it that it was in disrepair, and when he stopped to see if any was there.
He called out in Navajo if anyone was there, and the reply came faint Oshe’-Come in, so Eshkee when in and saw Old Man Turquoise was sick, he was just laying in bed alone.
He talked to him and learned that his children had not been back to see him for sometime, and so Eshkee cleaned up his place all the time wondering about what the hack he was dong there when he had been told to leave this old man alone, everyone knew that but he could not turn away from him and so he returned every few days to check on him but told no one that he ever did this, but did so and always felt uneasy about the place and after the old man started to move about he left him alone as he could make his own way.
Old Man Turquoise never said anything to him after than never saying anything to Eshkee when ever he saw him, so the boy thought that is just how it is. At first the thought the old man would say something, and he a little upset by it, but then he realized he had helped him because e wanted to do it for himself not for the old one and the reward was his own and he let it go at that.
But he always wondered about what things Old Man Turquoise knew about the Dark side, but it was one of those things you will never know the answer to, so he let it go.
Eshkee had drifted off to sleep, he was in his bed at home, it was warm and he thought it was good to be home….when he was shaken awake by the touch of something that had grabbed him and in a flash he was awake. He was still there the snow and it was cold, he was stiff and the snow had covered him and brushed the snow away. In the distance he could see in the rocks of Table Mesa a distant fire and yet it seemed just a little ways away.
Eshkee was so tired his legs moved like molasses as he stood up, he was groggy and his walk was stilted and slow. He walked in a haze to the distant fire, and as if n a dream found that he was in a place where it was warm and there was a bedroll placed there for him, and there was kneel down bread for him to eat, so he ate and fell asleep.
Eshkee woke up and he was sitting in a truck headed up the road to the junction where he just lived a short way and it was morning and the ground was all covered white. The truck stopped and he looked at the driver and it was Manygoats.
Are you okay, boy?
Yes, how did I get home.
You were walking by the side of the road by Table Mesa just before dawn in a daze, you almost walked into the road and could have got un over. I stopped and you were standing there with Old Man Turquoise, he said he found you and you almost froze last night. You should know better than that didn’t your father teach you anything.
Eshkee said, Where is Old Man Turquoise?
He said he was at a Yei-be-Che at Bistai area, not too far from Table Mesa and on the way found you. I don’t know how that old man found you he can’t hardly walk himself, but he was there and it was a good thing for you he was.
Eshkee got out and walked toward his place just a little ways through the cedars. It was a clear day and sun had come out and he looked way off toward Table Mesa and remembered the stories of Old Man Turquoise and was just glad to be home. So it went one time years ago just before Halloween... johnny rustywire rustywire@yahoo.com
Enemy Way Comes With War
Nataani Nez
dry lands and windblown sand
the river cuts its path through that place
he came from that place
Shiprock, Four Corners some say
when he comes home
we will have an enemy way
it is a part of us Navajo
wind storms and lightning
aches and pains
inside the bones they hide
ghosts some say touching from inside
seeing things that people should not see
coming in the worst way to lay there within
where is he?
the far away place
far from home
way far from Dinetah
what is it like that place
blowing sand
crunching earth
slow days and hot nights
dreaming of cool water
navajo tea
blue corn meal and quiet nights
where is the sage
the mutton stew
in-law chasers
and cool rain
yellow streak mountain
head of the earth
where is the wind way
the high places
red sandstone and pinnacles of Shiprock
they are there far off
eating dust
soldiers food
the enemy hides their face
laying death by the path they must go
young boys, warriors some say
they come with war
restless nights
strange voices and hidden thoughts
where is my son where is my daughter
each morning brings a new dawn
bless this day
corn pollen tah dah deen
corn stalks come with war
a strange day break
when they come home they will visit
their minds and bodies are young
their hearts broken and tired
they are old men in some way
carrying
broken bones and dreary thoughts
hard to smile
so we go to those high places
sacred prayers
the names mean nothing to those outside
navajoland
walking high and low to collect plants
sing a song and leave a little of their heartache there
taking and leaving some small thing
just a piece of earth
a smoke, a taste of roots
come to the second night
sing with my son
sing with my daughter
dance in the place of the their mothers
sing with their fathers
let the bent willow of the drum sound out
gourd rattles make a hollow sound
dance with us till dawn and
restore these
my children to me
restore my son
restore my daughter
so they can say
there is beauty before me
there is beauty behind me
there is beauty to the left of me
there is beauty to the right of me
there is beauty above me
there is beauty below me
let there be beauty all around me
these are the things that come with the enemy way
but there will be no song or dance
no healing prayers
they took him
so far away
so far away
he stood for his people
for those that came before
he did not survive
he did not survive
there will be no enemy way
he has left and gone away
the sound of his voice is gone forever
we will not go to the mountain top
he will not lay his head in the places of his mother
and will not speak quietly with his father
he has gone away
he has gone away
and the sound that comes at night is wailing
a navajo warrior has gone away
a navajo soldier was killed so far away
this night you can hear a mother's cry
in the shadow of Shiprock
rustywire July 7, 2005
dry lands and windblown sand
the river cuts its path through that place
he came from that place
Shiprock, Four Corners some say
when he comes home
we will have an enemy way
it is a part of us Navajo
wind storms and lightning
aches and pains
inside the bones they hide
ghosts some say touching from inside
seeing things that people should not see
coming in the worst way to lay there within
where is he?
the far away place
far from home
way far from Dinetah
what is it like that place
blowing sand
crunching earth
slow days and hot nights
dreaming of cool water
navajo tea
blue corn meal and quiet nights
where is the sage
the mutton stew
in-law chasers
and cool rain
yellow streak mountain
head of the earth
where is the wind way
the high places
red sandstone and pinnacles of Shiprock
they are there far off
eating dust
soldiers food
the enemy hides their face
laying death by the path they must go
young boys, warriors some say
they come with war
restless nights
strange voices and hidden thoughts
where is my son where is my daughter
each morning brings a new dawn
bless this day
corn pollen tah dah deen
corn stalks come with war
a strange day break
when they come home they will visit
their minds and bodies are young
their hearts broken and tired
they are old men in some way
carrying
broken bones and dreary thoughts
hard to smile
so we go to those high places
sacred prayers
the names mean nothing to those outside
navajoland
walking high and low to collect plants
sing a song and leave a little of their heartache there
taking and leaving some small thing
just a piece of earth
a smoke, a taste of roots
come to the second night
sing with my son
sing with my daughter
dance in the place of the their mothers
sing with their fathers
let the bent willow of the drum sound out
gourd rattles make a hollow sound
dance with us till dawn and
restore these
my children to me
restore my son
restore my daughter
so they can say
there is beauty before me
there is beauty behind me
there is beauty to the left of me
there is beauty to the right of me
there is beauty above me
there is beauty below me
let there be beauty all around me
these are the things that come with the enemy way
but there will be no song or dance
no healing prayers
they took him
so far away
so far away
he stood for his people
for those that came before
he did not survive
he did not survive
there will be no enemy way
he has left and gone away
the sound of his voice is gone forever
we will not go to the mountain top
he will not lay his head in the places of his mother
and will not speak quietly with his father
he has gone away
he has gone away
and the sound that comes at night is wailing
a navajo warrior has gone away
a navajo soldier was killed so far away
this night you can hear a mother's cry
in the shadow of Shiprock
rustywire July 7, 2005
Navajo Men...
Navajo Men
by johnny rustywire
way out here
on the rez
this cold
November morning
freezing some say
the old phone line
is working today
singing wires
calling
slow it is
like a snail
searching
for an old photo
of old navajo men
standing out there
somewhere
just
to take a look
tapping the name
navajo men
navajo men
old rusty wire
carry the words
out there
somewhere
who am i
looking for
one picture
navajo men
navajo men
search the words
up they came
from all over the world
some looked
pueblo
hopi
some plains indians
dressed in feathers
buckskin
some were cowboys
small letters
told me
these are
navajo
men
links to stories
old legends
broken twisted tales
in fine print
there just below
there in black and white
were the letters
phd
writers
old teachers
some missionaries
wno came to the navajo
came to the rez
there were many
tourist types
you know
old photos for you
just type in a number
from a plastic card
we will show you
after you pay
all you want to know
about these
old ones
navajo men
navajo men
they
stand
there
looking at me
blank stares
dressed
in
what
they
wore
that
day
navajo men
navajo men
thought
to get up
head down
to the store
wherea a lens
stole them
away
they
just
stood
there
click
click
went on
to haul water
to sit and visit
old che'
grandfather some say
little kids
shaa alchine'
sanis'
old grandmas too
stolen
locked
away
sold
sold
another day
so it goes with
the navajo
the children
the sanis
the che's
all of them
all
called
navajo men
navajo men
rustywire@yahoo.com
by johnny rustywire
way out here
on the rez
this cold
November morning
freezing some say
the old phone line
is working today
singing wires
calling
slow it is
like a snail
searching
for an old photo
of old navajo men
standing out there
somewhere
just
to take a look
tapping the name
navajo men
navajo men
old rusty wire
carry the words
out there
somewhere
who am i
looking for
one picture
navajo men
navajo men
search the words
up they came
from all over the world
some looked
pueblo
hopi
some plains indians
dressed in feathers
buckskin
some were cowboys
small letters
told me
these are
navajo
men
links to stories
old legends
broken twisted tales
in fine print
there just below
there in black and white
were the letters
phd
writers
old teachers
some missionaries
wno came to the navajo
came to the rez
there were many
tourist types
you know
old photos for you
just type in a number
from a plastic card
we will show you
after you pay
all you want to know
about these
old ones
navajo men
navajo men
they
stand
there
looking at me
blank stares
dressed
in
what
they
wore
that
day
navajo men
navajo men
thought
to get up
head down
to the store
wherea a lens
stole them
away
they
just
stood
there
click
click
went on
to haul water
to sit and visit
old che'
grandfather some say
little kids
shaa alchine'
sanis'
old grandmas too
stolen
locked
away
sold
sold
another day
so it goes with
the navajo
the children
the sanis
the che's
all of them
all
called
navajo men
navajo men
rustywire@yahoo.com
Drawing A Line In the Sand
Hard Rocks
It sits north of Dinnebito (Navajo Water), a place where there is no water. There is a mission and some housing and a lot of empty land
where there are some juniper, greasewood and cedar trees as well as
some sage growing.
In some ways it is one of the last outposts for resistance, a claim by
a few to tell everyone that they want the right to live and stay in this place where no one in their right might would want to live. There is no industry, movie houses, grocery stores and playgrounds, it is way off the beaten path, but it is a place where some have been born to and known from childhood, where they played on the rocks, herded sheep and hauled water and cut firewood over many years, where there have been sings and songs sung of horses, traveling and small patches of corn grown for the few bits of pollen that become a part of the blessing of each new day. In a word it is life, living from dawn to dusk, to taste the dust, feel the wind and know the scent of a home fire.
Some time ago, a Navajo woman came to me and said these words to me. Where is your family, are you taking care that they have a place to live, a hogan, that there is fresh water for them, a warm fire and food for them to eat. It was a pretty simple thing really, to provide these basic things, but in order to do them you have to know where home is and have a place to live. I thought nothing of what was said to me then, but as time has gone on, the words kept coming back.
This barren piece of land is home, it is where we have walked and lived for a long time, but in this harsh landscape where there are hard rocks families lived without fanfare and little interference from the outside world. Now it has become because a line was drawn in the sand, Hopiland.
There are many things about the Hopis, they are an ancient people, and they
are very traditional and for the most part have lived around their mesas. But the resistance movement isn't so much about them as it is about the lack of power of a people to control their destiny, that somehow the rights of the tribe and government supersede individual rights, the right of an indian person to live where they want.
It is this lack of freedom, the true meaning of being a ward of the
the United States Government. If you are enrolled living on trust indian land, nothing is really yours, it is only there until the government takes iit away.
It sits north of Dinnebito (Navajo Water), a place where there is no water. There is a mission and some housing and a lot of empty land
where there are some juniper, greasewood and cedar trees as well as
some sage growing.
In some ways it is one of the last outposts for resistance, a claim by
a few to tell everyone that they want the right to live and stay in this place where no one in their right might would want to live. There is no industry, movie houses, grocery stores and playgrounds, it is way off the beaten path, but it is a place where some have been born to and known from childhood, where they played on the rocks, herded sheep and hauled water and cut firewood over many years, where there have been sings and songs sung of horses, traveling and small patches of corn grown for the few bits of pollen that become a part of the blessing of each new day. In a word it is life, living from dawn to dusk, to taste the dust, feel the wind and know the scent of a home fire.
Some time ago, a Navajo woman came to me and said these words to me. Where is your family, are you taking care that they have a place to live, a hogan, that there is fresh water for them, a warm fire and food for them to eat. It was a pretty simple thing really, to provide these basic things, but in order to do them you have to know where home is and have a place to live. I thought nothing of what was said to me then, but as time has gone on, the words kept coming back.
This barren piece of land is home, it is where we have walked and lived for a long time, but in this harsh landscape where there are hard rocks families lived without fanfare and little interference from the outside world. Now it has become because a line was drawn in the sand, Hopiland.
There are many things about the Hopis, they are an ancient people, and they
are very traditional and for the most part have lived around their mesas. But the resistance movement isn't so much about them as it is about the lack of power of a people to control their destiny, that somehow the rights of the tribe and government supersede individual rights, the right of an indian person to live where they want.
It is this lack of freedom, the true meaning of being a ward of the
the United States Government. If you are enrolled living on trust indian land, nothing is really yours, it is only there until the government takes iit away.
In Law Chaser
In Law Chaser
Johnny Rustywire
Way out on the rez one day a boy walked with his father to the trading post to check the mail. He was about eight or so and his father was old and they walked up hill to the trading post at it was on a rise above them.
There was a water trough below the store and they stopped to get a cool drink from the well and sat down and looked back on where they had come. From this spot you can see down the valley and further East toward what is called "Halgai"- it means flatlands, that lie below and run east to the horizon where Chaco Canyon lies.
It was a warm summer day in June, and the sky was clear except for a small group of clouds running across the flatlands away from them, it was a quick moving summer storm. They could see the mist of rain falling to the ground below and yet all around it was clear sky.
The Old man said, "There goes an in-law chaser!" The boy looked and did not know what he was talking about. "There must be someone wanting to visit somebody down there. Those kind of clouds that move fast like that they carry rain and wind." The boy looked at the moving clouds. "You start out getting ready to go somewhere by horseback or by wagon and it's a good day, but when you get a little ways up, the weather changes and you get hit by strong winds and rain, they pound on you and cover you with dust so you forget about going to where you wanted to visit and you turn around and try to get out of there."
The two of them sat there and watched the clouds move across the flatland. "They say that when you can see them like us from this high spot here, that that person who they were going to see is glad it happened.
"Why? How come they are glad?" the boy asked his father.
The old man motioned with his hands and looked at the boy then down toward the valley. "It is because that person knows that their in-laws are coming and they no good. They just show up at the wrong time and want something and will stay and eat and bring bad feelings.... But they are your in laws and so you have to endure them because they are your family."
"Is it always like that, to have bad in laws?" the boy asked.
The Old man sat there and told him, "No, the word in-law in our way of talking has two meanings, "Shaa dah ni'". The Old man looked at the boy and looked at him and said, "When someone says that to you, you need to look at their face because it can mean...they are really glad to see you, that you are like a close relative to them, a brother and they care for you...but it can also mean that it is an insult. They are saying to you that you are like a bad in-law who comes, wanting something, trying to live off you or bringing bad feelings and they aren't glad to see you. You don't want to know those kind."
His father said, "It is the way it is used, so when you hear it you have to think how is this person speaking to me?"
They sat there watched the clouds move acroos the land and could see the flashes of lightning and it moved quickly way as if it were chasing someone.
The Old man said, "Some In-laws are getting chased back home....That is what we call those kind of storms. Maybe there is someone down there on the flat who is watching that summer storm. That person probably saw his in-laws coming from way off and was not happy they were coming, but when the storm came up, the wind and rain made the in-laws think it wasn't worth it to go see him and so they went home on their own."
The sky was brilliant blue and the ground the color of orange sandstone, it glowed under the sun, but for that dark spot down below. The Old man said as if speaking to himself, "In-law chaser weather...so remember when you see those kind you have to wonder if that isn't what is happening. There is a balance in the way things go on around us. When something happens it is good for some and bad for another that is how we look at those kind of summer storms that move fast across the flat, they seem to come from nowhere and bring a whirlwind."
Do you think that is what going on down there? "Somewhere down there, someplace someone is wishing for an in-law chaser and they got one."
The boy laughed as the old man took his sons hand and they turned to go up the trading post to check the mail....rustywire
Johnny Rustywire
Way out on the rez one day a boy walked with his father to the trading post to check the mail. He was about eight or so and his father was old and they walked up hill to the trading post at it was on a rise above them.
There was a water trough below the store and they stopped to get a cool drink from the well and sat down and looked back on where they had come. From this spot you can see down the valley and further East toward what is called "Halgai"- it means flatlands, that lie below and run east to the horizon where Chaco Canyon lies.
It was a warm summer day in June, and the sky was clear except for a small group of clouds running across the flatlands away from them, it was a quick moving summer storm. They could see the mist of rain falling to the ground below and yet all around it was clear sky.
The Old man said, "There goes an in-law chaser!" The boy looked and did not know what he was talking about. "There must be someone wanting to visit somebody down there. Those kind of clouds that move fast like that they carry rain and wind." The boy looked at the moving clouds. "You start out getting ready to go somewhere by horseback or by wagon and it's a good day, but when you get a little ways up, the weather changes and you get hit by strong winds and rain, they pound on you and cover you with dust so you forget about going to where you wanted to visit and you turn around and try to get out of there."
The two of them sat there and watched the clouds move across the flatland. "They say that when you can see them like us from this high spot here, that that person who they were going to see is glad it happened.
"Why? How come they are glad?" the boy asked his father.
The old man motioned with his hands and looked at the boy then down toward the valley. "It is because that person knows that their in-laws are coming and they no good. They just show up at the wrong time and want something and will stay and eat and bring bad feelings.... But they are your in laws and so you have to endure them because they are your family."
"Is it always like that, to have bad in laws?" the boy asked.
The Old man sat there and told him, "No, the word in-law in our way of talking has two meanings, "Shaa dah ni'". The Old man looked at the boy and looked at him and said, "When someone says that to you, you need to look at their face because it can mean...they are really glad to see you, that you are like a close relative to them, a brother and they care for you...but it can also mean that it is an insult. They are saying to you that you are like a bad in-law who comes, wanting something, trying to live off you or bringing bad feelings and they aren't glad to see you. You don't want to know those kind."
His father said, "It is the way it is used, so when you hear it you have to think how is this person speaking to me?"
They sat there watched the clouds move acroos the land and could see the flashes of lightning and it moved quickly way as if it were chasing someone.
The Old man said, "Some In-laws are getting chased back home....That is what we call those kind of storms. Maybe there is someone down there on the flat who is watching that summer storm. That person probably saw his in-laws coming from way off and was not happy they were coming, but when the storm came up, the wind and rain made the in-laws think it wasn't worth it to go see him and so they went home on their own."
The sky was brilliant blue and the ground the color of orange sandstone, it glowed under the sun, but for that dark spot down below. The Old man said as if speaking to himself, "In-law chaser weather...so remember when you see those kind you have to wonder if that isn't what is happening. There is a balance in the way things go on around us. When something happens it is good for some and bad for another that is how we look at those kind of summer storms that move fast across the flat, they seem to come from nowhere and bring a whirlwind."
Do you think that is what going on down there? "Somewhere down there, someplace someone is wishing for an in-law chaser and they got one."
The boy laughed as the old man took his sons hand and they turned to go up the trading post to check the mail....rustywire
You Are Not Navajo
You Are Not Navajo
by Johnny Rustywire
I dreamed I was standing in an old pueblo,
a large room with three windows above me.
My father, his father and my great grandfather
were standing there talking to me.
My father told me,
"You are not Navajo, son,
as you do not know everything I knew."
I did not know what to say.
My grandfather standing in the space above said to him,
"You, then, my son are not Navajo,
because you could not do all the things I did in my day."
My father's grandfather, said to them,
"How can this be?
Don't you know that I stretched out my hands to you
when you were still inside me?
I spoke of you in the wind.
I reached out my hand to you
through all that is around us
and in the stars;
and I touched your young spirits with my heart,
telling you about all those that came before.
This is your land and people.
I survived to give you life,
so that you would walk this land.
You are my children;
you are me, and I am you;
and there can be no difference.
Listen!
You can hear me in the whistling wind,
for that is my song to you in the high places,
the mesas, the valleys and in the flat lands,
and where ever you go.
You are born for me, Navajo."
Now I talk to my grandchildren and their children,
for they are in me still.
I reach out and speak to the wind
so that they will hear me one day
in all these places they will walk.
"You are Navajo,
and know that your grandfathers talked to you
before you were ever here.
Listen my children,
and forgive my slow ways of talking."
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
I dreamed I was standing in an old pueblo,
a large room with three windows above me.
My father, his father and my great grandfather
were standing there talking to me.
My father told me,
"You are not Navajo, son,
as you do not know everything I knew."
I did not know what to say.
My grandfather standing in the space above said to him,
"You, then, my son are not Navajo,
because you could not do all the things I did in my day."
My father's grandfather, said to them,
"How can this be?
Don't you know that I stretched out my hands to you
when you were still inside me?
I spoke of you in the wind.
I reached out my hand to you
through all that is around us
and in the stars;
and I touched your young spirits with my heart,
telling you about all those that came before.
This is your land and people.
I survived to give you life,
so that you would walk this land.
You are my children;
you are me, and I am you;
and there can be no difference.
Listen!
You can hear me in the whistling wind,
for that is my song to you in the high places,
the mesas, the valleys and in the flat lands,
and where ever you go.
You are born for me, Navajo."
Now I talk to my grandchildren and their children,
for they are in me still.
I reach out and speak to the wind
so that they will hear me one day
in all these places they will walk.
"You are Navajo,
and know that your grandfathers talked to you
before you were ever here.
Listen my children,
and forgive my slow ways of talking."
rustywire
Where Did You Go Navajo Girl
Where Did You Go, Navajo Girl
by John Rustywire
Thinking about Navajo Girl
way down south in Navajoland:
She had long black hair
and eyes of the softest brown.
When she laughed
the wind would sing;
and we would run together,
arms outstretched,
through the sagebrush,
feeling it with our fingertips.
We carved our names on the big red rocks
and in the sand down by the wash.
We would walk and talk
going to the trading post
to check the mail.
Everyone would look at us,
and we would laugh and wave.
We sat on old school bus stop
and listened to the swaying song
of the squaw dance
down by your home,
watching the sun set
and the stars dance across the sky
till Dawn Boy found us still there.
You gave me a star that night.
I see it still in the night sky,
forever ours.
I left to go to school,
never to see you anymore.
You went another ways.
I hear you belong to another.
I close my eyes
and see the curve of your cheek,
the smile on your face,
your long black hair blowing in the wind.
Oh, the look in your eyes.
We were one
and no one could touch us.
I can still see Navajo girl
with smiling eyes
way down south in Navajoland.
Where did you go........
rustywire
by John Rustywire
Thinking about Navajo Girl
way down south in Navajoland:
She had long black hair
and eyes of the softest brown.
When she laughed
the wind would sing;
and we would run together,
arms outstretched,
through the sagebrush,
feeling it with our fingertips.
We carved our names on the big red rocks
and in the sand down by the wash.
We would walk and talk
going to the trading post
to check the mail.
Everyone would look at us,
and we would laugh and wave.
We sat on old school bus stop
and listened to the swaying song
of the squaw dance
down by your home,
watching the sun set
and the stars dance across the sky
till Dawn Boy found us still there.
You gave me a star that night.
I see it still in the night sky,
forever ours.
I left to go to school,
never to see you anymore.
You went another ways.
I hear you belong to another.
I close my eyes
and see the curve of your cheek,
the smile on your face,
your long black hair blowing in the wind.
Oh, the look in your eyes.
We were one
and no one could touch us.
I can still see Navajo girl
with smiling eyes
way down south in Navajoland.
Where did you go........
rustywire
Indian Silversmiths
Indian Silversmiths
by Johnny Rustywire
We all come from separate places.
The sun breaks and we gather in one place,
one large room with many work benches...
the smell of hot coffee percolating...
thoughts scattered … and we begin talking.
Radios turn on,
sounding out country and rock.
Voices begin to buzz.
A laugh is heard amid the clanging of tools and hammers.
Someone sings a 49 song and a few join in.
"What happened last night?"
"What's going on this weekend?"
"Maybe I'll head home."
"I heard there is a Pow-Wow."
"There is a squaw dance to visit."
hammers banging,
torches burning....
think on the design…
work fast…
look at the turquoise…
go with the silver....
feel it… shape it
pound it...
EEEYAAAAH, it feels good...
let me be good...
silver solder run well,
cut straight lines...
We laugh, we cry, we play ball at lunch...
We come from Maine and California, Florida and Washington
and even from Canada…
Bloods, Mohawk, Sioux, Apache, Lumbee, Shawnee, Navajo,
and even a real Cherokee…
all working to make jewelry:
rings, bracelets, turquoise and concho belts...
simple and fancy
We scatter at sunset to wherever home may be…
until the sun breaks on a new day and we begin our song again.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
We all come from separate places.
The sun breaks and we gather in one place,
one large room with many work benches...
the smell of hot coffee percolating...
thoughts scattered … and we begin talking.
Radios turn on,
sounding out country and rock.
Voices begin to buzz.
A laugh is heard amid the clanging of tools and hammers.
Someone sings a 49 song and a few join in.
"What happened last night?"
"What's going on this weekend?"
"Maybe I'll head home."
"I heard there is a Pow-Wow."
"There is a squaw dance to visit."
hammers banging,
torches burning....
think on the design…
work fast…
look at the turquoise…
go with the silver....
feel it… shape it
pound it...
EEEYAAAAH, it feels good...
let me be good...
silver solder run well,
cut straight lines...
We laugh, we cry, we play ball at lunch...
We come from Maine and California, Florida and Washington
and even from Canada…
Bloods, Mohawk, Sioux, Apache, Lumbee, Shawnee, Navajo,
and even a real Cherokee…
all working to make jewelry:
rings, bracelets, turquoise and concho belts...
simple and fancy
We scatter at sunset to wherever home may be…
until the sun breaks on a new day and we begin our song again.
rustywire
Even Now You Come To Me Still..
Even Now You Come to Me Still
by Johnny Rustywire
There was someone special once,
a slim Navajo girl from long ago,
and this is for her:
a day too late
and years too late....
I can see your red sash belt with silver conchos,
the red velveteen of your dress with shiny buttons,
the knee high buckskin moccasins.
You hold your head high,
gentleness and quiet strength in your walk,
a slim Navajo girl
in that place with windy mesas and sand washes.
I walked with you a short while.
I remember.
When I think on you,
soft winds and cool breezes come to mind,
and I see that time has not erased your soft cheek against mine
or the smell of sage in your hair.
Where ever you are and wherever you have gone,
I am still there with you
in the dusty and windblown time we shared together long ago.
When you see the stars,
do you see the one I gave you long ago
when I promised to dance with you on the moon till dawn?
In the quiet moments when you are alone,
and thinking about nothing,
do I come to you every now and again?
Even though many winters have come and gone,
I still see you.
I still hear your words in the wind.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
There was someone special once,
a slim Navajo girl from long ago,
and this is for her:
a day too late
and years too late....
I can see your red sash belt with silver conchos,
the red velveteen of your dress with shiny buttons,
the knee high buckskin moccasins.
You hold your head high,
gentleness and quiet strength in your walk,
a slim Navajo girl
in that place with windy mesas and sand washes.
I walked with you a short while.
I remember.
When I think on you,
soft winds and cool breezes come to mind,
and I see that time has not erased your soft cheek against mine
or the smell of sage in your hair.
Where ever you are and wherever you have gone,
I am still there with you
in the dusty and windblown time we shared together long ago.
When you see the stars,
do you see the one I gave you long ago
when I promised to dance with you on the moon till dawn?
In the quiet moments when you are alone,
and thinking about nothing,
do I come to you every now and again?
Even though many winters have come and gone,
I still see you.
I still hear your words in the wind.
rustywire
Come My Child Walk With Me
Come My Child, Walk With Me
by Johnny Rustywire
Come my child. Walk with me.
Take my hand. Stay a while with me.
I have seen you cry. I have wiped tears from your eyes.
Stay with me just a short while.
I have traveled these crazy funny roads of life,
and still I see there is a ways to travel.
Will you walk with me, my child?
Follow me and I will show you what I know.
Look! Isn't this a pleasant place to be?
Take care! Sometimes rocks slip.
Listen to the sounds of all that is around.
Someday you won't see me but you will still hear me in the wind.
I think of days ahead when you will walk alone.
Times will come when you don't want to go on.
I will be there with you in those things.
Come my child. Walk with me.
I can see you growing. Soon you will leave.
Oh, my heart sings and cries.
You look at me with innocent eyes.
Grow old and walk these places I have known.
Look over there where an eagle flies.
Come my child. Walk with me.
Go there to the high places,
crossing valleys long and dark.
I stand with you in this place.
You will forever be my small child,
even when I see you standing tall.
I love you, my child. Come walk with me.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
Come my child. Walk with me.
Take my hand. Stay a while with me.
I have seen you cry. I have wiped tears from your eyes.
Stay with me just a short while.
I have traveled these crazy funny roads of life,
and still I see there is a ways to travel.
Will you walk with me, my child?
Follow me and I will show you what I know.
Look! Isn't this a pleasant place to be?
Take care! Sometimes rocks slip.
Listen to the sounds of all that is around.
Someday you won't see me but you will still hear me in the wind.
I think of days ahead when you will walk alone.
Times will come when you don't want to go on.
I will be there with you in those things.
Come my child. Walk with me.
I can see you growing. Soon you will leave.
Oh, my heart sings and cries.
You look at me with innocent eyes.
Grow old and walk these places I have known.
Look over there where an eagle flies.
Come my child. Walk with me.
Go there to the high places,
crossing valleys long and dark.
I stand with you in this place.
You will forever be my small child,
even when I see you standing tall.
I love you, my child. Come walk with me.
rustywire
She Came As A Whisper
She Came as a Whisper
by Johnny Rustywire
She came as whisper.
In the rustle of trees she came to me
to stir my soul.
Her heart and mind are more than I thought one could offer;
and yet she provides it to me as a gift, taking nothing.
We talk from time to time.
I imagine she has seen many things,
and been many places I will never go.
She is from the east and I from the west.
When we talk, it is straight from where we live.
There is no color, pretense or class to stand in the way.
Our souls are bare
and our hearts speak a language without words.
Who is this woman?
Where can she be?
I have known her all my life,
and yet she is just now coming to me.
In the night we share the same sky;
the raiment of the forest is ours;
and yet we walk different roads.
I have never stepped into her world
nor has she seen mine.
And yet I see her.
I learned to know her as a little girl,
and as a young woman,
and now as a grown woman
with the height, depth and breadth
to know life and all its travails.
We have not spent any time together,
but that has been more than enough time.
We can see boundaries from afar,
taking small steps to the edge,
knowing that with each step the distance diminishes.
She is from another world,
yet she has always been in mine.
We know we will never meet,
and we let that knowledge lie there,
as a young bird lies
who has fallen from a nest,
not ready yet to fly.
I have never seen her.
I do not know the sound of her voice.
I have never looked into her eyes.
I bid her hello from time to time.
She knows my voice though she has never heard its sound.
I wish her well;
knowing, at some point,
in some distant place,
we will laugh and talk.
We will meet on a far dawn
of a day that will not end.
by Johnny Rustywire
She came as whisper.
In the rustle of trees she came to me
to stir my soul.
Her heart and mind are more than I thought one could offer;
and yet she provides it to me as a gift, taking nothing.
We talk from time to time.
I imagine she has seen many things,
and been many places I will never go.
She is from the east and I from the west.
When we talk, it is straight from where we live.
There is no color, pretense or class to stand in the way.
Our souls are bare
and our hearts speak a language without words.
Who is this woman?
Where can she be?
I have known her all my life,
and yet she is just now coming to me.
In the night we share the same sky;
the raiment of the forest is ours;
and yet we walk different roads.
I have never stepped into her world
nor has she seen mine.
And yet I see her.
I learned to know her as a little girl,
and as a young woman,
and now as a grown woman
with the height, depth and breadth
to know life and all its travails.
We have not spent any time together,
but that has been more than enough time.
We can see boundaries from afar,
taking small steps to the edge,
knowing that with each step the distance diminishes.
She is from another world,
yet she has always been in mine.
We know we will never meet,
and we let that knowledge lie there,
as a young bird lies
who has fallen from a nest,
not ready yet to fly.
I have never seen her.
I do not know the sound of her voice.
I have never looked into her eyes.
I bid her hello from time to time.
She knows my voice though she has never heard its sound.
I wish her well;
knowing, at some point,
in some distant place,
we will laugh and talk.
We will meet on a far dawn
of a day that will not end.
Navajos looking for a home..
Navajos Looking for a Home
by Johnny Rustywire
Where are you, my friends?
Scattered about like lost sheep,
wandering,
looking towards home.
Where is the gathering place
where we talked,
where we shared a common voice?
It needs to be found —
that spring of cool water,
where there is shade
and a little grass
where we can lay down and rest a while.
Where are the Twin Heroes,
Changing Woman,
the Holy Beings?
They seek all their relations.
Where have you gone?
Yasho ...
It is said from far off,
"There might be a spot
at Navajo2000.com,
a ways off toward Totah,
just East of Nataani Nez.
I will saddle my old horse
and take a bedroll.
I will travel across these dusty plains of life.
I long to taste cool water;
I long to taste songs in my own tongue.
Oh, brothers and sisters,
where have you gone?
Let us meet at the place where the rivers come together,
over by Totah,
and sing and dance;
talking, laughing, and being as one people.
I look for the road to take me there,
so I can go there on the morrow.
Where is Jody, Chimera, Aaron, Descheenie, Barehand?
Where is Annoying Leroy, Aasdzaa, Benally, and so many others?
I find myself on a flat plain
with no water and poor food.
There is no comfort here.
Friends, brothers and sisters,
if you should see a place to rest,
let me know.
I will leave for it on the morrow.
Meet me there,
and we will find refreshment.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
Where are you, my friends?
Scattered about like lost sheep,
wandering,
looking towards home.
Where is the gathering place
where we talked,
where we shared a common voice?
It needs to be found —
that spring of cool water,
where there is shade
and a little grass
where we can lay down and rest a while.
Where are the Twin Heroes,
Changing Woman,
the Holy Beings?
They seek all their relations.
Where have you gone?
Yasho ...
It is said from far off,
"There might be a spot
at Navajo2000.com,
a ways off toward Totah,
just East of Nataani Nez.
I will saddle my old horse
and take a bedroll.
I will travel across these dusty plains of life.
I long to taste cool water;
I long to taste songs in my own tongue.
Oh, brothers and sisters,
where have you gone?
Let us meet at the place where the rivers come together,
over by Totah,
and sing and dance;
talking, laughing, and being as one people.
I look for the road to take me there,
so I can go there on the morrow.
Where is Jody, Chimera, Aaron, Descheenie, Barehand?
Where is Annoying Leroy, Aasdzaa, Benally, and so many others?
I find myself on a flat plain
with no water and poor food.
There is no comfort here.
Friends, brothers and sisters,
if you should see a place to rest,
let me know.
I will leave for it on the morrow.
Meet me there,
and we will find refreshment.
rustywire
Let Me Dance
Let Me Dance
by Johnny Rustywire
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
sleep can not find me
I go lost between earth and sky
The sound of coyotes and owls fill my heart
I say to myself where are you going
the ribbon of my life travels slow
Slipping and sliding I go
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
there is no laughing road
Dawn Boy can not find me
hard days and cold nights
the trail ruts deep and hard
what is it I hear
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
oh, just a word
just a word is good to hear
it is a song to my poor soul
you count and what you do matters
you have a good heart
these things we long to hear
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am a man
I am more than an Indian
I am more than a native
I am a person
yo, come dance with me
the songs come from our hearts
these are my places
and let us travel this way together
let our hearts sing
let us dance across the earth
let us dance across the sky
let us sing
let us dance
it is good
it is good
so we go
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
sleep can not find me
I go lost between earth and sky
The sound of coyotes and owls fill my heart
I say to myself where are you going
the ribbon of my life travels slow
Slipping and sliding I go
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
there is no laughing road
Dawn Boy can not find me
hard days and cold nights
the trail ruts deep and hard
what is it I hear
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
oh, just a word
just a word is good to hear
it is a song to my poor soul
you count and what you do matters
you have a good heart
these things we long to hear
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am a man
I am more than an Indian
I am more than a native
I am a person
yo, come dance with me
the songs come from our hearts
these are my places
and let us travel this way together
let our hearts sing
let us dance across the earth
let us dance across the sky
let us sing
let us dance
it is good
it is good
so we go
rustywire
A Day for Watermelon
A Day for Watermelon
by Johnny Rustywire
Hot summer day :..
The taste of fully ripe watermelon,
cooled to the touch.
Plates and forks
lain out on the table
Watermelon sounding crisp and fresh
when you cut into it.
One slice to my son,
one slice to my daughter,
one slice to my wife,
one slice to me.
We sit on steps outside,
eating this thing that is called
in our native tongue
"the thing you have to keep chewing and chewing,
because you can't get enough."
It is so good.
It brings back the taste of good times,
freshness and simple pleasures.
It restores the soul on a hot day.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
Hot summer day :..
The taste of fully ripe watermelon,
cooled to the touch.
Plates and forks
lain out on the table
Watermelon sounding crisp and fresh
when you cut into it.
One slice to my son,
one slice to my daughter,
one slice to my wife,
one slice to me.
We sit on steps outside,
eating this thing that is called
in our native tongue
"the thing you have to keep chewing and chewing,
because you can't get enough."
It is so good.
It brings back the taste of good times,
freshness and simple pleasures.
It restores the soul on a hot day.
rustywire
Monument Valley
Monument Valley
by John Rustywire
In the sandstone of high mesas
in monuments of stone
rising high above me
touching the sky
here they wait
the holy people of days gone by
yo, it is my homeland
I stand before it
yo, I am one with it
red sandstone
glowing pink at sunset
standing in the changing light
in shadows I find myself
watching the colors dance
slowly on the rock they move
mythic figures, gods and yeis
each shadow changing light and life
is it so
light
shadows
sunset
here I stand
alone
let the dawn find me
oh, sweet early morning light
touch me forever
let the cold flow from me
help me stand
in the noon day sun
radiant, alive and in peace
give me life
yea, I sing of it
let there be light where I walk
let there be light where I have gone
let there be light in all that I do
there in the cool of evening
blue silent shadows extending
this is where I stand
let the fingers of Dawn reach out to me
yasho it is good
yasho it is life
yasho I am one with it all
I have survived mountains
I have survived mesas
I have survived all that is on earth
yasho, I live
I am one with it
the sky
the trees
the earth
I have survived
I have survived
I live
I live
by John Rustywire
In the sandstone of high mesas
in monuments of stone
rising high above me
touching the sky
here they wait
the holy people of days gone by
yo, it is my homeland
I stand before it
yo, I am one with it
red sandstone
glowing pink at sunset
standing in the changing light
in shadows I find myself
watching the colors dance
slowly on the rock they move
mythic figures, gods and yeis
each shadow changing light and life
is it so
light
shadows
sunset
here I stand
alone
let the dawn find me
oh, sweet early morning light
touch me forever
let the cold flow from me
help me stand
in the noon day sun
radiant, alive and in peace
give me life
yea, I sing of it
let there be light where I walk
let there be light where I have gone
let there be light in all that I do
there in the cool of evening
blue silent shadows extending
this is where I stand
let the fingers of Dawn reach out to me
yasho it is good
yasho it is life
yasho I am one with it all
I have survived mountains
I have survived mesas
I have survived all that is on earth
yasho, I live
I am one with it
the sky
the trees
the earth
I have survived
I have survived
I live
I live
lost between earth and sky
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
sleep can not find me
I go lost between earth and sky
the sound of coyotes and owls fills my heart
I say to myself where are you going
the ribbon of my life travels slow
slipping and sliding I go
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
there is no laughing road
Dawn Boy can not find me
hard days and cold nights
the trail ruts deep and hard
what is it I hear
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am a man
I am more than an Indian
I am more than a native
I am a person
yo, come dance with me
the songs come from our hearts
these are my places
let us travel this way together
let our hearts sing
let us dance across the earth
let us dance across the sky
let us sing
let us dance
it is good
it is good
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
sleep can not find me
I go lost between earth and sky
the sound of coyotes and owls fills my heart
I say to myself where are you going
the ribbon of my life travels slow
slipping and sliding I go
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am so tired
there is no laughing road
Dawn Boy can not find me
hard days and cold nights
the trail ruts deep and hard
what is it I hear
I am so tired
I walk this land
let me sing a new song
let me dance across the plains
let me dance across mountains
let me dance across low valleys
let me dance so that it makes me sing
I am a man
I am more than an Indian
I am more than a native
I am a person
yo, come dance with me
the songs come from our hearts
these are my places
let us travel this way together
let our hearts sing
let us dance across the earth
let us dance across the sky
let us sing
let us dance
it is good
it is good
Borrowed Keyboards
wanting to talk and not having a machine to say it with
starting out to town 30 miles away for a half hour slot
got no phone and the pay phone at the store is broken
getting on the road to work in the morning
carrying a baby on the back waiting for a ride
sitting at a desk wishing for a car and lunch
dreaming of kisses, the taste of candy bars
looking for a snack for less than fifty cents
watching the time slide by and putting on a face
working and slaving for food, lights and diapers
wanting to write, to dream of it, to taste it
waxing words, making pictures, talking in circles
wars rage, people laugh, dancing and making love
in silence they play out sitting at a typewriter
letters, correspondence, today's mail and travel papers
dreaming of writing, paper dreams and simple wishes
hitchhiking home and then to town 30 miles away
to get online for 30 minutes a day
no phone, no car, just hopes and dreams
wishing for tomorrow, on rainbows and soft rain
a young indian mother dreams of new dawns
and simple wishes, to write to write to say it all
as she heads on back down the road she came
with a baby on her back and tired feet
whoosh, whoosh the cars pass her by
as she walks on down the road
thinking tomorrow i can write on that machine
singing wires dance in her mind and she walks
down the road to reservation blues and homemade bread
looking at the sunset and running along its edge
with five cents in her pocket and a diaper to change
rustywire
starting out to town 30 miles away for a half hour slot
got no phone and the pay phone at the store is broken
getting on the road to work in the morning
carrying a baby on the back waiting for a ride
sitting at a desk wishing for a car and lunch
dreaming of kisses, the taste of candy bars
looking for a snack for less than fifty cents
watching the time slide by and putting on a face
working and slaving for food, lights and diapers
wanting to write, to dream of it, to taste it
waxing words, making pictures, talking in circles
wars rage, people laugh, dancing and making love
in silence they play out sitting at a typewriter
letters, correspondence, today's mail and travel papers
dreaming of writing, paper dreams and simple wishes
hitchhiking home and then to town 30 miles away
to get online for 30 minutes a day
no phone, no car, just hopes and dreams
wishing for tomorrow, on rainbows and soft rain
a young indian mother dreams of new dawns
and simple wishes, to write to write to say it all
as she heads on back down the road she came
with a baby on her back and tired feet
whoosh, whoosh the cars pass her by
as she walks on down the road
thinking tomorrow i can write on that machine
singing wires dance in her mind and she walks
down the road to reservation blues and homemade bread
looking at the sunset and running along its edge
with five cents in her pocket and a diaper to change
rustywire
Sarah Watermelon Juice
It was late and he sat there with his head buried in the old leather
bound books, they were large and heavy, from the old days of the
reservation. they held the story of the people from the days when they
opened up the reservation to everyone and the names on these pages
were all living during that time and saw how the settlers moved onto
what were there lands.
In looking at the record of family names one stood out, in faint
pencil in fancy writing they used during the old days when all records
were written in long hand it said Sarah Watermelon Juice. She was 13
in 1905, when they opened up the UIntah Valley Reservation. There is
an indian name written next to it, but it means something like buffalo
berries. Maybe this is what the writer was trying to write, but
instead called her Watermelon Juice.
He sat there and wrote out the names of these people from those old
days, the father, mother, brothers and sisters. In one family at the
base of Rock Creek, an old Indian stronghold with canyon walls and
water year round, they lived. They were called Nuche, the english word
being Utes, UIntahs.
One woman was given the name of Curtis Nick, a boy's name she was 20
years old at the time and she had 4 children it is written, the oldest
lived to be 4 years old, the others died in infancy, 2 months old one
said, 1 year and 2 years old. Alot of the children born during that
time died young, He sat there wondering how could this woman go on
when all her children had died, there a faint note at the end, she too
had died at 27 years of age. There is not stone to mark where they
lay, and the children are left unnamed. In all there were many who
lived and died without names, and without a known location where they
could be found. In all of this some did live on and the one thing that
is not the same about the land is that those indian lands no longer
get the water. If you were to go there today, you find wind swept
sand dunes where these families lived and nothing more. The water from
the stream has been put into a pipe and goes to land of the settlers.
Some descendants remain and have sued the BIA and United States saying
Washington failed to protect the land and water. It is in the Deseret
News, June 3to th8th I think, it is called Richard Mountain v.Gale
Norton, the hearing is in the Salt Lake Federal District Court in mid
July.
It was said to the Utes, This valley is yours forever from mountain
top to mountain top, and all the waters in it. so long as the rivers
shall run. The water doesn't run through this place anymore....
rustywire
bound books, they were large and heavy, from the old days of the
reservation. they held the story of the people from the days when they
opened up the reservation to everyone and the names on these pages
were all living during that time and saw how the settlers moved onto
what were there lands.
In looking at the record of family names one stood out, in faint
pencil in fancy writing they used during the old days when all records
were written in long hand it said Sarah Watermelon Juice. She was 13
in 1905, when they opened up the UIntah Valley Reservation. There is
an indian name written next to it, but it means something like buffalo
berries. Maybe this is what the writer was trying to write, but
instead called her Watermelon Juice.
He sat there and wrote out the names of these people from those old
days, the father, mother, brothers and sisters. In one family at the
base of Rock Creek, an old Indian stronghold with canyon walls and
water year round, they lived. They were called Nuche, the english word
being Utes, UIntahs.
One woman was given the name of Curtis Nick, a boy's name she was 20
years old at the time and she had 4 children it is written, the oldest
lived to be 4 years old, the others died in infancy, 2 months old one
said, 1 year and 2 years old. Alot of the children born during that
time died young, He sat there wondering how could this woman go on
when all her children had died, there a faint note at the end, she too
had died at 27 years of age. There is not stone to mark where they
lay, and the children are left unnamed. In all there were many who
lived and died without names, and without a known location where they
could be found. In all of this some did live on and the one thing that
is not the same about the land is that those indian lands no longer
get the water. If you were to go there today, you find wind swept
sand dunes where these families lived and nothing more. The water from
the stream has been put into a pipe and goes to land of the settlers.
Some descendants remain and have sued the BIA and United States saying
Washington failed to protect the land and water. It is in the Deseret
News, June 3to th8th I think, it is called Richard Mountain v.Gale
Norton, the hearing is in the Salt Lake Federal District Court in mid
July.
It was said to the Utes, This valley is yours forever from mountain
top to mountain top, and all the waters in it. so long as the rivers
shall run. The water doesn't run through this place anymore....
rustywire
Wannabe Indian
Wannabe Indian...by Johnny Rustywire
One morning I woke up and got dressed and went to school and found
that I was sitting in class. The books opened and we talked about
Geronimo and his band of twenty or so who fought with the U.S.
Cavalry. I found I wanted to be Apache, and being in the fourth grade
raised me hand and told my teacher I am related to Geronimo. She
smiled at me and said, that is pretty neat.
Her name was Miss Harrigan, she taught me in the third and fourth
grades. She was raised in Pittsburgh and thought snow was black
because of the steel mills made everything that way. It wasn't until
later she learned that snow was white. Sometimes where we are living,
or see or what is there appears to be the way things are.
I found myself saying I am an Apache, and after class walking home I
thought she knows my parents, and she knows I am Navajo. But for a
minute I was Apache in my heart, because I wanted to be a part of the
rag tag band of Indians, who by will power, cleverness and heart
evaded the U.S. Cavalry because they wanted to continue to live in
their own land. To travel as far as any day could take them, but as a
result of the want for freedom found themselves in the deserts,
valleys and wastelands taking themselves their children to harsh
places.
I find myself at times thinking how it would be to be somenone else to
change my life, to take a break but this is not possible.
At times I have wanted to be many things, as a child I had to learn
from those who would take the time to teach me. In some ways I was
ignorant. One time standing in a line to eat at the buffet in Las
Vegas, the Rio, I stood behind a couple of Asian people and asked them
to be sociable, Are you Japanese? There was a crowd of people there.
The lady turned to me and gave me a browbeating that still smarts when
I think about. She told me they were not Japanese, and told me who do
you think I am, I would never be Japanese. She commenced a verbal
tirade on my stereotypical view of the world, that all "Orientals"
were Japs. Both words being politically incorrect. I wanted to find a
crack in the wall and crawl into it. I just stood there and waited to
eat.
I thought about it, I was asked the question to learn a little about
her and her companion. to be interested and maybe to have a little
conversation. I got my head taken off. I was wanting to learn, and as
an individual first, I can see why people sometimes ask foolish
questions, some are offensive. There will always be people who are
genuinely ignorant to the point they make judgements based on
appearance, color, religion, racial classification. I would hope that
I take the time to listen to the same questions that sound ridiculous,
and have the patience and wisdom to speak in a way that will tell then
a little of what I know, which is not much.
I have at times wanted to be more than I am, but find that I too want
to have someone listen to my questions, and tell me a little about
where they are from, their views, their life, the background and how
they live. I am going to Phoenix with my daughter this week. We are
going to look around at bit and I hope that what she sees, and
experiences will give her some insight into the lives, people and the
stories we all have to learn. Yes, I wanted to be Apache, and at times
other things and persons. What would it be like to shed our skin,
gender, station and place to see the other through another's eyes and
feel what they have felt through their heart. I know it can't be done,
but then I still ask stupid questions and sometimes they are the wrong
ones. I hope that I can continue to ask and maybe learn something I
did not know before....rustywire
One morning I woke up and got dressed and went to school and found
that I was sitting in class. The books opened and we talked about
Geronimo and his band of twenty or so who fought with the U.S.
Cavalry. I found I wanted to be Apache, and being in the fourth grade
raised me hand and told my teacher I am related to Geronimo. She
smiled at me and said, that is pretty neat.
Her name was Miss Harrigan, she taught me in the third and fourth
grades. She was raised in Pittsburgh and thought snow was black
because of the steel mills made everything that way. It wasn't until
later she learned that snow was white. Sometimes where we are living,
or see or what is there appears to be the way things are.
I found myself saying I am an Apache, and after class walking home I
thought she knows my parents, and she knows I am Navajo. But for a
minute I was Apache in my heart, because I wanted to be a part of the
rag tag band of Indians, who by will power, cleverness and heart
evaded the U.S. Cavalry because they wanted to continue to live in
their own land. To travel as far as any day could take them, but as a
result of the want for freedom found themselves in the deserts,
valleys and wastelands taking themselves their children to harsh
places.
I find myself at times thinking how it would be to be somenone else to
change my life, to take a break but this is not possible.
At times I have wanted to be many things, as a child I had to learn
from those who would take the time to teach me. In some ways I was
ignorant. One time standing in a line to eat at the buffet in Las
Vegas, the Rio, I stood behind a couple of Asian people and asked them
to be sociable, Are you Japanese? There was a crowd of people there.
The lady turned to me and gave me a browbeating that still smarts when
I think about. She told me they were not Japanese, and told me who do
you think I am, I would never be Japanese. She commenced a verbal
tirade on my stereotypical view of the world, that all "Orientals"
were Japs. Both words being politically incorrect. I wanted to find a
crack in the wall and crawl into it. I just stood there and waited to
eat.
I thought about it, I was asked the question to learn a little about
her and her companion. to be interested and maybe to have a little
conversation. I got my head taken off. I was wanting to learn, and as
an individual first, I can see why people sometimes ask foolish
questions, some are offensive. There will always be people who are
genuinely ignorant to the point they make judgements based on
appearance, color, religion, racial classification. I would hope that
I take the time to listen to the same questions that sound ridiculous,
and have the patience and wisdom to speak in a way that will tell then
a little of what I know, which is not much.
I have at times wanted to be more than I am, but find that I too want
to have someone listen to my questions, and tell me a little about
where they are from, their views, their life, the background and how
they live. I am going to Phoenix with my daughter this week. We are
going to look around at bit and I hope that what she sees, and
experiences will give her some insight into the lives, people and the
stories we all have to learn. Yes, I wanted to be Apache, and at times
other things and persons. What would it be like to shed our skin,
gender, station and place to see the other through another's eyes and
feel what they have felt through their heart. I know it can't be done,
but then I still ask stupid questions and sometimes they are the wrong
ones. I hope that I can continue to ask and maybe learn something I
did not know before....rustywire
Native Born
Native Born
by Johnny Rustywire
There was a small white envelope waiting for me when I got home, it
reminded me of some work I had done two years ago on some land matters
that ended up in federal court. It was a subpeona, it said be here at
this time and don't be late or else bad things will happen to you. So
I went, it was a long day, not that day but the day before trying to
catch up on some things, so I worked late till 4 in the morning, went
to get some sleep for couple of hours and got up real late...what did
the paper say....8 and don't be late, well it was about 9 when I got
there.
The federal court building is a magnificent granite ediface, marble
and granite, the court room was all mahogany, quiet and stately.
I sat there waiting while the preliminaries were done and it is one of
those cases that is going to go a couple of days...those lawyer types
dressed in pristine white shirts, and black suits waved me over...we
will probably need you tomorrow they said...but since you are a
witness you will have to wait just outside, don't wander off we might
need you, so don't go anywhere. I went outside and stood in the
hallway. It was a large hallway white marble walls, cold and quiet.
A couple of people from the tribe were there, Raymond and Everett,
were there names, it involves them and the work I did for them...I
stood there with them, all dressed to kill with white starched shirts,
a blue tie for me and a suit, one that I like that fits comfortable
and so I stood there with them. We talked about fishing, and a little
about the snow of late. Them two from the tribe dressed just as I,
holding up those white marble walls....
The hallway began to fill little by little people of different shapes,
colors, from nations like Iran, China, Sweden, Thailand, Mexico and
alot more, just down the hall. I walked down there and saw a sign, a
paper on a door. It said, Citizenship ceremony at 1:00, assemble here.
We stood there and watched them as people kept coming slowly, with
children, grandmas, an Hassidic Jew with a feathered hat, an Indian
woman in a sarong, Iranian women wrapped head to toe. The went into
the room and spilled out into the hallway.
The court room where the case was going on was just off to the side, a
little ways from them. As time passed the lawyers inside the court
room took a break, one of Assitant U.S. Attorneys for the government
came over and stood with us three in the center of the hallway.
I had heard he was Native but not for sure so I sort of asked him
where he came from; he told me he was Seneca Cayuga and spoke to us of
his people. There we were, four Natives standing there, quietly
talking and looking down the hall at all those people just over there.
It was a naturalization ceremony, they are to be sworn in as American
citizens. We all looked at each other, and without saying a word
walked over to the door and joined the masses standing there...these
people from all over the world....wanting to be American.
I am not sure who said it, but one of us did. "Maybe we should join
them and get sworn in." We all started to laugh. The people there
looked at us, those four making noise...wondering what country we were
from... we looked at them closely and wondered how it would be...so
the break was over the case resumed....
I stood there for a minute and watched those waiting to become
American and they looked at me.....I thought about it and after being
told they did not need me to testify until tomorrow I wandered over
there into that room and stood there and watched them, 90 there were
all together....I found a place in the corner, and watched them as
they raised their hands and swore their allegiance to America.
It felt strange to stand there and listen to them, a Native American
out of place. Alot things came to mind, the history of misery,
genocide of my people, the sicknesses and loss of land by people like
this who sought a dream at the expense of others. But then on the
other hand, we make our own future, the past is done, and we have to
move on. I am proud to be native, an American, a child of my father
and mother.
I thought how it was to sit on a ridge way up high long ago, to watch
these immigrants move slowly onto our land, and see that they came and
came. I think with curiosity at first, then fear and then sorrow.
I never had to say anything like this, but at times feel like a
prisoner in my own land, it is a great country, but yet again, where
do I fit in all this.
I stood next to a man from India, he asked me, Where are you from? I
told him, I am born for Bitahni, the Folded Arms People, and that my
father is Tsinalbiiltnii, the Mountain People, that I come from
Dinetah, and some would say I was Navajo, a Native American...he
looked at me and smiled at me...he said are you here with someone...No
I said just taking a look around...he said you come from a great
country...and walked away...
I stood there and thought, I guess I am an American and after
listening to those folks talk about where they came from and the
difficulties to get to this time and place...it made me think I am
glad I am an American, and a Native....despite all that has happened I
prefer to live here, and with it share the privileges it has to offer.
I wanted to extend my hand to welcome them but it was not my place.
I listened to a welcome speech by a woman from the daughters of
American Revolution. she seemed out of place. I could see the
mountains outside and with it the images of my people long past who
stood there and watched others come into their land.
It seemed to me it would have been more appropriate to have a Native
American say, welcome not because we are any different but because we
share the same struggles and though we are here my people struggle
still with liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Come look at my
reservation, and see how we live and you will see that we are not all
free, not yet anyway...but I said nothing....then I left to find me a
burger and a Coke.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
There was a small white envelope waiting for me when I got home, it
reminded me of some work I had done two years ago on some land matters
that ended up in federal court. It was a subpeona, it said be here at
this time and don't be late or else bad things will happen to you. So
I went, it was a long day, not that day but the day before trying to
catch up on some things, so I worked late till 4 in the morning, went
to get some sleep for couple of hours and got up real late...what did
the paper say....8 and don't be late, well it was about 9 when I got
there.
The federal court building is a magnificent granite ediface, marble
and granite, the court room was all mahogany, quiet and stately.
I sat there waiting while the preliminaries were done and it is one of
those cases that is going to go a couple of days...those lawyer types
dressed in pristine white shirts, and black suits waved me over...we
will probably need you tomorrow they said...but since you are a
witness you will have to wait just outside, don't wander off we might
need you, so don't go anywhere. I went outside and stood in the
hallway. It was a large hallway white marble walls, cold and quiet.
A couple of people from the tribe were there, Raymond and Everett,
were there names, it involves them and the work I did for them...I
stood there with them, all dressed to kill with white starched shirts,
a blue tie for me and a suit, one that I like that fits comfortable
and so I stood there with them. We talked about fishing, and a little
about the snow of late. Them two from the tribe dressed just as I,
holding up those white marble walls....
The hallway began to fill little by little people of different shapes,
colors, from nations like Iran, China, Sweden, Thailand, Mexico and
alot more, just down the hall. I walked down there and saw a sign, a
paper on a door. It said, Citizenship ceremony at 1:00, assemble here.
We stood there and watched them as people kept coming slowly, with
children, grandmas, an Hassidic Jew with a feathered hat, an Indian
woman in a sarong, Iranian women wrapped head to toe. The went into
the room and spilled out into the hallway.
The court room where the case was going on was just off to the side, a
little ways from them. As time passed the lawyers inside the court
room took a break, one of Assitant U.S. Attorneys for the government
came over and stood with us three in the center of the hallway.
I had heard he was Native but not for sure so I sort of asked him
where he came from; he told me he was Seneca Cayuga and spoke to us of
his people. There we were, four Natives standing there, quietly
talking and looking down the hall at all those people just over there.
It was a naturalization ceremony, they are to be sworn in as American
citizens. We all looked at each other, and without saying a word
walked over to the door and joined the masses standing there...these
people from all over the world....wanting to be American.
I am not sure who said it, but one of us did. "Maybe we should join
them and get sworn in." We all started to laugh. The people there
looked at us, those four making noise...wondering what country we were
from... we looked at them closely and wondered how it would be...so
the break was over the case resumed....
I stood there for a minute and watched those waiting to become
American and they looked at me.....I thought about it and after being
told they did not need me to testify until tomorrow I wandered over
there into that room and stood there and watched them, 90 there were
all together....I found a place in the corner, and watched them as
they raised their hands and swore their allegiance to America.
It felt strange to stand there and listen to them, a Native American
out of place. Alot things came to mind, the history of misery,
genocide of my people, the sicknesses and loss of land by people like
this who sought a dream at the expense of others. But then on the
other hand, we make our own future, the past is done, and we have to
move on. I am proud to be native, an American, a child of my father
and mother.
I thought how it was to sit on a ridge way up high long ago, to watch
these immigrants move slowly onto our land, and see that they came and
came. I think with curiosity at first, then fear and then sorrow.
I never had to say anything like this, but at times feel like a
prisoner in my own land, it is a great country, but yet again, where
do I fit in all this.
I stood next to a man from India, he asked me, Where are you from? I
told him, I am born for Bitahni, the Folded Arms People, and that my
father is Tsinalbiiltnii, the Mountain People, that I come from
Dinetah, and some would say I was Navajo, a Native American...he
looked at me and smiled at me...he said are you here with someone...No
I said just taking a look around...he said you come from a great
country...and walked away...
I stood there and thought, I guess I am an American and after
listening to those folks talk about where they came from and the
difficulties to get to this time and place...it made me think I am
glad I am an American, and a Native....despite all that has happened I
prefer to live here, and with it share the privileges it has to offer.
I wanted to extend my hand to welcome them but it was not my place.
I listened to a welcome speech by a woman from the daughters of
American Revolution. she seemed out of place. I could see the
mountains outside and with it the images of my people long past who
stood there and watched others come into their land.
It seemed to me it would have been more appropriate to have a Native
American say, welcome not because we are any different but because we
share the same struggles and though we are here my people struggle
still with liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Come look at my
reservation, and see how we live and you will see that we are not all
free, not yet anyway...but I said nothing....then I left to find me a
burger and a Coke.
rustywire
La La La Loving You
La La La Loving You
by Johnny Rustywire
I can hear the music now as the song starts. I think we all know that certain songs when we hear them take us back through time as it were to a better place. A time of innocence, yearning and love, all in a moment once you hear it...
The strings of a violen start slowly and I hear the words..."Guys come
to you with lines that aren't true and you pass them by..."
I am standing in our old wooden house just finishing washing my face and hands from the wash basin, and my hair is combed. I favored wearing a simple shirts and clean blue levis. A mirror hanging up on the wall above the wash basin brought out the best in me. I remember thinking I looked pretty good for a rez boy from this out of the way place, Toadlena. KWYK radio out of Farmington was playing on the transistor radio...
"I don't wear a diamond ring...I don't even know a song to sing...."
I was in our old house,I closed my eyes and danced slowly around the wooden floor and I was out past the screen door. The old sheep dog laying there by the door watched me cooly as I danced across the yard and easily jumped the fence and headed through the juniper trees.
"let me try, I don't even wear a diamond ring...la,la, la, loving
you...."
She was back from the Mormon placement program, she looked polished, a long black haired beauty who got off the bus from Brigham City, she lived down the road....she was fair and she struck me when I first saw her...so she is from here...mmmm, time to get to know this one....what was her name...
"listen to me....la la la la loving you....come on and take my hand...."
We got to know each other from checking the mail, she walked up there to the trading post for her parents and I just happened to be standing there each time she came up. We started to talk. She was here just for the summer and I was a plain rez boy, but this was my time and my place. I had helped her family with hauling hay and water, and her mother invited me to eat with them.
"You will see the things I said are true....the way I am say them to you...listen to me...la..la..la..la..la..loving you"
Their place was simple, but we area all like that, some had no electricity or running water...we were country bumpkins...and I knew her family. Some would call this place poor, but we were all that way there. I had nothing to offer but myself and it was good enough.
I knew where she came from and though I was not like the white boys she had known from Utah....she was a Navajo Girl...she gave me life and brought some things I had never known to this out of the way place.
Her roots were from this land, this home, the hogan, and sagebrush and though she tried to forget it, in time these things returned and she
was mine...
"All I know these things are true....I love you...I never saw a girl I
needed in this world...you are the one for me, let me hold you in my arms.."
This was the time when we had walked to distant mesas, watched the stars go by and saw the new dawn. We stood next to each other, and with a shy look, she came close to me...there was an aura about her, and I was a part of it...we stood there on a dusty plain, in sand, with sagebrush moving softly in the breeze and danced to this song...there was nothing like it...she was my everything....taking my breath and life and my heart forever, so it is with such things...
The song ends and I am back driving down the highway, my mirror shows my face a little older and far from that time and place. It was a short journey, a sense of life and feelings remembered for a time and so I go on down the road....wishing her well where ever she maybe...
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
I can hear the music now as the song starts. I think we all know that certain songs when we hear them take us back through time as it were to a better place. A time of innocence, yearning and love, all in a moment once you hear it...
The strings of a violen start slowly and I hear the words..."Guys come
to you with lines that aren't true and you pass them by..."
I am standing in our old wooden house just finishing washing my face and hands from the wash basin, and my hair is combed. I favored wearing a simple shirts and clean blue levis. A mirror hanging up on the wall above the wash basin brought out the best in me. I remember thinking I looked pretty good for a rez boy from this out of the way place, Toadlena. KWYK radio out of Farmington was playing on the transistor radio...
"I don't wear a diamond ring...I don't even know a song to sing...."
I was in our old house,I closed my eyes and danced slowly around the wooden floor and I was out past the screen door. The old sheep dog laying there by the door watched me cooly as I danced across the yard and easily jumped the fence and headed through the juniper trees.
"let me try, I don't even wear a diamond ring...la,la, la, loving
you...."
She was back from the Mormon placement program, she looked polished, a long black haired beauty who got off the bus from Brigham City, she lived down the road....she was fair and she struck me when I first saw her...so she is from here...mmmm, time to get to know this one....what was her name...
"listen to me....la la la la loving you....come on and take my hand...."
We got to know each other from checking the mail, she walked up there to the trading post for her parents and I just happened to be standing there each time she came up. We started to talk. She was here just for the summer and I was a plain rez boy, but this was my time and my place. I had helped her family with hauling hay and water, and her mother invited me to eat with them.
"You will see the things I said are true....the way I am say them to you...listen to me...la..la..la..la..la..loving you"
Their place was simple, but we area all like that, some had no electricity or running water...we were country bumpkins...and I knew her family. Some would call this place poor, but we were all that way there. I had nothing to offer but myself and it was good enough.
I knew where she came from and though I was not like the white boys she had known from Utah....she was a Navajo Girl...she gave me life and brought some things I had never known to this out of the way place.
Her roots were from this land, this home, the hogan, and sagebrush and though she tried to forget it, in time these things returned and she
was mine...
"All I know these things are true....I love you...I never saw a girl I
needed in this world...you are the one for me, let me hold you in my arms.."
This was the time when we had walked to distant mesas, watched the stars go by and saw the new dawn. We stood next to each other, and with a shy look, she came close to me...there was an aura about her, and I was a part of it...we stood there on a dusty plain, in sand, with sagebrush moving softly in the breeze and danced to this song...there was nothing like it...she was my everything....taking my breath and life and my heart forever, so it is with such things...
The song ends and I am back driving down the highway, my mirror shows my face a little older and far from that time and place. It was a short journey, a sense of life and feelings remembered for a time and so I go on down the road....wishing her well where ever she maybe...
rustywire
Broken Reservation Road
Broken Reservation Road...by Johnny Rustywire
Broken road where will you lead me
In all the places I have gone
I have known you would be there
I find the ruts, mud holes and rocks on my way
In places of slippery shale, steep hillsides I go
In narrow places and washes I go
across dry barren lands, over hills and flat places
I walk this alone
no one can see me my hardship I say
I travel this way alone
with myself I go
Broken road
dry road
dust and sand blow
parched
cracked
with wind I go
dust covers every part of me
you say why go this way
kicking up dust for me to taste
I wear a coat of fine sand
up and down
side to side
it is my life
hither I go, why is it so
I don't know
I must cross
windy mesas
bad lands
Rain falling
puddles trickle
streams run
stepping in them
I go on
dust becomes
sticky
thick
clinging to me
dampness and cold
come with the wind
hither I go
on and on
I go my mind says take this away from me
my heart says go
go on do anything and everything
to make it so
Lovely light
morning light
rise quickly
warm me
take this mud away
it is for me I say
make my journey pleasant
give me warmth
comfort
a place in the sun
my burden is heavy
take me home
make it so
take this hard life away
this place, this crazy place
why am I here
I cry out why
my body is cold
where is the end
this road sliding
slipping
I go on
still it is hard
food
wood
water
medicine
hay
these things I carry
make my journey short
take me swiftly
it is there
I see it
home
such a place
give me shelter
give me warmth
it is finished
it is finished
home
blessed home
place of my own
my family
all this in my own land
rustywire
Broken road where will you lead me
In all the places I have gone
I have known you would be there
I find the ruts, mud holes and rocks on my way
In places of slippery shale, steep hillsides I go
In narrow places and washes I go
across dry barren lands, over hills and flat places
I walk this alone
no one can see me my hardship I say
I travel this way alone
with myself I go
Broken road
dry road
dust and sand blow
parched
cracked
with wind I go
dust covers every part of me
you say why go this way
kicking up dust for me to taste
I wear a coat of fine sand
up and down
side to side
it is my life
hither I go, why is it so
I don't know
I must cross
windy mesas
bad lands
Rain falling
puddles trickle
streams run
stepping in them
I go on
dust becomes
sticky
thick
clinging to me
dampness and cold
come with the wind
hither I go
on and on
I go my mind says take this away from me
my heart says go
go on do anything and everything
to make it so
Lovely light
morning light
rise quickly
warm me
take this mud away
it is for me I say
make my journey pleasant
give me warmth
comfort
a place in the sun
my burden is heavy
take me home
make it so
take this hard life away
this place, this crazy place
why am I here
I cry out why
my body is cold
where is the end
this road sliding
slipping
I go on
still it is hard
food
wood
water
medicine
hay
these things I carry
make my journey short
take me swiftly
it is there
I see it
home
such a place
give me shelter
give me warmth
it is finished
it is finished
home
blessed home
place of my own
my family
all this in my own land
rustywire
Toadena- Where the Mountain is Split and the Water Flows
Toadlena, Where the Mountain is Split and the Water Flows
by Johnny Rustywire
I stand way up high on the edge of the world, this place a clearing in
the pine trees and a large open area where the cliff drops off. Here
the earth meets the turquoise blue sky that has no ends and settles in
a haze on the red sandstone and all shades of soft glowing pink to
light brown on the East side of our mountain. . The place called
Toadlena, my community lies near the base of this mountain, hiding In
the foothills, this secret spot at the highest point of my world in
Navajoland...a part of the Chuska Mountains.
Below me there is the flatland, Halgai, it runs East from the base of
the mountain to the horizon, there just below, five miles to the East
are the two rocky monuments of Two Grey Hills and further beyond where
two pinnacles stand as sentinels protecting the long narrow ribbon of
road known as Route 666, going North to South, it looks from here as a
string lying on the ground, it meets our road at Burnham Junction, 16
miles of ribbon that brings us back and forth to home.
On the North the violet blue outline of Shiprock sticks out of a flat
plain piercing the sky, further beyond is the outline of Sleeping
Mountain of the Utes. It was easy to see how the Winged Monster Bird
of Shiprock flew this open land from the North to the South to Laguna
and to Zuni in the South, and throughout Navajoland.
Looking Northeast there is Dibensa, one our Sacred Mountains in the
range above Durango, Colorado, lying at it's foot is Mesa Verde, just
a haze from here. On the East near the horizon is Chaco Canyon, land
of the Anasazi, Ancient Ones, it lies at the peak of a low rise in the
land that hides the valleys and kivas there. The sky is clear and is
so large that meets the land with no beginning or end.
Below me are the summer sheep camps on a step above Toadlena, and I
can see the tiny dots of homes of the families here, the Deals,
Upshaws, Cambridges, Curleys, Tauglechees, Belones, Bitsilly's,
Jumbos, the Mikes and many more, the boarding school, two churches and
the old trading post. This place where the mountain is cracked and the
water flows freely. This place where life, work and hardship, and
happiness go on.
I can see the flat plain to the Southeast reaching onward to the sky,
it hides Crownpoint and below the foothills to the South is Sheep
Springs. Looking straight South is the ridgeline running into the
trees, my father walked this line from Sawmill to Crystal to here and
down to home along time ago, he was surprised there was a fence; there
were no fences before in those days, it extended from above Tohatchi
to the Southeast toward Coyote Canyon. That was back in 1920's, he
often said why have a fence, now they are all over.
Ah, yes to the West are the many small lakes and streams that make
this the place of Tsiinabiilnii, the Mountain People clan, my fathers
people, farther west you drop off to Wheatfields Lake and Star
Mountain and further West to Canyon De Chelly, where Spider Woman
weaves her blankets of life still.
This is the place of my father and grandmother, of old hogans and
sheep trails, wood gathered and sings, of weavers with fingers on the
loom, and workers of silver, of meals served and of ancient war
stories, legends and coyotes.
It is also water hauling, travel to work many miles away, kids waiting
for school buses and Saturday trips to Gallup and Farmington to buy
food, getting the ol' chidi (car) or chidi be chuggi (truck) worked on
and visiting old friends.
How far have I gone, where have I been and where will I go, questions
float in the wind. Will the wind blow my footprints away with nothing
left behind. I now live far away, many of those here have left and are
here no more. I can see mountain tobacco plants sleeping for summer
just below. Now it seems the old and young walk these dusty places and
mountain trails. This moment in time, there is all this around me and
I am very small in it. I can hear myself I want to sing, Is this the
Beautyway, wherever I go this place is with me, this place home...
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
I stand way up high on the edge of the world, this place a clearing in
the pine trees and a large open area where the cliff drops off. Here
the earth meets the turquoise blue sky that has no ends and settles in
a haze on the red sandstone and all shades of soft glowing pink to
light brown on the East side of our mountain. . The place called
Toadlena, my community lies near the base of this mountain, hiding In
the foothills, this secret spot at the highest point of my world in
Navajoland...a part of the Chuska Mountains.
Below me there is the flatland, Halgai, it runs East from the base of
the mountain to the horizon, there just below, five miles to the East
are the two rocky monuments of Two Grey Hills and further beyond where
two pinnacles stand as sentinels protecting the long narrow ribbon of
road known as Route 666, going North to South, it looks from here as a
string lying on the ground, it meets our road at Burnham Junction, 16
miles of ribbon that brings us back and forth to home.
On the North the violet blue outline of Shiprock sticks out of a flat
plain piercing the sky, further beyond is the outline of Sleeping
Mountain of the Utes. It was easy to see how the Winged Monster Bird
of Shiprock flew this open land from the North to the South to Laguna
and to Zuni in the South, and throughout Navajoland.
Looking Northeast there is Dibensa, one our Sacred Mountains in the
range above Durango, Colorado, lying at it's foot is Mesa Verde, just
a haze from here. On the East near the horizon is Chaco Canyon, land
of the Anasazi, Ancient Ones, it lies at the peak of a low rise in the
land that hides the valleys and kivas there. The sky is clear and is
so large that meets the land with no beginning or end.
Below me are the summer sheep camps on a step above Toadlena, and I
can see the tiny dots of homes of the families here, the Deals,
Upshaws, Cambridges, Curleys, Tauglechees, Belones, Bitsilly's,
Jumbos, the Mikes and many more, the boarding school, two churches and
the old trading post. This place where the mountain is cracked and the
water flows freely. This place where life, work and hardship, and
happiness go on.
I can see the flat plain to the Southeast reaching onward to the sky,
it hides Crownpoint and below the foothills to the South is Sheep
Springs. Looking straight South is the ridgeline running into the
trees, my father walked this line from Sawmill to Crystal to here and
down to home along time ago, he was surprised there was a fence; there
were no fences before in those days, it extended from above Tohatchi
to the Southeast toward Coyote Canyon. That was back in 1920's, he
often said why have a fence, now they are all over.
Ah, yes to the West are the many small lakes and streams that make
this the place of Tsiinabiilnii, the Mountain People clan, my fathers
people, farther west you drop off to Wheatfields Lake and Star
Mountain and further West to Canyon De Chelly, where Spider Woman
weaves her blankets of life still.
This is the place of my father and grandmother, of old hogans and
sheep trails, wood gathered and sings, of weavers with fingers on the
loom, and workers of silver, of meals served and of ancient war
stories, legends and coyotes.
It is also water hauling, travel to work many miles away, kids waiting
for school buses and Saturday trips to Gallup and Farmington to buy
food, getting the ol' chidi (car) or chidi be chuggi (truck) worked on
and visiting old friends.
How far have I gone, where have I been and where will I go, questions
float in the wind. Will the wind blow my footprints away with nothing
left behind. I now live far away, many of those here have left and are
here no more. I can see mountain tobacco plants sleeping for summer
just below. Now it seems the old and young walk these dusty places and
mountain trails. This moment in time, there is all this around me and
I am very small in it. I can hear myself I want to sing, Is this the
Beautyway, wherever I go this place is with me, this place home...
rustywire
where are you?
It was in a place where the walls are silent and the voices cary far,
and I was looking for people, the first born of this country, natives
to the soil where they live from the eastern shore, and travel to the west. Looking North I can see the those that live way up high and to the South cousins from an America we sometimes think of as another country, but yet they are kin.
I wonder about them, the way of life, the stories of old and the songs they sing, in this I am looking to see a little of their life, how it is with them and maybe to glimpse into their world.
The old man used to say, that there are others out there, they have stories like us and they travel the same road. You will find many lost out there looking to teach you things you shouldn't know, calling them their own ways and all the time asking you abut yours and one day they tell you what you told them and they have become you knowing more than you. He told me to stay away from them, they will steal your heart and mind.
I remember asking where are the good hearts?
He told me look to the morning sun, in the early light of day when
yesterday is washed away and in the glowing colors of pink, gold and blue chasing the night away you will see them just at the horizon, they are calling out to you to join them. It is a life long quest to travel that road, but yet each morning we catch a glimpse of them, just a touch of what dreams are made of, the beautyway.
In the light of early dawn I stood this morning and thought on these things and remembered his face and the steady gaze he held looking to the horizon, singing old songs and yet in all this he rubbed my head and said look, it is there.
Coming here, where are the songs, the stories, and lifeways of natives?
Tell me about your life, the way of living that I might get glimpse. Where are you, native?
I see many but the words are dark and twisted talk leaving no good eeling.
So I am wondering where are those that used to come and visit?
and I was looking for people, the first born of this country, natives
to the soil where they live from the eastern shore, and travel to the west. Looking North I can see the those that live way up high and to the South cousins from an America we sometimes think of as another country, but yet they are kin.
I wonder about them, the way of life, the stories of old and the songs they sing, in this I am looking to see a little of their life, how it is with them and maybe to glimpse into their world.
The old man used to say, that there are others out there, they have stories like us and they travel the same road. You will find many lost out there looking to teach you things you shouldn't know, calling them their own ways and all the time asking you abut yours and one day they tell you what you told them and they have become you knowing more than you. He told me to stay away from them, they will steal your heart and mind.
I remember asking where are the good hearts?
He told me look to the morning sun, in the early light of day when
yesterday is washed away and in the glowing colors of pink, gold and blue chasing the night away you will see them just at the horizon, they are calling out to you to join them. It is a life long quest to travel that road, but yet each morning we catch a glimpse of them, just a touch of what dreams are made of, the beautyway.
In the light of early dawn I stood this morning and thought on these things and remembered his face and the steady gaze he held looking to the horizon, singing old songs and yet in all this he rubbed my head and said look, it is there.
Coming here, where are the songs, the stories, and lifeways of natives?
Tell me about your life, the way of living that I might get glimpse. Where are you, native?
I see many but the words are dark and twisted talk leaving no good eeling.
So I am wondering where are those that used to come and visit?
My Daughter's Yeis
My Daughter's Yeis
by Johnny Rustywire
No coffee in the house this morning, wandered around trying to find a
can, but there was none. I got up and drove down to the store...while
driving I realized there were YEI's all around, these are Navajo
supernatural beings in the days way before ordinary men and women like
me were here. My daughter used to see them when she was small...this
morning I saw them...they were quiet giants and tall, they look like
stick figures, standing quietly watching, not moving or saying a word.
Their faces had no expression, plain and showed no emotion. In the old
days they would go about, they had certain gifts, I saw these in their
hands, they gave these to young people, two being Monster Slayer and
Child Born for Water, the Navajo Twin Heros who went about to slay
monsters, giants and big snakes who sought to destroy people. We are
because of their efforts.
Today, I could see those gifts, straight lightning, zigzag lightning
and in angry times spotted lightning, these things I saw. I did not
see any flashes just them standing there with those things in their
hands.
I have not really noticed them before, they stand quietly watching as
I go about my daily life, they see each passing dawn and sunset,
serene and peaceful.....my daughter used to say when she was small
look there they are and I would say yes that is them.
Now they are all over the world, standing still, I am sure you have
seen them......look about when you go out. They stand fifty feet tall,
their arms extended out, they crisscross all lands and they carry
these gifts of light, lightning now electric power, look closely they
are my daughters' YEI's.
rustywire
by Johnny Rustywire
No coffee in the house this morning, wandered around trying to find a
can, but there was none. I got up and drove down to the store...while
driving I realized there were YEI's all around, these are Navajo
supernatural beings in the days way before ordinary men and women like
me were here. My daughter used to see them when she was small...this
morning I saw them...they were quiet giants and tall, they look like
stick figures, standing quietly watching, not moving or saying a word.
Their faces had no expression, plain and showed no emotion. In the old
days they would go about, they had certain gifts, I saw these in their
hands, they gave these to young people, two being Monster Slayer and
Child Born for Water, the Navajo Twin Heros who went about to slay
monsters, giants and big snakes who sought to destroy people. We are
because of their efforts.
Today, I could see those gifts, straight lightning, zigzag lightning
and in angry times spotted lightning, these things I saw. I did not
see any flashes just them standing there with those things in their
hands.
I have not really noticed them before, they stand quietly watching as
I go about my daily life, they see each passing dawn and sunset,
serene and peaceful.....my daughter used to say when she was small
look there they are and I would say yes that is them.
Now they are all over the world, standing still, I am sure you have
seen them......look about when you go out. They stand fifty feet tall,
their arms extended out, they crisscross all lands and they carry
these gifts of light, lightning now electric power, look closely they
are my daughters' YEI's.
rustywire
My Aunt HB and the Indian Health Clinic
My Aunt HB and the Indian Health Clinic
She told me she was feeling sick....I did not pay attention to her,
she was always saying that, my aunt Helen Begay, we call her "HB". I
don't know how she got that name but that is what everyone knows her
by.
It is funny, most people look for older Navajo women to have an exotic
name, something like Woman from Long Valley, or One Who Comes at
Night, something like that. but no we just call her "HB".
We used to live along ways from the Indian Health Service clinic in
Shiprock, New Mexico. We were home, but when you have sick relations,
you have to go. We loaded up the truck and hit the road. It was a good
day, she didn't say much except that she looked sick. We drove to the
hospital and got out and went inside.
When you go there you wait all day, and when you go to get your chart
or they called your name you would have to follow those lines painted
on the floor. Blue, Yellow, Green and Red. There was no yellow brick
road or fry bread at the end of the rainbow, just a tired pucky green
waiting room, with a bunch of folks looking sideways at you and not
saying a word. We used to say all those folks sitting in there, well
they are all "Johns", a slang term which means to be a backward
Navajo. But looking at an old picture, they looked like me. I guess we
were "John".
Anyway there we were, HB and me, trying to look like we were
interested in the ceiling. Others were in there, sitting,
waiting...Once you say something then everyone seems to be looking at
you or their ears start pointing in your general direction to listen
to you. A clerk call her name, she told us we had to update her chart,
so we went into a seperate waiting room and waited for a half hour.
The nurse's aides were mean and just having them look at you made you
wish you had stayed home and not have to talk to them. My aunt was
sick and she wanted to go, but no I told her, we are here so you have
to stay and see the doctor.
They finally called her name and we went in. It was a good thing she
brought her purse. You know how it is when you are Navajo, you always
have to carry a bunch of stuff to prove who you are....You have to
have your i.d., a license, a BIA family card, grazing permit, Medicare
card, Social Security Card, Insurance card (tribal employees), Navajo
voter registration, letters from Social Security regarding SSI, WIC
certification, DD -214 for vets, vet med card, birth certificate, BIA
Affidavit of Birth, marriage license, Certificate of Indian Blood,
Horizon Card and if you really are prepared your last x-rays, dental
record, and results from your last blood draw. You have to know where
exactly you have them in your purse too, because if you are slow, the
clerks turn all sorts of colors, blue, green, red and smoke comes from
their ears. They sure get mad and you are just trying to get into get
to first base. You know just to get in so they can take your
temperature and blood pressure. This is the clinic experience.
I am talking about just seeing a doctor, to have some one check you
over, to talk to you and give you the "pills" you need. No, this is
the time way before you see a doctor. Now days a nurse practitioner or
physicians' assistant will check you over. I remember we were there,
it was not too long ago, maybe two weeks, dahtsi' (maybe).
Well, if you get a break and are headed that way, maybe going to
Farmington or up North to the Ute Casino, drop by the Shiprock
Hospital, and there in the waiting room you will find my aunt, Helen
Begay, her hair is all white, she's 94, and she is wearing a maroon
colored scarf with yellow flowers. She is kind of a short lady,
wearing a blue denim jacket with a fur collar and a blue floor length
skirt.
If she is in the mood to watch the crowd coming in she will be wearing
dark glasses, if she is still feeling sick, she won't be doing much
but sitting there. She is the only one there with White PJ Flyers on,
those old white canvas tennis shoes, high tops they are. We left her
there two weeks ago and she still is waiting for the doctor to see
her. Say hello for me, but you have to yell at her for her to hear
you, it is ok. she is used to it, those nurses do it all the time.
They even yelled at me and my hearing is ok...well it used to be until
they started yelling at me...now it hurts when I hear loud noise and
TV is on a little louder than it used to be.... Yes she is sick and
tired, probably from the hospital waiting room...say hello to her for
me....o.k.
rustywire
She told me she was feeling sick....I did not pay attention to her,
she was always saying that, my aunt Helen Begay, we call her "HB". I
don't know how she got that name but that is what everyone knows her
by.
It is funny, most people look for older Navajo women to have an exotic
name, something like Woman from Long Valley, or One Who Comes at
Night, something like that. but no we just call her "HB".
We used to live along ways from the Indian Health Service clinic in
Shiprock, New Mexico. We were home, but when you have sick relations,
you have to go. We loaded up the truck and hit the road. It was a good
day, she didn't say much except that she looked sick. We drove to the
hospital and got out and went inside.
When you go there you wait all day, and when you go to get your chart
or they called your name you would have to follow those lines painted
on the floor. Blue, Yellow, Green and Red. There was no yellow brick
road or fry bread at the end of the rainbow, just a tired pucky green
waiting room, with a bunch of folks looking sideways at you and not
saying a word. We used to say all those folks sitting in there, well
they are all "Johns", a slang term which means to be a backward
Navajo. But looking at an old picture, they looked like me. I guess we
were "John".
Anyway there we were, HB and me, trying to look like we were
interested in the ceiling. Others were in there, sitting,
waiting...Once you say something then everyone seems to be looking at
you or their ears start pointing in your general direction to listen
to you. A clerk call her name, she told us we had to update her chart,
so we went into a seperate waiting room and waited for a half hour.
The nurse's aides were mean and just having them look at you made you
wish you had stayed home and not have to talk to them. My aunt was
sick and she wanted to go, but no I told her, we are here so you have
to stay and see the doctor.
They finally called her name and we went in. It was a good thing she
brought her purse. You know how it is when you are Navajo, you always
have to carry a bunch of stuff to prove who you are....You have to
have your i.d., a license, a BIA family card, grazing permit, Medicare
card, Social Security Card, Insurance card (tribal employees), Navajo
voter registration, letters from Social Security regarding SSI, WIC
certification, DD -214 for vets, vet med card, birth certificate, BIA
Affidavit of Birth, marriage license, Certificate of Indian Blood,
Horizon Card and if you really are prepared your last x-rays, dental
record, and results from your last blood draw. You have to know where
exactly you have them in your purse too, because if you are slow, the
clerks turn all sorts of colors, blue, green, red and smoke comes from
their ears. They sure get mad and you are just trying to get into get
to first base. You know just to get in so they can take your
temperature and blood pressure. This is the clinic experience.
I am talking about just seeing a doctor, to have some one check you
over, to talk to you and give you the "pills" you need. No, this is
the time way before you see a doctor. Now days a nurse practitioner or
physicians' assistant will check you over. I remember we were there,
it was not too long ago, maybe two weeks, dahtsi' (maybe).
Well, if you get a break and are headed that way, maybe going to
Farmington or up North to the Ute Casino, drop by the Shiprock
Hospital, and there in the waiting room you will find my aunt, Helen
Begay, her hair is all white, she's 94, and she is wearing a maroon
colored scarf with yellow flowers. She is kind of a short lady,
wearing a blue denim jacket with a fur collar and a blue floor length
skirt.
If she is in the mood to watch the crowd coming in she will be wearing
dark glasses, if she is still feeling sick, she won't be doing much
but sitting there. She is the only one there with White PJ Flyers on,
those old white canvas tennis shoes, high tops they are. We left her
there two weeks ago and she still is waiting for the doctor to see
her. Say hello for me, but you have to yell at her for her to hear
you, it is ok. she is used to it, those nurses do it all the time.
They even yelled at me and my hearing is ok...well it used to be until
they started yelling at me...now it hurts when I hear loud noise and
TV is on a little louder than it used to be.... Yes she is sick and
tired, probably from the hospital waiting room...say hello to her for
me....o.k.
rustywire
Homecoming Dance
Remember Homecoming Dance, we were so young and carefree I had no
vehicle to go, we lived so many miles away from school taking the bus
early in the morning, up at six and home by six thirty. There was no
hamburger joint only the trading post, and no way to go.
I know you my young lady wanted to dance the night away, I could see
it in your eyes. What do you do when you live so far from town. I know
you want to go, you can hear the music and laughter far away.
Oh, Hi. I came here tonight to see you. Will you walk with me, didn't
I tell you, I have nothing really to offer you, but look here is my
transistor radio.
Come with me my young maiden, up on the mesa we go, slowly walking,
quietly under the night sky, oh how the stars shine... Oh, didn't you
know, I found KOMA, the radio station far away.
Look there is flat place there. Take my hand, will you dance with me.
Look it's easy, stand close to me. The floor is crowded don't you see,
all the animals are watching.
Dance with me, yes I am silly, but try this with me....I offer you the
moon and those juniper trees just over there. I don't know why juniper
trees they are just there for the taking, so I give them to you, your
brothers can chop them. down..just kidding.
This rock is a cool place to sit and a dance floor of sand, it isn't
much. Thank you...no car, no money, no fancy clothes, no place to eat,
but I remember this night we shared a can of Pepsi, two spam
sandwiches.
We stood under the night sky and we danced to music from Oklahoma, far
away, on a dirt floor and held each other close and it was our
homecoming dance.
It was a simple affair for two rez kids, I remember the place well
because you danced that night with me .......South of Shiprock on the
Navajo rez on a nite some time ago. rustywire
vehicle to go, we lived so many miles away from school taking the bus
early in the morning, up at six and home by six thirty. There was no
hamburger joint only the trading post, and no way to go.
I know you my young lady wanted to dance the night away, I could see
it in your eyes. What do you do when you live so far from town. I know
you want to go, you can hear the music and laughter far away.
Oh, Hi. I came here tonight to see you. Will you walk with me, didn't
I tell you, I have nothing really to offer you, but look here is my
transistor radio.
Come with me my young maiden, up on the mesa we go, slowly walking,
quietly under the night sky, oh how the stars shine... Oh, didn't you
know, I found KOMA, the radio station far away.
Look there is flat place there. Take my hand, will you dance with me.
Look it's easy, stand close to me. The floor is crowded don't you see,
all the animals are watching.
Dance with me, yes I am silly, but try this with me....I offer you the
moon and those juniper trees just over there. I don't know why juniper
trees they are just there for the taking, so I give them to you, your
brothers can chop them. down..just kidding.
This rock is a cool place to sit and a dance floor of sand, it isn't
much. Thank you...no car, no money, no fancy clothes, no place to eat,
but I remember this night we shared a can of Pepsi, two spam
sandwiches.
We stood under the night sky and we danced to music from Oklahoma, far
away, on a dirt floor and held each other close and it was our
homecoming dance.
It was a simple affair for two rez kids, I remember the place well
because you danced that night with me .......South of Shiprock on the
Navajo rez on a nite some time ago. rustywire
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