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?

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

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

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

the streets

I got up and drove maybe three hours to attend a meeting, it was
about transportation planning along the Salt Lake Valley, somewhere in
the midst of the valley there are some Indian scrip lands, these lands
were given to Indians before there were allotments and reservations,
dating way back to the 1840's. Well someone is thinking about building
a road and called a scoping meeting to talk about the impacts it would
have. There were peiople from the state, government, EPA, Corps of
Engineers, city planners, convservation and wilderness protection
societies, LIke the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance. The meeting was
such that alot of folks were there with white linen shirts, prim and
proper in their attire. It was in a way a domonstration in the art of
word form, how to say something in a way that made one think these
guys are professionals in their work, if you couldn't tell by the way
they looked they said it.

I finished the meeting and went to look for someone, there is a park,
they call it the Pioneer Park in Salt Lake City, it is near the
downtown area on the west side. It is green, with tall cottonwood
trees, it is allegedly where the Mormon Pioneers first camped when
they came into the Salt Lake Valley. Now it is a park and there are
alot of people around there, mainly poor people.


I got a call to go and find someone, a girl from home who took off and
was living on the streets, so I went to the park to take a look
around. I took a few pieces of chicken with me, and found that this
park has rez dogs, a few followed me around they smelled the chicken,
so I ended up giving into them and it was gone.


IN noticed there were tall old fashioned turn of the century lamps,
something like you see in tose movies about Jake the Ripper in old
England, tall dark towering lights, cast iron, at the base of these
lamps on four sides is the figure of a cigar store Indian. Past these
lamp posts are the green lawns of the park and lots of old trees.
Laying around these trees I found a few Indian folks, they were from
all over, not just them but some other people of color as well,
Mexicans, Blacks and some Whites. I found myself walking among them
and saw some people who looked like peiople I knew from the streets.
The Skins there spoke to me in Navajo, asking my clan relationship and
where I was from. They rold me where they were from and I asked about
Charlene, the girl I was looking for from home, she isn't exactly a
girl but a mother who took off and left her kids with family and
somehow ended up in Salt Lake City living on the streets.


I notice the people I spoke with looked at m directly in the eye,
curious as to why I was looking for her and wanting to help out, some
said we will put the work out to find her. They said at noon, the
shelter feeds everybody and to be hang around to see if she should up.
A few of them knew of her and said she had been around. I walked
around the park to see if I could find her.


I saw an Indian woman swinging on the childrens swings, and she was
just like a child swinging up high and gonig back and forth, reaching
her toes to the sky. She swung for a long time. I thought to talk to
her, but she seemed to be thinking about something, her long brown
hair just flowed with the swing going back and forth. People would
walk by and look at her, wondering why she was there like I was. After
a while when I was coming back from across the park, I saw her and
could see she was walking with crutches, her body movements were jerky
and then I could see she had muscular distrophy. Earlier as I watched
her I wondered about how Indians thrive in the city, they get by and
know each other, moving from the forest, mesas and plains to the city
sidewalks. There are invisible it seems, I saw a small child playing
with his parents and they were just enjoying the sunshine and shade of
the trees, drinking nothing but water from a old coke bottle and
sharing a loaf of bread, a simple pleasure. This is what I saw and
wondered about where they came from to get here.


Anyway I am still looking for this girl from home and will be here
through the night checking around for her, so it goes on the streets
of Salt Lake City.


Rustywire

Dawn Girl

In the early morning, when the sweet taste of dew is on the land, just
a taste of sweet life, it shines in the early light and the air is
crisp and clean she runs. In the days of summer, winter and windblown
fall and under the slim showers of spring she runs to East, along the
horizon where the beginning of day chases the night away. In the early
light of blue black skys she sees the hint of turquoise blue, in the
shimmer of gray light, a tint of pink, blue and gold she runs to the
break of day, always to the east.

Running with leggings, buckskin wrapped, in red mocassins this navajo
girl with long black hair, she runs her legs moving against the
ground, across the long distant mesas, across the flat lands, running
along the rainbows edge. Can you see her, she is beating the ground
with the sound of her feet, her heart pounds and she breathes in the
whistling wind, it is a the rhythm of the new day, a new life, the old
of yesterday falls away with the night.


In this light I can see her run, far away to the South, along the
horizon, racing along it's edge. Grandfather would say to me it is
time to get up, she has beaten you already, you must catch up. Slowly
my eyes opened to see the wooden ceiling, and the dim light of a
kersone lamp sitting on the table in the middle of the room. The sound
of sparrows singing flows through th e window.


These sounds come to mind the slight flutter of wings, the thunk of my
tennis shoes slipping on to my feet, and the squeek of the screen door
and the scrunch of the ground as I could hear my feet walking along
the path going east through the cedar trees, the faint light of day on
the horizon.


She is running and I step forward to catch her, she is fast that one.
I wonder what she looks like, limber, with long strides, her hair
rustling with the breeze, if she were to look at me she would say to
me, don't you see it is time to clear your mind, think about what is n
front of you, the stillness of the sage, the sound of the wind flowing
through the trees and rabbit brush. I slowly run step by step and see
the trail before me, it is just before first light and I am running to
meet the day.


I can see the colors of dawn, and far off to the East I run to see it.
The sound comes to mind, the song and the chant. A time for summer
sings, and the beautyway.


In beauty it begins, may goodness find me
Let the beauty way follow me where ever I go,
Let there be beauty before me
Let there be beauty behind me
Let there be beauty to the left of me
Let there be beauty to the right of me
In all that I do let there be beauty
Let me wrap my self in it


Hozhoji,
Hozhogo Nahasdlii
Hshoogo Hahasdlii


Restore me with beauty
Restore me with beauty


So I run to meet the Dawn
Dawn Girl runs on the horizon
She has beaten me again.

rustywire

A Traditional Pow Wow Dancer

Sam short for Sammaripa, he is a traditional dancer, been dancing a
long time. Had a chance to share a meal with him just the other day.
He drives a truck and works on them too. His hands are gnarled and he
is tall, with long gray hair. He comes from someplace around Pyramid
Lake I think. he told me but I have forgotten. He is a Paiute, maybe
Western Shoshoe, can't really remember. He has been working for long
time, maybe 40 years or so at the same job.

We shared a meal of indian tacos, fry bread with beans, a little
hamburger and a little hot sauce with cheese. There was a table
outside the tribe store and so we sat out there to enjoy the sun and
warm weather. His eyes are gray, and he has many grandchildren.


I asked him if he was going to any pow wows over Memorial Day, he
looked at me with steady eyes, he has always had eyes the somehow see
beyond, they look straight into you. He told me they were headed to
the Pow Wos in Las Vegas, somewhere Northwest of there.


It's going to be hot, Sam are you ready for the sun down there. He
took a bite of his frybread and I could see the gleem of his gold
teeth. He said, the first dances of the season are the tough ones over
the long winter, the old bones have to get in tune with the music. I
can usually last one long dance . bit by the end of the summer you can
go maybe six dances. It makes you tough.


I could see him sitting there in his work clothes worn and gray with
age, but in the arena he wears an eagle bustle, with a head full of
eaglel feathers. His wife is from the Northwest and she wears a heavy
buckskin. He said they were going to make a family trip, take the
grandkids down there and dance for the weekend. He has a van he uses
just for pow wows, after years on the pow wow circuit he knows what to
take and how to camp. He said one year they took three tipis, and set
them up, this year it is just going to be one, this weekend down
there.


He told me that the kids like to dance, it is good for them to know
the people who go there, the other tribes, and families. They all get
to know each other.
He finished his lunch and said he had to work on getting a dozer from
the forest, it broke down, threw a rod. He said it would take a new
engine to get it going again. We sat there and talked for a bit and
maybe an hour went by, he spoke about the way of dancing, and his
home, that no one was there anymore around his age, and so he was
going to retire where his kids lived. He told me it doesn't really
matter where you end up, but how you do no matter where you go. This
place is now his home he said and he likes to dance, and with that he
hopes to see his grandchildren dance with him and learn about the way
of living in a good way. We talked about the drought, no water for
planting, and a little about the upcoming 4th of July and how he
planned to camp. He said we have already set up our tapes to mark the
place where we are going to camp this year. Across the way we could
see the pow wow grounds and some indian folks were already marking out
their campsites for the 4th of July.


I had to leave and so said take it easy on the road down there and
left him sitting there finishing his iced tea. It was a warm day and
he is down there now at Snow Mountain kicking up the dust with his
grandchildren and his wife and they will be headed home on Monday
night to get up and work like he has for the past 40 years. Sammaripa
is a traditional dancer and he is dancing for his children and for the
sheer joy of it.


rustywrie