Girlz Say Yeah!

Last weekend, adventure.

Friday: Eerie walks through dim arroyos, hoping not to see a pouncing mountain lion. (We see their scat all the time) Moving through dusk and the glowing white grass, the mountains darkly silhouetted. Building a fire and feeding it with old furniture and dried-out planks, cooking lava rocks for a sweat. In the sweat lodge, watching the lava rocks breathe, able to see the invisible steam curl its way up to the roof and down along the edges of the structure. Drinking the juice of a cactus. Strange dreams and kaleidoscope eyes.

Saturday: Neverland, really. Drove to Phoenix. Shopped at Buffalo Exchange (dope on dope! Love that store!), ate pizza, drank microbrew, and then went to Neverland. Danced in the desert, surrounded by break beats, house beats, drum and bass, happy hardcore, Tinker Bells, candy kids, saguaros, and stars until the night was ancient and the day gold. Crashed out on some friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend's couch with a grey tiger cat purring on my belly.

Sunday: Lunch, a few brews, a hotel, and a hot tub in Mesa. In the hot tub, the sounds around me formed beats and melodies. The beat of the bubbles against my skin. The repeated calling of the birds. The beat of the sun. The rhythm of the breeze in the trees.

Monday: A conference, some Mexican food, and a drive home through the Salt River Canyon at twilight.

This weekend, Flagstaff, maybe?

The Sunrise Dance Pt. 2

The Sunrise Dance's purpose is to initiate girls into womanhood, happening around the time of her first menstrual cycle. Since these girls sleep in a wikiup or tipi all night, winter is usually deemed too cold. They are starting back up again now and will continue through the fall.

My friends and I went to one recently and watched the Crown Dancer and girls dance around the bonfire. While the dancers took a break, there was an open dance. Anyone who wanted to could dance around the drummers and medicine man as they sang and chanted. My friend Josh and I linked arms and joined the many who danced.

Back at home, we discussed education and culture on the reservation. I shared with my friends an observation a colleague had made: "This isn't an Apache culture anymore. This is a culture of drugs, alcohol, and addiction." Living here, it's hard to disagree with this statement. The Sunrise Dance is one of the last remnants of Apache culture. And even that has been bastardized. And a place for more drinking and drugs. While there, Josh had students asking him if he wanted to smoke with them. Of course he declined. Many of these kids no longer celebrate any aspect of Apache culture. They don't know what a wikiup is. They don't have Sunrise Dances. The closest they come to being Apache is the color of their skin, knowing how to swear in Apache, and eating frybread (which comes from the white flour and lard the whites shipped to reservations, often the only food they had).

So in this dying culture, do we teachers try to teach them to assimilate or to save their culture? What is the value of trying to preserve the Apache culture when so many of them live in a culture of drugs and alcohol? How do we instill a cultural pride in them when their parents can't save themselves? When they live with an aunty because mom and dad are dead or drunk? When their big brother (aged 20) dies of liver failure and their other brother works his way toward the same fate?

And yet again, what's the point of the 5-paragraph essay? The difference between a hyperbole and a paradox? The definition of a metaphor? Are we doing them any justice by teaching these kids these things? We struggle to make them better readers, writers, and problem solvers, but even then what?

These are issues that we each struggle with every day. Why are we here? What's the point? What do we believe? Personally, (and I never thought I'd say this) I hope they get off the reservation, whether or not they choose to come back to do some good. I hope they get out, get an education, and find a way to survive away from this culture of drugs, dependence, and enabling. I also hope, rather than believe, that they'll come back. Because they're only ones with any real voice here, I feel. And they so rarely use it.

Break In #3

Our school was broken into for the third time this year at some point on Tuesday night. Same pattern as the last break in: busted administration office windows, glass everywhere, and the IHS/alternative-school teacher's room a mess. These kids come in looking for items that have been confiscated, possibly to sell. I-Pods, MP3s, cell phones, drugs, drug paraphernalia, etc.

And who's to blame for these break-ins? A school administration impotent because of broken security cameras or lack of tribal support? They know who broke in last time, but the VP claims he didn't expel because he wants to see these kids make it. But these kids aren't going to make anything, except for the school unsafe. And that sounds like a BS answer coming from him anyway.

Is it the fault of whoever it is who should fix the security cameras and doesn't?

Is it the fault of a tribe that has no juvenile court system and doesn't arrest, prosecute, or hold accountable for damages these kids and their guardians?

Or is it the fault of the guardians themselves? These kids have no role models. They have no one in their lives who deserves respect, so they don't know how to respect anything. One is supplied with drugs by his guardian, and he sells them at school to his so-called friends.

Some of my kids really want to learn. Some of my kids want to graduate from high-school, go to college, and get out of here. Personally, I'd be happy if the drug-dealing 8th graders and the kids who smash this place up were expelled for good, no matter whose fault it is. Because ultimately, someone has to take the blame, and these kids need to learn that there are consequences. Many kids come here not because they want to learn but because it's the only safe place they have to go. I'd like to see it stay that way.

Stay tuned for Sun Rise Dance Part II.

The Sunrise Dance Pt. 1

On Saturday night, I attended part of a Sunrise Dance by the Canyon Day rodeo fairgrounds. It is my understanding that quite a few Apache girls on this reservation still have Sunrise ceremonies. Here follows a conversation with two of my eighth-grade girls about the Sunrise Dance:

Me: Do a lot of girls still have Sunrise Dances?
Student 1: You mean at this age or do you mean nowadays?
Me: Nowadays.
Student 1: Yeah, a lot of girls do.
Me: Are there some who don't?
Student 1: Yeah, but most of them do.
Student 2: I'd say it's about half and half.
Student 1: Yeah, half and half.
Me: And the girls who don't, why don't they?
Student 1: Because it's expensive or because of religion.
Me: Did you have one?
Student 1: No.
Student 2: No, I was supposed to, but then I didn't.
Me to Student 1: Why didn't you have one?
Student 1: My grandma.
Me: Your grandma?
Student 1: My mom's side wanted me to have one, but my dad's family didn't. So I went with my dad's family.
Me: What religion is your grandma?
Student 1: Christian. It's usually Christians who have a problem with Sunrise Dances.

My friends and I went when we knew that the Crown Dancers would be dancing. They dance with the girls around a bonfire for several hours. The girls wear 50-lb. buckskin dresses, while the Crown Dancers have their faces covered to protect their identity; they represent the four directions. The medicine man chants and sings while the drummers beat on their drums. It is considered bad luck for a girl to touch the Crown Dancers' outfit, and they would hide their costumes in the hills. If a girl had bad luck, it was said that she'd found and touched the Crown Dancer's costume.

The Social Scene

In response to L's questions:

If you look at a map of the White Mountain Apache Reservation, you'll see that it covers a lot of land. It takes me a healthy half an hour to drive up to Pinetop (the closest town that is not on rez-land. I'm usually grocery shop there, because Basha's on the rez has a rather limited selection, unless you need lard for frying or candy.). To drive off the reservation to the south takes me over an hour. Some kids have 1-way, 1-hour bus rides to school.

In all that space, there's a population of 13,000, one grocery store, one bank, two post offices, one gym, two small restaurants (if you like pizza and hamburgers), a bunch of churches, tailgaters (if you like Apache burgers and Indian tacos), vendors (if you like Bob Marley and Tupac t-shirts or black hoodies), mangy dogs that run loose, wild horses, fields, mountains, canyons, rivers, waterfalls, desert.

I'm lucky though. I live in teacher housing right next to where I work, and I've made friends with ten of my neighbors. Eight of them are within a five-year age range to me. Since it does take half an hour to get to the closest bar, we usually hang out at home. It almost feels like a sedate version of dorm life, walking to and from each others apartments, planting a garden with a few friends, making pot luck dinners, watching movies, playing cards, having bonfires, going hiking, going to Phoenix or Flagstaff together, or going and pitching a tent somewhere for the weekend.

We also live on the edge of no where. So we can hike out into the wilderness for miles without seeing anyone. The other day, two of my friends and I hiked along the river and saw fresh elk scat. On our way back, we could hear the elk huffing and groaning to us from his hiding spot in the woods up on the hill.

So that's a bit about the social scene here. It does feel like a different world, but that's because it is. The rez is like a third-world nation. When I went to Mexico over spring break, I was reminded of the rez over and over again. Plus, having grown up in the green North East, I'm still adjusting to life in the desert: its smells, feels, and seasons. It's spring, with purple and yellow wildflowers and green vines electrifying the desert floor.

A Drive through Whiteriver

A few weeks ago, on a Monday afternoon, I was driving through downtown Whiteriver. I stopped at the stoplight with two cars stopped in front of me. When the light turned green, the front car didn't move. I waited a bit, but still the car didn't budge. After the traffic passed me, I moved into the left lane. As I drove passed that first car, I glanced over. It was an ancient, dented old car, and I expected to see a driver trying to restart the engine after another annoying stall-out.

Instead, what I saw was the top of the driver's head against the glass of the driver's side window, limp, leaning against the glass and the door. God knows why this person was in this totally unconscious position: drugs? alcohol? heart-attack? diabetic shock? But there this person was, unconscious, at one of the only traffic lights on the rez.

According to the stats I've heard, one out of every seven drivers here is drunk; empty alcohol bottles are ubiquitous; and drugs are rampant. It's difficult to believe that the driver was sober and had suddenly fallen ill.

Spirits and Medicine Men

Last night, a strange twilight, almost spooky, like there was a living cloak draped over everything. It felt like the kind of dusk the spirits would walk. It was windy, somewhat dusty, and with a bit of moisture in the sky, making the sky feel chalky and luminescent. Everything seemed to glow and live. A hummingbird brushed by, and not two minutes later, a hawk swooped under the telephone wires, down past my back stoop, and off again, beating its wings slowly, musically on its ascent.

Speaking of ghosts, the medicine man recently revisited our school (it was blessed a few years ago). The school paid him a nice sum to bless the school, and he refused. We actually discussed in one of our staff meetings that the teachers should ask the medicine man to please come bless our school. He seemed to be refusing to come near the place.

Apparently, though, he was here over spring break, finding certain classrooms on my wing to be hot spots. I need to investigate further into this, because when I asked my source about his visit and what he found on the B-wing (rumored to be directly over burial grounds), my source said, "He probably didn't even go there." He also, apparently, refused to go in the gym.

He left us with blue vases, instructing us to put them into our classrooms to ward the spirits off, I suppose.

Is our school haunted? Let me just say that there are stories from many of us of furniture being rearranged; a small child being spotted in a locked computer lab--there one moment and gone the next; an old woman wandering the halls on Saturdays, when only one person is in the school; children crying and screaming when there's no one but janitors or office people here; and figures being seen in almost every classroom and every part of the building.

Do we collectively imagine them? Are we seeing only our own creations? Or are they real? Ghosts or noosphere? Spirits or energies, there's something.

Fair Trade Fundraising

If you're trying to raise some funds and want to do so without supporting sweat shops, here's a resource to check into that I just learned about.

Dear Friends and Family,

We are open for business! Visit us at www.fairtradefundraising.org

As some of you may know, my friend Tara and I have started a business selling handmade banana leaf cards made by a group of women in Rwanda. From Arms to Artisans, Fair Trade Fundraising is primarily a fundraising organization, but we also do retail sales through our website.

When we lived in Rwanda, Peter and I began supporting a group of artisans outside of Kigali by purchasing their beautiful banana leaf cards. These masterpieces are created with only banana leaves that have been dyed and dried to achieve different colors, razor blades, and cassava root glue. It was amazing to see the women intently working to create these works of art with the most basic materials.

After brainstorming with Tara about ways to support and raise awareness of this group of women, we came up with the idea to sell the cards to schools and organizations for them to use as fundraisers. Our slogan is Local Fundraising with Global Benefits.

We believe Fair Trade Fundrasing's benefits are threefold:
Local organizations benefit financially
Participants of the fundraisers broaden their global view
The women in Rwanda benefit by increased sales
We'd appreciate it if you could forward this information to groups who would benefit from our fundraiser or to individuals who would see the value and beauty in these cards. We also appreciate your feedback!

Thank you,
Laurel Greer

Stay tuned for more from me about Mexico, Quetzalcoatl, Ecuador, and the wonderful world of life on the Fort Apache Rez...I hope!