September 17, 1990
U. C. Davis
Five Hundred Years Dwelling Among Savages was first scribbled when some of our tribe left the Shasta County Jail at Redding, California; Susanville jail; and Reno, Nevada jail chained to each other in sets of three. We were being transported to Sacramento Federal Court because of our October 26, 1970 confrontation at 4-corners with the U. S. Marshals, U. S. Forest Service, Shasta County Sheriff and Deputies, and the F. B. I. We were building a home in our ancestral homeland. They said we were trespassing on federal property but they refused to charge us with criminal trespass because the law knows that aboriginal land title still resides with the original tribal people, it has never been surrendered, transferred, exchanged or extinguished.
FIVE HUNDRED YEARS DWELLING AMONG SAVAGES
Across the thundering white waters of eastern ocean, angry
Across the golden prairies of blue, soft mornings, angry
They came hungry
We fed them fruits of Mother Earth, still angry!
We did not know their greater hunger was to possess the land
To spill blood upon the world
To rape Mother Earth
To make sky grey with sick clouds where birds do not dare fly
To make stinking rivers where salmon cannot splash and curve and dive
To make our people their personal servants, expendable
Deep in their eyes something
something missing
something tormented
In their eyes also, the look of panic-caused pain
In their hearts an unknowable vastness of ugliness
given to them by a God made by their own hands
who writes upon stone with an iron finger
Loudly they came, bringing with them laws
that appear as a deep canyon filled with yala’li (demons)
Their laws and their God teach them to lie
to cheat
to steal
to worship false sayings
and to band together as a raw-hide knot
the money worshipers
and those whose possessions are of a greater value than all of life
They teach my weak and feeble people all of these things, also
Their laws are wrong upon wrong
piled like leaves of many autumns
In their talk they say:
“I am the challenger of this wild land
I will mould with my hands and blue blood a new nation
A new nation with liberty and justice for all people
I will protect all living things
Knowing adversity,
I will be peaceful to all people , forever. Amen”
After uttering this before our Council-of-Elders
in the presence of their God
and at the feet of their law, the Christians
Raped Mother Earth for gold
Burned and destroyed our villages on their path to possess the metal-that-makes-men-
crazy
Defiled the power-places of our ancients
Killed the terrorized children
with weapons made by the gnarled hands of an iron God
Destroyed the dreams of our Elders and
attempted to sever my people from our dance with destiny
as has been our duty from the moment
the stars were sprinkled in the darkness
and songs and dreams were placed within and without
They destroyed the vast, black rivers of buffalo
Made rock walls upon the rushing rivers
so spring salmon and that of autumn
cannot return to the people splashing in morning sun
In their hollow hearts a thought, as a metal ball in an aimed weapon:
“Kill the buffalo and the red nations die
Kill the salmon and the red nations perish
Kill the forest and the meadow
and the spirit of the nations vanish
Kill! Kill! Kill!”
In this season there is not much remaining to kill
But they stumble upon each other
To accomplish this dream of their angry God
The savages rage across earth
They are killing other nations
They are killing their own children in the vast cities
Thy have turned brothers upon sisters and tribes against nations
With a twisted heart that invading spirit smiles
when the red hand is raised against the red child
when the red nations tremble
when quivering voices sing songs from distant lands with strange meaning
shattering the melody of silence
For many seasons my people have survived waves of destruction
For five-hundred years we have dwelled among Christian savages,
invaders from beyond the rising sun
As we have been instructed
we must, yet, live with a good heart
For we must continue for the time eternity matures into forever
and forever into wisdom
My Grandfather spoke to me these words
Long ago as It Ajuma (Pit River),
rushed and rippled to the sea,
during a full autumn moon
With tears of bitterness dimming his clouded eyes
And he dreamed of once more dancing
Dis’wass’sa’wi (war dance)
Sul’ma’ejote
Autumn 1970
Manacled to my people
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
SPLASHES OF RED Autumn 1867, Tuwutlamit Wusci*
Autumn, San Jose, 2008
March 10, 1991, U. C. Davis
SPLASHES OF RED
Autumn 1867, Tuwutlamit Wusci*
The stench of burnt gun powder filled the air
Sunrise, it lay in soft, thin, blue clouds
Over the earth of my people
In the high desert
South of Modoc, west of Paiute
As the Great Powers dwelling in the seasons of our world
Move the goose and the salmon and the deer to migrate
So, too, that awesome power
Moves my people to gather
For the last time before Ascui freezes the landscape,
To talk and to plan for the future of our children
And this is how it has been since the beginning, long ago
Trembling they gathered ever alert
Knowing the Americans were tracking them
Yet they obeyed that Great Mystery
And gathered as is the custom
Of all of the seasons of our lives
They smelled the sweat of horses
And of wela (devils)
They heard the distant report of the deadly rifle
Yet they listened to the life in nature moving around them
And they gathered
At tuwutlamit wusci they gathered
for the last time before Ascui gripped the land
And spring was already a dream
They did not think about
the Paiute woman
who slept with the soldiers
that they invited her to the gathering at tuwutlamit wuschi
At dawn they came on sweating horses
With their rifles in their hands
Frightened! Young mother ran towards the safety
of tuwutlimit wuschi
Too late!
When she looked back
There was blood in her tracks
But she felt no pain
for the pain was not hers to bear
Quickly she took the cradleboard from her back
Her breath would not come to her
as she lay the cradleboard in the autumn sun
The blood in her tracks
from her baby
Shot once through the neck
once but forever
With trembling hands
She dug a little grave
in a frightened crevasse of the shaking mountain
and dried her tears with the dust of sweet earth
She placed the eternal bundle
In that shallow effort
Covered it with stones and a wilted flower she found
Then, in fear with a shattered heart,
She cried
Among the splashes of red, Autumn, 1867.
*The Infernal Caverns are near Likely, where my Great Grandfather and my Grandmother were born.
[Cradleboard: The willow and twine, flat, basket babies are strapped in and is carried on the back of mother or father while the tribe is traveling. Often a child is strapped in a cradleboard and dangled from a tree limb, there to be moved by the wind, flitted by butterflies, sung to by the river and the forest while being maintained in peaceful suspension, weightless in forever and that which follows forever, thinking and dreaming]
{At Infernal Caverns the Army fell upon a gathering of my people and committed heinous crimes. That crime will be adjudicated some day. The Army will be found guilty. The judge and jury will pardon the crimes barring all testimony of the victims or their descendants. But that attitude, too, shall change even as winter turns to spring).
Sul’ma’ejote
March 10, 1991, U. C. Davis
SPLASHES OF RED
Autumn 1867, Tuwutlamit Wusci*
The stench of burnt gun powder filled the air
Sunrise, it lay in soft, thin, blue clouds
Over the earth of my people
In the high desert
South of Modoc, west of Paiute
As the Great Powers dwelling in the seasons of our world
Move the goose and the salmon and the deer to migrate
So, too, that awesome power
Moves my people to gather
For the last time before Ascui freezes the landscape,
To talk and to plan for the future of our children
And this is how it has been since the beginning, long ago
Trembling they gathered ever alert
Knowing the Americans were tracking them
Yet they obeyed that Great Mystery
And gathered as is the custom
Of all of the seasons of our lives
They smelled the sweat of horses
And of wela (devils)
They heard the distant report of the deadly rifle
Yet they listened to the life in nature moving around them
And they gathered
At tuwutlamit wusci they gathered
for the last time before Ascui gripped the land
And spring was already a dream
They did not think about
the Paiute woman
who slept with the soldiers
that they invited her to the gathering at tuwutlamit wuschi
At dawn they came on sweating horses
With their rifles in their hands
Frightened! Young mother ran towards the safety
of tuwutlimit wuschi
Too late!
When she looked back
There was blood in her tracks
But she felt no pain
for the pain was not hers to bear
Quickly she took the cradleboard from her back
Her breath would not come to her
as she lay the cradleboard in the autumn sun
The blood in her tracks
from her baby
Shot once through the neck
once but forever
With trembling hands
She dug a little grave
in a frightened crevasse of the shaking mountain
and dried her tears with the dust of sweet earth
She placed the eternal bundle
In that shallow effort
Covered it with stones and a wilted flower she found
Then, in fear with a shattered heart,
She cried
Among the splashes of red, Autumn, 1867.
*The Infernal Caverns are near Likely, where my Great Grandfather and my Grandmother were born.
[Cradleboard: The willow and twine, flat, basket babies are strapped in and is carried on the back of mother or father while the tribe is traveling. Often a child is strapped in a cradleboard and dangled from a tree limb, there to be moved by the wind, flitted by butterflies, sung to by the river and the forest while being maintained in peaceful suspension, weightless in forever and that which follows forever, thinking and dreaming]
{At Infernal Caverns the Army fell upon a gathering of my people and committed heinous crimes. That crime will be adjudicated some day. The Army will be found guilty. The judge and jury will pardon the crimes barring all testimony of the victims or their descendants. But that attitude, too, shall change even as winter turns to spring).
Sul’ma’ejote
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
ORO! PLATA! ORO! ORO! AZTECA ORO!
July 26, 1991, U. C. Davis
ORO! PLATA! ORO! ORO! AZTECA ORO!
Simultaneous with the European penetration into the western hemisphere was the discovery that there was much gold and silver here. Europe was famished for gold and silver. Christobol Colon happened upon a land that is not mentioned in the Bible and was unknown to the Europeans. The precious character of this land is yet, after 500 years, unfamiliar to the Europeans that have failed to cultivate a spiritual working sense with it.
Contrary to popular thrusts of American History, October 12, 1492 is not the beginning of history upon this hemisphere. It is, however, the date for an initial assault that has endured in its consistency for over 500 years. “Assault” cannot be, in the thinking of the indigenous, a “discovery.” It must be viewed as an instance of invasion, and unwanted and unwelcome penetration into this homeland by foreigners, aliens, with gnarled, hideous manners.
Arrogant Americans, foreign greed and basic stupidity maintain the position that “America” was an empty land just waiting for someone, totally lost himself, to discover it and for God to place a heavenly people here. That thought is totally out of balance. Now the indigenous must put forth an ancient thought with correct information offering the truth while explaining the purpose for earth, and the purpose for different types of humanity to be placed upon specific land areas. This information is in our many legends.
One truth is that this hemisphere was not waiting for anybody from anywhere to “discover” anything. When I was in second grade and was explaining to my tribal Elders how Columbus found us, an old Grandmother asked me, “Did this man find the sun, too because our land was never lost any more than the sun was lost.” All of the elements of this hemisphere were established in their origin, feathered into the purpose of the universe, and peopled with the correct type and balanced numbers of humans and nature, a balanced velocity disrupted and desperately trying to correct itself.
The intense confrontation that occurred in the South Seas between the indigenous and invading Europeans was and remains one of distorted values. Value, to indigenous, means “worth,” the worth of your dreams, the worth of your thoughts, the worth of your ancestry, the worth of your destiny. Real value, not the amount of money someone will offer you for stolen gold or pilfered silver.
As Cortes moved into Mexico and marched upon the indigenous dwelling there with the intention of destroying them and taking their gold to his Sovereigns, while claiming all of the indigenous world for them, he was directly in confrontation with the value the natives placed upon everything. His was a singular money-oriented value system. To the invaders everything was measurable only in money equivalencies. Indigenous viewed gold and silver for its beauty. We value truth, trust, and honor. We value our lives and the life of earth with an intense awareness of its spiritual self and its personification is made manifest in our greater knowledge, while we recognize its precious “power.”
Pizarro entered a near identical social phenomenon in Panama and the areas of South America that he violated. He learned that the natives did not measure their entire mode of existence by a money system, but that they also worshipped the earth for its beauty and purpose and not for the nuggets in the streams.
“Pizarro invaded Peru. He found that the empire was divided and feuding, there was a civil war. In the north Atahualapa was established. Huscar, his brother, established rule in the south. They were not of a sharing mind. Each brother wanted all of the Peruvian kingdom for himself. Their armies fought. Pizarro sided with one then the other. When war and diseases introduce by Pizarro and his men took its toll, the brothers found that they were the head of a wounded and desperate society, Pizarro stepped in with a few men and guns and took command.
“In exchange for his freedom, Atahualapa provided Pizarro with $8,000,000 in gold. Pizarro received the gold, Atahualapa remained in chains.” (The Americana, 1911, PAZ-PUB).
The value system of the Europeans remains in direct conflict with that of indigenous. It seems that the strangers, the aliens, have a vast emptiness within them since they have continually demonstrated an inability to understand the beauty, wonder and purpose of earth. They exchange earth for money, making it real estate and property similar to slaves and prostitutes. It is a constant wonder to traditional natives how this thinking can exist in the universe. That thought pattern is out of balance and has no healing purpose for little earth.
The spirit of earth and the power of the universe and the spirit-power of indigenous cannot be separated. Therefore when natives are denied access to earth and the universe’s power for very long their hearts and spirits begin to atrophy, and earth sickens.
“The problem of the Indian is rooted in the land tenure system of our economy. Any attempt to solve it with administrative or police measures, through education or a road building program, is superficial and secondary as long as the feudalism of the gamonales continues to exist. Gamonalismo necessarily invalidates any law or regulation for the protection of the Indian.” (Mariatequi, 1974, Seven Interpretive Essays on Peruvian Reality, Austin U. p 23).
Democracy is as much in confrontation with native psyche as is the Euro/American system of values. Democracy has invaded the native village and now demands that the natives participate in “Democratic enlightenment,” reform, or perish at the point of the sword. It is not spiritually healthy for indigenous to believe or participate in the foreign notion, Democracy. We are in balance only when we adhere to our own system, when we exercise our original “way.” More and more indigenous must explore our history and glean from it that which has always been valuable for the generations, employ those findings for the benefit of our existence, and deny all else
From where does the command emanate ordering the natives to obey alien rules and participate in “Democratic” elections while we are confined away from participation in “The American Dream”? It comes from the lethal end of the barrel of the Democratic cannon.
Originally, the indigenous way to disagree with any subject was to remain absent and not be available to be “counted.” Calculated, deliberate absence remains the most powerful “No” vote upon this continent among the indigenous, a thousand shades of Democracy and an array of cannons notwithstanding!
I this alien way, a “no” vote doesn’t count so those tribal members assigned the duty to count, assume any absence would have been “yes,” and the counting continues, the guide, an alien form of arithmetic. The older generation said that it takes a pretty smart Indian to understand the ways of the foreigners. Ramsey Blake, an Elder from my homeland said, long ago,
“The white man don’t sleep. They stay awake and think and plan all day and night. They are awake always and they have machines that stay awake longer than they can. They are against us. These machines take very good care of the white people, but they are against us!”
This clash of alien cultures and of indigenous value systems must be examined, dissected, and corrected. To attempt to be of any assistance to the “problem” by creating new layers of bureaucracy or pretended self-determination programs (programs that emit from the established, moldy bureaucracy) is useless.
The original native system of values must be understood and accepted by all people or earth will continue to sicken. The interpretation of the value system must come from the histories of the natives, free from any influence of immigrant interests. Somehow, someday, the concerned native people must gather and seek solutions for the many problems born here on fetid ships not long ago. The “invasion mentality” so prevalent in European societies has no desire to accomplish this.
Indigenous cannot afford to wait another 500 years while bureaucratic rules pile upon bureaucratic laws, like dead wood piling in the forest waiting only one spark from one match. We must free ourselves from Democracies and bureaucracies and re-establish the natural rules that govern this earth. All else will be futile.
Ramsey Bone Blake (Grampa) is no longer with us. His heart rests with earth and his “power” is within the universe. He dreamed beautiful dreams.
In one dream he saw, gathered beside It’Ajuma , (Pit River) one Chief from each of the tribes and nations of this hemisphere, from the “Circle” (North Pole) to Patagonia. This gathering would communicate in a spiritual way, in prayers and songs and thoughts, in respective native languages. In this manner there would be little need for translations because each thought would be a truth. Each prayer would be real with real meaning to the spirits of earth and to the power of the universe.
When this meeting was over there would be a sweet ripple across earth, a cleansing. The water would be pure. The air would be good. Mother Earth would be healed. All of the native nations would be whole again and they would communicate in their own languages and do that which they were created for long ago when earth was brought forth by a song of Qon (Silver Fox) and made perfect by dance.
The foreign people would then have to examine themselves. If they correct their lives and participate in the “real” laws along with the natives then they could stay in this land. If they cannot correct the difficulties cultivated within them, then they must depart with their difficulties.
This is such a beautiful dream. Immediately, Chief Buckskin, Erik Matilla and I began to assist Grampa in making his dream a reality. The date we set for this gathering was during the full moon of October, 1984, near the huge canyon where Sul’ma’ejote (Fall River) and It Ajuma (Pit River) merge.
That gathering did not happen. The dream is yet unfulfilled. There are still many accomplishments in the future of indigenous of this hemisphere. Quetzalcoatl is to return on 1 Reed and assume his governing of the people again. His re-entry into this land is yet in the future. 1 Reed occurs every 52 years. Potentially, Quetzalcoatl can return any time.
Perhaps Grampa’s dream will occur soon. We must prepare ourselves for this event. We must seek our true values and hone them to a sparkling edge. We must re-claim our languages and employ our native spirituality in its purity as it was just a few hundred years ago. Yes the native nations can and must become whole again. Any delay in accomplishing this task must be accepted as neglect by indigenous ourselves. Nobody can do this for us and nobody but ourselves can keep us from accomplishing it.
Oro and Plata cannot purchase the emotions that accompany the completion of a blessing, or a touching, or a feeling or a healing. It cannot purchase life. It cannot buy happiness. It cannot displace sorrow and sadness or mend a broken heart.It has not been a measurement to all that is good but may to continue to be a gauge for all that is evil.
Here is a letter to Queen Isabella and King Ferdinan of Castile/Aragon from Cristobol Colon, October 13, 1492. The Bahama Islands. The homeland of the Lucayo indigenous.
“Most precious King and Queen,
“As I promised in our encounters upon the European continent, I have touched the earth of a western land. The people are friendly and they will give me whatever I desire. Should I ask for the land and the mountains and the trees and the rivers, they would obey my wish. For the promotion of your greatness this land is discovered. It is yours, your most perfect majesties.
“I have claimed all that is known of this most beautiful land and all that is unknown for the crown of Castile/Aragon. There is no opposition to your claim! Indeed, the native people are happy to be part of this gift to my King and my Queen. The people seem to know that your happiness is of the utmost importance.
“All that I have touched today belongs, now, to the crown that placed me upon this happy journey. All that I touch tomorrow and the many tomorrows shall be your possession also. It is your possession my King and Queen. It shall forever be part of your gracious kingdom, even as I shall forever remain your humble servant. When I encounter the Great Kahn, I shall promptly inform him of your just claim to this land.
Cristobol Colon, October 13, 1492. Cathay.” (Discovery, Parker, John, 1972).
That alien contact was not a happy encounter for the indigenous. The destructive force that the mentality and diseases Cristobol Colon invited upon the natives of this hemisphere has not abated. They have mutated many times but they have not abated. They are alive and intend to invade all that they touch as they multiply and divide to multiply again.
At this time the natives must gather together, and gather those people of strong hearts and good thoughts with good intentions. We must purge the old thought from ourselves and re-establish our original purposes. We must shed Democracy as the old skin of a rattler and return to a system of real and true values. The sweet spirits of approaching generations of children deserve nothing less.
Sul’ma’ejote
[At the end of November 2008 a great gathering to unify the indigenous of this continent occurred in Mexico City. My baby girl, Cuauhxicuatl, danced there for all of us, for all of the children, and for Mother Earth]
ORO! PLATA! ORO! ORO! AZTECA ORO!
Simultaneous with the European penetration into the western hemisphere was the discovery that there was much gold and silver here. Europe was famished for gold and silver. Christobol Colon happened upon a land that is not mentioned in the Bible and was unknown to the Europeans. The precious character of this land is yet, after 500 years, unfamiliar to the Europeans that have failed to cultivate a spiritual working sense with it.
Contrary to popular thrusts of American History, October 12, 1492 is not the beginning of history upon this hemisphere. It is, however, the date for an initial assault that has endured in its consistency for over 500 years. “Assault” cannot be, in the thinking of the indigenous, a “discovery.” It must be viewed as an instance of invasion, and unwanted and unwelcome penetration into this homeland by foreigners, aliens, with gnarled, hideous manners.
Arrogant Americans, foreign greed and basic stupidity maintain the position that “America” was an empty land just waiting for someone, totally lost himself, to discover it and for God to place a heavenly people here. That thought is totally out of balance. Now the indigenous must put forth an ancient thought with correct information offering the truth while explaining the purpose for earth, and the purpose for different types of humanity to be placed upon specific land areas. This information is in our many legends.
One truth is that this hemisphere was not waiting for anybody from anywhere to “discover” anything. When I was in second grade and was explaining to my tribal Elders how Columbus found us, an old Grandmother asked me, “Did this man find the sun, too because our land was never lost any more than the sun was lost.” All of the elements of this hemisphere were established in their origin, feathered into the purpose of the universe, and peopled with the correct type and balanced numbers of humans and nature, a balanced velocity disrupted and desperately trying to correct itself.
The intense confrontation that occurred in the South Seas between the indigenous and invading Europeans was and remains one of distorted values. Value, to indigenous, means “worth,” the worth of your dreams, the worth of your thoughts, the worth of your ancestry, the worth of your destiny. Real value, not the amount of money someone will offer you for stolen gold or pilfered silver.
As Cortes moved into Mexico and marched upon the indigenous dwelling there with the intention of destroying them and taking their gold to his Sovereigns, while claiming all of the indigenous world for them, he was directly in confrontation with the value the natives placed upon everything. His was a singular money-oriented value system. To the invaders everything was measurable only in money equivalencies. Indigenous viewed gold and silver for its beauty. We value truth, trust, and honor. We value our lives and the life of earth with an intense awareness of its spiritual self and its personification is made manifest in our greater knowledge, while we recognize its precious “power.”
Pizarro entered a near identical social phenomenon in Panama and the areas of South America that he violated. He learned that the natives did not measure their entire mode of existence by a money system, but that they also worshipped the earth for its beauty and purpose and not for the nuggets in the streams.
“Pizarro invaded Peru. He found that the empire was divided and feuding, there was a civil war. In the north Atahualapa was established. Huscar, his brother, established rule in the south. They were not of a sharing mind. Each brother wanted all of the Peruvian kingdom for himself. Their armies fought. Pizarro sided with one then the other. When war and diseases introduce by Pizarro and his men took its toll, the brothers found that they were the head of a wounded and desperate society, Pizarro stepped in with a few men and guns and took command.
“In exchange for his freedom, Atahualapa provided Pizarro with $8,000,000 in gold. Pizarro received the gold, Atahualapa remained in chains.” (The Americana, 1911, PAZ-PUB).
The value system of the Europeans remains in direct conflict with that of indigenous. It seems that the strangers, the aliens, have a vast emptiness within them since they have continually demonstrated an inability to understand the beauty, wonder and purpose of earth. They exchange earth for money, making it real estate and property similar to slaves and prostitutes. It is a constant wonder to traditional natives how this thinking can exist in the universe. That thought pattern is out of balance and has no healing purpose for little earth.
The spirit of earth and the power of the universe and the spirit-power of indigenous cannot be separated. Therefore when natives are denied access to earth and the universe’s power for very long their hearts and spirits begin to atrophy, and earth sickens.
“The problem of the Indian is rooted in the land tenure system of our economy. Any attempt to solve it with administrative or police measures, through education or a road building program, is superficial and secondary as long as the feudalism of the gamonales continues to exist. Gamonalismo necessarily invalidates any law or regulation for the protection of the Indian.” (Mariatequi, 1974, Seven Interpretive Essays on Peruvian Reality, Austin U. p 23).
Democracy is as much in confrontation with native psyche as is the Euro/American system of values. Democracy has invaded the native village and now demands that the natives participate in “Democratic enlightenment,” reform, or perish at the point of the sword. It is not spiritually healthy for indigenous to believe or participate in the foreign notion, Democracy. We are in balance only when we adhere to our own system, when we exercise our original “way.” More and more indigenous must explore our history and glean from it that which has always been valuable for the generations, employ those findings for the benefit of our existence, and deny all else
From where does the command emanate ordering the natives to obey alien rules and participate in “Democratic” elections while we are confined away from participation in “The American Dream”? It comes from the lethal end of the barrel of the Democratic cannon.
Originally, the indigenous way to disagree with any subject was to remain absent and not be available to be “counted.” Calculated, deliberate absence remains the most powerful “No” vote upon this continent among the indigenous, a thousand shades of Democracy and an array of cannons notwithstanding!
I this alien way, a “no” vote doesn’t count so those tribal members assigned the duty to count, assume any absence would have been “yes,” and the counting continues, the guide, an alien form of arithmetic. The older generation said that it takes a pretty smart Indian to understand the ways of the foreigners. Ramsey Blake, an Elder from my homeland said, long ago,
“The white man don’t sleep. They stay awake and think and plan all day and night. They are awake always and they have machines that stay awake longer than they can. They are against us. These machines take very good care of the white people, but they are against us!”
This clash of alien cultures and of indigenous value systems must be examined, dissected, and corrected. To attempt to be of any assistance to the “problem” by creating new layers of bureaucracy or pretended self-determination programs (programs that emit from the established, moldy bureaucracy) is useless.
The original native system of values must be understood and accepted by all people or earth will continue to sicken. The interpretation of the value system must come from the histories of the natives, free from any influence of immigrant interests. Somehow, someday, the concerned native people must gather and seek solutions for the many problems born here on fetid ships not long ago. The “invasion mentality” so prevalent in European societies has no desire to accomplish this.
Indigenous cannot afford to wait another 500 years while bureaucratic rules pile upon bureaucratic laws, like dead wood piling in the forest waiting only one spark from one match. We must free ourselves from Democracies and bureaucracies and re-establish the natural rules that govern this earth. All else will be futile.
Ramsey Bone Blake (Grampa) is no longer with us. His heart rests with earth and his “power” is within the universe. He dreamed beautiful dreams.
In one dream he saw, gathered beside It’Ajuma , (Pit River) one Chief from each of the tribes and nations of this hemisphere, from the “Circle” (North Pole) to Patagonia. This gathering would communicate in a spiritual way, in prayers and songs and thoughts, in respective native languages. In this manner there would be little need for translations because each thought would be a truth. Each prayer would be real with real meaning to the spirits of earth and to the power of the universe.
When this meeting was over there would be a sweet ripple across earth, a cleansing. The water would be pure. The air would be good. Mother Earth would be healed. All of the native nations would be whole again and they would communicate in their own languages and do that which they were created for long ago when earth was brought forth by a song of Qon (Silver Fox) and made perfect by dance.
The foreign people would then have to examine themselves. If they correct their lives and participate in the “real” laws along with the natives then they could stay in this land. If they cannot correct the difficulties cultivated within them, then they must depart with their difficulties.
This is such a beautiful dream. Immediately, Chief Buckskin, Erik Matilla and I began to assist Grampa in making his dream a reality. The date we set for this gathering was during the full moon of October, 1984, near the huge canyon where Sul’ma’ejote (Fall River) and It Ajuma (Pit River) merge.
That gathering did not happen. The dream is yet unfulfilled. There are still many accomplishments in the future of indigenous of this hemisphere. Quetzalcoatl is to return on 1 Reed and assume his governing of the people again. His re-entry into this land is yet in the future. 1 Reed occurs every 52 years. Potentially, Quetzalcoatl can return any time.
Perhaps Grampa’s dream will occur soon. We must prepare ourselves for this event. We must seek our true values and hone them to a sparkling edge. We must re-claim our languages and employ our native spirituality in its purity as it was just a few hundred years ago. Yes the native nations can and must become whole again. Any delay in accomplishing this task must be accepted as neglect by indigenous ourselves. Nobody can do this for us and nobody but ourselves can keep us from accomplishing it.
Oro and Plata cannot purchase the emotions that accompany the completion of a blessing, or a touching, or a feeling or a healing. It cannot purchase life. It cannot buy happiness. It cannot displace sorrow and sadness or mend a broken heart.It has not been a measurement to all that is good but may to continue to be a gauge for all that is evil.
Here is a letter to Queen Isabella and King Ferdinan of Castile/Aragon from Cristobol Colon, October 13, 1492. The Bahama Islands. The homeland of the Lucayo indigenous.
“Most precious King and Queen,
“As I promised in our encounters upon the European continent, I have touched the earth of a western land. The people are friendly and they will give me whatever I desire. Should I ask for the land and the mountains and the trees and the rivers, they would obey my wish. For the promotion of your greatness this land is discovered. It is yours, your most perfect majesties.
“I have claimed all that is known of this most beautiful land and all that is unknown for the crown of Castile/Aragon. There is no opposition to your claim! Indeed, the native people are happy to be part of this gift to my King and my Queen. The people seem to know that your happiness is of the utmost importance.
“All that I have touched today belongs, now, to the crown that placed me upon this happy journey. All that I touch tomorrow and the many tomorrows shall be your possession also. It is your possession my King and Queen. It shall forever be part of your gracious kingdom, even as I shall forever remain your humble servant. When I encounter the Great Kahn, I shall promptly inform him of your just claim to this land.
Cristobol Colon, October 13, 1492. Cathay.” (Discovery, Parker, John, 1972).
That alien contact was not a happy encounter for the indigenous. The destructive force that the mentality and diseases Cristobol Colon invited upon the natives of this hemisphere has not abated. They have mutated many times but they have not abated. They are alive and intend to invade all that they touch as they multiply and divide to multiply again.
At this time the natives must gather together, and gather those people of strong hearts and good thoughts with good intentions. We must purge the old thought from ourselves and re-establish our original purposes. We must shed Democracy as the old skin of a rattler and return to a system of real and true values. The sweet spirits of approaching generations of children deserve nothing less.
Sul’ma’ejote
[At the end of November 2008 a great gathering to unify the indigenous of this continent occurred in Mexico City. My baby girl, Cuauhxicuatl, danced there for all of us, for all of the children, and for Mother Earth]
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