Reservations

I have not written in several days. It doesn't bother me too much, except for letting my audience down! I have been enjoying the weekend at the Warm Springs Indian Reservation, at the Annual Pi-Ume-Sha Treaty Pow Wow Celebration (that's a mouthful). I only intended to stay a day and a half, but a three day Pow Wow is scheduled for you to stay all three days if you want to see the dances. There were fourteen drums around the arena, and each would take a turn playing the song for the next round of dancers. Each drum had six to twelve men hitting it simultaneously, singing in chorus. It was mesmerizing. The whole community seemed to be represented in the dancing too. There were categories even for children under four, and you would be shocked at how well they could keep the beat. There were "traditional" dances and "fancy" dances, and the songs would change sutitly between dances so that the dancers were suddenly doing a whole new set of moves, hooting out in time with the music.

There were other things that shocked me. The number of parents who seemed to still be in their mid-teens, the gang tattoos sprawling over their necks and arms. Young parents missing all their front teeth, likely from a meth-addiction. Groups of young men looking tough in the parking lot, bandanas and tattoos, occassionally being arrested and chatting with Pow Wow geusts as they were escorted out in cuffs. "See you at the Bar-B-Que tomorrow!"

Despite all this, the crowd seemed warm and friendly, and I felt safe in my trailer, sleeping among all the tents with all the families camping around the Pow Wow grounds.

Early on the second day, I befriended a man named Eldon. He had two young foster children (parents lost to meth), who seemed to follow him silently from place to place. He seemed excited to meet me, to tell me everything about himself (and he did). Then, he said, you need a tour of the reservation, and we piled into his truck and went for a drive.

Eldon pointed at every single building and house, told me when it was built and how the reservation used it, where the people who lived there worked, and how much they paid for rent. He told me the kind of details I would not tell someone touring in my town. "Here is the Parks Department where they keep all the lawnmowers to maintain the public areas." He also told me where things used to be. "This field used to be the cafeteria for the school, where I had my meals when I was boarding in this building here. (He points to a grassy area.) Now, the children use it to play tag, baseball, run around, picnic, whatever."

The place he was most proud to show me was an old church way up in the hills. His great great grandfather was a preacher there, and it was somehow still standing. The sun had baked the planks into a warm honey-color.

The girls ran around the houses, and I started showing them how my camera worked. Each time I took a picture, they ran to see how it came out. I asked them questions, asked them to imagine how things worked when this building was built. They got excited. It wasn't long before they were holding my hands as we walked around. If I had a water bottle in my hand, they would carry it to free me up to hold theirs.

Eldon took me to a bar-b-que, then appeared the next morning and took me to the museum where I saw a picture of his grandfather. The girls held me hands, took sips from my water, and sat next to me everywhere. I took pictures of them, which they loved, demanding more. When it was time to go, they hugged me, said they didn't want to let go, told me they loved me. Eldon presented me with gifts, (insisting it was the Indian way, that it would be rude to refuse or offer anything in return) a beautiful silver necklace, a beaded change bag, two miniature woven baskets, a bag of pencils, and an antique blue bottle.

Last night, I arrived at the Oregon coast. It was strange to be driving again, and very quiet. The Pacific Ocean was hidden to me, until I hiked over the high sand dunes, then wind pushing me back. It was bitterly cold, and I had the place to myself. The sun was setting and the wind was blowing the sand to carve the flesh off my bones. The Pacific, like a lover you haven't seen for a while, and rages at you for your absence.

When I got back to my trailer, settling in to read my book ("On the Road," still), the phone rang. It was Eldon, checking to see where I ended up and that I got their safely. The girls each came on and told me about their day. When I hung up, I started thinking I may have found a few more family members on my trip. No one told me that might happen.