Ok so it's been a while since I've done any blogging. But I am on the move and have much to write about, so here I go again. About a month ago, back in February, I left my job teaching Nutrition and Garden at Park Elementary in Hayward, CA. It was a sad farewell, and I will miss many students, parents and staff there, but I was ready to move on and experience new challenges, adventures and opportunities to grow, learn and have fun. I packed up my stuff in boxes, loaded my car with supplies and headed east for the high deserts of the Navajo Nation, specifically the contested partition lands of Black Mesa.
The history of the Hopi-Navajo land dispute and it's relationship to the coal interests is a complicated one. At the center of it lies Black Mesa, a rolling plateau of sagebrush and pinon and juniper forests, the traditional home of many Dine (Navajo) sheepherding families. Under their lands lie some of the largest coal deposits in the U.S. For decades, the coal interests, specifically Peabody Coal, has tried to force these Dine off their land, mostly by exploiting the Hopi tribal council, which claims these lands as Hopi. At least, that's my take on it, and one of my motivations to come to the land was to support a Dine family in resisting relocation and mining. That's a very short version of the politics and I leave much out, but don't really feel like writing pages and pages about this. If you're more interested, check out Black Mesa Indigenous Support blackmesais.org for more information.
I first heard about the struggle at Black Mesa from my cousin Emmett Adam, who had planned to go out to the land but didn't end up doing it. He sparked my interest, I looked into things a little more, did some background reading and contacted Black Mesa Indigenous Support, an organization that places supporters like myself with a family on Black Mesa who needs a little extra support. They connected me with an extended family, whose matriarch is a Dine elder who lives on the contested lands of Black Mesa. One of the daughters drove me from Kayenta to Black Mesa on a Tuesday evening in February. As we neared the house, the road became horrendous, a slurry of mud resulting from a recent snowfall. When we arrived, I was greeted by two eager puppies and had my first Black Mesa meal: blood sausage (from sheep) on flatbread along with various reheated canned foods.
The main thing I did on Black Mesa was herd sheep. The family had about 30 head, including three goats. There was another supporter staying there, so for the first few days, we hearded sheep together. On my first day out, it snowed nearly the entire day, adding to the already thick snowpack that covered most of the land. The land is beautiful, it is not spectacular like some of the national parks and canyonlands of the southwest, but has it's particular beauty, especially with winter snow. I got to know the ins and outs of the lands: the woods where the sheep loved to eat juniper berries and the goats munched on pinon needles, the washes where the sheep most often tried to get lost, and the best saltbrush flats where the sheep could graze for hours without trying to run away. On my last day herding sheep, I lost about 12 of them, and returned with those I had feeling pretty terrible. I went back to hunt for them, but to no avail. Fortunately, the sheep and I ran into each other on our way home late in the afternoon.
Life on the mesa is difficult, and I should've given myself a couple of days rest before heading out there. There is no electricity or water, though the wooden stove makes the house quite cozy (sometimes even sweaty) at night. Chores include herding sheep for 6-8 hours daily, which sometimes proved difficult, hauling wood, chopping wood, tending the stoves, cooking, filling buckets of snow to melt for additional water, taking care of newborn lambs (many were born during my stay) and cooking (did I already say that--I did a lot of cooking, sometimes more successfully than others). There were particular ways to do certain tasks that it was important to follow properly. Various family members came and went from the house, but usually there were four of us staying there at any time. Much of the conversation between residents happened in Navajo, and I learned a few key words: courtesies, plants in the local environment and some foods. It's not an easy language with many sounds unfamiliar to the tongues of non-Navajo.
I spent three weeks on Black Mesa, having left mid-day yesterday with the family for a visit to Kayenta, which included a stop at the bustling Wednesday flea market. The flea market was a highlight of my time on the Navajo nation, it's a place where people from scattered communities (Navajoland is huge but sparsely populated because it's a harsh place) come to buy and sell various goods: plastic knick-knacks and cheap clothes, turquoise beads, local herbs, pinon nuts and corn meal, jewelry, and local cuisine: roast mutton, corn stew, fry bread, blue corn mush, navajo tea. It's quite an experience.
So now I am here in Flagstaff, Arizona. There is much more I have to write about this experience in Black Mesa, about the challenges and the beautiful moments, like stepping out at first light and breathing in the frigid morning air, or smelling the incense-like smoke from burning juniper logs in the wood stove after returning from sheepherding. Or trying to catch 15 lambs in the morning, or keeping a rather intimidating ram from eating my lunch while herding sheep. Or sharing mutton stew and frybread with an extended family. Yesterday, I took my first shower in three weeks, washing away layers of dust, grease, sunscreen and that sheep smell. It was a little anticlimactic, as returning to the things missed after being away from them can often be (did I miss cell phones and internet up there? not too much). I even find myself wanting to listen to the cheesy advertisements and overplayed country hits on the local radio station, KTNN, the voice of the Navajo Nation, that was much listened to in the household. But for now, I would probably be more sad to leave if I didn't have much to look forward to ahead: a short trip to the deserts of Eastern Calfornia awaits, me, then up the the NW to visit family and in not so long, Santa Cruz and the farm. As I conclude one thing I am grateful though for the chance to have been able to visit Black Mesa and spend time in a rugged land helping people who have been struggling for many years against forces much more powerful than them. I appreciate the people I met and I hope that their herd continues to grow and thrive in the coming months and years.
The history of the Hopi-Navajo land dispute and it's relationship to the coal interests is a complicated one. At the center of it lies Black Mesa, a rolling plateau of sagebrush and pinon and juniper forests, the traditional home of many Dine (Navajo) sheepherding families. Under their lands lie some of the largest coal deposits in the U.S. For decades, the coal interests, specifically Peabody Coal, has tried to force these Dine off their land, mostly by exploiting the Hopi tribal council, which claims these lands as Hopi. At least, that's my take on it, and one of my motivations to come to the land was to support a Dine family in resisting relocation and mining. That's a very short version of the politics and I leave much out, but don't really feel like writing pages and pages about this. If you're more interested, check out Black Mesa Indigenous Support blackmesais.org for more information.
I first heard about the struggle at Black Mesa from my cousin Emmett Adam, who had planned to go out to the land but didn't end up doing it. He sparked my interest, I looked into things a little more, did some background reading and contacted Black Mesa Indigenous Support, an organization that places supporters like myself with a family on Black Mesa who needs a little extra support. They connected me with an extended family, whose matriarch is a Dine elder who lives on the contested lands of Black Mesa. One of the daughters drove me from Kayenta to Black Mesa on a Tuesday evening in February. As we neared the house, the road became horrendous, a slurry of mud resulting from a recent snowfall. When we arrived, I was greeted by two eager puppies and had my first Black Mesa meal: blood sausage (from sheep) on flatbread along with various reheated canned foods.
The main thing I did on Black Mesa was herd sheep. The family had about 30 head, including three goats. There was another supporter staying there, so for the first few days, we hearded sheep together. On my first day out, it snowed nearly the entire day, adding to the already thick snowpack that covered most of the land. The land is beautiful, it is not spectacular like some of the national parks and canyonlands of the southwest, but has it's particular beauty, especially with winter snow. I got to know the ins and outs of the lands: the woods where the sheep loved to eat juniper berries and the goats munched on pinon needles, the washes where the sheep most often tried to get lost, and the best saltbrush flats where the sheep could graze for hours without trying to run away. On my last day herding sheep, I lost about 12 of them, and returned with those I had feeling pretty terrible. I went back to hunt for them, but to no avail. Fortunately, the sheep and I ran into each other on our way home late in the afternoon.
Life on the mesa is difficult, and I should've given myself a couple of days rest before heading out there. There is no electricity or water, though the wooden stove makes the house quite cozy (sometimes even sweaty) at night. Chores include herding sheep for 6-8 hours daily, which sometimes proved difficult, hauling wood, chopping wood, tending the stoves, cooking, filling buckets of snow to melt for additional water, taking care of newborn lambs (many were born during my stay) and cooking (did I already say that--I did a lot of cooking, sometimes more successfully than others). There were particular ways to do certain tasks that it was important to follow properly. Various family members came and went from the house, but usually there were four of us staying there at any time. Much of the conversation between residents happened in Navajo, and I learned a few key words: courtesies, plants in the local environment and some foods. It's not an easy language with many sounds unfamiliar to the tongues of non-Navajo.
I spent three weeks on Black Mesa, having left mid-day yesterday with the family for a visit to Kayenta, which included a stop at the bustling Wednesday flea market. The flea market was a highlight of my time on the Navajo nation, it's a place where people from scattered communities (Navajoland is huge but sparsely populated because it's a harsh place) come to buy and sell various goods: plastic knick-knacks and cheap clothes, turquoise beads, local herbs, pinon nuts and corn meal, jewelry, and local cuisine: roast mutton, corn stew, fry bread, blue corn mush, navajo tea. It's quite an experience.
So now I am here in Flagstaff, Arizona. There is much more I have to write about this experience in Black Mesa, about the challenges and the beautiful moments, like stepping out at first light and breathing in the frigid morning air, or smelling the incense-like smoke from burning juniper logs in the wood stove after returning from sheepherding. Or trying to catch 15 lambs in the morning, or keeping a rather intimidating ram from eating my lunch while herding sheep. Or sharing mutton stew and frybread with an extended family. Yesterday, I took my first shower in three weeks, washing away layers of dust, grease, sunscreen and that sheep smell. It was a little anticlimactic, as returning to the things missed after being away from them can often be (did I miss cell phones and internet up there? not too much). I even find myself wanting to listen to the cheesy advertisements and overplayed country hits on the local radio station, KTNN, the voice of the Navajo Nation, that was much listened to in the household. But for now, I would probably be more sad to leave if I didn't have much to look forward to ahead: a short trip to the deserts of Eastern Calfornia awaits, me, then up the the NW to visit family and in not so long, Santa Cruz and the farm. As I conclude one thing I am grateful though for the chance to have been able to visit Black Mesa and spend time in a rugged land helping people who have been struggling for many years against forces much more powerful than them. I appreciate the people I met and I hope that their herd continues to grow and thrive in the coming months and years.
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--Chris