Hensci—It’s early spring. Wild onions are beginning to
sprout in my yard here in Glenpool, and the birds are all on the hunt for
mates. There’s a Robin family that has been here for years. They know my sister
Margaret and her family and have noticed that they are no longer living here.
They have been checking me out and I have to tell them who I am, where I’ve
been, and that I will be the one staying here. Once I tell them with my mind,
they fly off, satisfied. They are probably the 30th generation. Basically
this yard is their territory. I will have to fit myself in. The same goes for
the Redbird family here. They’re also territorial. They sing every morning and
help me put my feet on the ground and keep going.
Sam Proctor asked me when I’m having a party. I will and
everyone will be invited. (Especially you, Sam.) And there will be music. I’ve
always loved the story of my grandfather Monahwee (Menawa) who when visited by
a government agent on official business, came out to properly greet him then
excused himself by telling the agent that he was partying with his people and
wouldn’t be done for a few days. He met with the agent two days later.
Now, that’s a good reminder for many of us. When we’re about
to let our last breath go on this earth, will we be regretful about paperwork,
emails or Facebook, or missing a sale at Kohl’s? What will we wish we had done?
What words are we carrying that need to be said? What could we do to lift the
burden of someone? A good party
can be a tonic for everyone. We’re human beings. We light up by sharing
stories, songs, laughter, and even crying together when we need to grieve. And dancing feeds all your systems with
energy. Music lifts us up.
My memoir Crazy Brave will be officially out in July
so I may have the party between June and July. The Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame
has offered their facilities. I’ll let you know. Gary White Deer also has a
memoir coming out sometime this year and a party between us is also appealing. I
got a sneak preview. His memoir, Touched by Thunder is witty, funny and
insightful, in a very Mvskoke way (he’s Choctaw with Mvskoke relatives).
When I was down in Mexico in the town of San Miguel de
Allende I kept thinking of our people. The way I understand it is that some of
the migration paths came up from the south. Others of us came up from the
earth, and some arrived in our traditional homelands from the West. I saw
Mvskoke-looking people everywhere, though most were officially Mestizo. To
claim yourself as “Indio” is as demeaning as it was in our parent’s
generations. In fact, when I tried to get a person of the tribal people
indigenous to the area there to open my performance, I was told by a conference
official “there are indigenous people, but they aren’t really active here
anymore”. I knew that wasn’t true because I’d seen them all through town. Someone
else confirmed later that yes, there are indigenous people there with living
cultures.
A beautiful young Huichol woman attended the conference
where I performed and spoke. Her culture was alive in her. She, like many
others, was embracing her cultural language and knowledge, despite the
prevailing colonial attitude toward the “Indio”. She was concerned, as were
many, about the plan for a Canadian oil company to construct a huge pipeline
through Mexico. Some things don’t change, like the attitude of destroyers that
it’s alright to run a pipeline through a country, break up the land, destroy peoples
and cultures, and suck out of excessive amounts of oil, gas, coal or uranium that
were never meant to be pulled out of the earth in such quantities.
Before I forget, there was a fiesta there, a party in honor
of the speakers, who also included Margaret Atwood and Elena Poniatowska. There
were Spanish and Indian dancers, mariachi bands, folk dancing, lots of good
food, and fireworks. I celebrated with everyone.
And I celebrate spring as I write this. Those wild onion
dinners are coming up—time for a good party!
Mvto--
