Not Much Time

I haven't had much time since being back to write nor to post some of the pictures I would love to get on my photos blog. I just haven't had time.

Rhonda and I are still getting ready for the wedding and tonight, a friend of mine will be taking me out for a pint.

Our experiences this weekend at the powwow were amazing. See Rhonda's post on her blog. We sill most likely be working with some of her relatives on pulling this particular tiny powwow together next year. There are some politics to be dealt with and peace to be made, but it will indeed all work out well, I can tell already.

On "Mitakuye Oyasin," we play a piece by performance artist, Robert Greygrass, where he plays a man, Tyee John. The battle he talks about with the empire 150 years ago took place where we had the powwow. Rhonda and I went to the trenches, where the soldiers were pushed back to. She told me of the man who was lowered down the cliff who ran to get reinforcements. They overtook the Indians and put them on their death march. That mans name was Foster, and his name is attached to the creek where we camped. What is it with you Americans and your blood lust and you SICK Love for genocidal maniacs?

"Run to the Rogue," is like a reverse trail of tears put on by the Siletz every year. We went to where they ended that and talked with a few folks. One woman was describing how during the American Forced Death March, that people were not allowed to look back or they would be killed. Your kid fell, you couldn't look back because they would kill you.

Another woman told us of how the Indians were kept on an island in the ocean for weeks in hopes that they would die, but instead, they killed seals on the other side and drank their blood and sustained their lives.

Rhonda talks of how Indians, her folks, were held in open pens at Port Orford for weeks, again, in hopes that they would just die off and thus solve Americas "persistent Indian problem" ("Jewish question" to the Nazi's).

I must say it was nice being out where there is no artificial lights. It has been years. I Love the dark. You can really see the stars. I really Love being with Rhonda, and we grew more together during this time.

Being back in the city is frustrating and angering and we may be moving soon if Shusli Chudutna gets a job she has been interviewing for. In that case, we will be living between both our ancestral homelands, the Rogue River and the Umpqua River.

One thing kept occurring to me over and over during our journey and since. I have been told many times to "just get over it," "it," being, of course, the horrific genocide of my peoples. I don't believe people know what they are asking. So, I have a tendency to ask them, "Get over what?" I have YET to find an asshole that asks me that question who is willing or knowledgeable enough to answer that. What they are REALLY saying is, "I don't want to have to pay for the crimes my ancestors committed or their crimes that I am currently benefitting from that they committed, which is also a crime. I just want you to accept all these crimes as the situation you are forced to live under now and I don't want you to have justice because that may effect me and what I possess that is stolen from you or others." Another thing folks say is to "get over" our "victim mentality." Why would we feel like victims? If we're victims, who is the perceived perpetrator? What did this perpetrator do for us to think we are victims?

You see, I have a long list from 10-12-1492 to the present and on into the future. None of the folks that say "get over it" or "stop playing the victim" are even capable nor willing to tell me one of those things on the list. They are only concerned about themselves and the crimes they benefit from or perpetuate against our Indian peoples. Get over it? Howz about some FUCKING JUSTICE?! We are DEMANDING IT!