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In the seven years I've live in South Dakota, I've put off
going to Pine Ridge. I didn't want to be another do-gooder, white and
clueless American woman. I was nervous about going, reluctant to offend, unsure
of my safety. This past week I went to the reservation for a cultural
immersion program and it was powerful. We joined with a group from
Colorado because only three of us, including our new pastor, wanted to go from
our town just two hours from the rez. Sadly many South Dakotans want little to
do with Pine Ridge- they've had years of frustration and many have washed their
hands of the "situation".
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Once before I drove north from Nebraska on to a bit on the
rez- it was windblown, brown and desolate. The housing is substandard to say
the least and I remember lots of chain link fences around all the government
offices.
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Maybe it's all the rain we've had this summer but as we
drove south and east from the Black Hills, the rolling hills as far as the eye
could see were still green. By September almost all of the west is dry
and brown in an average year. The green is unusual but it felt like a sign of
hope. Despite the obvious recent damage of a hailstorm, the whole ride had
a feel of expectation, not dread.
There was the hard, bitter reality of the rez. It's in the
poorest county in the United States and it looks like it. The shabby
mobile homes looked even worse the closer we got to the town of Pine Ridge.
A month ago, golf ball size hailstones tore the siding off the
north and eastern sides of most structures. It was all I feared- sadness,
hopelessness, drunks and poverty.
But we also met amazing artists like Joe Pullman who is
maintaining the traditional art of leger painting on old ledger pages from
the Army days and the Bureau of Land Management. We heard elder
Basil Braveheart say the most important duty was forgiveness and shared how he
integrates traditional Lakota ways and his Christian faith. He has healing
circles for addicts and vets with PTSD. Kevin Poor Bear sat in a
wheelchair, his legs missing from the knees down. As he told stories that
made us laugh, he drew beautiful pictures with charcoal. He attends a gospel
church and proclaimed his love. Will Peters taught us games and laughed
as we struggled- he teaches math at the high school. He started a flute group
and they were just nominated for their first Native American Music Award.
Valerie wove porcupine quills around leather strips and told wild stories of
storing dead porcupines in her apartment! We played with children
and they let us dance with them at a nursing home.
EVERY adult Lakota we talked with this week is a
recovering alcoholic and told that part of their story with a dignity that
comes from overcoming. I have never met such resilient and ultimately
hopeful people. Despite the despair and tragedy, I left Pine Ridge in awe of
the people. I have a deep respect for their need for healing in their own
way, in their own time. All our speakers honored their grandmothers
and spoke with passion of protecting the next generation. It was powerful and
full of hope for the future, despite the outward appearance.
I can't wait to go back and I'd love to take any and all
who would like to join me.
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| https://www.aaanativearts.com/pine-ridge-indian-reservation |
What are your thoughts and feelings on Native Americans? Mistreated or looking for handouts? I'll add more stories of my week and let's see what we can learn together. Blessings, Kathryn
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