10.
Monday through Wednesday were work days. On Monday, Jack
went out with a group of about ten others to help skirt a trailer belonging to
a man named Bart. Bart had lived off the Rez for a while, but came back to be
near his kids and grandkids. He was a
horse rancher, and had originally planned to sell horses as his herd grew. Except that as the horses were born, he
tended to give most of them away to his kids, grandkids, and other relatives
and friends. He was very generous, and worked alongside us as we skirted his
trailer, explaining that this project would have taken him months. As they talked, Jack asked him about what he saw
as differences between life on and life off the Rez.
Humidity
was a big one, the weather. There was
much more money to be made off the Rez.
But here on the Rez he was amongst his people.
“Did
you encounter a lot of racism off the Rez?” Jack asked.
“Not in
Minnesota where I was living,” Bart said. “But there is a lot around here.”
The two
had a nice ongoing conversation as the day went on, and when the volunteers
packed up to leave, Jack made a point of going to shake Bart’s hand.
“I’ll
be honest,” Jack told him “You’re the first Lakota I have spoken to for more
than a minute. And while I didn’t expect there would be many differences
between us, I am impressed with your moving back here after being pretty
comfortable out in Minnesota.”
“Family.”
Said Bart. “This is our land. It called me back. There is a larger population
of traditionals out here, and we are all family.”
Jack
thanked him again for the conversation, and Bart called him “Wasichu Waste”,
which he explained meant “Good White Guy”.
That
night the Lakota speaker was a man named Will Peters. He looked like quite a character. He had long black hair drawn back in a
ponytail. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt with Bob Marley on it. Both of his ears were pierced, and he wore
sunglasses that hid his eyes. He was not
too tall, but built like the sort of guy who could handle himself in a tough
neighborhood. He had a tattoo of a
turtle on one arm, and a medicine wheel on the other. Jack wondered if he was in a gang of some
sort. When he spoke, he had a Lakota
accent, and spoke like he was from the street.
Jack
was therefore surprised to hear that not only was Will a high school teacher,
but had been on the tribal council and between he and his wife had five college
degrees. Jack felt foolish because he had
always believed that one should never judge a book by its cover, but here he
had fallen into that trap.
Will
spoke of what the youth experience was like on the Rez. How hard life was when
there was little hope of a future. How their culture had been attacked and oppressed
not just a hundred and fifty years ago, but continuing through the years and
was ongoing even today. He opened the
volunteers eyes to the dysfunction of the tribal council, the stresses on the
education system, and finally of the suicide rate amongst the youth. Multiple times higher than anywhere else in
the country. One sentence that he spoke struck Jack right through the heart.
“Probably
not one of you has been to more funerals for kids than I have. Do any of you
know what it’s like to have to deal with a teenage suicide? It tears your heart
out. Tears it out.”
Will’s words echoed in Jack’s head.
“Do any
of you know what it’s like…”
Jack
flashed back to one of his runs as a medic.
A teenage girl had hung herself. They had worked her as best as they
could. Even gone so far as to get an IV started and pushed meds. That had been the first time Jack had placed
a ET tube, or breathing tube, in the field.
He remembered feeling pleased that he had got it in on the first
attempt. He remembered feeling a bit sick that he had felt happy about the
tube. They couldn’t save the girl. The
whole scene was nightmarish. But the
other medic he worked with was phenomenal, and the two of them were able to do
what needed to be done. Jack had seen other suicides, but this one stuck with
him for some reason. He spent a lot of time wondering why that girl had taken
her own life when she had so much going for her. She had often appeared in Jack’s
dreams carrying the three month old SIDS baby.
As Will
spoke, Jack couldn’t help but to compare him to one of his favorite people.
Pastor Bill Yonker was a friend of both Jack and his wife, had in fact married
the two of them, and was a terrific public speaker. He had the ability to tell a story such that
the entire audience was hanging on every word. Will had the same power over a
crowd, and Jack enjoyed the talk immensely.
He also felt like he wanted to talk with Will and learn more. A
sentiment shared by most of the volunteers, as after his talk he was swarmed by
more questions.
Jack hung in the back of the crowd,
not wanting to impose on others, but wanting to make sure he got a chance to
talk with Will. He finally got his
chance as Will was heading for his car to go home. They talked about suicides
and Jack told Will that he did know what it was like. They only spoke for a few
minutes. But in that time Jack mentioned that he would be back with a group in
a couple of months. Will said that he had to get going, but told Jack to be
sure to talk to him again the next time he came out.
The whole group went on a tour of the Rez on Thursday, visiting the college and the radio station, having lunch where Black Elk Speaks had been told. Seeing and learning more and more about what had happened on the Rez from the past to the present.
Something happened to Jack that
week. He wasn’t sure exactly when, but he soon felt like Re-Member was another
home for him. At first since he did not
have a group to debrief with, he talked to the staff. They shared stories with
each other, and by the end of the week Jack considered them friends, if not
family. Later in the week he was ‘adopted’ by a college age group from Hope
College in Michigan. He became fast friends with many of them, and at the end
of the week they invited him to join them up on the hill for their final
debriefing meeting. They were a pretty special group of young adults, and he
told them so. He had some very eye opening experiences, and realized that the
Lakota people on Pine Ridge were pretty much invisible to the “outside world.” He made a pledge to himself to try and change
that however he could.
Before he left, he asked if there
was anything he could bring back when he brought his group in a couple of
months. Any supplies or just raise as much money as he could. What could he do?
“Shingles” one of them told him. “We
have many roofs that need repair or replacement, and we are running low on
shingles.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Jack
promised.
After all of the groups had gone,
Jack joined some of the staff at the Lakota Café for breakfast before he left. As he sat at the table with them, he felt a
little sad that he had to go, but so very thankful for having met them.
As he drove home, he listened to
the CD of music he had purchased from Will. It was filled with very powerful
lyrics about life on the Rez along with some love songs for his wife. Jack knew that it would take months to
process all that he had learned and experienced. He had been on many mission
trips, but none had sunk into his heart like this one seems to have. He wondered what the future would hold for
him and the Rez.
1 comment:
Will's talk has left a huge imprint on my heart as well. I still have not fully unpacked everything learned on the Rez, but I can vividly see the image of the medicine wheel being played out in real life, the words that Will said "just call me uncle Will". He didn't care that we weren't Lakota, he cared that we were people.
Your experiences as a medic would haunt my dreams as well. Your caring and compassionate personality would make it difficult to "let it go" when off duty.
Have I told you thank you for writing your story yet?? Thank you! I really am anxious to see where your religious beliefs have come from and gone to. Thank you...
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