August 23, 2006

Culturally Competent George: So, my wife and I are on the cusp of a major move to the Pine Ridge Oglala Sioux Reservation in South Dakota...

We'll be there for a year as VISTA volunteers, working on a number of community based projects. This is obviously going to be a major change in our lives, and neither of us have much experience with American Indian culture, nor, for that matter, life on a reservation. We've been reading, of course. We've got the requisite copies of Black Elk Speaks, On the Rez, by Ian Frazier , and Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee. But, other than On the Rez there is little information on what sort of cultural differences one may find on a modern day Reservation. So, I turn to that vast repository of humanpological knowledge known as the Monkeys. Do any of you now, or have you ever, lived on a reservation? Have any of you ever been to Pine Ridge? Do you have any advice? Tips? Warnings? Stories? In other words, tell me everything you can about modern day life in Indian Country.

posted by Nickdanger 18 years ago
  • In addition to what you've already read, I'd suggest Kiss of the Fur Queen, by the incomparable Tomson Highway. Also good for cultural-sensitizing would be Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden.
  • Have been there numerous times as I grew up in SD. Two of my best friends in life grew up on Pine Ridge. You will be sure to meet many wonderful personalities with lovely dispositions... tinged with a sharp edge of sadness. Sounds like a wonderful experience you are about to embark upon. My advice: let your mind, heart and spirit soak what they may... Read up on Leonard Peltier. And you might not want to refer to it as Indian Country.
  • Oop. I feel a need to come to my own defense before any misunderstandings blossom here. I used the termIndian Country because it seems like a common way to refer to American Indian culture as a whole. From teh wiki:Indian country is an expression generally used today to describe (collectively or individually) the many self-governing American Indian communities throughout the United States. This usage is reflected in many places, such as in the title of the American Indian newspaper Indian Country Today.
  • I thought On the Rez looked familiar. Turns out I read that and The Great Plains too. Good book(s).
  • I can't add anything but hope you'll still have Internet access and be able to tell us about your experiences there.
  • *hums Lou Reed's "Beginning of a Great Adventure"*
  • And you might not want to refer to it as Indian Country. Why not?
  • There's actually quite a debate about whether to use the terms "Native American" or "Indian." Some groups prefer one, some the other, and they both have good reasons. Some groups dislike "Indian" because they feel it is a misnomer given by people who didn't have any idea about their culture. Others dislike "Native American" because they do not want to be connected to (what they feel is) the imperialist culture of America. The best thing to do is just ask people what they prefer. As long as you're respectful, and the other person isn't just really jerky (or having a really bad day) you'll get along fine :)
  • *seeths with jealousy *waves hand Take me! Take me! One thing to realize, it's a tad hard to be open to another culture, especially right here in the US. 'They' are like US us. 'They' are different from US us. I am partially of Serbian descent, but grew up in the West. When I went back to Serbian enclaves in the East, it was a strange experience to feel 'one of them' or not 'one of them' at different times. Same thing traveling overseas. Odd to feel you are the outsider. Also remember: Typically when close encounters with another culture occur, there is the honeymoon period--6 months to a year--when everything is interesting and fun and the people are enthralling in their differences. Then there is a cooling off period--again 6 months to a year--when you start to see the downside--dirt, poverty, bad politics, what you might see as negative differences. Then comes the realization that the culture is neither romantic or dismal, it's just folks. Great learning experience. Kudos to you. *continues seething
  • Let's push that honeymoon period toward the 1 year end! That's all I need! As far as the Indian/Native American thing is concerned, well, I'm thinking that intent is more important than semantics. sugarmilktea, you seem to be the monkey with the most relevant experience, I'd love to hear some more of your impressions of Pine Ridge.
  • On the Indian vs. Native American debate, it would probably be best in Nickdanger's case to just use Sioux. I would advise you that the last thing you should be is overly patronizing toward the Natives. That isn't to say to not show any interest in the culture, alot of them will be more than happy to teach a honkey about their ways. But any Indian who is old enough has had enough of that fawning over their ways from New Agers in the Sixties.
  • Please don't have the "I'm a white man, I'm here to help" attitude. That's not going to go over real well. I can't speak from first hand on the PROSR never having been there. But from the sociological articles I've read and a bit of time on the Navajo rez, it's going to be hard. Forget all the romantic stuff from Black Elk speaks (I love the book btw), it's not like that anymore. Poverty, substance abuse, medical problems, and lots of anger are the order of the day. Sure, there's a lot of highly educated, well-off Indians moving in and out of the two cultures, but there's a hell of a lot of disenfranchised people living a marginal existance on the reservations. This is one tough problem to fix. I see a good deal of money and activity here at the CDC to help the tribal nations make life better for their citizens, but it feels like very little progress is ever made.
  • Nickdanger, sorry that I don't have more time to reply in length, I will try to give you a more through reply this weekend perhaps. My impressions of Pine Ridge (I also have paid many visits to the Chyenne River, Yankton, and Sisseton-Wahpeton reservations as well) are primarily based on an adolescent perspective - so I'm not sure how much my experiences will contribute to giving you a sense of Pine Ridge. My best friend while I was in my youth (from 3rd grade through my initial year of college) was descended from the Wahpetonwan tribe. His father worked for the Federal government, and I would often join them for travels across the state visiting the various reservations. This typically involved meeting with friends or going for Wacipis (pow-wows). It seems that more than likely, my friend and I always ended up joining other young boys on the reservations for friendly competitive play (basketball is quite popular on the reservations). Having lived in the so-called Navajo slums for several years as a child, perhaps I did not feel indifferent to the conditions I encountered on the reservations of South Dakota. As I look back now, perhaps I would view it differently (the extreme poverty, decrepit living conditions, broken spirituality, etc.). It is something very close to my heart.
  • And you might not want to refer to it as Indian Country. Why not? This was just a word of advice based on simple experience and observation relating specifically to my times spent on reservations of South Dakota. I'm not saying it is right or wrong, and I wasn't trying to make an argument on semantics.
  • Please don't have the "I'm a white man, I'm here to help" attitude. That's not going to go over real well. One of the cool things about VISTA is that its emphasis is not on "direct service", where a volunteer from outside serves food, builds a structure, or performs some other 'band-aid' type service, but rather on putting together sustainable, grant funded programs based around needs that the community itself (not the feds or whoever) has already identified. As such, the VISTA volunteer eventually makes himself redundant as the community organization becomes able to meet its own needs. Since we've been brought in by the communitywe'll hopefully be percieved as working with them rather than on them. Hopefully. Obviously, there's no way to get around the fact that we are outsiders from a very different cultural background. Hopefully, people will be understanding of the blunders that we will inevitably make. sugarmilktea, I hope you get a chance to post your full reply this weekend, I look forward to reading it. We're actually going to be en route to South Dakota, so I won't be able to check in too often for a few days, but please know that I appreciate what you've written so far.
  • Good luck, Nickdanger. It sounds like an amazing opportunity, can't wait to hear how it all goes.
  • Yes, please post or blog!
  • Thanks smt, I was curious about the region. In my encounters with many native bands in BC, the handle is used quite commonly. It's a colloquial chimera, it would seem. Would you care to divulge more about the (mis)use of the word in your experiences there?
  • Nick, it would be fun to get some feedback on what you felt was valid in this thread at 6 mos-1 year.
  • I would advise you that the last thing you should be is overly patronizing toward the Natives. "How! Me Dangers With Nick and this Nick's squaw. Me want heap big fun with redskins and plenty pow-wow in tee-pee. You savvy?"
  • Funny thing, quid, you've pretty much just summed up my letter of intent. For those interested, I will be attempting to blog regularly. Up to now, "regularly" has meant "perhaps every six months or so," but with something to actually write about, who knows? I might up it to a three month interval. Thanks for the info in the thread, I'll be checking back when I can. See ya!
  • Hey now, you'd better Self-Postfilter that blog there, son, 'r we gonna haff tuh write yew uh ticket! *clicks pen, smacks gum*
  • Cool, Nickdanger. Go on your adventure with love and admiration from us quidnunc kids. ... oh god I wish I had a squaw.
  • Indian time = when circumstances are right. Nothing to do with clock time, so your wristwatch won't get exercised much. Silence is also a way of discourse. Enjoy your stay, Nickdanger; hope ye stay in touch.
  • Did you know: in Islamabad, they refer to autochthonous Americans as "Orange Pakistanis". You probably didn't know that, and that's because I just made it up. What they actually call those various and ancient Amerindian peoples is "Magenta Bengalis". Which is funny, because in Bengal they call cowboys "bullwomen". Yeah, it's a wacky ol' world out there, and I for one am hiding under this box here so it won't come in and tell me to shut up.
  • Just wanted to say that we made it, and we even have dsl! I'd post more about it, but I'm afraid of getting too far into GYOB territory.
  • Hi, Nickdanger! Glad to ehar from ye!
  • =hear, dangit
  • Glad you're in safe and sound, Nickdanger. I hope the experience is great!
  • P.S. I don't know about anybody else as far as GYOB, but I'd love to hear about the place. Maybe in the self-post thread?
  • Yes indeed. Telling us about your life is forbidden here. Just ask Capt. Renault.
  • Tell! Tell!
  • *tapes "Nickdanger's Blog" sign to thread* There. Happy? Spill.
  • wow, i completely missed this one. good luck nickdanger!
  • Alright, alright, let me gather my profundities...
  • It'll have to wait till evening though, no internet access at work, you see.
  • Okay, back home, I’ve let the dogs out to chase cows, Mrs.Danger and I have eaten our dinner (hamburger helper from the Elder Center, don't you know), and now I've got time to relay some 2-week impressions: The Rez: First of all, I was expecting much worse in terms of outward signs of poverty. I had in mind something more akin to a Mexican border town, all tar-paper shacks and refuse,and while Pine Ridge itself has its share of squalor on display, I've found that most of the Reservation is no worse than, say, some of the rural villages in northern New Mexico. There’s no question about it, people are poor, most dwellings are trailers or small 1-2 bedroom houses, many people have outhouses and use wood stoves as their primary source of heat, but overall, most residences are well maintained and it seems like people take care of their immediate environment pretty well. The countryside is beautiful: vast plains sweeping up into pine covered buttes, awe inspiring badlands on the northern edge of the Rez that seem like they must be hallucinations, lots and lots of space. Manderson: My new hometown is a small community of about 600 people spread over a 15 mile radius. Everybody knows, and is likely related to, everyone else. Village social life seems to center around Pinky’s Store (where you can get your laundry done and stock up on as much lunch meat and hot dogs as you can carry) and the post office, a tiny little bomb-shelter of a building which people use as a sort of depot for bumming rides to other places. Other than that, there’s St. Agnes Catholic Church, presided over by Father Chris from Boston, and the Wounded Knee School. Kids ride horse back through town, Rez dogs trot leisurely out of the way of oncoming cars, and everyone quickly notes the arrival of the white couple with Texas plates. Our house is about two miles away from town. Houses in this area aren’t designated by number, so on forms that require physical address I write out “Little-White-House-By-The-Creek-Just-Past-the-Water-Tower,-Down-the-Dirt-Road-Marked-By-the-Second-Pair-of-Tractor-Tires”. It’s a one bedroom, recently renovated to include indoor plumbing (which we are thankful for). We have a fence of barbed wire, designed more with a mind to keep cows out than dogs in. This fence is necessary since we are often besieged by cows, which, I recently discovered, I am somewhat afraid of. They’re very big and turn to stare at me when I walk to my car. Sort of like Hitchcock’s “The Birds” only 700 pounds each. In addition to cows, horses and wild turkey are frequent visitors. Just up the road from us lives Charlotte Black Elk, great granddaughter of THE Black Elk. In fact, most people in town are descended from the last members of the Oglala nation to give up the resistance, and still carry the (affectionate?) designation “hostiles”. It is interesting to note that many of the people here are involved in efforts to get the Black Hills returned to the Tribe. The Job Oh my. Hard to say really. Things are quite chaotic, and on top of that, our boss and office mates have mysteriously vanished, apparently for the week, without leaving us further instructions. Also, it bears noting, without informing any of the site-managers at the various Elder Centers throughout the reservation. We were fielding a lot of phone calls as follows: “Yep, all week. Nope, I really don’t know about that. Not that either. Nor that one. Care to leave a message?” Should make for an interesting couple of days.
  • Despite the missing office staff, it sounds like an incredible adventure. I'm looking forward to more updates. Don't be afeard of them cows. They're more scared of you than you are of them. I think.
  • Ah, Nick ... I gather you're not used to large livestock. Both horses and cows can and do behave unpredictably, especially when they feel threatened or become startled. What often reduces the fear factor for people in dealing initially with unfamiliar animals is knowledge of the habits of the creature. You might want to start here to learn a bit about cows, and especially the things NOT to do around cows. Sorry it's PDF but it does have some excellent tips about cattle, and most also apply to being around horses. Minimum safety instruction: NEVER EVER stand directly behind any horse or any cow until and unless you've been shown how to do so by someone. Their legs don't have any lateral movement worth mentioning, but they can kick backwards hard and do serious damage. They can't see you back there, but you can startle the phooey out of them. If you must get behind a horse, keep your body as close to its rump as you can. Speak in a calm, soothing voice, so it can tell you are coming and know where you are. Why so close? To reduce the likelihood of its being able to swing its leg from the hip if it should kick. The reduced arc will eliminate most damage. The feet of horses are often steel-shod, so it is critical to observe basic safety precautions around their hind ends. Whenever you touch a horse, give it a firm touch, a firm pat or whatever. Not a tentative little dab, which will only tickle or annoy. They have excellent hearing and eyesight better then ours in the dark. If on foot, never approach a strange animal until you've had time to size it up. Allow it to size you up, too, speak to it. See how it reacts. Rely on your gut feelings - and if you don't feel comfortable with approaching it, don't go near it. If a horse puts its ears back and or has a snaky look to the way it's holding it's head, stay away from it. These are real danger signs, not to be ignored. It is far saner to be scared around strange, large animals than not, frankly. You can learn methods of approaching them but hopefully you won't have too much to do with cows. Range cows are not dairy cows, and are even less used to being handled. If you don't have to, don't. Try not to move fast or do sudden things around large grass-eating animals. Steady. Slow is better than fast. Calm. Don't know whether you've any kids, Nickdanger, but it is absolutely essential, if you do, that they be instructed in basic safety measures around horses and cattle ASAP. Because young kids will make a beeline for animals every time.
  • No kids, but two idiotic dogs. Actually, the dogs have decided that the cows are, in fact, The Great Enemy, and must, at all costs, be driven as far from the property as possible. They're both shepherd stock, so they're actually pretty good at getting the cows to bugger off, despite neither one being more than 30 pounds. You're advice about the cows is well recieved, beeswacky, and proves, once again, what a fantastic resource MoFi is.
  • Little hyper critters with teeth scare me too. Hope you're having a great time.
  • Grand updates Nick! My apologies for never having divulged any further impressions... completely slipped my mind (too much going on with work, closing on a new abode, and the kiddies!). You've brought back some great memories. Residing in NYC now, I do long for the days of laying low in a town where addresses are not required! I can smell the air just thinking of it. Please keep us updated, and I'm going to be sure to check in on your blog when I have some spare time. Best of luck with everything! Don't take to cow-tipping...
  • beware the turkeys. i've heard stories.
  • Thanks for the udpates Nickdanger! Moo at the new cowherd dogs for me. Do you have an actual blog blog or is SMT just talking about this thread-blog blog?
  • Some fine writing on the blog there, Nickdanger! Best of luck to you, Mrs. Nickdanger and the short hairy volunteers! and the Medicine Dogs will prolly be ok once they get to know ya.
  • Uhhhh, Bees, beg to differ on the lateral abilities of equine and bovine appendages. Horses "cow kick" meaning they can nail you with a totally unexpected wicked kick from a back leg while you're standing next to them, even if you're standing up by the shoulder. They call it "cow kicking" because cows are even better at it. Generally though, horses are pretty laid back and won't kick unless they're startled. Speak to them so they know you're approaching, and you should be fine. Horses from Duck Valley Res on the ID-NEV border are worked hard enough that most are "broke to death" and fantastic as kids horses. Your res may have the same. Cows are easily spooked. Wave your hands over your head and yell in a deep voice--all but the biggest bulls will skedaddle. The other thing that will spook a bunch of cows is to blow a short loud raspberry at them. Scares the willies outta the cows around here and it will crack up bystanders. Fantastic blog comments and pictures. *seeths with jealousy, wants adventure!
  • I always learned to run a hand along the horse as you walk toward the back, keeping constant contact so the horsie knows where you are. My brother forgot this, once. Also, never tease a horse with an apple. It results in serious bite trauma. Usually in the presence of that boy you really want to impress with your skill at handling horses.
  • Oh, but HE'S SO DREAMY!!! Thanks for the compliments on the blog. Anyone visiting today will be disappointed to note that I'm a lazy bastard with a love of cutting and pasting. Oh, we got invited to participate in a sweat lodge. It may, or may not (I think this is the Indian time bees was referring to), happen tomorrow night.
  • Mmmm . . sweet lodge *daydreams about rustic cabin full of chocolate*
  • Ach, BlueHorse, please note I said none worth mentioning. Not none. 'Tis relative. Delighted to defer, though, to your superior knowledge of cows - critters I happily haven't had much direct contact with since I was a kid. Grazing animals will always startle easily, because they have all the instincts of a prey animal that evolved NOT to become dinner for a predator. Their reflexes kick in ( hem-hem). Getting startled isn't a reasoned thing, but a flight-or-fight-and-survive behaviour. Once anything weighing hundreds of pounds feels threatened, a person can end up in real trouble in a trice. Horses are intelligent, but you have to learn to think like a potential dinner for a predator yourself in order to anticipate what a horse action a horse may take next. And they can be, like all intelligent creatures, idiosyncratic, so there's always an element of unpredictability in the relationship. A horse is keenly observant. In addition to their reflex actions, they learn. They learn what works for them. If lifting its nose on one occasion results in the nasty metal bit not being put into a horse's mouth, the horse is likely to remember the technique. There's no necessary malice in the circumstance that lifting its head rapidly result in a broken cheekbone and/or nose for the person. And next time it doesn't want to be bridled, very likely it will up with the nose again and whack! someone else may have a nasty surprise. Horses can strike with their forelegs, lift their heads suddenly, bite, kick, roll over on you, pitch you off, etc etc etc and there is no numbering the vices they manage to develop in inexperienced hands. We have one right now who likes to plant one hoof atop the foot of whoever tries cleaning her stall when she's in it, and then she leans over so the full of her weight (about 1400 pounds) is on that hoof. And like many animals, if a mare comes into season, any stallion nearby can turn unpredictable. Folk unaccustomed to horses really do need to be taught how to handle both themselves and the horse by someone experienced. Learning correct methods right from the beginning saves a lot of grief later on.
  • that foot part hurt to read...
  • Oh, Pete, the reading about it is nothing...
  • Hey, Nick, how involved was the sweat in regards to time/ceremony/number of rocks? I've gone in and out of sweat lodges since I was a wee lad and they all differ from person to place. This summer was the first time that I used it as my primary source of bathing/morale raising during a long stint in the field. We usually maxed out at 45 minutes and baked the stones for only an hour and a half or so. I guess we made a fire about every two to three days at most and once a week at least over the seven weeks. Most of us went nekkid, which I've heard some say is a "new-agey" kind of thing, but it's much more of a comfort issue for myself. As for tradition (albeit, co-opted) we used sage to splash the water and bed the floor and thanked the spirits of the site we were digging at the start of every sweat. At one point we had 14 good hot stones in there I began to hallucinate at a little over half an hour. When I returned to from the darkness I was deluded enough to think I could see through leaves as if I was wearing x-ray specs. Turns out the bugs really like to eat the greener parts and leave the ribs of the leaf alone on the trees. There were a lot of bugs on those trees.
  • *lights a bowl of sage* *inhales*
  • Well, that settles it. As soon as I have a backyard again, I'm building a sweat lodge, so I too can get high on stones and sage and come out buck nekkid thinking I can look through leaves, and invite my inquisitive nieghbours to help themselves to some of the good shit in there.
  • Uh, Cap'n, that didn't go over so well last time, remember?
  • Hasn't happened yet, IC. May or may not happen tonight. Not sure.
  • Ah, yes, Nick is using his Reservation watch, I see.
  • Hey, Nick, how involved was the sweat in regards to time/ceremony/number of rocks? I've gone in and out of sweat lodges since I was a wee lad and they all differ from person to place. How involved? Very. We were in for about 2 hours all told. It was something like this: About 21 stones (I think this is how many) were brought in first, with more in the fire for later. The man in charge went in first, moved clockwise around the lodge while saying a prayer in Lakota. The rest of us, about 8 people, then followed, also moving clockwise around the inside of the lodge. He then told us a little bit about the ceremony, that the lodge represented the womb of the earth, that the stones were 'grandfathers', that the steam rising from them was 'the breath of the creator', and that any of us could say "mitakuye oyasin" (which translates to something like "all my relatives") if the heat became unbearable which would signal the opening of the door, which would happen four times before the ceremony was over. He then closed the door (pitch black inside except for the glowing of the rocks) began praying in Lakota and poured water on the rocks. The others in the lodge began to pray and sing in Lakota as the steam welled up around us. It was an intense heat, hard to breathe at first, scalding on the skin. At some point someone cried out the words for the door to open, water was passed around for all to drink, and then, without replacing the rocks, the door was closed and the ceremony proceeded as before, but with more steam. The second time the door opened, water was again passed around, two of the other participants went out of the lodge to gather more stones from the fire, and the ceremony leader talked to us about the vision that brought him to his position. He told us how, because of this vision, it was now a compelling responsibility for him to perform this ceremony whenever asked, and that he was a heyoke, which is a sort of trickster figure, and that though he teased, he never played when it came to teaching. He told us that this rite was about purification through suffering, and that there were times when one needed to "plunge one's hand into the boiling water", when one needed "to be pierced on the front and on the back" (I noted that he had scars from the sundance on his chest as well as his back). As he spoke, stone after stone was brought into the lodge, most glowing visibly red even in the light, until I lost count of how many were in the pit. Water was passed around a few more times, and then the flap was closed again. After the flap was closed, he told us that this time we would be each of us be praying in turn and that we needed to pray from our hearts, not for others to hear. He said that after we prayed we would say "mitakuye oyasin" to signal that we were finished and that the next person should begin. Since these were the same words that we would say to signal for the door to be opened, if we needed the door opened we should really shout it out. It was already quite hot in the lodge before he poured the water onto the stones, and this time the heat was nearly unbearable. The praying began, the first person praying in Lakota, the next in English, and then as the heat became more intense everyone was singing and praying at once. When it was my turn to pray, the intensity of the heat gave my words and thoughts a desperate and truthful dimension; it seemed that I was really praying from my heart and not to "sound right" like I often have in the past. Perhaps this is the point of this kind of ceremony. Finally someone cried out the words to open the flap, and again water was passed around.
  • And then the fourth time. The tent flap closed, again the leader spoke at great length as the air grew stuffy. I started to feel uncomfortably hot, which worried me since the water hadn't even been poured on the rocks. Again the leader emphasized that he was a heyoke and that his job was to push people to their limit. He said that this time, if the heat became too much to bear, "try praying harder". And then the steam. It had seemed unbearable before, it truly *was* unbearable now. The steam was blistering on my skin, burning every time I breathed in. I raised my towel up to my face, covered my nose with it, which provided some small relief for a moment. The prayers were shouted, the singing was a fever pitch. I was rocking back and forth, shaking my head, trying not to focus on the pain. It just went on and on and finally the tent flap was opened. A pipe was passed around and each of us smoked it a little. We filed out in reverse order, each person shaking hands with and thanking those that preceeded them outside. I felt weak afterward, especially in my chest. When I saw myself in the light, my shoulders were covered with red marks, something like a blotchy sunburn. It cleared up the next day. So, er... That was my sweat lodge experience.
  • Wow, thanks Nickdanger. That's quite a story. MonkeyFilter: if the heat becomes too much, try praying harder
  • very interesting, Nick well done, Pete!
  • Great story Nick!
  • Wow.
  • Thanks for sharing Nick! So, would you be up for it again (assuming yes)?
  • thanks nick. great story and well written.
  • Fascinating, Nick, thank you for sharing that with us.
  • Would I be up for it again? Some time perhaps. Not in the near future. Maybe once the snows hit so I can take an immediate post-lodge plunge. One thing that impresses me, upon reflection, is the level of conviction with which that ceremony was performed. I've been involved in neo-pagan ceremonies that have similar trappings, and those tended to have a self-concsious edge; even most Christians I know take on a defensive tone when talking about their experience of God. But that feeling was entirely absent in this case. When the ceremony leader described his vision and calling it was in a simple matter of fact way, like one would discuss the weather. I suppose that that shouldn't be a surprise, their belief system has existed in similar form for untold generations after all, but it's interesting that this should be an exception.
  • Thanks, Nick, that was a great story! I've noted the "push to the limits" of a sweat before, but I've never been burned like that (only a little on one leg when I was too close to the stones). As for the post-lodge plunge, we built our sweat near a creek—very soothing.
  • Might be of some interest to ye, Nickdanger (that is, if you're not already aware of it) that a third white buffalo was born not long ago. Odds are supposedly only one in a million of such an event happening. Let alone three, on the same small farm, in a herd of under one hundred head.
  • Peroxide.
  • I'd heard of this. I file it under "things that kind of freak me out".
  • powdered sugar
  • Delicious!
  • Me, too, Nickdanger.
  • I'm sweating just reading all of this.
  • Yeah. I'm really looking forward to that. I lived about half a mile from the former site of Alex White Plume's hemp fields. And my boss was violently opposed to him and all his efforts. And his nephews stole my dvd player. Ah, Pine Ridge, what a strange time in my life.
  • It's a done deal, I say.
  • If there were justice, it would be theirs without the ransom money.
  • Interesting. Tuesday there was a report on NPR about the Shoshone in the Fort Hall Reservation, Idaho, using Shoshone language immersion teaching at their newly applied for charter school. To date, they only have one teacher fluent, however the intent is to add a minimum of one, or as many as can be found, each year. Of course they have to comply with all standards, so the kids will be challenged on multiple levels. Several of the reservations, including Duck Valley, Idaho/Nevada, will be pioneering this in an effort to retain native speakers. I wish them luck.
  • The last speaker of a language (like Ishi) must think uniquely. Ludwig Wittgenstein wondered if a 'private language' makes any sense. I'm guessing it does...