El Chicano Chingon y La India Reina

“Where did you learn to speak Spanish?”

It’s something I usually hear accompanied by a wide grin when I say a little word or phrase in Spanish to Hispanic people. The truth is I love learning new things so naturally I checked out a book on Basic Spanish way back when I lived in San Antonio in 95’. It was a necessity then because San Antonio is Hispanic town. That really didn’t do a lot of good considering I didn’t have anyone pronounce the words correctly for me except for my neighbor. He was a flaky guy and was usually angry about something so I never really bothered to ask him for help. These days I’m not fluent but I can pick up the gist of a Spanish conversation and carry on a fragmented conversation in Spanglish.

When I was but a wee Gelfling Spanish was what I saw on the television or the trips to town where a huge amount of Hispanics live. I knew nothing of it and did not really care to know anything about it! It was just another language and something I didn’t understand. It’s been a long road for me from the vast isolated expanse of the Dine reservation to the rest of the world. For some reason I just seem to click with Hispanic people. I can look back at all the years that I’ve lived so far from home and they were the group of people who took me under their wings many times.

“Mi Hija. Are you hungry?” Hispanic people would ask when I was down-and-out on my luck. At the time I was struggling and could hardly even afford bus fare. I’d wind up getting a meal or even an invitation to the home to eat a good home made dinner! I remember those faces and those people but do not remember their names. I do remember all the friends that gravitated towards me and they were Chicanos. One Chicano friend of mine who was in the Vietnam War always told my friends and I,

“I’ll only go out with India’s and Chicana’s.” There seemed to be a bond that I shared with these people that went beyond sharing the same color skin.

We are both brown. A little grand to say but that’s the way I see it.

I already knew that a lot of Hispanic people were a mixture of Indian and Spanish blood and my friendships with them just made that more apparent and clear. A homeless guy once told me while I was out on the streets panhandling one day he almost always had much unconditional graciousness extended by Hispanic people. I asked him why and he told me that the reason they were more ready to help was because they knew what it was to suffer! I took that line and remembered it because it just made the whole journey my life has taken with my friends more clear.

I wrote a little poem for the special relationship I have with la gente. It’s about a friend who I used to carouse around with who didn’t have to befriend me but chose to. He pretty much spent his life hanging around us down-and-out folks. He had a home and a loving family but liked to spend time with us. I don’t think he even cared that I was a Transgendered girl! I used to have such a grand time with him and he’d back me up if I needed it! He passed away sometime last year and I didn’t find out until I went back to Burque (Albuquerque) to see my friends. It’s not totally finished but it’s something that I want to print here. It’s untitled right now but as time goes on I’ll come back and edit.

[Untitled]

Fists of fury

No man no cry

She found in him

A secret hideaway

A groovy kind of love

Spoken in street corner whispers

and countless unsaid

I knows

He told her one day

High on a five year ride

I got my set. You want one?

Rat-a-tat-tat

Work unfinished

a sign of rebirth and strength

It is a testament to what grand visions

he had beheld of her

She now carries her homeboys name

etched into every cell of her being

From his name on her leg

to the unsaid goodbyes

when he died

She stands the test of time

Her hideaway now in sun

Blue and brown

Chicano and Indian

She will hold her ground

© 2008 Tyrene Banks; except Images

Off Topic- but it's a Friday!!!

So it’s a Friday morning and I’m feeling a tad tired from lack of sleep. I do the usual starting with getting up at the cry of my nephew. He sleeps in his bed not more than four feet from my Posture-breaking Futon 9000. This is usually about seven or when my niece unknowingly wakes him as she’s getting ready for school. She’s just a kid and doesn’t understand how hard it is to take care of her little brother when he’s cranky in the morning. She can be pretty bad too- after all her dad’s a redhead!

I putter around and turn the comp on,

make the little guy some milk or juice, get myself something warm to drink, and go out for a smoke. Yes I smoke and want to quit but it’s the monkey on my back these days.

Ain't I a Cute Habit??!!!

By the time I get back in he’s done and it’s cold enough to hang meat around the living room. I open up the wood stove, clean it out, toss in the families “unwanted” bills (makes good fire starters), and finally add wood. I also have to do the Hazmat job of cleaning the toxic waste that somehow manages to fill his pampers!

Yes! Kids know how to keep you busy :-P

Argh.

The trick is to breathe through your mouth- not the nose! It worked for me when I worked in a Nursing Home. By then it’s around eight and I’m a wreck! I haven’t changed clothes and look as stylish as a Bingo playing mother with eight kids- driving an old Plymouth station wagon with rollers in her hair! I will then alternate running between the computer and the kitchen where my breakfast is cooking and feeding my nephew.

Woo hoo! I got mail! :-)

Hey! Quit spitting on me! >:-(

While typing I also have to keep an eye on my nephew because he’s a curious little boy trapped in Godzilla’s body with the similar dexterity of G-Zil (my shortened hip name for Godzilla).

That is just a little example of Tyrene’s day- Sheesh! No wonder my single parent friend’s look tired a lot- and don’t wear make-up!

OMG! How Barbaric and un-Sally Struthers!

I literally praise every known deity by the time my shift with the kids is done! I’m SO glad I’ll be going back to work real soon and will be living on my own also- HOOFUCKINGRAH! I do have a definite date now and will just sit here in the meantime with a permanent frozen look of I Don’t Give a Crap I’m Audi Anyway on my face!

I know there are people out there who, somehow by the hairs of their chinny chin chins, take care of more kids! I’m talking about the quints and sextets (NO! Not that sex you dirty bird!). :-P In a way I’ve become a Smoke Ninja at multitasking here courtesy of childrearing by default. I’m curious as to how you manage your multitasking??!!! Do you have extra help? Do you pretend to be a piece of furniture hoping the kids don’t know it’s you? I could use more pointers in case I get a stray dog or a Tamagotchi in the near future :-P

Feed me or your a bad mommy!!! Wahhh!!!

*GROAN*

Just Who Is This Tyrene Banks??!!!

I read an article recently about how scientists can determine your ethnic makeup by D.N.A.

Interesting!

It made me wonder and helped to remind me that I have not had the pleasure of introducing myself properly according to the Dine etiquette. That means stating my clans accompanied with a friendly shake of the hand.

*shake shake*

:-)

I'm not going to go into excruciating complex scientific detail because this is an on-the-fly kind of a blog and I'm kinda lazy this A.M. I have a curiosity though and wouldn't mind taking that D.N.A. test. I may get some shit for it but there are the family tales

which I won't elaborate on here and questions that pique my curiosity. Such as where my family is from, who my relations are, was there a pirate or gypsy in my family, etc. Granted! I just refer to myself as a Navajo but in these whirlwind times of P.C. and other socially conscious identity thing-a-ma-jigs we now call ourself Dine. It also is reassuring to hear Dine instead of a name given by someone else.

F.Y.I. it's not pronounced Dine as in, "Hey! Where in rack-a-frack should we dine at??!!!" No it's Din, as in "the din of things," and "e" is like get without the 'g' and 't.' Come on kids say it after me!

Yes! You got it! *grumbles* 'Bout time! lol.

Anyway I'm straying off the subject here. I can't afford that D.N.A. test and would feel a slight cognitive dissonance if I did take it. However we have an old fashioned method for keeping tabs on our lineage here among my people. It is a clan system. I am going to post my clans for all my Dine friends and curious ppl who know something about them. We have clans to identify what group or family we belong to. It's a very important part of our society so we don't wind up with awful things going awry with chromosomes in the family

and to help point out where an individual is from. So anyway I'm going to post my clans with a link and if you want to become a cat that curiosity just can't get rid of!

Here are my clans:

Maternal: Ma'iideeshgiizhinii- Coyote Pass People - Jemez Clan (Pueblo)

Paternal: Táchii'nii- Red-Running-Into-The-Water Clan

Paternal Grandfather: Tábaa'hí- Water's Edge Clan

Maternal Grandfather: Deeshchii'nii- Start-Of-The-Red-Streaked People

Here is the link to a site that explains this a lot better than I can. *** Click!!!***

Chinle, Fandom, and Beautiful Rugs

Set amidst the gorgeous earthy tapestry of a high desert and low mountain backdrop is Chinle. Chinle is a small reservation town where many people from my community, including yours truly, went to school. The town itself began as a trading post back in 1882 and has steadily grown into the little town that is growing at a slow pace. There are a couple of stores, schools, churches, a hospital, various tribal government offices, and U.S. government offices situated there. It is also a tourist stop for many people who come to vist the reservation. Local tourist attractions include Canyon de Chelly located right on the outskirts of town and the beautiful valleys and vistas located around the area.There were talks of opening up a casino in the area but I have not heard anymore news on this.

The town itself, in the way of entertainment, revolves around the school sports teams. I remember before the new sports stadium was built there was only a small gym used from political campaigning to country dances. The gym, Chinle Community Center, was also the hotbed for the High School basketball games which are favorites during the fall season. Sold out games and long lines were nothing new to fans. There's just something about a small reservation school making it against all the big state teams at the state championships. People are known to drive to all the "away" games religiously and even if the Wildcats do not make it to states then people will go to root for any Navajo team playing :-)

Back in the fifties there was no public school. The schools were operated under the guidelines of the United States Federal Government. "Manifest Destiny" had not been but a "pipe dream." The use of native language was not permitted and was swiftly punished with such tactics as the "soap in the mouth" routine. Like any underdog we prevailed and today the Navajo language is heard everywhere including the radio stations here on the reservation. Now there is an kindergarten, primary, elementary, and high school there. I also know they have college courses in the high school during the evening hours where Dine (Navajo) language is taught. The written language is a mixture of dipthongs, glottal stops, and other complex rules of syntax.

In other words it's difficult!

Try saying that one!

For any curious listeners here is a link to our Navajo Radio Station.There's streaming radio :-)

Development of any kind has been slow around Chinle. There are many legal and land snafus that hinder faster development. There simply also is worry of what is becoming the inevitable- the population is booming and land will soon be scarce. There are so many individuals in this country of ours and as a result more of our young ladies and men are marrying into other races, tribes, and nationalities. This sometimes brings non-Navajos to live among us. I guess logic dictates that if you have a huge percentage of young people there is going to be an exponential explosion in population in the next generation. Does that make sense? It raises a lot of questions and ruminations on the whole issue of sovereignty also.

Many people who come to Chinle are in shock when they see how an "third world" living condition still exists. Yes we still have hogans and shacks but as a young developing Nation we are steadily seeing the benefits of better education and perseverance in young people today. I figure it has to do with the pride young people are taking in themselves and the backlash of the Boarding School days.

You try and deny anyone anything and they'll just find another way to get it.

Navajos have the will to survive and are getting the "know how" on a better way of doing it.

Hogans are octagonal shaped homes that are designed with a major harmony philosophy (iina). We build the home with the door facing east because the sun rises from the east. Now that the advent of modern shoe box homes has come a lot of people don't have eastern facing doors. It's something that has taken a new precedence in the last few years I've noticed. People specifically want their homes to mimic the old philosophy of eastern facing doors. Just take a look at the Navajo family (congratulations guys! You deserve it :-) that got their home built by Ty Pennington and the guys of Extreme Home Makeover- eastern facing doors. I don't live in an Hogan but have spent some nights in one. Of course I wanted to go back to our trailer because I missed the television, electricity, and running water. I can't help it. I get scared to go out to an outhouse after watching all the cliche scary movies!

Horse drawn carriages were often used back in the fifties since just about everyone didn't have the means to buy a vehicle. The Nation, being so young and illiterate, had no way of integrating itself into the vast domain of politics, business, and legal matters. Poverty levels were unimaginable, written records had now just been getting organized, and mass communication was nil. The "smoke signals" were done by word of mouth and/or the little radios often found in Grammys' hogan. Telephones were mainly located in the bigger towns at trading posts and at shopping centers.

Technology is changing the very fabric of the Nation. However there is a certain amount of mistrust between the "keyboard" and some older folks like my Mom and Dad. The generation gap is prevalent in my home. My parents, an old-fashioned people, who I love dearly, who will gladly watch television but refuse to have anything to do with the internet. Old fashioned ideals are a good thing. Nothing wrong with them. It's my generation (some call it Generation X) that are given the responsibility to spearhead the vast amounts of information and use it to make us whole again.

Chinle also happens to be the birthplace of a type of rug popular among collectors. From what I read the different style of rug (no borders) and a new vegetable dye propelled the Navajo rugs into Americans homes. The rugs are a sign o' the times- from the type of material, the origin of the yarn, and the influence of popular culture. The rugs continue to be made with great success and skills are handed down mother to daughter. Grammy to Grand-Daughter. My mom has a loom in the back of the house which she used to weave rugs with. It's a beautiful thing that takes patience, discipline, and determination. I have seen some rugs that my mom made and they are quite beautiful. I'll dig up some old pictures of them and post them here for all to gaze upon. She's long since sold them and has a strong desire to do more.

Three of Moms Rugs <<<333

© 2007 Tyrene Banks; including pictures of "moms rugs"; except all other pictures and links

The 50's Walk: Mom's School Days

The loose dirt came off in small clouds as she trudged along the dirt road. Her black dress shoes left tiny trails on the dirt road- the only tracks made by shoes on a lonely road. My mother, Sadie, made her evening trek back home after getting off her school bus. The clouds had been thickening lately as fall weather arrived. They were a spatter of thick bulbuous purple and white that contrasted nicely against the palette of red, rust, white, and yellow of the desert.The breeze picked up as debris flew to and fro chipping away at the landscape. Sadie sometimes had to walk four miles to get to her school bus in the mornings and to get home after school. Now that winter had arrived the light angled from the southwest and made daylight scarce.

It was getting late.

She dug her small hands into her coat pocket and tightened her small body hoping that would keep her warm. The days were getting shorter and nightfall would be coming earlier every evening. My great Aunt Anna and grandmother Sara would be either at the small woodburning stove preparing dinner or listening to the radio as they chatted and waited for her. Her Stepfather Sam would be out and about running errands or letting the sheep graze. The small octagonal home, composed of logs, dirt, chicken-wire, and plaster, would be their defense against the blustery cold winter winds.

March. March. March.

The winds whistling through Juniper branches and the occasional bark of a distant dog were all that kept my mother company this evening. Sadie looked forward to a little dinner which most likely would be Frybread, mutton, and potatoes. She often thought of her family that had become scattered the past few years. Soon the old Ford truck that took her family places would be put through it's paces as the multi-colored silt clay transformed into a thick congealed mess of a trail. It wouldn't even be a road then. Hopefully the old white truck would make it through the season! If it didn't then the old green wooden wagon would be put to use.

Winters in these parts of the reservation were a disaster. The lack of a paved road meant that her brand new shoes would be getting muddy as would the clothes that hung low to the ground. The nearest place to get clothing was in Chinle where Sadie went to school. Chinle was a small town sixteen miles away. It has since then become a Mecca for tourists because of the Canyons there and proximity to other natural wonders on Navajoland. It has also grown a bit.

A sound of an approaching truck ushered Sadie to the side of the dirt road as she anxiously picked up her pace. There was no telling if that person would be a relative or a family member. Her beige skirt swept along the scattered mess of twig, dirt, and gravel while the truck slowly passed her. Sadie did not know who that person was as it went over a small hill and left a billowing cloud of dirt. It was not the families truck. The old truck must be acting up or someone went out.

The last rays of light began to fade into the horizon as a field mouse scurried alongside some brush- no doubt getting ready for the winter also. The colder weather would usher in winter ceremonies and a decrease in attendance in school days. Ceremonies would consist of song and dance in reverence to the Holy People (one of many Navajo deities). Sadie's family would attend these and make the trek through isolated roads to visit relatives and catch up on the latest news from around Navajoland. Ceremonies were often times a place for socializing as well as healing. News mostly traveled by word of mouth as the latest technological feat- the television- had not been convenient for "muddy-road-wood-burning-no-electricity" people. Sam, her uncle, would probably just use it for a table or store things on top of it if they had one. For all she knew he'd probably sell it considering it would be virtually useless to buy more practical items. Items that were staple such as flour, canned foods, lard, kerosene, fabric, matches, and the other little necessities needed to make it through snowed-in days. Suddenly California or Kayenta seemed like such welcome options for her. She made up her mind. Once she got home she would tell Anna and Sara her plans.

She was getting closer as she saw the top of the windmill turning and the comforting smell of cedar burning. Anna had a fire going meaning it was warm inside and dinner was ready!

Growl.

It was Sadies stomach. The school cafeteria food was okay but the little walk and anticipation quickly burned off the last calories of her lunch. She felt calmness wash over her as she saw the sheep camp, the horse pen, and her two dogs as she approached. The sheep camp was set up as a small shack with a variety of branches and whatever else had been at hand to make a little pen- the horse pen likewise. Her skirt and hair whipped around as the wind increased and the temperature began to drop. She would need a heavier coat and thicker socks tomorrow. Someone had already taken the sheep out for a graze earlier as they stared contently as Sadie walked by. Her dogs ran up and escorted her knowing that scraps would soon be coming their way. The sheep knew my mother very well. She tended to them on the day's she was not in school. She would take them out and let them graze while she sat under a tree and ate her lunch. She would pack her lunch in a small plastic or paper bag and take a small notebook and pencil to practice writing. The sheep were pretty much aware of their grazing route thanks to the dogs. They were the typical reservation mutts which almost every Navajo family had. What kind of Navajo could afford such dogs, groom, and practically treat them like people? The concept was alien to the families here back then and still is. She often saw pictures of dogs in magazines that had pictures of dogs and their owners. The dogs often looked like their owners which caused a small smile to form on Sadies face. Here things were solely based on practicality and ease of introduction into a changing society that had not too long ago been agrarian. People planted vegetables, fruit, and raised sheep for consumption and wool- an evolving farming community.

She opened the door to see Sam, Sara, and Anna sitting in their mismatched dinner chairs speaking in Navajo about their plans. There was to be a trip to a nearby town to sell a rug that Anna had been working on the last couple of weeks. Her rugs were often bought by the traders at a trading post in Ganado. The lack of a formal Western education was rampant as was the lack of a family member who could speak fluent English. A formal Western education was something that was either a nuisance or an opportunity for a young Navajo lady in those days.

"My daughter. Sit down. Let's eat." Sara motioned for Sadie as she set a place for her at their small table and turned up the kerosene lamp. It's golden flames burned brighter as the small metal knob was turned. The shadows of the the family were cast opposite the wall where a smaller lamp was keeping the dark at bay. The Navajo language transliterated often comes across as a very direct language. Words are like a command- no nonsense, and to the point. There, of course, also is the reverse of the descriptive and the subject. So "Good meal" comes out "meal good" just as many other linguistic structures compare similarly. In their home the only person who was the English-speaking person was Sadie. All her relatives at home spoke nothing but Navajo. Sadie's English was just as bad as the next rural Navajo's but was slowly getting better.

Sadie put her books away and makeshift knapsack full of school supplies. The wash basin was a medium sized steel bowl full of water with a small bar of soap nearby. she washed her hands and dried them. Anna and Grace had made some fried potatoes, strips of fried beef, coffee (which my Sadie did not drink), and some store bread. Sadie also had a twinkie for an after- dinner snack that she had saved and had a hankering for. After dinner it was homework time. Sadie was doing well in school and did her homework with no problems. Practicing her new found language aloud made Sara smile and Anna confused.

She spoke to Sara about her plans for attending school so far away. Sadie wasn't the adventurous type however her older brothers ranting and raving compelled her to rethink the change of scenery.

"My mother. In the future Sonny wants me to go to school where he is at now." Sadie told Sara. She sat at the edge of the bed unlaced her shoes and stowed them underneath her old hand-me-down bed. Sara clasped her tiny hands together as Sadie sat next to her.

"My daughter. That school is so far away. What am I going to do without you?" Sara asked Sadie. She held Sadies hand and leaned Sadie against her. "I will miss you a lot my daughter like I miss your brother and sister."

Sara spoke in a subdued tone because Anna was dozing off and beginning to snore just a bit. She sounded so concerned and seemed a little sad. Maybe it was because she knew that her kids were growing up and were bound to leave. It made Sadie feel a little sad also.

"I'll be okay my mother. Sonny will take care of me. I would like it very much if I could go." Sadie said to Sara.

Sara was quiet for minute as she breathed a little more deeply. Outside the dogs barked at unknown things, the wind whisteled, and Sams chopping kept a steady tempo.

"I want you to go. There is nothing for you here. Nothing but old people and no school." Sara said. "Your Aunt doesn't want you to go. She wants you to stay and be like them. I do not want that for you my baby girl. I want you to learn." Sara leaned closer to Sadie and hugged her tight. Sadie sighed and began to drift as Sara's words sounded farther and farther away. School and a four mile walk does that to a young girl!

Sam was outside chopping some wood as the morning would be downright nippy. The stars were in full view as Sam labored to break apart the blocks of cedar into small enough logs for the woodstove. He stopped to take a breather and drank in the silence and looked up at the stars. He thought of many things these days and his age was one of them. He worried for this family and all the change that was taking place around him. His step daughter was speaking in a different manner and form. He knew she was sharp but lonely. Sadie's older brother and younger sister were away at school and they were fairly isolated here. Soon there would be roads, more houses, and all the things he saw in the bigger towns would be encroaching upon them. He didn't know what to make of it. Change was coming too fast and soon for his tastes.

Yah di la! (word for conceding to frustrated disappoinment; throwing your hands up) Maybe it's for the best. Sam thought as he saw the flickering lights from Chinle in the distance. He gathered wood and headed back into the little hogan.


© 2007 Tyrene Banks