Ni’ísh diné?
Uh, no. I’m a skinny white kid.
I can see why you’d
Make that mistake, though. Being as
Far away from anything bilagáana as you can get.
Fifteen miles off the highway. Ninety miles from the
grocery store, hospital, movie theater, cool green grass.
Far away, too, from anyone that looks remotely like me. Except the
Two albino boys at the top of Toh Ádin.
Hágósha’?
Jó naashá. I’m just wandering around.
Just trying to make sense of this. I was
Born here. Just a few miles away in the corner room of a
Trading post. Tsé Nitsaa Deezʼáhí, Rock that extends.
Delivered by a Lutheran Missionary doctor that when I was older I
Thought looked like a german soldier in
Pa’s American Heritage WWII book.
Haa dóoneé nílí? Well I guess you could say born of
Sheldrake. Born for Staley. Duck clan; Blacksmith clan.
But we don’t really think that way. I might as well have
No people. My classmate once asked me where I was from.
Here, I said. But where are your people?
Kansas, Michigan, Canada, England. Scattered around.
You act like you have no people is the worst insult you can throw.
Nizhé’éish nalnish? Yes, my father works.
He teaches. Diyíín bizaad. God language. At the mission.
Da’ak’ózh taa. The place called
Among the Greasewood.
(If there were a Navajo woman, mama. And this navajo woman woke up each
Morning. And this Navajo woman said her prayers the way she was taught. And if this
Young Navajo woman treats her neighbors well as she was taught; and if this
Young and energetic Navajo woman loves her little boy; when
She dies will she go to hell?
I think God will make a way.
Why are we here then, mama?
Daddy believes that God wants us here to teach the Navajos how to be saved.
Saved from what mama?
From hell.
Oh. I don’t like living here).
Kwe’é ei ya’a’teh. Ta’sh aní?
Ayóó do ya’a’téeh da. No, it is really not good here.
Hop up, I’ll drop you at the mission as I drive by.
Jó nizhóní. Hágoónee’
Lá aa, hágoónee’.