my visit to the rez

Posted by dt on Friday, 1 August 1997, at 5:00 p.m.

Readers:

A couple of months later after the Stanford powwow. I got a call from my
mother who asked me when I was coming up to the rez. I told her soon, why?
My mother said my grandmother said, "It's time." I knew what she meant, but
I played dumb (Indians are good at doing this....although perceived by the
"others" as expected obtuse behavior....it is actually sometimes done to be
purposefully obstinate and is otherwise a good defense mechanism for
survival in the dominant culture), "Time for what?" My mother (like I
suppose all mothers) responded, "Don't be dumb, you have to go through your
naming ceremony. The elders have chosen a named for you."

You see although I had a name, that is, dt, I still didn't have a tribal
name. So as far as my tribe (I won't repeat the name as you already know
now) was concerned I was nameless. The delay was my own causing because I was
not a firm believer or practitioner in our ways, that is, not a
"traditionalist." (Winston if he was hear could explain) If one makes a
concerted effort to learn and incorporates into their belief system,
lifestyle, and/or personality the tribal ways (such as, language, religion,
mythology, customs, behavior, etc.), one would probably be named at a very
early age. However, today, this is not always true.

I told my mother that I was on my way but was going to stop in to see some
friends in Nevada.

My trek takes me trough Reno where I always make a generous contribution to
the city or syndicate or whatever.....then up 80 through Lovelock. However,
this time, I turn up north out of lovelock into "le desert." I eventually
get to Jim and Earny's and like expected they weren't there. I wrote them
that I was coming (they had no telephones). I waited out one hell'va hot
half day by playing with a friendly reservation dog, you know, the
multi-colored, wild looking mutt - individually they're friendly but in a
pack, watch out!

Early evening, they finally show up. Indians don't lay any crap on one
another for being late. It just isn't done. Soy-yap-poos on the rez say,
"they're going by Indian time" (this statement is almost always accompanied
by a rolling of the eyes). This means they'll get there when they get there.
Again, Indians use this to sometimes purposefully frustrate the hell out of
the "others" (anyone not Indian). But, in Jim and Earny case we are talking
normal speed for them.

Well, we shot the breeze for awhile, but they knew why I was there which was
not to see their ugly faces. They told me that a friend of theirs was coming
to visit and they wanted to wait for him. His name was Wedge.

Jim and Earny told me their was a lot of action out in the desert. What was
new about their info was the mention of military or soldier types. I said,
you sure that they're not just weekend warriors doing their training thing?"
Earny, speaks up, "No way, man, these guys are scary because they're not
like the regulars." From what I could tell they're choppers had no markings
which I felt was somewhat unusual. But, hey, the war was over for me so I
gave it no more thought. Then, Wedge shows up.

Wedge was cool. He too was an ex-Vietnam vet. He was a LRRP with the 75th
Rangers, I believe, and was attached to the 173rd light airborne brigade (a
tough outfit). We all shook hands (this is a must among the Indian men). He
asked was I with the government. I said no way. I asked why? He said someone
has been "ghosting" me by plane and one of those white jeeps. I started to
get mad but I didn't know at who? There is one thing that reservation
Indians can do real well and that is see or otherwise smell a government
agent a mile away or as soon as they come on the rez. They stand out like a
sore eye, especially the FBI (note, at powows, you may see an Indian wearing
a dark blue or black baseball cap with large white "F", "B", "I" letters
which stands for full-blood-indian. This really pisses off the feds.).

I told them what I was going to do, i.e., camp out to hopefully make a visual
ufo sighting. They, especially Wedge thought I was crazy. He says, "Say,
man, are you carrying fire." I replied no. I said the war is over. He
retorted quickly, "Are you sure, man?" He ended up giving me a pistol, and
we made plans in case I ran into any trouble. I don't know what these guys
thought, but I believe it was fun or in some strange way was exciting to
them. As Jim would say, "It's better than doin nothin, man."

All the above talk was not due to worrying about me mixing it up the feds or
whomever. These guys, although modern Indians from all looks and actions,
are still touched in a mystical way about the unknown. They would never
really bad-mouth the religious elders and, in this situation, deep down were
spooked. We all laughed about me going out to see "little green men" but it
was a very uneasy laugh because they suspected something like that was out
there but they were all afraid to admit it. In other words, they thought I
just might run into "THEM."

As it turned out, as you may recall, I didn't see any green men. I did see
something that scared the heck out of me to the point I almost wet my pants.
The thing was huge. All I heard was a sound like a glider might make
flying near overhead. I looked up and there it was.....

I heard a slight hissing sound inside the triangular shaped craft. It was
dark and rotated in a clockwise motion directly over my head (this was due
as I found out later to what we call "superfluid flow" in quantum mechanics.
The fuel source that senses magnetic fields is stored around the edge of the
craft for required low temperature cooling like for SQUIDS). I started to go
to my car for the pistol but stopped short ashamed of myself. A light source
shown on me and erupted into various colors (I found out this was the
co-pilot's light spectrum adjustment for their visual viewing) not unlike an
eye doctor rotating various lens in front of your eyes until you have clear
vision). I was at a loss as to what to observe, then "swisshhhh" it was gone.

I already told you what followed. I hooked up with the guys and said that,
"I'm outta here."

I think I made it to Winnemucca at warp speed as I cannot remember one damn
thing driving there. All I could remember was the junior officer quickly
walking away from me saying something to the effect, "..that crazy
mothaf--knig son-of-a-bitch Vietnam creep...etc., etc." This town was
obviously important to turn toward my rez.

When I got to my parents summer house, I said that I was ready to go through
the Indian stuff to get my name. I didn't tell anybody what happened to me.
I asked what name they picked for me? My sister said a bird. My other sister
said a very special bird, no one, she went on, has ever had the name before.
I thought, "What kind of bird is that? I thought that it must not be too bad
because my sisters weren't laughing or kidding me. My grandmother said the
one that flys the highest. I said, "An Eagle?" She said, "No, dt, the one
that can fly higher than Mr. Eagle, the only one that can leave the sky."

-dt