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About Spilyay tymoo. (Warm Springs, Or.) 1976-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 22, 2012)
Spilydy T yrooo, W arm Springs, O regon Pgge 7 A u g u s t 22, 2 01 2 Howlak Tichum Boise home after 7 years of service B y Jerry Brunoe For the Spilyay Joseph “Jo Jo ” Sidney Sm ith Joseph “Jo Jo ” Sidney Smith was bom on July 2, 1960 to the late Alvis W. S m ith Sr. an d R am ona “M ona” R. Whiz-Smith in Prineville. Jo Jo resided at Warm Springs with his par ents, along the Deschutes River and moved to H ol lywood. D ue to his medi- ' cal condition he moved to Salem. H e then relocated to Bend, w here he hved out the rest o f his life. Jo Jo enjoyed his fam ily, relatives and friends. Jo Jo had a couple o f cous ins he enjoyed the company of, Eric Smith and Ruth “Pinky” Beymer. Jo Jo en joyed attending powwows and loved Indian music. He loved chocolate, flute m u sic and traveling. J o s e p h p a sse d away peacefully surrounded by his family on Septem ber 28, 2011, after a lengthy time o f m edical co n d itio n s, he died o f natural causes. Jo Jo is survived by his siblings, Marie A. Calica (Jody), Kanim W. Smith Sr. (Leona), Robert “Bobby” Eagleheart, Austin L. Smith (Lois), A rlene K. Smith, Vernon E; Smith Sr., K e n n e th “K e n n e d y ” D. Smith (Edna), and M ona L. Fire restrictions higher on reservation Last week, on Friday, A u g u st 17, th e W arm Springs Indian Reserva tion fire danger restric tions increased. T he increased restric tions follow the National Fire D anger Rating Sys tem, Industrial Fire P re cautions Levels and Warm Springs M obilization and Dispatch plan. F u el co n d itio n s have transitioned from partial live to nearly co m p lete cured stage. The potential exists fo r in creased fire occurrence. For inform a tion, call Fire Management at 541-553-1146. Cochran (Billy), numerous nieces, nephews, cousins and his family at Yellow Ribbon in Bend. Jo Jo was preceded in death by his father, Alvis W Smith Sr., his m other Ramona “Mona” R. Whiz Smith, his siblings Tonina A. Smith, Zelma “Tada” L. Smith and Alvis W Smith Jr>, n e p h e w A n th o n y “T o n /’ Stacona and Louis W. Sm ith, niece A ngela Smith, and uncle William “Bill” Whiz. M em o rial serv ices were held at 2 p.rn. at the W arm S p rin g s S h ak er Church on September 30, 2011, laid to rest O ctober 1, 2011 at th e A gency Cemetery. : (IPz’/Z) all due respect fo r give me f o r the late remem brance; submitted by Mona L . Cochran.) I CRITFC meeting at Kah-Nee-Ta The Columbia River Inter- Tribal Fish Commission will hold its monthly commission ers meeting this Wednesday through Friday, Aug. 22-24 at Kah-Nee-Ta Resort. In O ctober, CRITFC will host a meeting in Portland on “The Future o f O ur Salmon: Focus on Hatchery Policy.” G eo rg e B oise resig n ed fro m th e arm y o n July 5, 2012 as a Specialist. H e was stationed at Schofield Bar racks, Hawaii in the 25th In fantry Div. 3rd Brigade 2nd Battalion 35th Infantry regi ment. H e said, “I got out o f the army because my time was up. I fulfilled my contract I signed up for.” Boise joined the army in August o f 2005 when he was 19 years old. H e was sent to Ft. Benning in Georgia for Basic Training. ' H e said Basics was really intense, “I was taught right away to work as a team with complete strangers from all over the U.S.” W hen he signed up to join the army, he was given the option to join a rapid deploy m ent unit. H e agreed to it. George Boise “The first m onths in the arm y after basics I d id n ’t know w hat to expect,” he said. A fter his first m onth sta tioned in Hawaii he was trans ferred to Japan to train in C o n v o y O p e ra tio n s and Movements. H e said his first tour in Iraq— from July 2006 to O ctober 2007— was one o f his m ost memorable. His first memory was getting off the bus in Kuwait City with the h o t wind in his face. “It was freaking hot,” he said, “I thought, A m I really ready for this?”’ H e rem em bers his first action while on duty. H e was being shot at and bom bs ex ploded near him. His friends, told him, “D on’t worry, your training will kick in and we got your back.” H e did a second tour in Iraq from September 2008 to, Septem ber 2009. H is third and final tour was in Afghani stan from April o f 2011 to April 2012. Boise has moved back to Warm Springs. H e is planning to go to school for Homeland Security and criminal justice. H e mentioned one last thing about joining the Army, “I say its a good jump start in life if you don’t have college lined up. D o something you think you w ant to do w hen you get out.” Inmates to host second Deer Ridge powwow The Native American in mates at the D eer Ridge Cor rectional Institution will host their Second A nnual Pow wow next m onth. The pow wow will be at D e e r R idge o n Saturday, Sept. 8. G rand entry will be at 9 a.m. Guests should ar rive at 8 a.m. Anyone interested in at ten d in g this event should contact D eer Ridge Chaplain Tim W oods by A ugust 24. His num ber is 541-325-5617. You can also reach the cor rections facility at 541-325- 5999. O r send an email to: tim.n.woods@doc.state.us T h e N a tiv e in m ates at D eer Ridge are inviting danc ers and drummers to attend the event. They will have fry bread and Indian tacos, and a giveaway. A hand-drum spe cial is open to all singers. D eer Ridge is a minimum- security priso n . T h ere are about 760 inmates at the fa cility. An average o f five N a tive Americans from W arm Springs are am ong the in mates. A nother 25 or so are Native Americans from other tribes. More News from Indian Country Apache learns ancestors’ story of sacrifice AUGUSTINE, Fla. (AP) - In the front o f the charter bus, the two tribal elders were dozing. T hey had flown in from their New Mexico res ervation late the night before and risen early to take the kids on this field trip. They had to save their strength to share their story. The teenagers crowded the b ack o f th e b u s, p re sse d against the wide windows, tak ing pictures: a palm tree, a giant g o lf ball, a statue o f Mickey Mouse. “W here’s the beach?” a boy in a white cow boy hat kept asking. “I want to go to the beach.” M o st o f th e y o u n g Apache had never been to a beach, flown on a plane or seen an y w h ere as flat as Florida. They grew up on 700 square miles o f m ountains a n d P o n d e ro s a p in es, in FEM A trailers and cramped governm ent houses. The. teenagers had com e to O rla n d o fo r a m en tal health conference that would begin the next day. T he elders had m ade them bring their rib b o n sh irts an d cam p dresses. B ut on this steamy Ju ly m o rn in g as th e bus rumbled onto the interstate, th e stu d e n ts h ad n o idea where they were headed. “Are we there yet?” asked the boy in the cowboy hat. His name is Tralin Enjady and he’s 12. “W here are we go ing?” T he counselors w ouldn’t answer. They knew this jour ney was going to be hard. But if these young Apache could confront their past, if th ey c o u ld w alk in th e strained steps o f their ances tors and feel the thick walls o f the fort closing in, maybe they’d feel some pride and the elders wouldn’t have to bury any more kids. In the fall o f 2010, in a span o f six m onths, eight teenagers on the Mescalero reservation com m itted sui cide. The tribe has about 5,000 m em bers and one school with 500 students. All o f the teenagers on the charter bus knew a suicide victim: a 14- year-old cousin who hanged himself from his bunk bed, a 15-year-old girl who com m itted the same desperate act behind her aunt’s house. “I lost so many friends, one after another. I spent my junior year going to funer als,” said W h itn ey Balderrama, 19. “They even had a blessing at our school in case an evil spirit was go ing through it.’’ T he trib al g o v ern m en t declared a state o f em er gency. W hat would make all these kids take their lives in such a short time? M ost o f th e m cam e fro m carin g families. Investigators found they hadn’t been drinking or using drugs. T here was no suicide pact. N ative leaders called in m ental health expert G reg Powers, w ho once ran the reserv atio n ’s h o sp ital and had since retired to G ulfport in P in ellas C ounty. H e helped the Apache apply for a federal grant to receive in tensive counseling and sui cide prevention services. T he $6 million, six-year grant includes funds for an eq u in e th e ra p y p ro g ra m , teacher training and travel. It paid for the trip to the O r lando conference, where the kids w ould p resent videos about reservation life. A nd it enabled the Apache to bring along Maria Yellow H orse Braveheart, an associate pro fessor at the U niversity o f N ew Mexico. She believes the suicides stem, in part, from something she calls historical trauma. “Generations o f genocide, colonization, im prisonment, all o f th a t trau m a trickles down and leads to other is sues,” said Braveheart, w ho has studied and written about the issue for m ore than 20 years. W hen the government sys tematically attacks a culture— when it uproots people, m ur ders or jails them and steals th eir land— the d isruption ripples through generations. Examples include Holocaust survivors, Japanese-A m eri- cans who were held in intern m ent camps^— and American Indians, Braveheart said. “I t ’s em p o w erin g fo r people to know w hat hap pened in the past,” she said. “ I f th ey can u n d e rs ta n d where their issues are com ing from, they have less self blame and are less likely to succumb to substance abuse, anger and self-destruction.” O f course, American In dians battle other, current is sues: isolation, unem p lo y m ent, poverty. Some o f the Apache d o n ’t ow n cars, so they seldom leave the reser vation. Many struggle to find even m inim um -w age jobs. More than 70 percent qualify fo r M edicaid— an d only 5 percent graduate from high school. W hat’s left o f their culture is fading fast: These teenag ers don 't know their native language o r how to ride a horse. But through com put ers and cable TV, they know all ab o u t h ip -h o p and h o t rods, baggy jeans and bling, things they w ant to be a part of. But nothing that is a part o f them. “All o f those factors, com bined with how these kids are affected by their history, can lead to deep depression and despair,” said Powers. S om e o f th e y o u n g A pache had heard o f their ancestor Geronimo, how he was hated and imprisoned, his family hauled away. But none knew about the boxcars and boarding school. O r that tow ering shell fort in Florida.. A fter tw o hours on th e bus, the teenagers tum bled out onto a narrow sidewalk in St. Augustine and found themselves surrounded by T- shirt shops. “W here are w e?” asked Tralin, the boy in the cowboy hat. “Where are we going?” C ounselors led the kids across thè road to a winding path that climbed above the sh o re. In fr o n t o f th e m loom ed a 17th century fort w ith four diam ond-shaped bastions jutting into the bay. T ralin lo o k e d d o w n at foam y w aves la p p in g th e sand. “Look at all that water!” he cried. “Is that the beach?” A park ranger approached the 25 Apache and welcomed th e m to C astillo de San Marcos. “I know this will be controversial for some N a tive A m ericans, especially those o f you w ho had ances tors here,” said the ranger, Jill Jaworski. “But I w ant you all to feel free to wander through the rooms. A nd know that we’re installing new exhibits soon, ones th at include your per spective. We’re even going to enclose that Apache fire spirit in glass.” The teenagers didn’t seem to heat. They were too busy taking pictures o f the beach below. The elders looked at each o th er. W h a t w as an Apache fire spirit? T h e ra n g e r led th e m th ro u g h a gate, p ast a gift shop, into the grassy center o f the fort. “Is there a place they can change?” asked el der B onna Dell Ortega, 68. She wanted the teenagers to wear their native dress so they would feelmore connected to the history they were about to hear. . So the young Apache split o ff into the bathrooms, where the boys took o ff their back ward baseball caps and pulled o n lo n g -sle e v e d sh irts rim m ed w ith ribbons. T he girls pulled floor-length satin skirts over their jeans. Trinity Enjady, 14, forgot her m oc casins; h e r C huck T aylor high-tops flapped beneath her ceremonial dress. “This way,” said a counse lor. “T he elders are waiting.” In a co rner o f the fort, next to the powder magazine, an arched entry opened into a dark, vaulted room. There was no sign outside; the N a tio n a l P ark S erv ice m ap d o e s n ’t n am e th is place. W hen som eone asked the ranger, she said, “We just call it the Indian room .” The teenagers filed inside silently, staring at the rough walls made o f coquina shells, peering th ro u g h the m etal bars striping the windows. It was hot in there, especially in their long sleeves and skirts. “Please join hands,” said O rtega. “ O u r peo p le w ho came here always prayed tó their creator, so we're going to o pen w ith o u r A pache prayer.” : In 1886 U.S. tro o p s rounded up the Apache and rem oved th em from th eir native land in N ew Mexico. , “O ur people were the last ones. G ero n im o was their le a d e r,” O rte g a said. H q elu d ed c a p tu re fo r years, moving his people among the mountains. But the Army kept sending m ore soldiers and killing m ore A pache. “F i nally,” O rte g a said-, “ he thought it would be best if he gave up. H e wasn’t cap tured. H e surrendered, so his people could survive.” Tfoops forced 506 Apache into boxcars, mostly women and children. “Packed them in tike cattle,” said O rtega, whose great-grandfather was; on the train. “T hey d id n ’t! know where they were going,; And whenever they stopped) they were looked at as ani-; mais in a cage.” The train took them all the! w ay to F lo rid a , so they! wouldn’t be tem pted to run; home. G eronim o and 14 o f his men were im prisoned at F o rt Pickens in Pensacola. The rest “were brought here, to this fort, and kept in this! very ro o m ,” said O rtega.; “T hink o f how h o t this is; they had no air-conditioning or bathrooms. Can you imag-! ine living here? We are all de-j scendants o f people who suf fered here.” (See T EEN S on 10)
