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)