Among The Navajo
From James Donahue's journal
The great Navajo Nation is a country within a country. It is a massive tract of land spreading over large parts of four states, Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah. The nation is bordered by what the Dineh, or "The People," call the four sacred mountains. These are Mt. Blanca on the east, Mt. Taylor on the south, the San Francisco Peaks on the west and Mt. Hesperus to the north. Stretching within is some of the strangest, beautiful and distinctly surreal real estate one can find anywhere on this planet.
Our trip to the Begay home, located in about the center of the Arizona quarter of "Navajoland," gave us a distinct sense of entering a magical universe. With Elfrieda and Raymond in the back seat, giving us directions, we drove on State Highway 77 North from Holbrook until we came to a sign and fence marking the entrance to the Navajo Reservation. From there the two-lane paved road changed its name to Highway 5 as it continued to wind its way northward towards Keam’s Canyon, some 60 miles ahead.
Immediately visible in the distance were strange flat-topped mesas protruding up out of the high desert floor. These odd disturbances in the topography soon were to be seen everywhere we looked. And as we passed, we found them massive in size. It looked as if a giant force deep under the earth had pushed hard rock upward at some distant time in the past, forcing the ground to rise as high as two or three hundred feet into the air. As the rock pressed toward the sky, the soft dirt and rock fell away, leaving piles of rubble lying around them. It was not surprising that Navajo legends told of this very thing happening. The old people tell stories about magical forces, sometimes witchcraft, causing these formations to occur, often at the expense of some unfortunate person left stranded on the top of them.
Every mile driven through this strange landscape seemed to be a new adventure. Elfrieda seemed happy to be our guide, busy telling the stories and pointing out especially important points of reference as we passed.
We cleared one very large hill and the road began descending into a deep valley stretching for miles ahead of us. There, lying directly ahead was one of the most memorable of rock formations. It gave the appearance of a head of a great ape rising up out of the earth. Its eyes looked to the north. It soon became clear that the ape head formation was an important reference point for the Navajo. The road continued directly to its base before turning. Then as we passed, there was an intersection with another paved highway leading west to a small settlement called Dikon. A few miles beyond this, on the other side of the ape head formation, was yet another intersection with a paved road leading northeast through Geasewood and on to Chinle. Among these so-called towns, only Chinle amounted to a community of any size. That was because it was a tourist town, accommodating thousands of people who come to visit nearby Canyon de Chelly National Park. Most of the towns on the reservation amounted to a single store, or trading post, gasoline station, a few houses and possibly a school.
At first appearance, the reservation appears to be a vast, empty place. Without towns a visitor from the outside might get the impression the Navajo are few in number and completely disorganized. But that is far from the case.
The people seem to love their own space, choosing to live in homes located in private little places. If you look closely while driving through the reservation you will see the homes, their pickup trucks parked in the yards. You also can find an intricate network of little dirt trails and electrical wires, on utility poles, leading to each house. There also are windmills, attached to large water tanks, all pumping water from a vast aquifer located deep in the earth. The water tanks feed open troughs used by the livestock, which roam the reservation freely. A more sophisticated water system has been built with federal tax money to provide good drinking water, delivered through an elaborate underground pipeline, to nearly every house on the reservation.
Most Navajo live on government assistance. They often occupy new, prefabricated homes, drive new pickups (the preferred vehicle because of the rough trails they drive just to get around), and go regularly each month to central distribution points to receive free handouts of government surplus food.
We continued north on the highway until, after just clearing the crest of a hill, we saw a small shelter used by children waiting for school buses on the side of the road. Also at that point was a dirt road intersecting with the highway, and the ruins of about two or three buildings. This is a place still found on maps and called White Cone. It is named for a strange nearby cone-shaped rock formation that appears to be white in color. (Elfrieda said that when you see white rock like that, with no vegetation growing, it is a good sign that there is uranium in the rock. Uranium mines are located in various places throughout the reservation.)
From there we turned eastward, following that rugged, washboard gravel road for what seemed likes miles. The road was filled with ruts left when past rains turned the clay base into mud, and holes and unexpected rough places so bad that regular travelers of the road created their own detours into the land alongside the road. These trails were sometimes no easier to travel than the road, however. The Navajo have a grader or two, but rarely maintain their roads we discovered.
Eventually we came to a fork in the road. The gravel road swung to the south and a two-rutted trail went north. We were instructed to take this nameless trail. It had been traveled for so many years the wheel tracks were too deep for my car. I understood why the people drove around in pickup trucks. I had to straddle the tracks to save my muffler and other underpinnings from being torn away. Miles later as we cleared yet another hill we came upon the Begay home.
At the time they did not live in one of the new government-financed homes. They had their name on a list and were waiting for one of these homes, but they were still living in one of the older houses. Two old wooden hogans, the original style of housing for the Navajo before modern "Americanized" housing was provided, still stood in the yard behind the house. The house was a modest, wooden frame dwelling. It had two bedrooms, a large "community room" housing a living and dining area, a kitchen and bathroom. We arrived in January and at seven thousand feet, even though we were in Arizona it was cold. The first thing Raymond did was bring in some pieces of juniper wood from a wood shed standing beside the house, and start a fire in an old wood burning stove in the central room. Within a short time the house was getting comfortable.
I noticed that things were toggled. The chimney pipe from the stove passed out through a window, then turned upward where it was wired to the edge of the roof. The glass had been removed from the window and a piece of tin installed in its place. A row of old tires lay across the roof of the house, obvious protection against the wind and sand storms that ravage the open Arizona landscape.
There had been a fire in the kitchen. The walls and ceiling were still blackened from the smoke. Nobody had bothered to paint or clean up. The old electric stove from where the fire started was still in its place. The house was cluttered and generally unkempt. Elfrieda was not a good housekeeper. The range was barely working. Much of the cooking was done on an open burning pit, between some cinder blocks in the yard. Three very lean but friendly dogs lived in the dirt yard. The Begays sometimes tossed them table scraps, but mostly the dogs were forced to hunt for their food. The Navajo staple was usually meat, mostly mutton from their herds of sheep, and fry bread. Both can be easily cooked on an open flame.
We accepted the Begay's invitation to live with them for a while and learn the Navajo ways. One of the two bedrooms was cleared and we moved into it. This was going to be our home for the first months of 1996.
From James Donahue's journal
The great Navajo Nation is a country within a country. It is a massive tract of land spreading over large parts of four states, Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah. The nation is bordered by what the Dineh, or "The People," call the four sacred mountains. These are Mt. Blanca on the east, Mt. Taylor on the south, the San Francisco Peaks on the west and Mt. Hesperus to the north. Stretching within is some of the strangest, beautiful and distinctly surreal real estate one can find anywhere on this planet.
Our trip to the Begay home, located in about the center of the Arizona quarter of "Navajoland," gave us a distinct sense of entering a magical universe. With Elfrieda and Raymond in the back seat, giving us directions, we drove on State Highway 77 North from Holbrook until we came to a sign and fence marking the entrance to the Navajo Reservation. From there the two-lane paved road changed its name to Highway 5 as it continued to wind its way northward towards Keam’s Canyon, some 60 miles ahead.
Immediately visible in the distance were strange flat-topped mesas protruding up out of the high desert floor. These odd disturbances in the topography soon were to be seen everywhere we looked. And as we passed, we found them massive in size. It looked as if a giant force deep under the earth had pushed hard rock upward at some distant time in the past, forcing the ground to rise as high as two or three hundred feet into the air. As the rock pressed toward the sky, the soft dirt and rock fell away, leaving piles of rubble lying around them. It was not surprising that Navajo legends told of this very thing happening. The old people tell stories about magical forces, sometimes witchcraft, causing these formations to occur, often at the expense of some unfortunate person left stranded on the top of them.
Every mile driven through this strange landscape seemed to be a new adventure. Elfrieda seemed happy to be our guide, busy telling the stories and pointing out especially important points of reference as we passed.
We cleared one very large hill and the road began descending into a deep valley stretching for miles ahead of us. There, lying directly ahead was one of the most memorable of rock formations. It gave the appearance of a head of a great ape rising up out of the earth. Its eyes looked to the north. It soon became clear that the ape head formation was an important reference point for the Navajo. The road continued directly to its base before turning. Then as we passed, there was an intersection with another paved highway leading west to a small settlement called Dikon. A few miles beyond this, on the other side of the ape head formation, was yet another intersection with a paved road leading northeast through Geasewood and on to Chinle. Among these so-called towns, only Chinle amounted to a community of any size. That was because it was a tourist town, accommodating thousands of people who come to visit nearby Canyon de Chelly National Park. Most of the towns on the reservation amounted to a single store, or trading post, gasoline station, a few houses and possibly a school.
At first appearance, the reservation appears to be a vast, empty place. Without towns a visitor from the outside might get the impression the Navajo are few in number and completely disorganized. But that is far from the case.
The people seem to love their own space, choosing to live in homes located in private little places. If you look closely while driving through the reservation you will see the homes, their pickup trucks parked in the yards. You also can find an intricate network of little dirt trails and electrical wires, on utility poles, leading to each house. There also are windmills, attached to large water tanks, all pumping water from a vast aquifer located deep in the earth. The water tanks feed open troughs used by the livestock, which roam the reservation freely. A more sophisticated water system has been built with federal tax money to provide good drinking water, delivered through an elaborate underground pipeline, to nearly every house on the reservation.
Most Navajo live on government assistance. They often occupy new, prefabricated homes, drive new pickups (the preferred vehicle because of the rough trails they drive just to get around), and go regularly each month to central distribution points to receive free handouts of government surplus food.
We continued north on the highway until, after just clearing the crest of a hill, we saw a small shelter used by children waiting for school buses on the side of the road. Also at that point was a dirt road intersecting with the highway, and the ruins of about two or three buildings. This is a place still found on maps and called White Cone. It is named for a strange nearby cone-shaped rock formation that appears to be white in color. (Elfrieda said that when you see white rock like that, with no vegetation growing, it is a good sign that there is uranium in the rock. Uranium mines are located in various places throughout the reservation.)
From there we turned eastward, following that rugged, washboard gravel road for what seemed likes miles. The road was filled with ruts left when past rains turned the clay base into mud, and holes and unexpected rough places so bad that regular travelers of the road created their own detours into the land alongside the road. These trails were sometimes no easier to travel than the road, however. The Navajo have a grader or two, but rarely maintain their roads we discovered.
Eventually we came to a fork in the road. The gravel road swung to the south and a two-rutted trail went north. We were instructed to take this nameless trail. It had been traveled for so many years the wheel tracks were too deep for my car. I understood why the people drove around in pickup trucks. I had to straddle the tracks to save my muffler and other underpinnings from being torn away. Miles later as we cleared yet another hill we came upon the Begay home.
At the time they did not live in one of the new government-financed homes. They had their name on a list and were waiting for one of these homes, but they were still living in one of the older houses. Two old wooden hogans, the original style of housing for the Navajo before modern "Americanized" housing was provided, still stood in the yard behind the house. The house was a modest, wooden frame dwelling. It had two bedrooms, a large "community room" housing a living and dining area, a kitchen and bathroom. We arrived in January and at seven thousand feet, even though we were in Arizona it was cold. The first thing Raymond did was bring in some pieces of juniper wood from a wood shed standing beside the house, and start a fire in an old wood burning stove in the central room. Within a short time the house was getting comfortable.
I noticed that things were toggled. The chimney pipe from the stove passed out through a window, then turned upward where it was wired to the edge of the roof. The glass had been removed from the window and a piece of tin installed in its place. A row of old tires lay across the roof of the house, obvious protection against the wind and sand storms that ravage the open Arizona landscape.
There had been a fire in the kitchen. The walls and ceiling were still blackened from the smoke. Nobody had bothered to paint or clean up. The old electric stove from where the fire started was still in its place. The house was cluttered and generally unkempt. Elfrieda was not a good housekeeper. The range was barely working. Much of the cooking was done on an open burning pit, between some cinder blocks in the yard. Three very lean but friendly dogs lived in the dirt yard. The Begays sometimes tossed them table scraps, but mostly the dogs were forced to hunt for their food. The Navajo staple was usually meat, mostly mutton from their herds of sheep, and fry bread. Both can be easily cooked on an open flame.
We accepted the Begay's invitation to live with them for a while and learn the Navajo ways. One of the two bedrooms was cleared and we moved into it. This was going to be our home for the first months of 1996.