--The Linguistics Department, she
has been head of the American Indian Studies
program for the last several years,
and has recently been relieved of that burden.
She has done research and writing in a number of areas.
She has done a lot of work in linguistics
on her native Tohono O'odham language.
And in that connection, has published
a grammar and several other essential publications.
She's also instrumental in working out the Tohono O'odham
language policy for the tribe.
As well as she's conducted an oral history project
with the Sand Papago people.
Her other side has been busy doing creative writing
during this time.
And I'd like to mention a few things
that she's done in that area.
Early on she organized, so far as I
know, the first poetry reading.
We were talking about this today.
So far as we know, the first poetry reading in O'odham,
when the book she edited, Hekid mat o ju,
When It Rains was published in 1982 by the University
of Arizona Press.
On the occasion of the publication of that book,
people filled up the tribal council chambers
out at Sells and the first O'odham poetry reading
was held very successfully.
Since that time, she's been writing poems and essays
and publishing regularly, both in her native language
and in English.
So I think without further ado, I'll turn this over to Ofelia.
Let's give her a big hand.
[APPLAUSE]
It's my pleasure to be here this evening.
Certainly, I welcome the opportunity to substitute
for Victor Masiyiwa.
And also, of course, it's been a pleasure
working with the whole arrangement
of this particular series.
As Larry mentioned, I do do a variety of things,
initially stemming from my experience in, first of all,
the field of linguistics.
The literature part is sort of a, for me at least,
an extension of that whole activity,
as I view the language study as sort of a holistic experience.
And I know other people will agree with that notion.
So I'm certainly grateful to my home department, the Department
of Linguistics, for being a department that
allows me this freedom to participate
in this other academic activities.
As Larry mentioned, I do do other work with my tribe
and I'm very conscious of the language
issue for my tribe in particular and, of course,
other American Indian linguistic groups in the nation,
and particularly in Arizona.
Some of the pieces that I'll be reading tonight,
I already know them.
Some of them have what I like to call
English versions of the O'odham text, some are in O'odham only,
some are in English only.
I feel that it's important to create that kind of literature
in the language first, primarily for our speakers.
And that is the audience that I started writing for initially.
So when you hear the O'odham spoken,
I simply ask that you listen to the rhythm
and to the words of that language.
The first piece I have here is in English.
This one was created in English first
and I have not gotten around to producing an O'odham
text at all.
And when I start reading, the first couple of pieces
are going to sort of give a basis for where
I'm from, and in particular, the community that's
most important to me, and that is my family.
And in the end, I think I will end with my family also.
This one is about my mother, and it's
called, "Bury Me With a Band."
"My mother used to say, 'Bury me with a band,' and I'd say,
'I don't think the grave would be big enough,' instead we
buried her with creosote bushes and a few worldly belongings,
the creosote is for dusting her footprints away as she leaves,
it's for keeping the worldly Earth away from her sacred
remains, it's for leaving the smell of the desert with her,
it is a reminder of her home one last time."
So, I no longer have my mother, I still have my father.
And my father, but this other piece
sort of comes from him and other women that he knew.
But these are women in his dreams.
This piece ends with something that my father told me
once that he dreamed about.
And he dreamed about some women exiting a car
at the end of a street.
And he said, "I saw the woman come out of the car
and she was very tall.
She seemed to sort of unfold as she came out of the car
and straightened up."
And he said, "Right away I knew they
were Yaqui women, because Yaqui women are very tall."
I have yet to see a Yaqui woman that tall
to unfold herself from a car.
But anyway, so this kind of comes
from him telling me dreams.
And this one, as you will see her some of the minute.
And the English title is "Pulling Down The Clouds."
"Ñ ku ibaḍkaj 'ant 'an ols g cewagǐ.
With my harvesting stick, I will hook the clouds.
'Ant o'i waññ'io k o 'i hudiñ g cewagǐ.
With my harvesting stick, I will pull down the clouds.
Ñ ku'ibadkaj 'ant o 'i siho g cewagǐ.
With my harvesting stick, I will stir the clouds,
with dreams of distant noise disturbing
his sleep, the smell of dirt wet for the first time in what
seemed like months, the change in the molecules is sudden,
they enter the nasal cavity
He contemplates that smell, what is that smell?
It is rain, rain somewhere out in the desert
comforted in this knowledge, he turns over and continues
his sleep, dreams of women with harvesting
sticks raised towards the sky."
So, sort of part of my father's dream.
Then also a part of my father's own activity sort
of fits in this one that was published
in our little collection of "O'odham and Pima Poems."
Actually, the two of them that talk about rain,
as it seems to be sort of an important topic for the people.
I don't know whether it's because we have so little of it
or because it's really striking when you finally do get it.
But anyway, this is the one that's called "The O'odham."
"Gan 'at 'i 'e-ju: g taṣ ga 'at hu 'i hihi g cewagĭ'
ṣa'i si s-to:ta ṣa'i si ge'egḍaj
'ac 'ia daḍhă c ñenda g ju:kĭ
'Ab 'o hihim g cewagĭ 'u'ua 'o g ju:kĭ
ḍ 'o 'Kaij Cukalig Maṣad' An 'ac u:gk ha'icu ñeid c ñenda g ju:kĭ
'Ab 'o hihim g cewagĭ s-ap 'o u:wĭ g ju:kĭ
s-hewog 'o g hewel s-ap 'ac tahadag c 'ia ñenda g ju:kĭ
'Ab 'o hihim g cewagĭ 'an 'at 'aṣ bi:bij g cewagĭ
pi 'atkĭ o ṣa'i ju: t 'iatokĭ 'at g cewagĭ
ḍ 'ac 'O'odham c 'ia daḍhă c ñenda g ju:kĭ
The sun has moved a bit that way.
Here come the clouds, they are so very
white, they are so very big as we sit here and wait
for the rain, here come the clouds,
they are carrying the rain that is the seed blackening month,
as we look up in the sky and wait for the rain,
here come the clouds, the rain smells good,
the breeze is refreshingly cool, we feel
happy as we wait for the rain
Here come the clouds, the clouds have just gone by,
it's not going to rain, clouds have lied to us.
We are the O'odham, we sit here and wait for the rain."
But actually that's not true, O'odham people do everything
to make the rain come, they just don't sit.
But it sounded better if they sat around and waited, so.
This next one is a story, and it is not my story.
It's a story that I've been working on for some--
gosh, I think it's going on 10 years.
I first saw this manuscript when I first
came here to the University as an undergraduate student.
And it was handed over to me and told
to think about translating it into English.
And I started, and it's a very difficult text
and I have not finished it yet.
And it seems that the people who know this text
understand why I have not finished it yet.
But I intend to finish it.
And here's a piece of it.
The story is originally told by a medicine man from Sil Nakya.
And was collected by Bernard Fontana
here at the University of Arizona
in the late 60s, early 70s as part of the Arizona State
museum's archive collection.
And it was transcribed by Mr. Albert Alvarez, another O'odham
linguist.
And then I'm the third or fourth person
on the line handling this particular text.
So it has a long interesting history.
A piece of it was published in the volume South
corner of time, some of you may know it.
But anyway, this is a part of that text as well.
And I chose this piece because it is a story that
has somewhat of a beginning.
However, I don't end it because it will be too long
but I will sort of give you an idea of how it ends.
And as I say, I'm still working on it at this time.
And it doesn't have a title because it's not
a piece by itself, it's a part of other stories
within this large, long, four-nights telling of O'odham
text.
But it starts this way.
"This is the way it happened for one person.
I don't know how old he was, this boy, what kind of person
he was.
It happened that he had a wife, they lived here, however,
it was that they managed to live here.
And after a while, these two had a child.
And then something happened to the girl
when the baby was still little.
The girl died and she changed.
After four days had passed, she did not come back,
and yet there was no--
and yet there was one who was a medicine
man who tried to tell the boy to go and get the baby's mother
back.
For he had been listening to it and the only sound
the baby made was crying.
It was always crying, all day, all night, sometimes it
would sleep for a little while.
And yet it was such unlike nowadays
that when one has a baby, it survives only
by the milk it circles from its mother, and only with that,
will the baby be satisfied.
The medicine man tried to tell the boy
that if he was able to go and get the baby his mother.
That way the baby would not be going through all of this,
he would not be carrying on so he would not be
crying all day and all night.
This is what he was saying as he told the boy what to do.
There are things all around here,
around the mountains, all around this land, all around
where the people live.
And then there are these things, our foods,
we know how they are supposed to behave.
Like this thing we call the packrat.
Whenever we killed the pack rat for food,
we leave it there and for four days,
after which it returns to its home, the place where
we killed it.
This is the way it's supposed to be for all of us.
The boy did what he was told to do,
he went and found this packrat and told him.
At first he did not say it directly
because he did not like the idea of going through with it.
He also knew that it was a very far place, this place where
the dead go.
He finally just broke down and he begged.
And even though he was a boy, he could not help himself
and tears started to fall.
Upon seeing him like this, the packrat said,
'I guess I'll do it, I'll see what I can do.'
So he told him in the same manner as I am telling you now,
he told him, 'This thing about the four days
is very important.
This is how many days we should wait,
this is how many days the people should tell us to wait whenever
they want us to do something.'
And so he told him, 'Wait for me for four days,
and when days have passed, I will come there to your place.
It will be on the evening of the fourth day in the night.
Then will be a fine time for us to leave and go look for her.'
And so he waited.
Finally he came and he asked him, 'Are you prepared?
We shall go.'
The boy said, 'Yes, we are ready.'
He took his child.
The packrat started to run and he followed him.
When he would run too far ahead, he
would stop until he caught up with him.
This is the way they went.
When evening came, they slept.
They slept four times and they finally reached the place
where these people were.
There were all our grandfathers and all our grandmothers
and all our relations are.
They arrived there just as the sun was setting.
In a certain place he put them and he told them to stay there,
'I will go and see if she is around.'
And so he went and as it is in the case, when people like this
gather, this is the way people used to be long ago,
they really like to do this thing, the celebrating
and dancing and singing.
They would sing all evening and all night long.
There all the people gathered.
The packrat stood among them and looked about for the girl
that she might be among them.
The people, though, were all carrying on and having a fun
time, they were making noise and yelling.
After a while, he couldn't see her
so he continued on to where the people were doing the round
dance.
Again, he stood among them trying to spot the girl.
Again, he did not see her.
He went to another place where there was
another round dance going on.
He stood among them and looked about but, again, he
did not see her.
After a while, he found one of those who left long ago,
or should I just say, the dead.
And he said to him, 'Would you know the whereabouts of this
person?'
And the dead said, 'Yes, she is here among us.
She must be around here somewhere.'
And then he said, 'I will help you look and we'll find her,
she is here.'
And so they started walking and yet there
was dancing going on all about.
Suddenly he said, 'That's her, that one going by,' just as she
walked by.
And he said, 'Why don't you go and follow her and bring her
to me, I want to talk to her.'
So he went over and told her, 'Someone wants to see you.'
In the meantime, over there where all the people were
gathered, one of them kept saying,
'Why is there an odor of the living around here?'
He said this as he looked around."
I suppose the living have an odor
just as the dead have an odor.
"He took her over to where they were sitting
and he said to her, 'We came here to get you.
Hopefully you will feel pity for your child
whom you left behind.
Since you left, it has been like this, he won't stop crying,
he cries all day and all night long.
And he also doesn't know what to do to feed the baby so
that it will be satisfied.
Anyway, they are with me.
They are sitting over there.
Why don't you go over and see them and feed the baby.'
He started to lead her by the hand
but she was behaving in an odd manner,
sort of like when one is either afraid of something
or really excited.
She was behaving like this as she heard the people dancing
and enjoying themselves.
As he was leading her away, she kept looking back.
This is the way she walked until they reached that place where
they were sitting.
He tried to tell her to sit down so she
could feed her baby properly.
She refused to sit down, instead, she just took the baby
and sort of cradled it in her arm
and she did the same with the other.
The baby finally stopped crying.
He took her-- he told her that she
was to return home with them.
She said to them that they are to wait
for her for a little while, and that she was going to back
and-- going to go back and see those people for just
a little while.
Upon saying this, she handed the baby back to its father.
She ran back and she went back in.
They waited for her for a while and she did not return.
He then went after her and caught up with her, again,
it happened the same way.
She came and fed the baby with her milk
and, again, she said she would be right back.
Again she did not return, again he went after her
and brought her back.
Three times this happen, he had to bring her back.
Again, she fed the baby and said,
'I'm going to go see those people
but this time I want to tell you that you start on your journey
back.
You start walking and wherever you make camp tonight,
I will catch up with you.
That's about when all of this dancing will be over.'
This is what she said to them.
'Ask her if she really means what she says,' he said
to the packrat.
'Yes, I'll ask her.'
And so he asked her if she was truthful about coming
and catching up with them.
She responded, 'Yes, I will truthfully do for I--
do what I say for I really care about my baby.'
So they started on their journey back.
They walked for a short while when the pack rat said,
'We'll sleep here and we'll see what she does, if she
will actually catch up with us.
We will stay here overnight, and if she isn't here by tomorrow,
we'll go back and find her.'
They slept, this time the baby slept because it was satisfied.
Whenever they had-- wherever they had arrived at the camp,
it happened that sometimes happens when one
dreams of the owl or whatever.
And early in the morning, deep sleep will reach us,
sometimes this also happens during the night.
This happened as she caught up with them,
they were camped and sleeping.
She laid down next to him with her child in between them.
At some point, the packrat woke up to see someone laying there
and he thought to himself, 'It is true what she said.'
And with this, the packrat's faith was renewed.
He felt confident that he could now take them all home.
Yet he recalled what she had said, 'Wherever you two sleep,
I will catch up with you and in the morning
you'll see me for just a little while,
and then you leave on your journey.
That evening, wherever you sleep, I'll catch up with you.'
This is what she said.
When morning came, she was not laying there,
there was no woman laying there.
That all was there was the down.
This down was about so long, it laid there
where the woman had laid.
They saw this and started walking again, supposedly
at some time, she had returned over there and once now
carrying on with where all of that fun was.
So they walked and walked and somewhere they slept.
After some time, whenever the fun had stopped,
she caught up with them again.
And, again, the same thing happened.
She laid down and nursed her baby,
and, again, in the morning they saw her only
as the down that was left laying where she had laid.
Again, they started walking again and, again, they slept.
She caught up with them, this time she was in human form,
just within one night she became complete.
She was now all there, she was alive.
This is how it all went until four nights had passed.
They continued their journey and finally arrived at their home.
The baby was now alert and well since it had been nourished.
And the packrat said, 'I have taken you over there
and now I have safely brought you back to your home.
But now I want to tell you, on this day
that you must be careful for the next few days.
You must be able to carry out all of my instructions.'
He said, 'For the next four days,
you must not come near her, you must lay way over there.
After those four days end, there will
be another set of four days.
After three sets of four days have passed, that will be all.'
So it happened, one set of four days ended, another began.
Those then ended and he only had two more sets.
He started the third set of four days,
he completed the third set.
The final week was left and she would finally become human.
This final week started.
As she lay there in her bedding, he just watched her.
So it happened that she was coming back to normal
and that she would be full being now.
She went about gathering and preparing food
and she was acting normally and asking for things
she wanted in her home.
The boy watched her change, he talked with her.
In fact, he had really missed talking with her.
After all this time, it was so good to have all
these conversations with her.
It was now the third night of the last set of four days.
After the fourth day, the prescribed time would be over.
But the boy could not stand it any longer.
It happened as it would when a man desires
a woman, that he might approach her as she lay sleeping.
He took her in his arms and he touched her.
It seemed as if he had to hold her as tightly as he could.
He held her and would not let her go.
And all of a sudden she made an odd noise,
she made the noise with the type of voice
she had when she was with the dead.
She made this odd noise and flew from him
and landed at the top of the doorway.
She became an owl.
That is what happened.
She flew over by the doorway and perched herself there.
Her husband ran after her but she made that odd noise
and escaped out the door and flew away.
Again, her baby started crying.
Immediately he went over to see the packrat
but this time the packrat said he would not
be able to go after her.
'I warned you, I told you how you were to take care
of the whole thing, how to protect yourself,' he said
to the boy.
But the boy pleaded with him.
'If you would have some pity on me and do this for me and go
get her again.
This time I will be more careful,
this time I will take care of myself."
So I kind of stop that there.
What happens basically is she does stay with the dead
and he is still living.
And what ensues I think is what is sort of
like a custody battle for the child between the dead
and the living.
And it's a very interesting story
but it's quite long in a way.
OK, something a little bit more lighter here.
This little piece was--
I did along with some of my students several summers ago,
up at Arizona State University.
We were writing about plants and so forth.
And one of the plants that we were looking at the time
was the tumbleweed or the Russian thistle
or the Russian tumbleweed.
And this one's called, "People On Wayward Journeys."
"They have no use for traffic lights or crosswalks,
they take fate into their own hands
and roll across streets in Chandler, Mesa, Coolidge,
and other cotton field infested towns, many become traffic
statistics under the wheels of Ford pickup trucks,
luckier ones become temporary hood ornaments and additions
to car grills.
They make trails across the desert to the reservations,
they know no boundaries, they journey from village to village
as if going for visits over coffee, on Saturday afternoon,
they roll early into the village dance, semi-invited guests.
At night, the meeting place is along the horse corrals,
there most meet their destiny, a few lucky ones
will have the winds to set them free to continue
their wayward journey, origins unknown, destinations unclear."
This one also-- as I will have some
of the pieces that come from songs,
this one starts out with the song.
And I always have to tell the audience
that I'm not a singer so I won't be singing,
I'm just going to read.
I don't know why it is I'm not a singer,
I anticipate that perhaps someday I
may be when I'm older, I think that one morning I'm
going to wake up and it's going to be there,
I'm going to be able to sing.
So I hope you'll all come back.
But this time I'm not.
This song belong-- when I first heard it,
and perhaps it must belong to him, this old medicine
man, his name is [? Pintokochi, ?]
on the very Western end of the reservation.
And I found it off an old recording
at the Folklore Center.
And it's a band song, he said it's a coyote curing song.
So it's kind of a fun little song, actually,
and I used it here as part of this piece.
Ba:ban--ba:ban are the coyotes, ban is one coyote. Ba:ban ganhu ge ci:pia
Kut 'am hema meḍk 'am ha-kakk'e
Ba: mt o ci:pia?
Kut 'am hema meḍk 'am ha-kakk'e Wa ṣa 'an wo:po ṣon 'oidag
Coyotes moving along over there, coyotes
moving along over there, someone go over there and ask them,
someone go over there and ask them,
where are you guys moving to?
Running along the foothills, running along the foothills,
someone go over there and ask them,
where are you guys moving to?
With babies no tennis shoes and her Merle Haggard and Hank
Williams tapes in the Basha's grocery bag,
and his cowboy boots and another,
all worldly goods packed up, moving. Kut 'am hema meḍk 'am ha-kakk'e Kut 'am hema meḍk 'am ha-kakk'e
Someone run over there and asked them,
where are you guys moving to?"
So those of you that the ways of coyotes
know that they run along, moving from place to place.
These ones are real short pieces.
And, again, it goes back to what I started
with this the thoughts of rain and other weather changes
here in the desert.
And they're just real short pieces.
"Wa nt o m ñe'i g ju:kĭ ñe'i.
Wa nt o ñ keihi m we:hejeḍ.
I would sing for you rain songs, I
would dance for you rain dances, you
are silent as a summer cloud, you sit quietly,
gathering the strength from the air, your song is thunderous,
you vibrate the Earth beneath me,
you surround me like a song."
These are cloud songs, they are actually "Pima Cloud Songs"
that I put into English.
So some of it does resemble the song, some of it doesn't.
I like them because they're very,
you know, the O'odham Pima, at least they're
very descriptive, very concise about the change in the air
and the change of colors in the sky, for those of you that
look up in the summertime.
"With hues of blue and green they are emerging,
with hues of white they are turning around and coming back
again, with color so black they are coming at a distance,
with colors of red they are right here."
And that's about clouds.
The "Pima Cloud Song," this one I
think it's really, really pretty.
"Cloud circling the sky, circling like hungry buzzards,
circling slowly, circling carefully, clouds
circling like hungry buzzards, suddenly they descend."
That's OK, I like that.
I have here also a little story.
And it's something that it's a little bit autobiographical,
and then certainly brings back to my memory many
of the O'odham people who grew up
the same way as I did, being O'odham, being rural,
and certainly being Catholic or what I
like to call Sonoran Catholic.
And this one's called, "Sonoran Catholic."
Briefly, this piece was requested by some people
here at the Arizona State Museum under one
of the Queen Centenary Grants.
And they wanted some native writers
to put together something that talked about contact.
And this one for some it's not as obvious,
or at least they think it's not obvious,
to me it's very obvious why it's about contact, just
by the nature of the religion here.
But there's other things going on, I suppose,
that I think it has to do with contact of the two groups.
But, anyway, I hope you like it.
"She fingered the rosaries, rolling the beads gently
between the forefinger and thumb.
She handled them as if she were Catholic.
It is known that when Father Eusebio
Aquino and his fellow Jesuits penetrated the Premaria
altar beginning in 1687, the Pimas were already there.
They were probably there as well in 1539,
1540 period when Fray Marcos de Niza and Francisco Vazquez de
Coronado were in the region, enroute to New Mexico
and the Pueblo Indians.
But even this is not a certainty.
The O'odham people will say that they were certainly here
and have always been here.
Today, the oral history of the people tell of their emergence
from the ground.
This historical event is held only
in the memory of the people, a memory
urged and reinforced by the telling of the story
of how they came to be here.
Today there are places in the ground where
an O'odham can point and say, this is where we came from.
One emergence point is now conveniently only a few feet
from the Blacktop road.
Some say, when we came out, a tribal van pulled up
and we drove off.
She was raised Catholic, she remembers
being baptized because she was almost eight years
old at the time.
In O'odham they say she was baptized standing up,
meaning she was not an infant as usually the custom.
She also vividly remembers taking catechism classes
about the same time.
One particular lesson stands out in her mind
because it relates to her eventual baptism.
This is that story.
In this particular lesson, it was her quiet learned opinion
that the sister set her up for this one.
In this catechism class, the lesson
was on the Holy sacraments, baptism, Holy communion,
among others.
That day the sister chose to quiz the class on the meaning
value--
and the value of the sacrament of baptism.
In doing, so she went about the room asking the question.
If you should die tonight, do you
think you would be accepted into the kingdom of heaven?
As she went about the room asking each of the students,
each one answered yes.
When the sister got to her, immediately
she knew she should have suspected something.
When the sister repeated the question,
as if somehow trying to clue her in.
'If you die tonight, do you think you would be allowed
into the kingdom of heaven?'
Without thinking much about the question,
she just followed along with the others and said, yes.
Immediately she knew something wasn't right.
She had a funny sensation in her stomach.
The air began to get stuffy and warm,
it all began to close in on her.
It was the strangest feeling, perhaps
it was the same feeling her mother used
to tell her about when she would say she felt the Earth stopped
moving for just a split second.
And if she felt it at night, it would wake her up.
That is what she used to say.
She would be frustrated and that she couldn't explain it
any better than that.
Perhaps this is what she felt like, but then maybe not.
Finally, with authority, only a sister
in a full black habit, giant oversized rosary, a thick rope
belt, and thick black shiny shoes can have.
She said, 'No, you will not be allowed into heaven.'
And after what seemed like an eternity, an eternity
only because there was dead silence in the priest's
small dressing room where the classes were held,
and because the eyes of all the other children
were looking at her in shocked surprise,
the sister broke the silence.
She did it in such a way that was not very comforting.
In fact, she was only now prolonging the torture,
as it was now actual torture.
It was torture enough for the sister
to say that she would not be allowed
into heaven, and for all her classmates to know.
But the worst part was that she herself
didn't know why she would not be allowed into heaven when
it appeared that all of the other children would be.
Now, to top it all off, the sister asked the class,
'Now class, why do you think that all of you can get
into heaven, if she should die tonight, except for Juana?'
Oh God, why don't you be a merciful one
and let the Earth open up and swallow us
at moments like this.
And as if nothing was wrong, the sister very matter of factly,
continued the lesson using her as the example.
Well, it had become obvious that no one in the class
had a clue as to why she was the only one exempt from heaven.
Mercifully after what seemed like a million minutes,
the sister finally gave the answer.
She gave the answer that only solved part of the problem
and created a bigger one.
She said, 'The reason Juana will not be allowed into heaven
is because she has not received the sacrament of baptism.
She still has the original sin of Adam and Eve on her soul.
But since she will be baptized soon,
she doesn't have to worry.'
'Don't worry,' she thought, 'What is an eight-year-old is
supposed to do?'
Juana imagined herself having the soul
that looked much the way that they did in her catechism book.
The souls of bad people.
Her soul was not clean and pink like the non sinners,
it was all black.
Fortunately for her, her baptism did take place
the following week.
The ceremony was uneventful, unlike the one
she had seen where small babies were baptized.
It did not make any difference, though,
since she was now guaranteed access to heaven."
[LAUGHTER]
[APPLAUSE]
And sort of continuing on Juana's escapades here
about being Catholic.
One point that is also very clear to many of us who
were raised Catholics, who are still Catholics
are the different holidays and how they sort of mix it all.
Stuff from O'odham and, of course,
stuff from the Mexican culture and then, of course,
other things from the religion.
And this sort of talks about that particular part
of growing up Catholic.
"At her house, Christmas Eve was more important than Christmas
day.
It was on Christmas Eve that the miracle happened after all.
It was a custom for everyone to stay up
until past midnight, even the children.
She remembers her mother actually
getting mad at her for starting to yawn
when it was only 10:00 PM.
She learned very quickly not to yawn in front of her mother
anyway.
As a child, she had fond memories
of those long Christmas eves when relatives and friends
came for visits and food.
However, the more significant memories of this evening
is the thing that always happened every Christmas Eve.
She never figured out if it was planned or not.
Irregardless, she believed, she believed it all to be true,
at least she thought she believed.
This is what happened.
Inevitably, an adult cousin or uncle and aunt,
someone reputable by all standards
would arrive and would appear shaken.
They would then begin to tell of how they were walking down
the dirt road towards the house when
they were certain they cited figures walking along the road.
They would go on to say, 'Since it was dark,
it was difficult to make out who they were.
When We walk towards them thinking
it was someone we knew, we saw that it was a man and a woman.
But as we got closer, there was a third person.
Finally, when we were close enough to speak to them,
we realized the third was not a person
at all but a small donkey.
Right away we knew not to bother them.
We quickly walked past them and when
we thought we were far enough from them, we look back
and they were gone.
It was them though, Maria and Jose,' Mary and Joseph.
Juana remembers her aunt elaborating
on how tired Mary appeared and that she
was so dusty from walking on those farm roads.
She empathized with this woman that she said she saw.
Juana's mother would say, 'Well, it's almost midnight,
they should be arriving there soon,
and everything will be all right.'
When she said this, there was always
a few minutes of silence, a few seconds of silence
around the table, and then everyone would go back
to eating and talking.
Throughout the evening, there would
be reports of other sightings.
Another uncle might say that he saw Jose giving the donkey
a drink of water at the ditch.
He was just very matter of fact about the whole thing
and still others might say they saw
them both washing their hands at a faucet
or sitting to rest on a stump.
They spoke of seeing Jose and Maria in the sense
that Juana had heard them talk of seeing
deceased, beloved relatives.
They saw the holy family as ordinary people
doing ordinary things.
These visions certainly did not resemble
the pictures Juana had seen of the holy family
in her catechism book.
In her book, the holy family always
had a halo about their heads and a holy pure light all
about them.
Now as an adult, Juana still carries the traditions
of being an O'odham Sonoran Catholic.
Christmas is still food family and prayer,
although the prayer is the part that has diminished somewhat.
And in occasion, she carefully looks down
Campbell Avenue on the chance of sighting the holy family
on Christmas Eve."
[LAUGHTER]
Recently, my family and I started
going to the ocean a lot.
And I thought Larry was going to say something about it,
but he didn't.
And I think he's the only person I've told
that I have this new hobby.
Probably most of you won't believe
that I do this sort of thing.
But I started scuba diving, I guess it's what's called,
scuba diving, where you go under the water.
Thought I'd see what the other part of the Earth was like.
So anyway, we've been going to the ocean in Mexico.
And the ocean for O'odham people,
it's a very significant place.
If you look at the ethnographic text in O'odham
and the old text, of course, they talk about the various,
the salt journeys.
And then some of the songs and some of the newer songs
even, talk about the influence of the ocean to this desert.
The way it affect clouds and the way the rain
happens because of things that might happen around the ocean,
and so forth.
But it is a very powerful thing and it's amazing
that the desert people are somehow
well connected with that water.
Also my other connection are my Polynesian friends
who have a lot to teach me about being island people
and being surrounded by the ocean.
And so some of that I include here in these last pieces
that I'll share with you.
Perhaps you all could also take something from it as well.
And the first part opens up for any of you
that have young children, and even
if you don't have young children,
I'm sure you know of the little film, Disney film, The Little
Mermaid.
So some of it here might sound familiar.
"Take it from me, under the sea, under the sea
it's so much better down where it's wetter [LAUGHTER] if you
take three seashells because they are so pretty,
throw two of them back, if you go into the water,
make sure that you smile, if you turn your back to the ocean,
say excuse me
If you happen to have desert flowers in your hand,
put them on the ocean wave and let them ride to see,
if you leave the ocean water, make
sure you are grateful for being safe, if you think anything
while you're there at the ocean, make sure it is only good,
if you are so inclined, you may create a poem,
if you are so inclined, you may dream a song,
if you are so inclined and you feel ready,
you may ask for something from the ocean
If you are so inclined, you may not discuss this with anyone
except the power of the ocean, if you are inclined to ask me
when you will be ready, don't ask, you will know,
for you and I agree under the sea, under the sea,
it's so much better where it's wetter."
[LAUGHING]
OK.
And this one is also for the ocean.
"S-wegima 'am ka:c g ha'icu hiosig S-ce:daghim 'am ka:c g ha'icu hiosig
S-i:bhaghim 'am ka:c g ha'icu hiosig 'Am ka:c heg da:m ge'e ka:cim ṣudagĭ
Heg wui 'att 'i-ul g s-ke:g ha'icu cegĭtodag He wui 'att 'i-ul g s-ap ta:hadag
Heg wui 'att 'i-ul g 'i:mdag 'Am 'att ta:t g ge'e ka:cim ṣudagĭ
k 'amjeḍ 'am 'aṣ 'i-dagĭto.
Towards it we extend it only good thoughts, towards it,
we extend it only good feelings, towards it we extended kinship,
we touched the ocean water and we left it alone."
Sort of that one is-- the English part
is not what the O'odham text says,
so there were two different pieces.
OK.
I'm going to close here with another ocean
one that has sort of a long story that it comes from.
And the story has to do with sort of where I'm from
and where my relatives are from.
And it's not so much being O'odham them
but being sort of caught in political systems and arbitrary
boundaries, and things like that.
Those of you who know me and know
that my parents are Sonoran Papago or Sonoran O'odham,
the people that ended up on the Mexican side
when the border went up.
Earlier, of course, people used to be able to cross back
and forth freely and then, of course,
the borders got tighter and tighter,
and now you cannot cross except at the regular checkpoints.
But I remember I would have relatives
that would come up here regularly,
and on occasion they would get picked up by immigration
and taken back to Mexico.
But rarely did they ever get caught, as they say.
They seemed to way--know their way around.
But normally when O'odham then people get picked up,
they're taken I think through Nogales or Sasabe or something
like that, someplace near the O'odham communities.
One particular time my mother told me
that a couple of my uncles were picked up
and she was very worried about them
because they weren't taken back the normal route.
For some reason the people that were-- the immigration people
that were taking them back went very further West
and then turned South.
And they went so far West they were close to the ocean.
And people told stories about them,
of when they first saw the ocean.
And when they saw it, they thought--
like the way my mother tells me, they
thought it was like a flood.
A flood was happening, they saw this water rolling
and they were just terrified as mortal men
that this water was just going to come and wash over
the vehicle they were driving in.
But they were told that it was the ocean
and that it wouldn't harm them.
But you can imagine how scary that might
have been for these people.
So anyway, this is that story.
So I take this piece from the story of my relatives
for getting deported.
And then another, the part of it comes from the Judds
before they broke up.
Those of you that are country Western fans.
And I'm sure you'll recognize it if you're
a country Western fan.
"Words cannot speak your power, words cannot speak your beauty.
Grown men with dry fear in their throats, watching the water
come closer and closer.
The driver tells them, 'It's just the ocean,
it won't get you, watch it, it will roll away again.'
Men who had never seen the ocean,
it was hard not to have that fear that sits quietly
in the pit of the stomach.
'Why did the driver bring us this way?
Other times we crossed on the desert floor, the land
where the air is hot and dry, where
the sky ends at the mountains.
The land that we know, the land where the ocean has not
touched for thousands of years.
We do not belong here, this place with the sky too endless,
this place with the water to endless,
this place with the air too thick and heavy to breathe,
this place with the constant roll and roar of thunder,
always playing in your ears.
We are not ready to be here, we are not
prepared in the old way.
We have no medicine, we have not sat
and had our minds walk through the image
of coming to the ocean.
We are not ready, we have not put our minds
to what it is we want to give to the ocean.
We have no cornmeal, feathers, nor do we
have songs or prayers ready.
We have not thought what gifts we will ask from the ocean.
Should we ask to be sung chasers?
Should we ask to be rain makers?
Should we ask to be good runners?
Or should we just ask to be heartbreakers?
No, we are not ready to be here at this ocean."
Thank you very much.
[APPLAUSE]