Pete Yemc
Period 7
Land Of The Free?
In fifth grade, I learned about the Native Americans and how, at the time the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, these people of various cultures and such, inhabited all of the regions across North America. What was not taught to me (probably because of the habits of our prejudiced and controlled culture) was what happened to the Native Americans after the Pilgrims landed . . .
We had spent only a day in Las Vegas, and honestly, I thought that we did not spend enough time gambling or admiring all of the glitz of the casinos. My parents on the other hand thought otherwise. My mother had planned out an entire two-day detour out into the desert to go look at the National Parks that surround Vegas (specifically the Grand Canyon and such). Personally, I thought that it was a big pain to drive 200 miles out into the desert in our stuffy rental car (rental cars are never big).
These are the thoughts going through my head right now, as I glare out the window at the vast dust field that makes up the American Southwest. Just minutes before, the image was the powerfully large hotels and casinos that abound on The Strip. It had surprised me that the landscape can change from this entertainment city, to an endless field right out of a scene from Tatooine (Star Wars).
One can become amazed at how fast you can drive on the roads in the desert. In little over an hour we had covered a hundred miles. All the while I just stared out the window and attempted to drink some of my water (which all evaporated in the bottle). So at this one hundred-mile mark, the car stops and we all get out to admire this desert scenery. But the scenery ain't all that scenic.
You'd envision a desert to be tan colored with big saguaro cacti popping up all over, and rattlesnakes cowering everywhere. This is not the case in the desert one hundred miles out from Vegas. The land was a dull brown-gray and there was not a plant in sight, except for the tumbleweeds, which do exist. The plants as not green, they're gray. The rocks are not marbled or layered, they're gray. The terrain is just rocky as far as the eyes can see. This is the land that is known as Badlands or Wastes. There is absolutely nothing there.
"This land sucks." I say, as the only response I can give to the situation. Upon that remark, my mother responds by informing me that we are on the edge of the Navajo Reservation (which happens to be the biggest reservation in the States). Boy, our nation really screwed these people when we relocated them.
So, we drive on and start passing these signs, which say "Friendly Indians Ahead", "Authentic Navajo Trinkets", and worst of all "Chief Yellow Horse Love (it was actually a heart) U." And by and by, we hit one of these stands and stop for my mother is into this cultural stuff. I walk into the "store" and look around. The "trinkets" are of high quality and range from jewelry to drums to leather clothing. After looking at one of the drums, I catch a glance at three small Native American children who appear to be hanging around the store for no apparent reason. My view moves from the kids to the desolate landscape behind them.
Behind their rusty old Chevy truck is just a plain of dust, broken only by a small white cabin of sorts (which I assumed was their home).
Before I can really contemplate the depressing factor of these poor merchants' situation, my parents whisk me away, back onto the road. The signs by the side of the street now read "Turn Back Now", and "Friendly Indians Behind You".
It horrors me now as I am sitting in the car once again, staring out the window, that this once great group of people (the Navajo), have been reduced by the "democratic" nation of the United States to selling trinkets by the side of the road, whilst trying to survive off of dead land. Basically, it appears to me that our proud nation, after conquering their proud nation, decided to punish the Navajo eternally, by screwing them on this land. Land of the Free?