The morning light came with more unwanted news. Our lands were again under attack. To the Native Nations left in this ‘America’ it was nothing new. Uranium mines, Tar Sands, the bombing and desecration of our sacred sites. All this we had suffered with while America’s public turned away, blind to our truth, or their governments atrocities. In the shadow of genocide, we remained constantly at war.
The only difference now, is that social media allows us to communicate with Non-Native America. Now, if they turned a blind eye they were just as guilty as corporate and governmental America. They were complacent to the ongoing genocide and desecration of not only Native America, but to Mother Earth herself.
Our little plot of land was being flooded with so many people coming for the right and wrong reasons. Other nations across the world were standing up to the continuation of abuses towards us the Indigenous of this land and our earth.
No matter where your origins began, one truth we all shared was our Original Instructions. Imprinted within our very essence, our DNA, our place to begin and end. We are all indigenous to somewhere. Our Indigenous self would always call to our very essence and all lost and in denial are bereft with an endless emptiness that could never be filled. At least not with consumerism and the theft of other cultures, religions, and spirituality.
These were the problem ones flocking with preconceived notions and “good intentions” to our reservation. Once invaders to this land now they were begging for a place to belong within it. Their ancestors left them without a connection, so they took any culture they could forever trying to fill the emptiness left behind in their lands of origin.
Original Instruction is our beginning, our truth, our responsibilities to care for Mother Earth. It does not matter where you were born and raised if you never found peace with your original instruction you could never find it in another’s original instruction.
No matter their reason they poured in wanting us to welcome them with open arms. A poor tribe to begin with, it was fine at first. The problem was these outsiders came with little to no resources and expected us to feed, house, and clothe them. Rayne and I had a few we took into our home.
I and others were constantly stopped by outsiders who wanted to tell me about the “visions” they had. One outsider told others she was given medicine by our elders and tried to perform a ceremony which resulted in another outsider ending up in the hospital. Their “good intentions” were spiraling our very real intentions, cause, and need out of control.
“Your scowling love.” Raye observed handing me a cup of coffee and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“Are you going for a Stoic Indian award?” Rayne teased me.
I smiled. “No, I was just remembering before all the media and social media how peaceful it was. Remember all the Indigenous Nations working and standing together. It just feels like the more non-Natives that come, the further out of control our cause becomes.”
“The core is still there, babe. Even if the non-Natives are coming for healing or to relive their version of Woodstock… At least they are coming. No matter their reason love, they are acknowledging us and that is in itself is something. The only other place Non-Natives allow us to exist are racist mascots or the plains Indian of the 1800’s. At least they are acknowledging our existence now and here, babe. That is an important thing to remember when you are out there.” She reassures me.
“I love you Rayne, I am just tired. I get grumpy.” I laugh at myself. “At least now, if nothing else, they know we are human and still here protecting our part of Mother Earth.”
I pull Rayne into my arms needing her warmth. “Thank you.” I whisper kissing the top of her head.
“You are welcome.” She teases pulling out of my embrace and spanking me playfully on the rear. “Come on grumpy let get going”
She turns halfway down the hall. “Don’t get swept away by any rich white women looking for an Indian name.” She teases winking at me before disappearing into the shower.
I laugh, swept away once again by her magic. With just a touch or a handful of words, my sweet Rayne can pull me out of any mood and motivate me to keep fighting.
I am ready to face the day. I put my coffee on the counter, opening the door to mornings first light. Just like that I am ready to fight another day. Chuckling under my breath I step out to protect what I love and believe in.
End part 3
By Rae Rose
My name is Rae Rose and I live in the Pacific Northwest. I have always, always loved stories. I love writing, reading, listening and imaging the words coming to life. My youth was not the happiest and it is not an exaggeration when I say stories saved me more than once.
Every story I tell carries a seed of truth. Mine and of those who were not able to survive. Every story is special and personal to my heart. It is my hope that you enjoy the stories and find comfort, love, and laughter in my words.
*Rae Rose (Paiute, Mayan, Japanese) is a writer based in the Northwest. Follow her @Rae_Rose7