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We just took our first vacation in years. We went to Arizona and were so thoroughly blown away by the natural beauty of the place -- it was almost literally "sensory overload." While most of our trip consisted of the highest of highs, we were thrown for a loop as we drove through the Indian "reservations" on our way to see the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. It was horrible. My wife and I shared a sense of outrage, sadness and disbelief...we're busy worrying about Iraqis, Somalis, etc, and here are our own indigenous people living in the most squalid, nasty conditions, it was just shocking to us.
While we stopped at a supposed "genuine" Indian trading post (necessity after hours driving through the desert) we quickly eschewed the largely Chinese-made "genuine" Navajo jewelry and dolls, and kept driving. I didn't buy anything, but I did toss a fiver into the wicker basket of an old woman knitting a blanket. She may have been a sham, too, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to smack the old ladies unpacking the Chinese-made dolls. I'd BUY ONE, pay three times as much for it, IF IT WERE REAL! And YOU would get to keep the money! What are you thinking?????? Thousands of unemployed native Americans right outside the door...couldn't a couple of them pick up a knife and whittle something? I'd buy a stick with someone's name carved in it if it were REAL! Jesus.
We drove off, disgusted. After leaving the sanctioned "reservation" store, which was actually more like South Of The Border in the desert, we continued on to the Canyon. In each of the scenic pull-offs, local indians had set up tables and were selling their wares. We were skeptical at this point...more important Chinese crap? No...the stuff we saw was real, had signatures or were being made right in front of us. My wife picked up a small silver bracelet. A woman jumped up, "I'll take that for you -- $4."
"Did you make this?" my wife asked.
"Yes, all of this table I made," the woman replied, with a sweeping gesture toward the table-top. My wife gave her a ten dollar bill, and she hunted for change. She came up with a five, but couldn't find a one. "Keep it, that's fine," said my wife, who felt she had already got a great deal, and the indian woman probably could have used the extra dollar more than we. But she wouldn't hear of it, and searched frantically until she came up with a dollar's change for my wife.
We spent some time there and chatted, bought a couple of small items to bring home, then drove off. This is where it got a tad surreal; shortly after we hit the road again, we passed an official government/parks service sign. You know, the ones in brown with white letters. This sign issued a warning NOT TO ENCOURAGE THE INDIANS who are selling wares at rest areas. "Purchase only in official stores" or something to that effect. We were dumbfounded.
We take the entire country from them, dump them on hell-hole "reservations," relegate them to khatcki sellers and curiousities, then have the fucking nerve to "warn" Americans not to purchase from them? Jesus christ, I just wanted to go back and load up the car with stuff from the rest area, just to say "fuck you." But no one is there to listen...no white man would stay in that god-forsaken area.
That is why our government decided to "give" it to the native Americans...it didn't cost us anything, and we wouldn't live there anyway...no loss.
It really was sad. Very sad. I felt truly ashamed. Go tour the southwest, people. I only saw a sliver, but it was enough to open my eyes a bit. We've really fucked over these people, yet we spend our time "worrying" about others a million miles away, we pack up our old cans of beans and moth-eaten sweatshirts to send them, thinking we're helping someone. But our own backyard is a fucking mess.
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