I arrived on the Navajo Indian Reservation fifty-four years ago. I didn’t want to be here. But I had no choice. If you have heard my story, you would know why. I was from New England. Green grass, tall trees and people that talked like me. 1968 here I am among a people that are nothing like me or my way of life. I spent the first five years wandering around wondering what I was supposed to do. I really did not want to stay but there was no place to go. I was lost and lonely. I saw Indian babies strapped to cradle boards. I felt sorry for them till later I realized how safe and comfortable they were. In time, I saw a kindness among the people subtle, but it was there. A child with a headache got relief as the mother gently pulled on the hair.
Then I saw real life with the people that was hard to understand. I saw a mother with small children sitting in the cold outside as the husband sat inside with his relatives eating. I asked her why? We were not invited was her response.
I lived in a fifteen-foot travel trailer. Windows were a new idea. The Indian children were intrigued by them. As they got braver, they would creep toward my house on wheels and giggle watching me. I acted like I didn’t see them; the game was on.
One day I was visiting in a traditional hogan home. The rattle of a rare vehicle could be heard. Go way-Go way the family warned me. I didn’t leave fast enough; the two men were chasing me around my pickup truck. This was one time I was glad they were stumbling and tripping over their feet. I got away but the mother and group of children ran for the safety of a cave where they would hide for days till it was safe for them to return.
One day I saw a large gathering of wagons and men arriving at a hogan home on horseback. I wanted to see. I got as far as the low-cut board door. I saw a young man spread eagle tied down as a medicine man with paint and eagle feather tried to heal him of seizures. The mother spotted me and yelled for me to get away, Christian, go way you dangerous. I left but as the years went by little by little most in the family became Christians.
Used clothes arrived by the box loads. The Indian ladies liked to look, giggle and wonder what and how to wear them. One short round mother found something she always wanted a “bra” she was very large, and it was very small. She gathered her children around her and little by little they tied pieces of material together and soon mama was happy with the outcome.
There was a lot of illness among the people. There was no help, so I got some books on natural healing. One cold winter day a knock came on the trailer door. There stood two young women and an elderly man leaning heavily on a stick for a crutch. They entered, sat down and told me gramps knee hurt and he could not walk on it. I remembered the books I’d been reading on natural healing. I reached for a pair of plyers, gramps opened wide, and I pulled out his top eye tooth on the same side as his stiff knee. Two days later they were back with big smiles. Gramp called me a medicine women. They left and I went back to my books.
As the years went by, I encouraged children to attend school. It went to third grade. The parents got mad at me. The papers and pencils I gave out were a threat to their culture. The children wanted to attend, and the flood gate of education started. Many of the earliest students are now teachers in schools that have sprung up across the reservation. Some are nurses many young men embraced the Marines.
You as a sponsor have a large part in the future of the Navajo people. My daughter and I deliver supplies you send. Everything is greatly appreciated. In my early days I didn’t want to stay, Praise God over the years I can say I don’t want to leave. With my daughters help and your prayers we will be busy on the trails. We need you, your love, prayers, and any help you can send, Aheehe Thank you.
With Much Love and Appreciation,
Sylvia and Sylvia
Indian Mobile Mission 