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Gilbert: An Indian country diary

By Matt Gilbert

Story Published: Oct 9, 2008

Story Updated: Oct 9, 2008

We Gwich’ins in Arctic Village are located in northern interior Alaska, where our winters reach 30 – 40 degrees below zero. After a day’s work in this climate, I watched “The Motorcycle Diaries” at my grandpa’s house. It is a movie about Che Guevara’s trip through the poverty-stricken indigenous communities of South America. After his trip, he was inspired and became a world-famous revolutionary. I decided to follow his lead. I cashed in my permanent fund dividend, found a ride on Craigslist, and left to see Indian country.

I drove for three days and nights through Canada with a Vietnam veteran. We reached Kadoka, S.D., where my Lakota friend, Alex, waited up for me until 2 a.m. at her mom’s. I ran into her arms and it was the best hug I ever had. She drove me into Pine Ridge, and I was excited to finally be on the famous reservation.

The next morning, I stepped onto the prairie lands and met her parents and horses. She drove me out into the field where one horse stuck its head inside the truck window. Had it shifted its head to the left it would’ve crushed mine, but I trusted Alex. She took me to her land office, she spoke of wind turbines, the poverty, and smelling the filthy pig farm as we drove by it. (The farm violates something like 10 EPA laws. The Lakotas are trying to shut it down.) We went with her mom to Wounded Knee, where I left prayers and a tobacco pouch. I’ll never forget it.

We met up with former Chief Herold Selway to speak about the fight to retrieve the Black Hills. His message was: Protect your sacred sites, and you protect all others in the world. For the rest of the week, I drove down steep gorges with the Lakota park rangers rounding up buffalo, spoke to Rosebud Middle School kids, walked and talked with the Native teacher, visited the Veteran Wall, museums, talked about my trip on Lakota radio, and toured Pine Ridge tribal headquarters.
 
I hitched a ride with another veteran, a Native one this time, down to Navajoland. We drove across the great mesas of Southwest and arrived in Albuquerque, N.M. I rented a room from a priest in Fort Defiance and left for Flagstaff, Ariz., the next day to meet up with my Navajo friend, Vanessa. I had dinner with her and her actress friend, Natasha Johnson, and then we met up with the Abla Yala indigenous student club, where I told them about my trip. When I mentioned “The Motorcycle Diaries” as my inspiration, they all cheered.
 When I mentioned “The Motorcycle Diaries”
as my inspiration,
they all cheered.


I returned to the reservation, where I got to go to some of the many flea markets. I bought some back pain leaves from an elder. I attended a pow wow, visited the code talker statue and the Veteran Wall. I peeked into arts and craft stores and went to the local elementary school, where I saw little kids speaking English and Navajo. They wrote letters to Santa in Navajo. I sure hope Santa has a Navajo translator.

I hitchhiked back to Flagstaff to take my graduate test. As I stretched out my thumb, walking across the great plateaus, I squinted to see the San Francisco Peaks in the distance. The peaks had united all the tribes in the area against a proposed ski resort that would utilize waste dumping. The fight is still ongoing. I got to Flag, took the test and got a good score. I’m now in graduate school.

I got a job in the Southwest in real estate, but soon left. I jumped Greyhound buses, trains, and more Craigslist rides to have New Year’s dinner with the Jamestown S’Klallam tribe in Washington. I took the ferry to Juneau, Alaska, where I saw a Native actor from my village performing in the theater. I hitched to Anchorage for a gathering of Native leaders. I told them I circled the continent and found the answer I was looking for right there, where Natives were gathering to heal. I then flew to Fort Yukon and I stood with my people against the purposed land exchange by our Native corporation, Doyon. When I got back to grandpa’s living room, they acted like I had never left.

I’ve seen Native children speaking their languages fluently; a Native schoolteacher and her hope for our future; the unparalleled spirit of a heavily defeated people like the Lakotas; and Native people united against the destruction of their sacred lands. I’ve seen our people running nonprofits, businesses, schools, and acting in the theater.

“We’re going to be here for a long time yet. Stay and fight with me, my young friend,” is what an old Gwich’in warrior, Peter Solomon, told me over the phone when I was about to give up. We need healing, to talk with one another, to love one another, and to talk in circles.

We need to do what I did. Don’t stay in the village or reservation all the time. Travel once in a while. Just get a sleeping bag and go! You won’t regret it.

Matthew Gilbert, Gwich’in, is the former executive director of the Venetie Tribe. He is currently pursuing a master’s degree in rural development.

Saturday, Dec 6 at 10:26 PM nonabah wrote ...

Keep your inner fire for exploration for inspiration! Get up and go!

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Wednesday, Oct 29 at 7:42 PM Harriet Brouillette wrote ...

Woundeful story. I enjoyed this artical very much.

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