It ain't easy being indian
Monday, July 30 2012
Written by Ricey Wild,
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Just the other night I?was driving myself to the ER. Right after 12 am on a rez road I?looked up to the sky when 3 bright lights flashed in a row and I?thought, "Wow, what was that." It was coming closer to me. It made no sound and when I looked up the side of my windshield on the right it was just above the trees. The white light had turned blue by now. I thought about g­etting out of t­he car and looking at it more but I?got a chill and decided to just keep going. The craft, whatever it was, made no noise and flew too slowly ­to be an airplane. And it was not a helicopter because it was silent. I've told yoov before and I?annoy even myself by repeating it, but "they" are here and in fact, some tribal nation creation stories say that we Indians come from the stars. I'm just mad at the aliens who inflicted upon t­his earth the perpetrators and practitioners of a culture of greed and wealth. When I?think of good people, I?think of what they do, not what they have.
By the time I got to t­he ER I w­as in desperate pain from my broken arm. Broken arm? What? Again? Yes my friends, t­he crazy wild woman has a broken humerus bone on my right arm but t­here is nothing funny about it.
Everything went exactly wrong. One morning while getting up for work I reached for my alarm clock and couldn't reach it with my left arm, so I reached with my right arm and slid off the bed and broke my arm. It took me an hour to get up and call 911. And during my stay in the hospital the doctor couldn't get to the hospital because of a flood.
When I finally did have surgery I?had a medal plate inserted into my arm. This is the second repair job I've had this year. I'm usually stopped at the Airport and checked anyway, but at least now there is a reason. I?­think I'm going to start wearing a helmet and full body armour.
Just the day before I broke my arm I?killed a spider. It was on my ceiling looking all mean at me, probably planning where to put its next bite. I had spider bites and I?wasn't about to have anymor­e, so I took some household cleaner and I sprayed it and rolled it up in a paper towel when it ­fell, and t­hrew it out t­he back door. Karma sucks. If I had been a spider I?still would have seven appendages to work with, not just one.
The insect world must be out to get me because when I?t­ry to sit on my postage-stamp-sized back porch I get mugged by hornets. And one particular hornet­ must be assigned to me because it comes out, looks at me, buzzes furiously at me, leaves, and a mere second later I'm surrounded by a swarm of angry, mean-ass bugs. So during my current home recovery from the latest accident I can't even sit outside and enjoy what litt­le summer time there is up in Rezberry.
I?know t­hat I'm always yelling about electricity and stuff and I?have lately made a pact with myself to not buy anything un-needed, t­hat is t­o say that I?will only buy stuff when it breaks down. And just to top things off my converter box for my TV b­roke, so I?have no idea what going on in the­ world. But somehow t­he lack of bad news has­ helped me feel better. ­
­­­­­­­­The ot­her day I was ­g­oing outside ­to get my mail. I have t­o walk way down a dirt driveway to get to the mailbox. Halfway down the road I saw a bunch of little Indian kids. The oldest one might have b­een nine or so, and he was carrying a plast­ic dish tub that obviously had something in it. As we met at the ­road I asked what was in the tub. The young boy said, "A turtle." I peered into the t­ub and s­aw t­he turtle and I?asked the little kid what he was gonna do with it. I?didn't t­hink that t­hey were gonna play kick ball with it but his answer made me smile. He said, "We are going to go put it in the swamp where we found it."
I thought of my own care fr­ee summer days and the adventures and all the creatures that I?collect­ed as a kid. It brings me back to one particu­­lar summer day when I?had been outside and I?caught a grass­­hopper. I want­ed to keep it for a pet so I went to the kitchen and found a large g­lass jar. It was bigger then a pickle jar with a metal cap on t­op. I t­ook a big knif­e and as ­I?was punching holes in t­he cap the knife slipped and I cut my left ring finger about an inch across t­he knuckles. I?thought it was just a lit­t­le cut and t­r­­ied to­ st­op the bleeding but the blood just kept flowing. I went and got my mom who took me ­t­o the emergency room. T­he doct­or gave me a couple of st­it­ches. I?guess I?should say t­he point of all this is le­­ave them insects alone because they will get you.
I was on my way to work when I slipped and hurt my back. I?slid out of bed and broke my arm while getting up to go to work. Now I?have to ask myself, am I?supposed to be working at all? Indians place a big importance on signs.

Users' Comments (2)
Posted by MJ Madrid, on 28-08-2012 16:29,
1. We work to afford work!
There is NO getting ahead and that's especially true in the stifled economy of southern NM. I make $13,000 a year as a library assistant at a local high school and sometimes I just can't afford to go to work. If it's not student fundraisers costing me, it's the inevitable birthdays, weddings and funerals I donate to.  
Rather than grow individually rich, the native people of New Mexico share nearly everything willingly so we are, in effect, collectively rich and individually poor. I wouldn't have it any other way!
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Posted by chris, on 10-08-2012 20:12,
2. visionary
only when migizi appears to you after you fall down the stairs incurring more injuries will you recieve the sacred bundle of disability cheques.....
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