A Sober One

Today is my birthday! I’m in my mid-20s and ready to party! Woohoo!

First, we’ll have dinner and ...

Well, the weekend is coming up and it’s St. Patrick’s Day. So I’ll celebrate by going to dinner again, taking a hike somewhere, playing volleyball, watching a movie and ...

I don’t drink. 
I’ve been there and done that when I was in college and I left that behind me when I graduated. Bars and clubs lost their appeal very quickly. It was fun while it lasted, but then I saw how it’s really kind of useless and there’s really no need.

Why have a beer before you eat, you’re just adding more calories to your dinner?

Why have just one beer if you really can’t feel it.

Why pay $4 more dollars for a second beer and then end up paying $8 to $12 for drinks that you really don’t like?

Why pay all this money for drinks that don’t taste good? Often times, I don’t like the taste of alcohol, no mater how much sugar they put in it.

Why go to the bar, when you know you hate bars?

Why go to clubs when you know you loath clubs?

Why drink and then drive yourself home? Even if it is just one beer.

Sometime last year I decided to be sober. “Being sober” makes it sound like I was drunk for a few years, lost custody of my children, was abandoned by my family and was in jail for a while. No. I’m only 24 and I saw how alcohol can be damaging in many ways; my health, my wallet and to my culture. Not to mention, having alcohol in your system and acting a fool or killing someone would not be fun either. I wish so many people would realize that.

• My health. Lately I’ve become a calorie counter and a person who tries hard to watch what she eats. I’m trying to eat more vegetables, less breads and rice and trying to drink more water. I exercise regularly and am happy with the results I’m seeing. I have more energy and I just feel more healthy. Having alcohol, which is mostly 600+ calories per drink, just puts all that to waste. And with diabetes more common in Native Americans, I really don’t need that kind of sugar in my body because it can possibly lead to diabetes.

• My wallet. $4 for one beer?!?! No. I can drink Diet Coke all night with endless refills for $1.98. Something psychological happens to me where I feel really bad about spending more than $20 at a time (it comes from growing up on the rez in a really poor situation). I have to call my sister, my boyfriend and my mom and dad and get their opinion on if I should buy these shoes that are $40. I don’t need that kind of stress when I look at a receipt from a bar that says “you spent $30 on crappy drinks in a crappy setting and the feeling is totally over.” A couple of years ago, that always stressed me out and it bugged me all day until I finally had to tell myself, “f*ck it. I’m 21, let’s do it again next week.” Now, I’d rather spend my money in the movie theater, at the grocery store (I’m a foodie who loves to cook), on music, on clothes, on stuff for my apartment and at shows.

• My culture. I’m not another drunk Indian. There are statistics everywhere that prove Native Americans have a problem with alcohol. My family and community has been affected by alcohol in so many ways. Hell, there’s a liquor store just 15 miles from my hometown on the reservation where it’s illegal to have alcohol. Yet, there’s that single liquor store not 700 yards from the reservation border and no white people in site. Where does that liquor go? Right to the reservation where our roads are littered with beer boxes and vodka bottles. It’s sickening what it does to the whole community. I'm mad at alcohol because I’ve seen the utter hopelessness. And what does that say about my people when someone meets me for the first time and I’m drunk? What if they never see another Indian again? That’s just reaffirming the ugly stereotype that we’re redskins and drunks. Yes, "redskins" is a derogatory word.

I said it before: it’s hard to be Native and American. You have to be both, and for my Native side, I have to set a good example, otherwise, why bother calling myself Native and then trying to be proud of it? No, I’m not going to live the stereotype or be a statistic.

Also... regarding this weekend, St. Patrick’s Day. I bet the Irish think it’s offensive when we drink and get sh*tfaced on this day we’re supposed to be honoring this saint and their culture. It’s pretty much the only day we think about Ireland and Irish and when we associate it with drunk Irishmen and beer it’s not an accurate picture and it’s kind of offensive. I feel this way because I would not like people getting sh*tfaced on Native American Day and saying “we’re celebrating your culture, we’re getting drunk and wearing feathers.” I know the Irish and Natives have that stereotype and I imagine it hurts just as well.

It is hard to stay away from alcohol, especially at my age. I say “I’m sober” but not completely — I only drink during the rockabilly shows. This year I had one two weeks ago, two at the blues show a month ago. I really want to work on abstaining from it completely.

In closing: There’s so much socializing that goes on when there’s alcohol around and sometimes you feel like you’re missing out. Along the way I have lost friends. The kind of “friends” who only called on the weekends to go drinking. My dad, who has also been sober for almost a decade, has lost many friends too. One of my best friends has lost many friends when she stopped. My sister has fewer friends too. Funny how that happens.

#IdleNoMore

Like a lot of people, I had no idea what this “Idle No More” thing was. What is a Facebook page? An online petition? I had no idea what the fuss was from Canada. Then I found out it was a First Nations movement.

I read this helpful article — among others.

It spawned in Canada with the First Nations peoples. Basically the same old story unfolded: big government looking to break treaties and promises with indigenous people to hog the natural resources — fresh water in this case. First Nations said “No, we will be Idle No More, and we will stand up for our rights to protect Mother Earth.”

Canada Bill C-45 (remember that, it’s going in the history books. Native American history books at least. And you’ll be required to learn about it if you choose to take a Native history class in college — because no one is required to learn about Native history…). Basically it’s a bill that will give the Canadian government the right to break treaties and protections for many fresh bodies of water and give more control to the government over Native land, which is a violation of their Indian Act. First Nations claim to have had no say in any of this while politicians are going forth without consent or any input from the First Nations people, which C-45 will affect. Chief Teresa Spence (remember that name too) of the Attawapiskat First Nation took the lead here and demanded the politicians, particularly Prime Minister Stephen Harper, meet with First Nations to discuss Canada’s relationship with First Nations’ leaders, which seems to be a pretty poor and unfair relationship, if Canada is thinking of passing C-45.

Chief Spence started a hunger strike and that sparked Idle No More. It literally swept through social media in a flash, that’s where it’s energy and heart lies. First the indigenous people in North America and in Canada were holding protests, then it moved all the way down to my reservation in New Mexico. And by protest I mean flash mob round dances; a group dance to a round dance powwow song. It's definitely not some kind of Occupy movement and it's not violent. They are showy protests that get the public to look our way, to ask, “What are you doing? What’s this for?” And more importantly "What are we doing to the environment? How will our children live with our actions?" It’s definitely peaceful; lots of signs, dancers, drum music and it's fun. And it’s all caught on camera and uploaded to the web

Through social media, the world can’t be blind. They see the posts, the videos and the thousands of homemade signs and pictures from throughout the world. People in Australia are Idle No More, Germany is Idle No More, politicians are taking another look at what Canada is doing and taking a look at what they’re doing when it comes to indigenous peoples and Mother Earth — at least I hope that’s what politicians are doing. It’s a big publicity movement that has taken on so many issues.

Not only does Idle No More address the state of Mother Earth, it’s addressing the state of of all women. Being Idle No More is standing up for your rights as an indigenous person of earth and against the rape and mistreatment of all women. It's about protecting all mothers because without them, there would be no existence. I think it's also showing pride and support for your tribe and all Natives. 
Though it started with indigenous people, earth is everyone's responsibility and everyone can be Idle No More. Right now, it seems like it's a "Native thing," but it really involves everyone — it just started with us. I hope it becomes a global thing and something this whole nation catches on to.

In a smaller sense, it seems that all our tribes are suddenly connected through Idle No More. And since a lot of it is happening on social media I think a lot of people are getting into it, taking a virtual role and waiting for the next round dance to come to their town.

Be Idle No More. Join the movement, or at least see what’s going on all over the country and the world.

“Idle No More” on Facebook

#IdleNoMore on Twitter 

Also search for Idle No More on Tumblr

Here are some videos:

 

More love with love

You may be thinking, what type of guys does Andi date? How can I be that lucky fella?

If you’re pretty old school you probably think I have a tall, dark Native guy. I think a lot of girls I grew up with have it etched in their mind that they can only date Native guys. And that’s fine. If they like Native guys, that’s cool. In fact, I know quite a lot of women who would never date outside the Native community because it’s taboo and their parents flat out tell them they shouldn’t (for traditional and clan purposes. You have to keep the clan going, keep the bloodline pure). That’s fine, to each her own.

Not for me.

I had my man imported from overseas. I’m in love with an Afghan man. Yes. Afghanistan.

When I first met him I had no idea who he was or where he was from. He didn’t have an accent and he didn’t look like what you see on TV. But that wasn’t important. Besides, how do you ask? “What’s your nationality?” No.

It wasn’t important for the longest time mostly because it wasn’t anything serious for a long time either. Our relationship casually drifted into the boyfriend-girlfriend type about a year or two ago. I’ll just say we took this whole relationship thing very casual; we eased into it and I can’t tell you when our “anniversary” is because I don’t know (soon, I think we'll pick a date out of a hat so we can celebrate). We’re more concerned about being best friends because that kind of relationship lasts longer than those silly I-love-you-with-all-my-heart-and-soul-after-three-months relationships.

He’s not what you might think. I see that image of a dusty, hairy terrorist in your head. Shame on you. He’s as “American” as they come, maybe more American than me — heck sometimes he uses better vocabulary than me … than I. He loves sports and movies and he loves Italian food. In fact, I think his lasagna is what did it for me. I was hooked after that first batch.

He’s Muslim. And all that that means is we never have pork in the house. He’s not trying to convert me, he doesn’t get mad at me for being an atheist. And I don’t mind that he prays for me in his language to Allah.

Because of him I have become more knowledgeable about the Middle East and Islam. I understand where he comes from and I respect that. I read more about what’s happening in this war and I have a bigger heart for the innocent people there, and, honestly I don’t have any positive views on this war.

I believe I respect other cultures more and have a curiosity first, and then an understanding next. Since I met him, the world got a little wider, a little more familiar. I never paid attention to other cultures and other people — certainly not the Middle East, and never took the time to learn and understand. Native America and America: that was the Earth for me. Now, I love to learn about other people; their cultures and way of living. I especially love to learn about food from around the world (I’m crazy for Travel Channel, Food Network, Cooking Channel and National Geographic).

Who would have thought! He came all the way across the globe to meet me, a Navajo girl from the reservation.

I never imagined a man like him to come into my life. I think I did have expectations once. But when he came, they flew out the window and now I can’t remember what those expectations were. I do know that I was turned off for just a few moments when he did tell me he was Middle Eastern. He told me slowly and awkwardly. I could tell he didn’t want me to know.

Those silly Hollywood villains in turbans with camels and the images of war came to my head. I mentally slapped myself in the face when I had those stupid thoughts in my head for those moments. Is that what people think about when I tell them I’m Native American? They get turned off a little and start thinking about feathers, beads and warriors on bareback horses running around the prairie just like in the movies? What an ignorant asshole I was in those few moments. This is my best friend. I know I wouldn’t want to be imagined that way; as a stupid Hollywood cliché and the way society paints a stupid picture of us. So why should I allow society and Hollywood do that to my boyfriend?

And because he’s with me, he knows a lot more about Natives than most non-Native men do in this country. He understands where I’m coming from. I actually took him back home to the reservation where my rez dogs barked at him and my cat made his eyes itchy.

He took me to his home a few times and I met his family. They’re very nice. They fed me. And now I love Afghan/Indian food. It’s my soul food. I learned to cook it at home and I’m always searching for more dishes I can make. Oh, bless the Middle East and their food!

So that’s me, a Navajo woman — with an Irish last name — with an Afghan man. I don’t think I’d have it any other way.

 

Dangerous reservation

In my last blog I wrote about the greasy meat and fry bread we call our Navajo “cuisine” ... There's just a lot of fat and calories there. Most people don't eat these foods every day. That kind of food is considered a treat, something special that you get a craving for every now and then.

I don't know how every-now-and-then turned into the worst health statistics in the United States — actually, I do know and I'll explain later.

•               Natives are 1.6 times more likely to be obese than whites. This is the highest out of populations of black (around 1), Hispanic (about half) people. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health.
•              Nearly 33 percent of Natives are obese and over half of the women are overweight. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health.
•              Half to a third of Native children are obese. Food and Nutrition Service.
•             16.1 percent of Natives have Type II diabetes. American Diabetes Association.

Why are these statistics the worst? Why have we only gotten worst when the government is only pushing more and more money into our health programs? I really don't know why that is. Stubbornness, ignorance, poverty, genetics?

All of the above.

Indigenous poverty rates are just as bad as our health rates. Natives have high scores in both of those categories. And poverty and health problems go hand-in-hand. Only the fatty and sugary foods are $.99. For a $1 you can buy something extremely delicious and addictive. While, in the other part of the grocery store, the wheat things are getting dusty and the vegetables are getting old and brown. They're too expensive, especially on the reservation. So we have to travel to the nearest city with grocery stores that don’t charge an arm and a leg (not a pun for diabetes). We buy bulk; enough to last the week or the month, depends on where you live and how often you can afford to go into town. 
When I go back home for breaks I still can't believe the price of fresh produce and healthy foods. It's ridiculous and disgusting. And the deli at Crownpoint’s Basha’s serves only deep fried burritos, fried chicken and greasy mutton ribs. The other place to grab a quick lunch is at the food truck stand that has the worst; mutton, fry bread, dumpling stew and burgers and there’s one greasy — and mysterious — Chinese food truck there too.

It even goes back to the time in history where the U.S. government rationed food to Natives who, were for the first time caged, on their new reservations. They couldn’t travel or move out of their (prison) reservation, so the government sent food rations of the worst quality. In my time, the Navajo Nation Food Distribution tribal government program (similar to food stamps and born from the U.S. government food rations) still didn’t have the best interest in mind for the health of the tribe. They distributed canned fruits, vegetables, meats, white flour, noodles, corn cereals, and block American cheese. (Recently they made a great change. Now they have fresh fruits and vegetables, chicken breasts, turkey breasts and other frozen meats. Kudos to them.)

Many indigenous people have a problem with diet-related diseases because our genetics haven’t had a chance to change fast enough through our quick and forced assimilation. In just a few generations we went from lean hunters and gatherers to modern day fat Americans who have 24-hour access to fatty foods, the Internet and TV. Our genes were made to make the most of everything we ate and then store everything else for energy and survival. Now it’s stored all over our hips and stomach because we don’t have to build our own houses, raise our own food or be outside all that much anymore.
Inactive lifestyles, unhealthy/cheap eating habits caused diabetes to be a major problem on the reservation. Eighteen percent of us Navajos have diabetes, which is an increase from the last five years. That means we have the most deaths caused by diabetes, the most limbs lost and the most blind-stricken. It’s a very serious and scary thing. 

My health

I went to P.E. classes and didn’t enjoy them. I was in grade school when they implemented mandatory exercising times when the whole school went outside and walked a few laps around the school. I watched the food graph change from a pyramid to a circle and never got around to remembering it — but I can make fun of it: “whatever fits in this plate is my food circle … no matter how many times I fill it.” No.

I was bombarded by doctors, teachers and special guest speakers who said, “oooooo! Diabetes! Watch out!” and told us that we’re too fat and we’re going to die soon. But I’m one of those statistics; one of the stubborn ones who really didn’t listen to all that advice no matter how sincere or poorly said it was. I am overweight and have been my entire life. Parts of my life sucked – especially in public school. I’ve been bullied, called names, teased and treated differently from the beginning.

And despite it all, I haven’t changed. That’s how stubborn I am. I developed a very thick skin and an angry, protective attitude for anyone who would make fun of me or for anyone who even seems like the kind of person who would be mean like that (Ok, I’m borderline antisocial). Thus far, there hasn’t been any major event that caused me to change my lifestyle.

Until diabetes made its way into my family … (and my jeans were getting uncomfortably tight.)

Some people really need a good scare to finally make a change and turn their life around, like me. When I found out that someone in my family had been diagnosed with diabetes, I got scared. I was thinking, "it really can happen to us. That means I’m even more at risk for getting diabetes."

I really shouldn’t play around anymore.

So after my family changed the way they eat and educated themselves more about the stuff we put into our bodies, I followed suit. And this didn't happen overnight, I'd say it easily took a few years to learn these things, change some of our ways and get used to it. We all started eating right; cutting out loads of stuff that we loved to eat. We started exercising. We eat eggs whites now, we cut down on the corn (because corn is a fake vegetable that is only sugar), we eat more vegetables and salads, we eat smaller portions and drink more water. I have a gym membership and I go there every day. I try to play volleyball every week with my sister. I even stopped drinking alcohol (almost completely) because it's the worst thing to put into your body because it’s just a load of sugar and fermented sugar.

And my jeans are not tight on me anymore, I actually have to start sewing them in soon – ahem, because I know how to sew now. I don’t get tired easily and I have more energy.

And the most important thing: I have my family’s help and support. I think a lot of people don’t have that on the reservation. My dad told me a story about a young guy. That guy was diagnosed with diabetes and he didn’t change his diet. He still drinks three regular Cokes and eats breakfast and fried burritos every day from the deli. His family hasn’t changed the way they cook and live, so why should he?

It is a change in lifestyle and it’s hard to change that. I fought that change for a long time, but when you’re actually scared for your own health, and problems actually come into your family, it can do something to you.

Now I think I have things balanced. In the last two years I have become a foodie; I love to eat good food, I love to cook good food and I love to eat new foods. Heck, I write about food every week for work. But my jeans are getting bigger on me at the same time and the doctor says that all my blood content levels are healthy and on track — which is the most important thing for me because I'm not doing it to be a smaller size. I'm doing it so I can be healthy and will no longer be at risk for so many terrible diseases that are plaguing my tribe.

Native "Cuisine"

As a person who loves to eat and is not afraid to try new things, I sometimes look back at the food that has come from my home.

I started thinking about our food when I ate “traditional Native American food” in Chicago during a journalism conference. The local Native American chapter/group/club/organization/tribe invited us to their place for dinner. I was excited. I wondered what they ate up there and what it tasted like. Then I was disappointed. It was roasted meat and a side mix of squash and corn. I can’t remember what kind of bread they gave us, but that meal was not memorable. Native American food is as simple as that.

Most Natives were nomadic. They moved around with the seasons and herds. Sometimes they grew vegetables such as corn, squash, beans, potatoes, ect. That’s true with the Navajo, we pretty much ate off the land.

Each tribe hunted the animals that were native to their area. Deer in the forested areas, buffalo, rabbits, fish, whales, dogs – yes dogs, turkeys, chickens, ect. They used the local vegetables and fruits that grew in the area too.

Then came the immigrants and forced assimilation. Every tribe was forced to live in one place. I imagine a lot of starvation happened. They didn’t know how to farm or process foods. They also didn’t know how to use the strange, new foods that were rationed to them by the government, because they had never seen them before. Imagine if you never saw flour or coffee before. Would you know what to do with it? I also imagine there was a lot of sickness too.

Natives were also heavily influenced by these immigrants and their neighbors. They learned how to cook things, use new cooking tools and put their own twist on dishes. Take the Navajo for instance. We were heavily influenced by our Mexican/Spanish brothers. We have Navajo tacos, pesolé, chile stews and a lot of our Navajo words are actually Spanish words too. Geeso is how we say “cheese,” queso is how it’s said in Spanish; sounds the same. Mandagi’a is Navajo for “butter”; and mantaquella in Spanish. Oh, and tortillas, every Navajo woman must know how to make fry bread and tortillas. We also consider tamales to be a delicacy, just like the Mexicans do, and they only come out on special occasions.

 Tortillas cooked on the grill.

Fry bread

I know what the first thing you think about when you think about Native Americans and food. Fry bread. Actually, I don’t know how it was born or how each tribe came to have it. But each tribe has a different technique, texture and size to their fry bread. Each person who knows how to make fry bread takes great pride in their recipe. Navajos go all out with the plate-sized, thin fry bread with crispy bubbles. Up north, they make it thick and small. Some like it sweet with sugar stuff on it like a waffle. Others, like me, never put sugar on it and prefer it plain with salt or with some stew.

 Mutton stew (it's actually a soup) with fry bread.

On our reservation there are many flavors that come very simple.

The sheep

They were introduced to us by the Spanish around the 17^th century. They became a very important animal; the life and way of the people. Families kept hundreds of them and used their wool for rugs and their meat for sustainability.

To butcher a sheep takes practice and ceremony. Prayers and ‘thank you’s’ are said for the sheep. It’s bled out from the neck and skinned. I’ve only seen this once and didn’t stay for the whole thing. But the body is broken down and prepared for the grill – or the freezer. 

Butchering. 

The innards are not thrown out, they’re prepared too. The large intestines, liver, kidneys, stomach and other bits can be chopped and fried together. Everything in that mix is very grassy, gamey and greasy – good with a hot tortilla. The liver, like all livers, sort of come apart in the mouth like soft sand. The stomach turns rubbery and the intestines are the grassy rubbery ones. My sister loves this mix and says the kidneys are very good, especially with a piece of green chile and tortilla.

Even the blood is used to make a blood sausage. It’s poured in the stomach with some potatoes and chile and boiled. I’ve never had this, but I’m guessing it tastes like liver. And some of the fat, or fat lining is set out to dry and eaten with bread or by itself.

The small intestines are saved for achii’. They’re cleaned and wrapped around a sliver of fat. It’s grilled is popped into a tortilla. I’ve had just a few of these. They’re greasy and the intestines become a little rubbery or crispy. It’s very “muttony.”

The head is saved for the open fire -- above or under. I’ve never seen this but my sister has: Since it was my first time, watching was something kind of … from a scary movie. It was graphic to see how the head was taken apart. It still looked like a sheep, but it was charred. The jaw was separated, that gave me the chills because I’ve never seen it before. I tried the tongue, it was really tender but it was really chewy at the same time. The nose was taken off. Then the meat on the cheeks were taken off and shared with everybody. The cheek meat was really the best part of a muttony taste I’ve tasted. It was soft meat, it was really juicy and tender and tasty. We ate all of this with our hands. The next part that was cut out was the eyes. The guy who did the butchering ate the first eye. That was kind of gross, because I never thought of eating the eyes before. In the back of my mind I thought it was going to be gross, but I said “yes” (to their offer). I said “yes” because I felt like I needed to do it because I really wasn’t afraid. I didn’t eat the whole eye, it was cut in half. I closed my eyes, because I wanted to process the whole thing. It was slimy and very fatty and gooey. I don’t really remember what it tasted like, it was just really like a big jelly kind of jelly-meat.

This sheep head was cooked underground.

You know when you’re eating mutton, because mutton is really strong and distinct. It also leaves a strong sheep and meaty smell when you have it in the house. And the grease! The grease that gets everywhere is the reason why I don’t like it too much. If you don’t eat it fast enough, the grease will harden in the stew, in your nails and on the plate.

There are a lot of other traditional Navajo foods such as; blue corn mush, ground blue corn cooked in hot water and salted or served with sugar; Navajo tea, which, to me, tastes like you took a fall in the weeds and you got some of it in your mouth and; Navajo cake, a mix of ground corn and other sweet things that is baked underground and comes out dense and kind of tough – for a cake.

See? There are no special techniques, marinades, spices, lemon zest or sauces. It’s all very rugged; meat, bread, salt and a whole green chile/jalapeno on the side. Sometimes it comes with a side of roast corn, cooked squash, but that’s pretty much it.

In a more modern take, Navajos use all the same foods everyone else does. During events, and everyday life, there are burritos, cotton candy, fruit salads, noodle salads, burgers, Navajo burgers (burger in a fry bread). 

Navajo faire is always the best when it comes from a food truck like this.

We have also gotten better “rations” from the government. In recent years, there has been a shift from canned fruits, vegetables and meat to fresh and frozen ones through the Navajo Nation Food Distribution, which is kind of like a food stamps program.

Our family is not traditional. I didn’t grow up eating mutton and caring for sheep – most of us didn’t. We considered it a treat when we could afford it, or when our friendly neighbors gave us a leg or rack of ribs for Christmas. We ate spaghetti (mom’s spaghetti is soul food), chicken fried steak, enchiladas, salads, fish and Chinese food.

I learned to cook from my mom. Although she didn’t teach me how to make fry bread and tortillas, I know my way around the kitchen very well because of her. I can make many different things from chicken Brunswick stew and garlic-lemon salmon to Indian samosas and Afghan korma (lately I’ve been obsessed with the Middle East and India). Every now and then you can hear “oh my God, I’m a genius” coming from me in the kitchen.

I’m glad I have tasted most of the traditional foods from my home. Although I don’t like most of them, I know their value and importance to our people. I appreciate the thankfulness and waste less culture we have. These dishes and methods are exotic – even to me – and unique. I’m lucky to have it right at home.