Walking In Two Worlds

I remember asking my dad, "What's a white boy?" When I was in elementary school on the Rez two 3rd graders came over and started beating me up one day on the playground. I didn't understand why because they were two grades older and we never played together. I can not recall what lead up to their decision as they had never spoken to me before that day. "What's up Wasicu!"

I can still hear the sound of the gravel sliding around under their shoes as the maneuvered to keep kicking me. I remember catching glimpses of the teachers that were standing there talking as if nothing was happening between my arms as I tried to protect my nose that was already bleeding. It seemed to last forever, but as I learned in the years to come. Fights typically don't last very long. I need to learn to last longer.

My father spoke calmly most of the time. Not today. As I sat in the waiting area holding tissue up to my face, I could hear my dad through two brick walls in the principles office. As calmly as he would say grace at Thanksgiving he exited the office, took me by the hand and walked me out to his truck.

"People think there is "different" kinds of people," was his reply to my question. How odd is that? I can remember thinking. "Aren't we all the same?"

I grew up on their reservations. The poorest county in the United States.

A walker in two worlds.

My Hunka told me that our ancestors used to run with the Buffalo. Before the Spaniards brought horses across the big water to our cousins below the hot belt. We had no horses. We ran on foot to hunt. Forcing the herd to move into smaller groups. Until at last, the few brave enough to step in front of a charging buffalo were then allowed to honor our Creator, by giving thanks for our bounty and taking the kill.

Every part of the animal served a purpose. Greed was not a stranger among our ancestors, this is true. It was dealt with very harshly among our fathers. It was considered shameful to have more than your neighbor who was in need, when you have plenty to give and refuse.

This is the ideology the lead to the survival of our first visitors from across the big water he said. “Their Jesus said to do something similar.” He used to say. “But I don’t think they know what it means yet.”

His stories would appear as vivid pictures in my young mind. He told me stories of bravery in battle against enemy tribes or soldiers that happened across the vast territory traveled by our fathers. Now reserved (See what I did there) to a few small plots of barren land spread across the prairie.

I served in their Army. An anecdote among my peers. “How about a rain dance chief?” An outcast back home. “Serving the same army that killed your ancestors.”

A walker in two worlds.

My father (Vietnam Veteran) told me that I would see war in my lifetime. He was right…again. The man’s been dead since 2004 and he still shows up to get the last word as I become a man.

Like my father. I succumbed to the temptation of women, drink and drug.

Unlike my father. I learned to put my wife and children first.

The journey is filled with Joy, some things that will most definitely shock you and a comeback that will make you believe in the good of people again!

I used to sit and ask, “Why is there so much bad, sadness and pain?”

Then I met a girl. Life was never going to be the same!

From cleaning toilets in the hospital as a Housekeeper, to helping people change their lives every day as Peer Support Specialist.

The story of a half-breed, whose been around the world a couple of times.

Like my Hunka used to say, “It’s shameful to have something someone else needs and not share.”

This is my story.

A walker in two worlds;