SnikPlosskin
03-17-2012, 7:25pm
Well, it's time again to dig deep into the recesses of old Thrakk's frontal cortex and whip out a mesmerizing tale from the past.
Living with the Lakota Tribe
I've never been on a proper vacation. This is for a few reasons, not the least of which is that vacations are expensive. Since I've been self supporting since the age of 17, taking a cruse to the Bahamas just hasn't been practical. Instead, when I had the chance, I have ventured out into the world to experience life with other cultures. Most often, I would go on photographic journeys to capture indigenous people - ranging from the back alleys of Las Vegas to Central America and beyond.
These were spartan trips - no luxury hotels or little drinks with umbrellas. Most of the time I slept where ever I could and often, the trips would be unpredictable and spontaneous.
Let's go live with Indians
So, for me, it wasn't unusual to suddenly get the idea of driving to South Dakota to see first hand how Native Americans lived. At the time, I was dating a girl who was also a photographer, so she joined me for the trip.
We arrived at Fort Thompson unannounced. We were not greeted with open arms. The first day we arrived, we were chased back to our car by some rather intoxicated Native American gents who apparently were attracted to my girl friends ample attributes. We quickly learned that we were not in Kansas anymore (which made sense, since we lived in Milwaukee).
But, being young, stupid and dedicated to getting "the shot" - we returned the next day. As we drove through the reservation, we were taken aback by the conditions. It made Lebanon look like paradise. Large groups of men were just hanging out drinking. Dirty toddlers played with abandon with no parents in sight. One was cradling a dead puppy.
When in doubt, go to the community center
We went to the community center hoping to get our bearings. It was there we met a woman, Susan, who took us under her wing and, for the next three months was our host, guide, protector and friend. She was raised in Fort Thompson and educated in Chicago. A proud Lakota, she returned to the reservation to do what she could to raise the people out of desperate poverty and social devastation.
At the time, Fort Thompson, a sovereign nation within the U.S. boasted a 95% unemployment rate and a 75% alcoholism rate among adult males. This was a dependent society off the rails.
Gradually over the weeks people started to accept us and we were invited to stay in various people's homes. In one domicile, the family was so desperate for money to buy food, they sold their windows in the summer. Come winter, they told us one of their babies had died from exposure inside the house.
We found that there were many programs that would pay for education, job training, food and more. But our host at the community center was frustrated because the people were too proud to take advantage of the programs.
Of Pow Wows and Fish Tacos
One source of income for the Lakota was hosting "Pow Wows" for tourists. Donning garish feathered costumes (wearing Chevy and CocaCola Tshirts underneath) and dancing to drumbeats, the Indians collected money selling fish tacos and posing like movie Indians to the white tourists who paid for the experience.
I thought it was weird to sell fish tacos, but those things were tasty. Although at one of the tourist Pow Wows I ate a few too many and became quite gassy. Gozar Gassy. It was the first time I saw the tribe laugh with me instead of eying me suspiciously. Nothing like farting to bring people together.
The Real Deal
Eventually we earned enough trust and mutual respect to be invited to a real tribal Pow Wow. Unlike the tourist version, this ancient ceremony was somber and serious. There was song and dance, but it wasn't anything like the cheesy parties the tribe hosted previously. No cameras were allowed. At the end of the Pow Wow I was honored with a Lakota name "Kola Igluwasicu" - roughly translated "Friend White Man".
Three months went by so fast it seemed we just drove through the town. But rolls of film and dozens of goodbye hugs reminded us that we somehow developed a real connection to the tribe.
Revisited
Years later, I visited the reservation to see if anything had changed. Sadly, nothing was different. The reservation was a wasteland of a once proud culture.
I went back to the community center and found Susan - still on her mission to save her people. We greeted like no time had passed and reminisced about my previous visit. As we talked, one of the tribe elders saw me and approached to greet me.
He called me by a Lakota name that was unfamiliar to me. But when he said "Wakina Uze" (pronounced "Wakeena oozee") the other Lakotas within hearing distance laughed a familiar laugh. According to Susan, nobody called me Kola Igluwasicu in my absence.
Instead, ever since the taco incident, I was referred to as Wakina Uze - loosely translated "Thunder Ass". I couldn't be more proud.
Thrakk Out.
Living with the Lakota Tribe
I've never been on a proper vacation. This is for a few reasons, not the least of which is that vacations are expensive. Since I've been self supporting since the age of 17, taking a cruse to the Bahamas just hasn't been practical. Instead, when I had the chance, I have ventured out into the world to experience life with other cultures. Most often, I would go on photographic journeys to capture indigenous people - ranging from the back alleys of Las Vegas to Central America and beyond.
These were spartan trips - no luxury hotels or little drinks with umbrellas. Most of the time I slept where ever I could and often, the trips would be unpredictable and spontaneous.
Let's go live with Indians
So, for me, it wasn't unusual to suddenly get the idea of driving to South Dakota to see first hand how Native Americans lived. At the time, I was dating a girl who was also a photographer, so she joined me for the trip.
We arrived at Fort Thompson unannounced. We were not greeted with open arms. The first day we arrived, we were chased back to our car by some rather intoxicated Native American gents who apparently were attracted to my girl friends ample attributes. We quickly learned that we were not in Kansas anymore (which made sense, since we lived in Milwaukee).
But, being young, stupid and dedicated to getting "the shot" - we returned the next day. As we drove through the reservation, we were taken aback by the conditions. It made Lebanon look like paradise. Large groups of men were just hanging out drinking. Dirty toddlers played with abandon with no parents in sight. One was cradling a dead puppy.
When in doubt, go to the community center
We went to the community center hoping to get our bearings. It was there we met a woman, Susan, who took us under her wing and, for the next three months was our host, guide, protector and friend. She was raised in Fort Thompson and educated in Chicago. A proud Lakota, she returned to the reservation to do what she could to raise the people out of desperate poverty and social devastation.
At the time, Fort Thompson, a sovereign nation within the U.S. boasted a 95% unemployment rate and a 75% alcoholism rate among adult males. This was a dependent society off the rails.
Gradually over the weeks people started to accept us and we were invited to stay in various people's homes. In one domicile, the family was so desperate for money to buy food, they sold their windows in the summer. Come winter, they told us one of their babies had died from exposure inside the house.
We found that there were many programs that would pay for education, job training, food and more. But our host at the community center was frustrated because the people were too proud to take advantage of the programs.
Of Pow Wows and Fish Tacos
One source of income for the Lakota was hosting "Pow Wows" for tourists. Donning garish feathered costumes (wearing Chevy and CocaCola Tshirts underneath) and dancing to drumbeats, the Indians collected money selling fish tacos and posing like movie Indians to the white tourists who paid for the experience.
I thought it was weird to sell fish tacos, but those things were tasty. Although at one of the tourist Pow Wows I ate a few too many and became quite gassy. Gozar Gassy. It was the first time I saw the tribe laugh with me instead of eying me suspiciously. Nothing like farting to bring people together.
The Real Deal
Eventually we earned enough trust and mutual respect to be invited to a real tribal Pow Wow. Unlike the tourist version, this ancient ceremony was somber and serious. There was song and dance, but it wasn't anything like the cheesy parties the tribe hosted previously. No cameras were allowed. At the end of the Pow Wow I was honored with a Lakota name "Kola Igluwasicu" - roughly translated "Friend White Man".
Three months went by so fast it seemed we just drove through the town. But rolls of film and dozens of goodbye hugs reminded us that we somehow developed a real connection to the tribe.
Revisited
Years later, I visited the reservation to see if anything had changed. Sadly, nothing was different. The reservation was a wasteland of a once proud culture.
I went back to the community center and found Susan - still on her mission to save her people. We greeted like no time had passed and reminisced about my previous visit. As we talked, one of the tribe elders saw me and approached to greet me.
He called me by a Lakota name that was unfamiliar to me. But when he said "Wakina Uze" (pronounced "Wakeena oozee") the other Lakotas within hearing distance laughed a familiar laugh. According to Susan, nobody called me Kola Igluwasicu in my absence.
Instead, ever since the taco incident, I was referred to as Wakina Uze - loosely translated "Thunder Ass". I couldn't be more proud.
Thrakk Out.