Dennehotso Is My Home

There is something special about where I live. It’s a little town called Dennehotso, Arizona. It doesn't seem like it’s even close to being called a town, it’s a small community mainly tied together by the local school. I like where I'm from, it has a history and it gives meaning when I say this is where I am from.

My great grand father is 98 years old and he came to this town a long time ago, he tells stories of when they farmed, how they raised the kids and what they use to do to survive. The greatest thing about his stories are that he can walk down the road and point to where his farm use to be, tell us how the kids used to go to school, and also tell us his great stories from the home that him and my late great grandmother used to share.

I love the small town that I come from because everyone knows everyone, when something happens in the community the elders give in their sense and no one questions why our elders teach us the way they do. I think that’s what keeps our community strong, and noticeable when someone that lives here goes through something great or something horrible, the people help one another.

One day when I'm all finished with school and decide to make a home for myself I will go back to Dennehotso, Arizona and make a life for myself among the people that I feel I owe it to take care of. The people in my community are Navajo, they are my people and when I am all done with Nursing and Pharmacy school, I will come back and help my people. I feel I owe to them as great as they have been to me.

Coalmine Canyon Is My Home

Growing up my siblings and me were often left at my grandparent’s house in Coalmine Canyon while my mother worked. Coalmine Canyon is on the Navajo Nation and the Old Coalmine is where we lived.

Coalmine Canyon was a beautiful place to grow up. There was a chapter house where my grandmother wove rugs. The rugs were sold for a higher price then what the local Trading Posts were buying them for, which boosted the economy on the Navajo Nation. My grandfather worked at SRP in Page, Arizona. He would be home on weekends and always with a bag of fruits for my siblings and me.

My grandmother’s house was a magical place. In the morning, before the sun come up over the horizon, my siblings and me would go to the sheep corral and feed the lambs and the motherless calf named Keesh Mish. Afterward we would get ready for school. At 6:30 A.M. my brother, my baby sister, and me would walk to the bus stop that was a quarter of a mile from our home.

There were so many kids on the bus that we got to know when we had community get togethers. The girls would be talking about the lambs that were just born, the boys would be picking on the ones that were sleeping and challenging each other to a knuckle fight. We all knew each other‘s parents and grandparents.

Everyone in the community had there own herd of livestock and their own fields of corn, squash, watermelon, and orchards of apple trees, apricot trees, and peach trees. Every time there was a chapter meeting, everyone brought something to eat. Each dinner started with a prayer, all the kids played outside while our grandparents and parents sat in on the chapter meeting.

When I was about seven, I started to hear the other kids on the bus talk about moving to Sanders, Tuba City, Gallup, and Red Lake. They said that their families were being relocated. They would be getting a house; they would be taking their livestock with them. All I was worried about was who was I going to play with when we had chapter meetings, who was going to be at the chapter meetings, and I was afraid of my grandparents were going to be relocated as well.

All that was left in our community was the abandon houses, the fences that once guarded the fields from rabbits, horses, and sheep. Old corrals where men used to brand their cattle, train horses, and where young boys learned how to ride were rotting and weeds started coming up. The chapter house was no longer in use, and was marked off so that no one could enter. The playground was no longer safe and the pre-school no longer a pre-school.

For a while, it seemed like a ghost town, stories started about how people driving through at night saw ghosts and objects chasing their vehicles as they drove through town.

Now there is a new Coalmine Canyon Community. There are over 600 residences here. A new chapter house here. It is located about five miles west of the Old Coalmine Canyon. Some people have the horse corrals next to their homes. There are areas where cowboys and cowgirls that practice barrel racing, team roping, and bull riding here in this community. Athletes in this community run up the dirt road, children play, and parents fix up their yards every year.

My grandparents were the last people to relocate to the new Coalmine only because they were getting old and their old house had no running water and no electricity. Every year our family would haul wood to ensure my grandparents would be warm in the winter, and to provide wood for our own personal use, for example we would have family cookouts, or a ceremony.

Now my siblings and me are growing up and my grandparents, aunts, and uncles are getting older, they constantly encourage us to go to college. Get our degrees and come back to the community and help out. This year, my sibling and me will all be attending college. I am a sophomore attending ASU, my little brother will be attending Dine College, and my baby sister will be attending Eastern Arizona College. We all have plans to get out Master Degrees, start working and come home to help our community grow and prosper.

Right now, our community is small, but we have plans for stores and parks, and schools to be built here. Plans to have gas stations where we can purchase gas instead of driving twenty-five miles to the nearest gas station, to open a veterinarian clinic for our livestock, and to have a police and fire station, to build parks where the children can play. The one thing that we lack is the people who know how to manage stores, a veterinarian, police men and women, fire fighters, engineers, and community planners. The some people in our community have not attended college; some have not even completed high school.

My siblings and I plan to change that. I’m going to school for business, my brother is going to school to become a veterinarian, and my sister will be going to school to become a dentist. We plan to come back after graduation and start helping our community grow to a bigger more comfortable place to live.

We would also like to preserve our heritage. We are Navajo, the biggest Native American Tribe in the United States who is losing our identity and language. We would like future generations to be proud of where they come from, to help them understand that without knowing where they come from they don’t know where they are going. There are many single mothers here in our community and they all struggle with finding a babysitter, especially here in our community. However, my mother who has the resources to start a day care center here very soon, we just need the paper work filled out and for it to be passed in resolution form by the chapter officials and sent to the Navajo Nation Council to be passed and recognized. This process will take a little less then a year. Nevertheless, it will be here soon.

I love my community and after I finish college I plan to come back and help my community grow and to start my own family here. As well as to help other college students continue on with school in hopes that they come back to the community and help us grow to a safe comfortable place for our children to grow.

Two Places To Call Home

I have always wanted to travel the world and see if any place out there was like my home. I am fortunate to have two places to call home. The beautiful place of the Navajo Nation, and the Fort Apache Indian Reservation. The most precious things about these places besides the location, is the people and the journey they have taken. We as Native Americans have endured pain and torment that only so much is written in history books.

Tradition is our most precious thing that should be held high. Tradition is the sole of our roots. Without it, we would be lost. The most respected thing and the thing that identifies us as Native Americans, our different cultures. For my heritage and culture, I am proud to say Arizona is my home. My second home would be that of the White Mountains, a beautiful place, green and heavenly. Nature and the joy and sorrow it brings to both the known and the unknown. It truly is a beautiful place. A world unlike any other. Fresh mountain air and the calmness in the air. Our resources are there, nature supplied us with air, green trees, water in rivers and lakes, and even the ones that come from nature herself. Arizona is home and I’m fine if nobody else sees what I see. I know what I know because Arizona has taught me about myself, you feel in touch with nature and you begin to find yourself. The feeling Arizona gives you is beautiful. That’s why Arizona is my home.

Kayenta Is My Home

I woke up this morning as the night illuminated into the gorgeous day in front of my sleepy eyes. I thought to my self, “If I could imagine a world where everything had an artist touch and like “Cheers,” everyone knows your name, it would definitely be in Kayenta.”

I moved from Salt Lake City, Utah in the early nineties with my family. I started school on the reservation of the Navajo Indians, my third year of elementary school. As a new student, I was picked on because I was the new kid and I did not know a lick of the Navajo language. However, the teachers had all the patience and understanding to help me achieve above average grades and make some life long friends.

As I grew up in the public system, teachers and counselors would guide me with gentle words of wisdom. They encouraged me to continue my education and hopefully come back to serve the community, which I intend to do.

The people of Kayenta are still growing as I have. We are learning to become a township, to be separate and to set an example to our neighboring towns, that we can be independent and grow together economically. My family in Kayenta are too numerous to mention, but I do come from a family that has established themselves well in the community as leaders. They are teachers, councilmen, and spiritual advisors. We all live together in harmony, in the beauty way, in the middle of a world, where on one side there is a red valley with all shades of red, orange, and yellow melting into one another and on the other side is a mesa dotted with pinion tress that had stands proud and undefeated.

As you travel from Flagstaff, AZ, you find yourself glued to the passing scenery. It is almost as if someone put up a slideshow on your window. The land slides down the San Francisco Peaks into a red treeless valley with canyons dipping into more canyons that seem to lead to the center of the earth. As the red fades into yellow sands and gray rocks, a mesa starts to grow. The Black Mesa seems to get larger as you cruise the winding roads toward Skeleton Mesa. Moreover, before it seems as if they are going to crash into one another, a ray of hope emerges as you make a sharp turn into Long House Valley. This valley opens up its mouth, swallows the unknown visitor, and spits him out onto a land of enchantment. When you first open your eyes to Kayenta, you realize you are in a magical world.

Living in Kayenta, I have learned what family really is. It does not hurt to be living in an artist’s dream world. I would recommend anyone to live in Kayenta, especially if the are first starting out their own lives. There is housing available, schools within walking distance, and even community colleges. We have a local grocery store, where you will see everyone and a few fast food joints if that’s what you are into. We also have our own police department, which I am sure you will know who will serve and protect you by their first name. Where can you get that kind of service? This community is small, we may not have a mall or Wal-Mart but we have each other and that’s what really counts when you are in need of a cup of sugar or a friendly ear.

Peach Springs Is My Home

I am a member of the Hualapai tribe. I live on the Hualapai Indian Reservation in Peach Springs, Arizona. Our reservation consists of thousands of acres and beautiful Grand Canyon West.

I believe our reservation is special because the government gave it to us, it was considered unwanted or “no good” land. However, the land has been good to us. The money that comes from the Grand Canyon west tours is what our tribe depends on. Without it, we would not be so fortunate. In addition, what makes our hometown so special is that it is not one big city full of traffic and pollution. We have clean air and everyone knows everyone. When you go out to a public function, there is always someone there to chat with and have fun. Moreover, in our town when you want to go out on a Sunday afternoon and have lunch in the forest, all you have to do is travel about 30 minutes to Twenty Pines. On the other hand, if you would rather ride quads or horses out in the desert you always have your back yard.

Another great thing about Peach Springs is we get the works. We catch every type of weather, not just heat, snow, rain or wind. In every season comes new weather. In addition, don't think that a person has to be Hualapai to enjoy our beautiful reservation, we have pink, purple and yellow people coming to live and work for our tribe everyday. We also have tons of tourists coming through to stay at our hotel, taking the river rafting tours, and viewing the Grand Canyon. Peach Springs is the place to be.

Tse Nikani

All my life I've known Arizona as my home. I was born in this beautiful state and I believe, after my old age, I will become one with the earth in Arizona. I grew up in the uppermost northern corner of Arizona on the Navajo Indian reservation. It is in this remote land I learned how to become a scholar, a woman, and a warrior.

The town I lived in is called Round Rock, or “Tse Nikani,” hole in the rock. With its population of 1,000 residents, there was no epidemic pollution or violence. The air was clean; the waters of the lake were blue and pure from any trash or other toxins. Until I was four, I lived with my older brother and grandparents in a traditional Navajo home called a hoogan nimazi. In this tiny, round home, there was no electricity or running water. In this remote environment, I learned the sacred stories, songs, and prayers. My parents allowed my grandmother and grandfather to raise us, to teach us the Navajo life. I became a scholar of the traditional ways, ways in which I would teach my grandchildren and my great-great grandchildren, ensuring that the culture would survive.

Our small home is located in a valley surrounded by astonishing beauty and incredible views. To the east rose the Chuska Mountains. To the south lies the Chinle valley. To the west, the two monumental rocks for which our town is named, stood and intimated all others. In addition, to the north, were the remarkable mesas, splattered with apple reds and bright oranges. In all my travels, I still believe that this is the most astonishing view a person could ever see.

When I was born, my grandmother cut off my umbilical cord and buried it in the dirt, announcing my arrival and introducing me to Mother Earth. I became one with the land and took my first steps on the red sand, imprinting my soul forever to the land.

When I was eleven, I became a woman. There was a womanhood ceremony, or Kinaalda, performed for me. For four days and four nights, my entire family gathered, singing and praying for me, welcoming me into womanhood and ensuring that I understood the significance of our land and culture. It is here, on this land, which I made my Navajo puberty cake; buried in the earth over night and cooking from the flames of an open fire. It is in this way that I let Mother Earth know that I became a woman like her, and that I will one day be returned to her.

My childhood and the structure in which I grew up made me strong, physically, mentally, and spiritually. We would haul gallons of water from the water hole to our home every few days. I would chop wood every morning in order to keep our home warm and to cook. In the early morning, I would awaken and pray to the sacred Gods in the east, offering white corn pollen. After my morning prayers, I would run for miles in the mesas and valleys. When the day came to an end, I would pray to the sacred Gods in the west, in the sunset, offering yellow corn pollen and thanking them for another blessed day that has passed. The sunsets were always magnificent. As the sun lowered behind the rocks, the sky would become woven with deep purples, blood reds, and bright oranges. Soon, the sun would be completely gone and we would become blanketed with the sacred stars above.

Upon graduating high school, I decided to follow in the footsteps of my brother and grandfather and enlist in the United States Army. I knew that I was ready for this challenge, for I had been a warrior all my life. I welcomed any obstacle that lay ahead of me. The land knew my name and would protect me from any danger. Moreover, that if I were to fall, I would be welcomed home and put back in the earth with my mother.

Today, after all my travels, years of sacrificing personal freedom, and defending this sacred nation, I return home to my grandparents, my parents, and my family. However, nothing compares to returning home to this sacred land. This is my home.

Old Hogan

Driving on an unpaved dirt road, we pass the local Dine’ Market. Desert as far as the eye can see. Broken-down cars and trucks on bricks line the streets. Stopping to get a drink at the Mustang Gas Station, which is not too far from the Old Hogan. Giving my change to a man who seemingly slept by the pump the night before and I hope he uses it for a meal that day, and not a drink that night. Children running through the streets howling like coyotes, half-naked and filthy from playing in the waterhole. Untamed horses abruptly running loose through the recently watered cornfield, disturbing the famished crows. They are famished for a very good reason; it is 102 degrees today.

Not quite the best first impression; however, I step out of my excessively equipped, family sports utility vehicle with nothing but optimism in my heart and anticipation in my eyes. I cannot wait! I am fourteen years old and this is the year I will have my Kinallda. The year I finally become a woman. I walk over to the Old Hogan, almost overwhelmed with excitement, but slightly frightened. My hands and forehead begin to sweat. All I can think of is the look on my parent’s faces when the tradition is complete. When they at long last will speak the words, “my daughter is a woman!”

I have never had a Navajo ceremony performed in my honor before. I’ve attended many, on countless occasions, but never have I had to endure the rituals physically. My mother was born and raised on the Navajo reservation, but our family comes back to visit only once a year. These visits were insufferable for me before, however this year is special. This year I will be blessed! I am rushed into my bilth (a rug dress) and turquoise jewelry. The ceremony is four excruciating days of hard work and tests of my endurance. Testing my ability to tackle difficult situations, and teaching me the old ways of my people.

When the last prayer has been made and the last song, sung, the ceremony is complete. I am now a woman. In these four days, I felt myself grow and mature. I knew I was a different person. I was a better person! I knew that I could no longer be content with the way my Native-American family was living. Raised poverty stricken and corrupted from their infantry. Since I have grown as a person, I will strive to be more than I was before. I want to become financially stable so that I can help the community I’ve grown to love so much.

Inspiration can come in many shapes and forms, to all colors and creeds, but what precisely is it? Inspiration by definition is a divine influence. My inspiration is the home that I visit once a year, my sanctuary. I picture the colorful mountains, the sounds of the wind and eagles screaming, and the air so warm and embracing. At night the sky is so clear, the stars appear to be only an inch away. The sunrises reveal the truth that there is a God.

Entering high school is a huge step. I’ve always had an interest in business, so instead of taking all honors or AP courses, I focused on what interests me the most. Therefore, I applied for the business academy. This academy allows me to be involved within my community, from my four years of volunteer work at the Boys and Girls Club of Whittier to the Chamber of Commerce activities, I am invited to because I am a student representative. The minimum community service required for this academy is 30 hours but all totaling up to over a 150 hours of community service. I believe that, by pursuing my career and accomplishing my goals, I will have an opportunity to make life easier for the ones I love. Home is where he heart is, and my heart belongs to my people.