Nomad in the Navajo Nation

The Nomads have arrived on the Navajo Reservation in Arizona for what was to be their most impressive experience to date. The Navajo or better said the Dines people have the largest reservation in the country. 350.000 Navajo remain on an area larger than our home country.

The first night we stay in the Quality Inn motel in Window Rock, capital of the Navajo nation. When we check in they ask us about our tribal affiliation. The next day we were on horseback riding through the amazing Canyon de Chelly and cruising our Chevy through the rez until we witnessed the most enchanting sunset. The following morning we woke up early not to miss a single minute of an equally amazing sun rise from our room at the View Hotel in Monument Valley

Booze and blues on the Rez.

Riding through the canyon on horseback makes time slip by in a pace that is unlike any other. We seem to move in an age old rhythm and a speed determined by the original horsepower of 1. Time is told by watching the descending sun and conversation is paused and continued over minutes that could very well be hours. Our guide James, an old rodeo rider, showed us many of the holy places and told tails of the ancient Anasazi ones. James started riding rodeo as a talented 17 year old one. Unfortunately his passion left him with wounded knees and much older now he works as a horse tour guide. James has the Red Man's Blues, ever since he found his wife running around with another fellow, after he came back from a rodeo tournament 8 years ago. But he doesn't sing his Blues on Mississippi born chords, but in ancient American Indian chants.
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James still drinks a lot nowadays but the blues isn't washed away that easily. He candidly tells me he just got of a drinking spree, but isn't planning to fall off the wagon soon. He wishes me a nice wedding and a happy marriage though. Conversation pauses... and continues. Not without a hint of bitterness he adds, "Hope Peggy Sue don't back stab you." I don't think James will join the ranks of teetotalers soon. His cousin Justin owns the ranch we got on our horses Dynamite and Sherman and its clear to me how family supports each other on the Rez. I ask him if he found a new woman yet. But he replies with: "Nothing serious" and starts to tell with Navajo machismo about this white woman who went out for a long camping ride with him a few years back and after 3 days proposed to him. James was puzzled how someone could think she knew somebody after only 3 days and he told her that it was much too soon for these things. Of course this was only 5 years after he got divorced.

Unhurried by the ticking of a conventional clock we slowly trail back to the ranch. My fellow nomad softly starts singing an improvised melody. James starts humming a Navajo chant and suddenly wonders which tribe we're from. "A tribe from far far away.", I answer. Conversation pauses... and continues. I speak of Island Indians from across the ocean, tribal affiliations and old 'adat'. James agrees that it is often hard, especially for the young ones, to stay in touch with their old ways. We start breaking our identities down from nation to tribe and tribe to clan. He takes it one step further to the actual place he was born, when we turn a canyon corner and conversation pauses...

In the far distance 4 very small silhouettes on horseback are leisurely riding into our direction. I can hardly make them out, but immediately know they are Indian. Even at this distance without really seeing them, something in the natural demeanor of these 4 lean riders clearly tells me their Native American. Slowly our 2 parties approach each other. Gradually I can make out 4 young kids, no older than 16, on unsaddled ponies. Their long hair is blowing in the warm canyon wind and one of them is sitting cross legged on his horse. Just before our paths cross and just in time for James to be able to answer, they ask him if he had seen 'Blue Eyes'. When they pass us by conversation continues. James tells me Blue Eyes is a horse. "A wild horse?", I ask. "No just not broken yet."        
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Love on the Rez isn't always as pretty as the natural beauty surrounding it, I think, when back at the rangers station I ask a young female Navajo ranger if the tattoo on her ring finger is a wedding symbol. She answers, "Yes, but he ran off." She smiles when I say it is still a nice tattoo. There is still much hardship on the Rez and challenges sometimes include environmental awareness and waste disposal habits. But it is also clear these people retain undeniable pride in their traditions and heritage. As always its about finding the right balance between modernity and tradition. A struggle universal to all native peoples I will meet in my nomadic travels.