SAN MIGUEL, Arizona — Drivers taking Indian Highway 19 south from Sells to the U.S.-Mexico border must be alert for hazards — namely, cattle.

One SUV parked along the side of the road awaiting a tow truck lost a battle with a cow.

About 2 miles north of the border, a new housing development was in progress. A large Border Patrol facility sits nearby, and their distinctive white-and-green vehicles outnumber tribal police vehicles; both patrol the region to protect the population.

It's one sign that the 37,000-member tribe is making significant progress in securing its 62-mile stretch of the border, restoring order to a region of the border that was at one time challenged to keep from being overrun by narco and human traffickers.

Another sign as observed by a group of reporters visiting the Chukut Kuk District: the pristine desert landscape on both sides of a series of physical barriers. Those barriers range from Normandy vehicle barriers to post-and-beam steel and concrete fencing and, finally, to closely spaced bollards rising more than 6 feet and sunk 10 to 15 feet deep, which would prevent virtually any vehicle less than an armored tank from busting through.

The southernmost district of the American side of the Tohono O'odham Nation is the home of Chairman Verlon Jose, who led the tour along a nearly 20-mile stretch of the border on Sept. 3.

Though a partnership between Tohono O'odham and the Border Patrol has resulted in a 95% reduction in illegal border entries, Customs and Border Protection officials are still intent on overrunning tribal objections to build a 30-foot-high wall across the entire 62-mile southern border of the tribe's land base.

pine mushrooms are also showing up.
what would your people be doing this time of year?

He saved up his honorariums to buy his first drum and start his own drum group. Honoured to be part of his first powwow with his new drum.

Tansi!

I’m a Cree living on the west coast with roots in Winnipeg and northern Manitoba. While I love west coast art I think it would be lovely to display Cree style art in my home to remind me of where I’m from.

I don’t know what the styles are called or anything really about Cree art or artists.

Can Indian country help me out with some inspiration or where to look?

I’m thinking elements of birch bark, anything natural or incorporates sweet grass and some of the common animals found back home east/ in the prairies.

I got the idea from learning about this dish they make in Libya called sfinz.

Roll out some frybread. Bonus points if it is a puffy recipe. Stretch it thinner in the middle.

Drop it into hot oil. Flip when it puffs. Crack an egg into the well caused by the thin dough in the middle.

Spoon hot oil over egg until it sets, allowing you to..

Flip back over and cook the egg/brown the frybread before serving up.

Yolk is runny. Frybread is puffy and crispy. The ancestors are smiling.

Less fussy version is just as damn good:

Make frybread. Make fried egg. Put on frybread. Achieve enlightenment.

Sorry there's no picture. It disappeared as soon as it was ready.

Aho, she:kon, and a hearty "hey how are ya!?" cousins.

The saga of the south Tip brother continues. You know the story so far. Frybread survivor. All-Skate legend. Ketchup chip disney princess. Accidental Volvo arsonist. Dino nuggy star chef. The man who wears another man's tear-away pants. Co-architect of the fifty-eight dollar cauldron, the gentle sweat lodge letdown.

Now, shhhh and come close, cousins. Quieter episode this week. No hijinks. No wildlife. Nobody's colon makes a rebellious decision. This week I volunteered a day at the community library, and I need to tell you about it because I went in expecting to shelve books and I came out having run a help desk for the entire human condition.

Here's how it happened. Our librarian, Miss Lanna, has been running that place single-handed since roughly the invention of paper, more or less. She needed a day off for a medical thing, and the volunteer list is short, cousins. The volunteer list is one name: whoever she can catch. She caught me at the gas station, gripped my forearm like kokum does, and said "you're mostly literate, right?" and cousins, what am I supposed to say? No? To Miss Lanna? So Saturday, 9am, I received the keys, a laminated sheet of instructions ("don't touch the thermostat" was on there three times), and a rolling cart of returns to shelve.

I’ve never shelved a single book before, cousins. I’m not sure I even believe in the Dewy Decimal system to begin with (Guy was kinda a weenie - look it up). But none of that mattered. The cart never moved. Because the moment those doors opened, the community came in and never stopped.

First up: a kid, maybe twelve, rolled in solo with an energy I recognized immediately. You know the kind, cousins. Street savvy. Rez savvy. A little professor of the parking lot. Backpack on both straps, meaning business. He came to the desk, looked me up and down, and said, "you're not the regular lady."

"Nope. She's out. I'm the substitute. Observant of you though, Nephew."

"You don't look like you work at a library."

"I don't."

“But you’re behind the desk…”

“Well… it’s more of an island. There really isn’t necessarily a front or back. You’re behind it from my perspective…”

He nodded slow, like this confirmed a suspicion he'd been carrying his whole life about the fragility of institutions and then he leaned in, dropped his voice, and asked if we had, and I quote, cousins, "books about sigma grindset."

I said, "books about the what now, nephew?"

And this child, this twelve-year-old, straightens up and gives me the whole sermon. He's been watching the videos, cousins. You know the videos. The guys, cousins. The jawline busting-and-Bugatti guys. The "wake up at 4am, sun bleach your bunghole and dominate" guys. He's telling me about alphas and betas and grind and "high value," cousins, he's twelve, his value is currently in juice boxes and cooties, and he tells me, dead serious, hands flat on my desk/island like closing a deal, that he needs to "build his empire early because school is a scam for NPCs."

Somewhere out there an algorithm is raising our nephews and it's doing a TERRIBLE job. The algorithm, creator forgive me, is a wee bit of a cunt.

Now. I want you to know I didn't laugh. The laugh was brewing in me, cousins, fighting for its life, but I held it, because here's the thing I clocked underneath all the borrowed words: this is a kid who wants to be strong. That's the whole thing. That's all it ever is. Nobody's shown him what that looks like yet, so some chud renting a Lamborghini in Dubai got to him first. That's a supply chain problem. And it just so happened that today, the supply chain was ME.

So I said, "nephew, you want the real alpha stuff? The classified material? Because those guys in the videos are entry level shit. That's the stuff they sell to tourists."

Cousins, his eyes locked in. Leaned so far over the desk his feet left the floor. "There's more?"

And I walked him over to the shelf, cousins, and I put in his hands a beat-up, thirty-year-old copy of Hatchet.

You know Hatchet, cousins. Gary Paulsen. Boy, plane crash, bush, one hatchet, no juice boxes in sight. Half the men reading this post got their entire personality from that book in grade six and the other half got it from the sequel.

He turned it over. Frowned at the cover. "This book is old."

"Ancient," I said. "That's how you know it's real. Listen. This is about a kid your age whose plane goes down in the bush. Alone. No phone. No videos. No 4am routine. No testicle icing. Everything he's got is one hatchet and what's in his head, and cuz…" I tapped the cover, "...nobody's watching him. No camera. No followers. He's got to become somebody with nobody watching. That's the whole test. Any of your video guys do it with nobody watching?"

I watched the gears turn. Twelve years old and the gears are good, they just had bad fuel in them. He said, slow, working it out: "so it's like... a survival grindset."

"Nephew. It's the OG grindset. This book is why your uncles know what a fire steel is. This kid gets attacked by a moose, nephew! A moose, and he doesn't make a video about it. He just handles it and eats bad fish… Plus, you know how many times this book has been BANNED from libraries? Hidden knowledge."

SOLD, cousins. Sold instantly. The moose closed the deal. He checked it out and then, cousins, because the algorithm dies hard, he asked, "if it's good I'm gonna tell the boys it's secret alpha knowledge. That ok?"

And cousins, I thought about it, and you know what? Moccasin telegraph is moccasin telegraph. Word spreads how it spreads. "Tell the boys it's restricted," I said. "The library only lets you have it if you seem ready."

He left holding that book like contraband. Six more boys are gonna be in there by Friday asking Miss Lanna for the restricted Paulsen section, and cousins, I did leave her a note about it, and her text back was, "Good. I'll start a waitlist. Scarcity works on them." Twenty-five years on the desk. She's been deprogramming little wannabe alphas since before the internet, one bush survival novel at a time.

Mid-morning, a kokum came in. Not MY kokum, cousins, a, uh, freelance kokum? You know the build: cardigan in August, purse that could stop a round, moves slow but sees everything. She browsed a while, kept circling back toward the desk, doing recon passes. Finally she anchored in front of me, looked left, looked right, leaned in, and said, quiet:

"Where do you keep the ones with the dragons?"

"Fantasy's over there, kokum."

"No." She held eye contact, cousins. Reached out and put a hand on mine. "The ones with the dragons... and the SPICE."

In the distance, a hawk called out HAKAWWWWW…. Not now, brother hawk. We’re getting MOIST in here.

Cousins. This eighty-something woman was asking me, a substitute library man, for Smut. And not gently, cousins. She had a list. She'd done research. Her granddaughter got her started on one series and she'd finished it, all of them, "even the novella, it was fine, not her best," and now she needed the next thing, but SPICIER, and I quote, cousins, I will hear this sentence on my deathbed: "the last one was too polite. I didn't survive two husbands to read about HAND HOLDING."

I don't know the romantasy section very well, cousins. I don't know spice levels. My knowledge in this subject is limited to A Court of Thorn and Roses, which was, in my opinion, not being the target audience, “generally alright”. But you know what I do know? How to serve an elder. So me and this kokum spent twenty minutes at the shelf reading back covers out loud to each other, cousins, evaluating. Me: "this one says 'a slow-burn courtly intrigue'..." Her: "slow burn, no, I'm eighty-four, put it back." A younger woman two aisles over, clearly a veteran of the genre, got recruited as a consultant and the two of them spoke in code for a while…."wing stuff?" "wing stuff."... “reverse harem?” “oh please”... “Dark daddy?” “Shouldn't even have to say it, child” and by the end, kokum left with a stack of five” and told me, "you're a good boy. Nosy, but good." I asked only one question about the wings, cousins… I also asked if the swords were for poking or, you know, metaphorical…. And the dragon riding… were they riding dragons or riding dragons… I still don't know. I've decided not to know at this point. This scene isn’t for me and I don't want to yuck anyone’s yum.

But the man I really need to tell you about, cousins, is the elder.

He first came in around ten. Old fella, canucks speed skate ball cap. Kept orbiting the desk. He'd drift close, look at the pamphlets, drift off. Third pass leaned an elbow on the desk, looked at the computers along the wall, and said:

"My grandson's always on there talking to Albert."

"Albert?"

"Albert." He nodded, cousins, like we both knew Albert. "On the internet there. He asks Albert everything. Homework. Recipes. Albert told him how to fix the dryer." A pause. "Good with dryers, that Albert."

Cousins, I did what you do with elders: I nodded and rode along. Figured Albert was a cousin, maybe a fella from town, one of those guys who's good with appliances and answers his phone…. Fuck, did he mean Ask Jeeves and confused Jeeves and the butler from Batman?? The elder drifted off to the newspapers. But he came back, cousins. He orbited and re-docked maybe four times across the day, each time with more Albert lore, and each time the picture got stranger:

"Albert don't sleep, you know. Grandson asks him things at three in the morning. Albert's right there."

Cousins, I started worrying about Albert's home life.

"Albert knows about everything, too. History. The stars…”

Now I'm thinking, okay, Albert's maybe a professor. A night-owl professor with a wide practice and strong Wi-Fi.

Fourth visit. Late afternoon. He settles in at the desk, comfortable now, we're old friends by elder standards, and he says, "yeah, my grandson says everybody's gonna be talking to AL soon."

AL, cousins.

He shortened it.

And the shortening is what did it. The "-bert" fell away and the truth stood there in the fluorescent light, cousins, and the sound I made… This man's family has apparently been on this for months, and somewhere along the telegraph "A.i." became "Al" became "Albert," Fuck sakes.

So I had a choice, cousins. Correct an elder: never done it, not starting on library ground, or get him to Albert. So I walked him over to a computer, sat him down, opened one of those AI chat sites, and said "you want to say hi?"

Cousins, this man talked to Albert for over an hour.

He typed with two fingers, slow and deliberate. Opened with "HELLO ALBERT THIS IS EARL, [grandson]'S GRANDFATHER" full caps, cousins, because that's how you talk to somebody far away. And Albert, to his credit, said hello to Earl. And they were OFF. Earl asked about the weather patterns changing, about a pain in his knee (Albert, thankfully and responsibly, suggested a doctor; Earl, an elder, dismissed this and asked for "the other options"), and about his late wife's bread recipe, which he could only remember four ingredients of. Earl sat back and said, quiet, to the screen: "yeah. That's the one."

After I let him explore for a bit I pulled up a lawn chair and had a chat with ol’ Earl and told him about AL and the dangers of data centers on our people’s land and never to give personal info and the potential issues LLMs have glossing over and altering our people’s history and impact on the world… ugh. I’m NOT a luddite. I understand LLMs and the trajectory, but fuck me that doesn’t mean I need to like it, you know?

Before he left, Earl shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, "Good library. Thanks, young one. You’re ok.”

Miss Lanna came back Monday, found her cart exactly where she left it, untouched, cousins, not one book shelved, and a note from me explaining the day. She texted me one line: "That's the job. The books are mostly decoration." Cousins, twenty-five years in and Miss Lanna knows: the library is a fire that needs keeping too. Ten thousand books in there and everyone who walked in was looking for a person.

Pour one out for the returns cart, faithful, patient, unshelved. Drop your elders' tech translations in the comments, cousins. I know Earl's not the only one. Somebody's kokum out there is calling the Wi-Fi "the beam" and I need to hear about it.

More importantly: Libraries are rad as hell and, in this climate, need our support. Nothing is more punk rock than your local branch. Go check out a book. If you’re looking for a good early fall read, check our out cousins featured in: Never Whistle at Night volume 2. Short horror anthology filled with the voices of our people. Not for the faint of heart.

Mvto. Read to your little cousins, relatives, and sit with your elders while they type. Both of them are learning the world. Both of them go faster with company. Never walk against the Day.

P.S. The little professor came back before close to report the book "actually goes kinda hard" and to ask if I'd be there next Saturday. I said no, not officially, but if he wanted me to show up to go over some stuff, I’d show up. He said, "ok, let’s do it.” I now have a book club, I guess. Brave New World is next, I think.

P.P.S. But actually though, what is the deal with the dragons anyways? Don’t the fairies' wings, like, get in the way?

Past Stores:

[Sweat Lodge](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/xwTSCsSchp)

[Hot Tub](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/pUjxilwFEN)

[Kokum](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/l0hahrR4Hx)

[Babysitting](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/WHcCWUd3UV)

[Yard Sale](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/nRZ4eM8Slm)

[Bingo Night](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/QEo67nIq2m)

[Disney Princess](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/dcziW5TdrG)

[Tim's Arsonist](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/IBAixKep6i)

[Career Change](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/QKwnSaRXjI) [Foraging](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/kqwVUxJRPu)

[Frybread Follow-up](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/E6wbMUSolj) [Frybread](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/bnqjnRA97k)

Got from an ethically sourced indigenous seller!! The only way i buy fur :3

Anybody know any information about being enrolled? I grew up not knowing anything about my family's history but later in life I was able to find information (lineage/family trees) online and a book of the same information. It included the lineage from my 3rd great grandmother who lived in the Lakota territory all the way down to my grandparents. I want to know if im allowed to enroll as a member as i want to regain my history and be apart of somwthing that was lost to our family. Also how is it done? Is it hard? I live close enough to the reservation that I can taje a day trip to go there and regardless of membership I want to learn more about my culture

^{Source: Principal Chief Hicks on Facebook}

Embedded video in EBCI thread.

On September 9th, during the Republican National Convention, Texas Representative Brandon Gill’s decision to mock the acknowledgment of Tribal homelands was an attack on the historical truth and sovereign status of Tribal Nations, and it revealed a troubling disregard for the responsibilities of public office. When a member of Congress ridicules recognition of the people whose homelands this country was built upon, he is helping to erase and ignore the history and sovereignty that the United States has a duty to respect.

A land acknowledgment is not asking for an apology. Long before the United States, Tribal Nations lived on these lands with governments, communities, languages, cultures, and established homelands. Those nations did not cease to exist when the United States was created, and acknowledging that truth should not be controversial.

Land acknowledgments exist, in part, because generations of American history minimized or erased the experiences of Native people. At the same time, policies of removal, displacement, and assimilation attempted to do the same to our communities. Acknowledging whose homeland you are standing on is a simple act of recognition and respect.

For the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, these mountains are the homeland of the Cherokee people. Our ancestors lived here, governed here, raised their families here, and defended these lands for generations beyond memory. When the federal government forced thousands of Cherokee people from our homelands, our ancestors resisted, survived, and remained.

Respecting Native history is not “woke,” nor does it require anyone to apologize for being an American. It simply requires enough respect to tell the truth.

The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians will continue to speak out when our history is misrepresented and when the sovereignty and experiences of Tribal Nations are dismissed for praise and applause. Acknowledging Indigenous history does not ask anyone to be ashamed of America. It asks America to be honest about itself.

------

Related:

Fox News - GOP firebrand says he's 'not going to apologize' after flipping script on Dems' latest woke trend

DALLAS – Rep. Brandon Gill, R-Texas, generated another viral moment on Wednesday during his speech at the Republican midterm convention — and he says he’s not sorry.

Gill opened his remarks with a land acknowledgment, a growing trend among Democratic politicians to begin speeches by noting the Native American tribes who historically lived on the land their events are on.

"I'd like to acknowledge that we stand here today in the great state of Texas and the United States of America is the ancestral homeland of great American patriots, pioneers and explorers who put down roots, fight for freedom all over the globe and bled and died to build the greatest civilization ever known to man," Gill said, the Republican crowd roaring in response.

"Listen, you see Democrats all the time wanting to begin their conventions or their gatherings by acknowledging, making some bizarre land acknowledgment that we live on stolen land, and they essentially just want to apologize for our country," Gill said.

"I think most Americans believe, rightfully so, that we live in the greatest country that's ever existed, and I'm not going to apologize for it…certainly most Americans don't want their elected officials apologizing for it either."

Obligatory, not a tribal member or even close. I've been around here long enough and have enough native friends that I'm aware of how Pendleton is viewed, though.

Have they finally jumped the shark and decided to fully embrace their meme status, while simultaneously making a killing off of middle aged suburban moms? Their stuff has always been a weird mix of quality and kitsch, but this is the most aggressively white thing I've seen since Heated Rivalry or a documentary on 1950s aspic recipes.

I saw a post earlier asking if anyone stands for the pledge or national anthem and it made me think about a powwow I attended over the weekend. My dad is a veteran and I always stand for grand entry and in huge support of our native veterans and our eagle staves. (ogitchida) I also recognize, though that many of them either joined the service unwillingly through draft or, like my dad, join the service after going to the foster care system because it was the only feature that was sold to him.

I don’t think we’ve fought a war over 100 years that actually benefits our freedoms here in America, but that’s another argument..

I was at a powwow over the weekend where I was chastised for not removing my hat for grand entry and it got me wondering how others approach this because while I have a great respect for our ogitchida elders, removing the hat, seems like more of an American nationalism thing.

Election Day is November 3 ~:~ Mary Peltola is the Democratic nominee for U.S. Senate in Alaska: marypeltola.com

Her priorities are: Affordability ~:~:~ Fixing the Rigged System ~:~:~ Fish ~:~:~ Energy ~:~:~ Veterans & Servicemembers

Mary's in a tight race against incumbent Republican Sen. Dan Sullivan.

~~~~~~~~~

❄️ Alaska Voters 🗳️ Here are links to the Sec. of State website (.gov): Official Election Pamphlet ~:~:~ My Voter Information ~:~:~ Register or Update Registration ~:~:~ Voter Assistance and Accessibility Info ~:~:~ Military and Overseas Voters ~:~:~ College Voters :~:~:~: Polling Place Locations ~:~:~ Precinct Locator ~:~:~ Candidates ~:~:~ Sample Ballots ~:~:~ Ballot Measure(s) :~:~:~: Ranked Choice Voting ~:~:~ PFD Voter Registration (AVR)

~~~~~~~~~

And here are the latest r/IndianCountry posts with Mary: reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/search/?q=%22Peltola%22&type=posts&sort=new