A Day In The Life: On The Rez
The past 24 hours pretty much sum up the best and the worst on the Rez.
On Monday night, we attended a powwow in Porcupine. The event concluded the first day of a housing summit on the Rez, being co-sponsored by Re-Member. During the day, various speakers presented updates and new ideas on promoting affordable, adequate and sustainable housing options on the Rez.
After a crazy thunderstorm the sun poked through the clouds, leaving us with the perfect night (in other words, it wasn't 90 degrees any more) to watch a traditional powwow with dozens of dancers.
As the night concluded, and we made the drive from Porcupine back to Pine Ridge, I had a chance to reflect on my time here so far: the good and the bad, the improvements and the things that have become worse.
Wednesday morning I awoke and was assigned to a work crew that was traveling to a house about 45 minutes away from Pine Ridge. I drove a van of volunteers out, and was able to talk to them as we made the drive. Many had been here before, but a few were on their first trip to the Rez.
We arrived at the site, about two miles off a paved road. The house, from the outside, appeared to be in fairly good condition. The project to be completed was the outfitting of a wheelchair ramp, affording easy entrance and exit from the home.
As we unpacked, we were mindful of the refuse, disposed of across the yard; everything from dog waste to soda cans, to a shopping bag of dirty diapers. As one portion of the crew set off to figuring angles and incline rates, others sought out trash bags to clean the dirt driveway of it's litter.
Soon, an adult emerged, with a younger woman, and six or seven children in tow. They loaded into an old (80s model), and seemingly not road-worthy blue van, easily exceeding the number of seat belts with the number of passengers. From the back, the kids pushed open sliding windows, sticking their heads out for fresh air as the driver called for assistance.
The hood of the van popped open, as the summonsed man sparked a few wires and the van sprang to life. With a squeal of the power steering, the van bumped down the rutted dirt driveway and vanished behind the cloud of dust left in its wake.
As the day progressed, we learned more about the homeowner, and the home itself.
Suffering from diabetes, the homeowner, and his wife are disabled. The home does not have running water, requiring that it be carried in by large containers. We also learned that the house is built in a dry creek bed, subjecting it to flooding during periods of heavy rain.
Nearing the end of our work day, a small child, barefoot, and in a diaper, emerged from the house with a young woman in tow. She pulled her hand as she walked across the driveway to the outhouse located about 50 feet away.
Behind us, and to the opposite side, in the middle of a field between two trailers, others bathed under a hand pumped well faucet. Small children, teens and adults worked together, taking turns pumping the water as others washed away the soap in their hair.
In the midst of it all, volunteers from Missouri, Colorado, Illinois and Michigan worked together to make the situation in the home just a little bit better, one step at a time.
"This is like putting a band aid on a shotgun wound" remarked one volunteer. "But it's the best we can do, and it's better than nothing."
On Monday night, we attended a powwow in Porcupine. The event concluded the first day of a housing summit on the Rez, being co-sponsored by Re-Member. During the day, various speakers presented updates and new ideas on promoting affordable, adequate and sustainable housing options on the Rez.
After a crazy thunderstorm the sun poked through the clouds, leaving us with the perfect night (in other words, it wasn't 90 degrees any more) to watch a traditional powwow with dozens of dancers.
As the night concluded, and we made the drive from Porcupine back to Pine Ridge, I had a chance to reflect on my time here so far: the good and the bad, the improvements and the things that have become worse.
Wednesday morning I awoke and was assigned to a work crew that was traveling to a house about 45 minutes away from Pine Ridge. I drove a van of volunteers out, and was able to talk to them as we made the drive. Many had been here before, but a few were on their first trip to the Rez.
We arrived at the site, about two miles off a paved road. The house, from the outside, appeared to be in fairly good condition. The project to be completed was the outfitting of a wheelchair ramp, affording easy entrance and exit from the home.
As we unpacked, we were mindful of the refuse, disposed of across the yard; everything from dog waste to soda cans, to a shopping bag of dirty diapers. As one portion of the crew set off to figuring angles and incline rates, others sought out trash bags to clean the dirt driveway of it's litter.
Soon, an adult emerged, with a younger woman, and six or seven children in tow. They loaded into an old (80s model), and seemingly not road-worthy blue van, easily exceeding the number of seat belts with the number of passengers. From the back, the kids pushed open sliding windows, sticking their heads out for fresh air as the driver called for assistance.
The hood of the van popped open, as the summonsed man sparked a few wires and the van sprang to life. With a squeal of the power steering, the van bumped down the rutted dirt driveway and vanished behind the cloud of dust left in its wake.
As the day progressed, we learned more about the homeowner, and the home itself.
Suffering from diabetes, the homeowner, and his wife are disabled. The home does not have running water, requiring that it be carried in by large containers. We also learned that the house is built in a dry creek bed, subjecting it to flooding during periods of heavy rain.
Nearing the end of our work day, a small child, barefoot, and in a diaper, emerged from the house with a young woman in tow. She pulled her hand as she walked across the driveway to the outhouse located about 50 feet away.
Behind us, and to the opposite side, in the middle of a field between two trailers, others bathed under a hand pumped well faucet. Small children, teens and adults worked together, taking turns pumping the water as others washed away the soap in their hair.
In the midst of it all, volunteers from Missouri, Colorado, Illinois and Michigan worked together to make the situation in the home just a little bit better, one step at a time.
"This is like putting a band aid on a shotgun wound" remarked one volunteer. "But it's the best we can do, and it's better than nothing."
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