Arrick

Sitting by the wood stove,
in a small wooden house, dirt floor,
a cold, moonlit winter night
on the high northern desert
overlooking a crevassed wash
covered with sage, juniper,
and pinon pines,
a solar-charged radio performance
of Mozart’s delicious g minor quintet
sweeping away all thoughts
of 20 year-old Arrick’s death
five days ago.

Arrick,
growing seamlessly from boyhood into man,
widely, deeply, and dearly beloved,
with effortless grace
you took on the tasks
that held your family to the land,
and practiced the skills
to keep your nation alive,
sheep healthy,
hogans secure and warm,
language and ceremonies intact,
you defended them,
all the time gripping the hands
of your younger sisters and brother,
a smile on your face,
peace in your heart.
“He was my backbone,”
your mother cried.

Arrick,
free of the male disease,
not a mean spark in your spirit,
now friends and clan are gathering,
stunned,
now a medicine man will put a feather
on your heart, and close the casket,
returning you to the same land
the profit-driven beast
is moving to drive your people from again,
shot by an 18 year-old neighbor,
his family also perched
on the brink of destruction,
a damaged youth,
lusting for violence,
now a murderer.

So sing, Mozart,
let your playful strings sing,
make them laugh and dance teasingly,
shimmer sweetly,
and soar breathlessly,
lifting my spirit
up over the hard rocks
on the desert floor grieving,
sing as if life has meaning,
sing as though all life depended on it,
as if there is a time and place
for such epiphanies,
sing, Mozart, sing to my heart
of life worth living.

By Paul Bloom

Big Mountain Thanksgiving Food and Supply Run 2002

Photo By Michael Gerell

    By any measure, the 2002 Big Mountain Food and Supply Run was a major success. Thanks to all of you who contributed in so many ways. You came to the shows, were generous during the blanket dances, made donations of food, clothing and items for the silent auctions. You helped make things happen by renting halls and volunteering to work or perform your art. You made and shared meals and magic. You pulled together as community to work for a better world, in solidarity with people of Big Mountain, who are walking the Beauty Way for all of us.

Over the past three months you have raised energy and awareness while reaching out to strengthen the connection to indigenous people who are holding on to sacred land. Over $10,000 was raised and once again it multiplied like loaves and fishes. Combined with contributions and discounts from organic farmers and merchants more than 5 tons of food and supplies were distributed to about 80 families.

Organic fruits and vegetables including oranges, apples, dates, dried fruit, beets, potatoes, a variety of squash, carrots, turnips, leeks and onions. Coffee, beans, rice, blue corn meal, Blue Bird flour, tea, herbs, spices, incense cedar from Oregon and a whole lot of love were in packed into huge boxes for distribution. There was more than a ton of dog food, 13 cords of dry, split wood and several chain saw crews were out getting even more. We were able to leave $2500 cash behind to repair the homes of a few elders.

It was the biggest work crew in ten years and everyone was riding a high vibe. Three busses anchored a wonderful camp- the Big Purple Bus with the Clan Dyken crew, Tom's San Juan Ridge Runner and the Bio-diesel Express from Arcata,- which was packed with a most enthusiastic North Coast crew, under the direction of the esteemed Deacon Rivers of the Elvis Underground. They kicked in $2000, four chains saws, a generator and all kinds of upbeat mojo. Other contributions included a 1000 gallon water tank, assorted building materials, warm clothes, and of course songs and stories around the fire in the evenings.

Photo By Michael Gerell

This sacred land brings out the best in the people who go there to work on it. The efforts of a small group made a difference, for the people on the land and for each other.

On Friday morning after Thanksgiving, we gathered for a morning circle. Most of the food had been distributed and many chores completed. People gave thanks, shared thoughts, songs and stories. During one song I went from face to face around that circle, moving my gaze from one set of eyes to the next with each shake of the rattle. I counted 51 faces in that circle, from babies to elders, men and women of the four sacred colors - red, yellow, black and white- were all represented there. It was a beautiful site, so easy to see and feel the emotion of the moment -love and unity in action.

We heard from Louise, John, Leonard and Kee Benally, siblings who grew up in the area we were camping on. They thanked us for coming, told of some of the hardship they are facing, talked of being on the land without parents or grandparents anymore. They spoke so eloquently -of lost loved ones and the struggle to keep their culture. Of dismantled wind mills, livestock impoundment and the fierce determination to hold on.

Then two members of the Arcata crew stepped forward with gifts they were sent with from the Yurok elders of Northern California. There were blankets, an elk hide, rattles, and cedar sent from the Yurok to the Dine' and the Benally family in attendance accepted them with grace.

It was Elvira who brought us all to tears. She is one of the Aunties who comes to the camp while we are there and makes sure everything goes along smoothly. In a shaky, but clear voice she told the circle she wanted to thank each and every one of us for coming. She said this food drive means a lot to all the people here.

"It's a way of knowing that we are not forgotten." She said as her eyes swelled with tears. "You give so much and I have nothing to give you back."

It is of course sad to be reminded of the conditions the people of Big Mountain live under, but even sadder to hear that Elvira wouldn't know how much she has given all of us.

Later that day one of the work crews dug out some of the old water holes in the wash behind Louise's hogan. Water used to seep into the holes from the ground as well as collect there after a rain. It has been a drought for more than two years and the holes are filling in with sand. Combine that with the coal mine using over a billion gallons of water a year to move coal and you can understand why water is harder and harder to find. Later that night and into the following morning we were blessed with the first rain in a long time. Louise said it was a female rain- soft, gentle and nurturing- activated by the attention paid to the water spots. It was a hopeful sign for the future.

What of the future? Why do the people hang on? How could they possibly win? What are the chances for survival of the traditional Dine' people and culture? There is hope and there are concerns.

Let's start with hope. Southern California Edison is a 59% owner, as well as the operator of the Mohave Generating Station in Laughlin, Nevada. Coal from the Black Mesa Mine, which is operated by Peabody Coal, is mixed with water from the Black Mesa aquifer and slurried through a large pipe to reach the plant, some 275 miles away. When it arrives in Laughlin, the water is turned to steam and the coal is burned to make power for Southern California. The Navajo and Hopi tribes are saying they no longer want the water to be used in this way. Very wasteful and dirty. This has caused SCE to consider the coal supply unstable and no new way of transporting it has been presented. As part of their contract to operate the plant SCE agreed to make over 58 million dollars in air pollution control improvements to the plant in 1999. To date none of that work has been done. The expense of the pollution control improvements, which would also require a six to twelve month shut down to install, combined with the uncertainty of the coal supply has caused SCE to say it may close the plant in 2005, which would effectively shut down the mine. That would be very good news for the resistance. The mine is the reason people are being relocated. We have the window of opportunity to lobby SCE and the California Public Utilities Commission to follow through on plans to close the Mohave plant, which has been labeled as the "…biggest uncontrolled source of sulfur dioxide in the Southwest-a prime contributor to the gaseous haze that clouds visibility over the Grand Canyon." (LA Times).

Now is the time, especially for people who live in California to call the PUC and let them know we want clean energy from sustainable sources. Let them know you don't want power from the Mohave Generating Station. You can read more about the PUC and the decision to close the plant at www.cpuc.ca.gov , use the search feature on the site to find Mohave Generating Station. You can call them at 1-866-849-8390 in San Francisco or 1-866-849-8391 in LA. You can also reach Norm Carter, a PUC advisor who is familiar with the situation at 1-213-576-7056 or public.advisor.la@cpuc.ca.gov . When I spoke with him he was very open to hearing from people and told me that written or email comments have the same weight as testimony in a public hearing. Send email with Mohave Generating Station in the subject line and your views will be passed on to the commissioners who will make the decision to either spend the money and keep the plant running or close it. Time is of the essence, as this decision needs to be made soon. Let them know California can do better with renewable, clean energy that doesn't destroy the environment and the lives of the people at Big Mountain/Black Mesa.

Of course there are plenty of people who want things to stay as they are. The mine operators are lobbying for a relax of the environmental regulations and the people who make money on this operation, from the corporate heads down to the miners and plant workers are crying about the loss of jobs and income. They pack public hearings, hire the lobbyists and have methods of influence we can only imagine. That's why each of us is important, we have the numbers, we just need to express ourselves. There are other jobs, better investments, cleaner sources of power and more at stake then the profits of these companies. If this plant could be closed it would be a sign that thirty years of resistance to forced relocation has not been in vain.

Then it would be time to focus on the lives of the people who live here. The hardships are mounting and taking a toll.

More elders are passing on or moving away with no one to look after them or learn from them. Less and less children are using the native tongue. There is alcoholism, drug abuse and violence. Health care is minimal at best, non-existent for the resistors. Fewer traditional doctors and medicine people are practicing their craft. Sacred sites and clean water wells have been destroyed.

The Grandmothers have held it all together all this time, through tremendous adversity. They kept the flame alive and continue to nourish hope for the future. They were the ones to call for the Sundance, to tend the sheep and weave the rugs. They called for our help and keep inviting us back. I think it's because they believe in the future. If they believe, so do I. It's a race for survival. Fortunately it's a marathon, not a sprint.

Our work and exchange with the Dine' is ongoing. Please check the web site www.clandyken.com to keep up with us. We have some more projects in the planning stage. Stay in touch if you want to be part of the next trip.

Big Mountain Corn Planting By Mark Dyken

Photos courtesy of Catherine Lambie and Mark Dyken

    Louise left a message on my answering machine. "The corn is coming up." She said "It looks really good." Not many words, but I noticed a hopeful note of optimism in her voice. It was an important message to me, small as things go in this world, but significant due to where it was coming from.

  Louise Benally is a life long resistor to the forced relocation of her people from their ancestral homelands in Northeastern Arizona. A mother, activist, teacher, sun dancer, and proud voice of the traditional, indigenous, people of the Sovereign Dineh Nation, her ancestors have lived in the Black Mesa/Big Mountain area of the Navajo Reservation for uncounted generations. They have been planting corn in these parts for as long as anyone can remember.

  But it's getting harder and harder every year to stay on the land. The story is long and complicated (check the web sites at the end of this story for details) but right now it boils down to this; Louise and her family are trespassing in the eyes of the federal government on the very land she was born to and raised on. The Dineh are being told to move from a small section of land in the middle of the reservation because the worlds' largest coal strip mine needs to expand.

  You might imagine it's hard to stand in resistance to the will of multi-national corporations seeking billions in profits, backed by the US government. But it is harder for most of us to imagine what it would feel like to face the end of your culture and way of life as well. To watch the plants, animals, water and land itself disappear as the traditional Dineh dwindle in numbers has taken a toll on Louise and many others like her. It has gotten to the point where the simple act of planting corn has become a major act of resistance against great odds.

  The corn Louise was speaking of when she left her message was some Black Aztec flour corn I had planted with the help of my good friend Catherine Lambie in early June near her hogan (the traditional eight sided dwelling of the Dineh). We made the trip to plant corn-which was grown by my brother, Bear- with the blessings and support of extended family and friends. We have all been part of a loose network of people making trips to Big Mountain since 1991 to offer support and assistance. We have made many trips to the area in all seasons for many reasons, but this time we wanted to plant some food in hopes of harvesting it when we return in the fall for the annual Thanksgiving Food and Supply Run.

  We arrived at Anna Mae Camp in the lingering heat of an early June evening. Anna Mae Camp is located on part of the Benally family's' homestead. It is situated in the high desert, surrounded by rising mountains and colored sandstone among the sage, pinion, juniper and chaparral. The camp has a history of gatherings and organizing events during the thirty plus years of resistance. It was also home to the sacred Sundance ceremony for the past ten years.

  In August of 2001 agents of the Bureau of Indian Affairs and Hopi Tribal Police bulldozed the sacred Tree of Life and the circular cedar arbor of the Sundance. Louise's son, Eric was arrested for taking pictures of the desecration. The BIA and Hopi Tribe say this was done to prevent illegal gatherings, it is being investigated as a crime of religious intolerance. Can you imagine bulldozing an active church or synagogue anywhere in this country without a major uprising? Last week a fence was erected around the area by armed Hopi Rangers in an attempt to prevent access to the site.

  The lingering reverberations from that traumatic event combine with the lack of rain and oppressive heat to lend an aura of harshness to this already difficult situation. The coal mine has been taking one billion gallons of water a year out of the aquifer beneath this land. Wells and springs have been slowly drying up and the BIA has been capping other working wells in an effort to force people to move. There has been almost no rain for a year and the hot westerly wind is blowing constantly, taking the precious little topsoil with it. People in this area had been getting water from the well at the Rocky Ridge School, hauling it as far as ten miles but the flow has been shut off due to "vandalism". It's hard enough to get by when you have to travel 20 miles over rough desert sand roads in an old vehicle to haul water for a household. Nearly impossible if you are trying to grow food or raise livestock. Now people are traveling to the coal mine for water, over a fifty-mile trip for some.

  Louise wasn't home when we arrived at the hogan, but her two youngest children; Waleesa and George kept us company. They are bright, intense kids who love to joke and laugh. Grade school kids who live in a gap between two cultures. The traditional land based one their mother is fighting so hard to hang on to and the encroaching contemporary one that wants them to move.

  When Louise arrives from Flagstaff we have a happy reunion. It's good to see her and catch up on the news of the area, even if a lot of it is disappointing. We make plans to visit the home of recently deceased elder, Roberta Blackgoat. Her son, Danny may be staying there taking care of the buildings and animals. Roberta was one of the pillars of resistance, refusing to move despite many threats and attempted bribes. She traveled the world, telling the stories of the Big Mountain struggle and opening people's eyes to the beauty of this area through her incredible weavings. Her rugs and blankets are prized around the globe. Well into her eighties she kept a flock of sheep, continued weaving and being a passionate spokesperson for the rights of native people everywhere. We will head out in the morning.

  It's a long, dusty, hot trip across the high desert to get to the Blackgoat compound. We bounce through washes and canyons that seem better suited to horseback than Forerunner. The sky is massive and brilliant blue, the sun steady and bright, the land full of color, and the wind constant. It takes over an hour to get there and when we arrive the place seems deserted. Roberta lived in a neat, clean stone house. The home and surrounding area are rather barren but well kept. A few small juniper trees sway in the ever-resent wind, dark green branches against the subtle desert orange, yellow and red. A sign still hangs along side the front door, big, black letters on a white piece of plywood, it reads "IF YOU WANT ME TO MOVE, SUE THE CREATOR".

  It is somewhat comforting to know she stayed strong to the very end. It is sad to see her place looking so empty. No people, no animals, no wool, no weaving, just an empty house, empty corrals and the howl of the wind pushing sand through all the cracks. When people like Roberta leave this earth some of the indigenous ways go with them. No one knows the things and life she knew. Each of these elders has a special story, one their own children can't even tell. I feel I’m standing in a time flux, wondering if anyone can ever live here again. We didn't stay long, but the visit stayed with me for the rest of the day.

  The next morning Louise had to go to work and tie up some loose ends before leaving on a trip to Oregon. She and her companion, Ethan were planning to leave the next day. They would also be taking the kids to see their father. While she was gone Catherine and I did some hiking and corn field exploring with Waleesa and George. They fully understand the circumstance they live in. Their grasp of politics and the oppression they live with is at a high level. I think of how comfortable my family has always been in comparison to the uncertainty and difficulty these young people live with and I'm amazed at how well they handle it all, even thrive.

  Louise had suggested we plant in one of the old corn fields about a mile down the Dinnebito wash from her house. These fields have been planted many times, then left to rest for awhile. The sandy soil makes it easy for the corn roots to travel deep underground, where water from springs and early summer rains would be stored. This method of dry farming has been practiced out here for a long time. Now with the water being sucked out of the ground for the mine and very little falling from the sky, many fields in the area are turning to brittle orange dust. So it is with the three fields we visit. Fences broken down, ground hard and dry with lots of large tumbleweeds and other dried up desert plants covering the surface.

  We decide to plant in a small garden area close to the hogan. It will mean hauling water to keep the corn alive. Fortunately Louise has a sister who teaches and lives at the Rocky Ridge School. Her little house on the school grounds has running water and a hose we can fill containers with. It's about eight miles south on the main dirt road, an easy trip compared to most of the travel on this part of the reservation. We load the back of Catherine's Forerunner with about 100 gallons worth of empty water containers and make the trip as the sun begins its final decent.

  By the time we return Louise, Ethan and the kids are loaded up and ready to go. Hugs and farewells are followed by tail lights through the dust as darkness takes the camp. Catherine and I are left with the chickens, rooster and dogs. After a simple a meal we are ready to rest. The night is so black the milky way drifts overhead like a white cloud. The sky seems to bleed bright light through large, precise holes. The wind finally dies down to a soft, gentle breeze. I watch the stars move across the sky until sleep takes hold.

  The rooster starts crowing after what seems like a few minutes of dreaming. He is a very early morning bird. I look to the east and there is only the faintest hint of light behind the distant hills. I know we have to get started early and work long if we are going to finish this project in the two days we have, but I lay on the ground and wait for the red streaks of dawn to appear before leaving the sleeping bag.

  Catherine gets up and starts water boiling on the out door stove for tea. The young chicks are scratching, the rooster continues crowing and the wind begins its song as the sun starts to peek over the hills. We tune the Forerunner radio to the local Hopi Community Radio station, KHYI and catch some early morning prayer songs.

  The station will be a great companion for the next couple days as we inhabit Anna Mae Camp. Locally owned, programmed and staffed, KHYI broadcasts from a trailer outside of Keams Canyon. With a repeater tower on top of one of the mesas the signal reaches all over this part of Indian Country. They feed us a great diversity of native music-both traditional and contemporary, stories, information and news from a native perspective and plenty of rock and roll. A lot of time is given to youth programming and the kids do a great job on the air. Songs from many nations and languages can be heard at any time of the day.

  There is a strange relationship between the Hopi and Dineh/Navajo people. As individuals, especially among traditional people of both tribes, there is mutual respect, understanding and solidarity as indigenous neighbors. I have met many several Hopi here at Anna Mae Camp, including respected elder Thomas Banyaca. They speak of cooperation and a need to stand together against the forces that created the supposed land dispute between the two nations. Many friendships and marriages cross tribal lines. I have seen and heard Hopi people speak out against the forced relocation of Dineh who live on redivided land that now supposedly belongs to the Hopi Tribe. Many were appalled at the destruction of the Sundance grounds.

  Yet the Hopi tribal government, backed by the BIA is openly hostile to the Dineh, especially those who have not signed the "accommodation agreement", which gives them permission to remain on the land in exchange for a number of concessions that make it difficult to stay. They are confiscating live stock, threatening elders and spying on residents in the area. You can see the Hopi Rangers cruise the dirt roads in unmarked pick up trucks with antennae sticking out, wearing dark blue ball caps and sunglasses. They are always heavily armed, supported with weapons and other gear from the BIA.

  Hopi Radio doesn't receive or want any support from the tribe. In this way they remain independent. Navajo, Hopi and many other tribes are represented in the music and stories we hear on the radio over the next couple days. I was really touched by the vice-chairman of the Hopi tribe telling the story of the traditional way to care for a newborn baby. With great detail and tenderness he explained the roll of extended family, the reasons for keeping the child indoors for the first month and how to mark the child and the walls of the room they are in with special corn pollen paint. It was hard to believe he could be part of the same political body that is making life so hard for the children who live next to this corn patch.

  This will be a small corn field. A dilapidated fence of juniper posts and torn up chicken wire, topped with rusty barbed wire make a 100 foot wide circle around a bunch of dried weeds on parched, cracked soil. The wind begins to pick up as we search the grounds for fencing material to keep the hungry critters out. It continues to blow with increasing strength and warmth as we remove the barbed wire, drive in a dozen steel posts and stretch a new fence. Hopi radio gives us Keith Secola and His Wild Band of Indians singing about his Indian Car as we repair the gate and start pulling weeds.

  When the ground is cleared of weeds we double dig four large beds in the sandy soil and work in a few loads of sheep manure from a near by abandon pen. Then 120 individual holes are dug about six inches across and 10 inches deep into the beds and filled with a mixture of soil and manure. The holes are soaked in water and by the time the sun is ready to hide behind the hills in the west we are ready for planting. It was a long, hot day, but the area has been transformed and is ready to receive the seeds. We decide to make another water run before turning in for the night. With another truck full we will be able to wet the seeds as we plant in the morning and leave some water for Louise when she returns.

  We start at first light with a cup of tea and the Sunday morning Indigenous Hour on Hopi Radio. Johnny Bob is a great local programmer, who again plays a wide variety of native songs that enhance the beauty of this planting morning. Each prepared hole receives about 10 kernels of sprouted Black Aztec corn and a little song or blessing as they go into the ground. They are buried in the earth, watered, covered with a mulch of old alfalfa hay and watered again. I feel how the sun and wind have dried me out in just a few days and wonder how a seed that can't move to moister could survive in this environment.

  Then I realize just like the people who call this place home, the growth of these seeds depends on the roots. If the roots are firmly established the plant can hold on and even flourish. The root will find the water and nourishment the plant needs. Like the people, the plants have an even harder life due to the coal mine and the interference of a material driven culture. The seeds and the people are fighting against overwhelming odds just to survive, yet both can bring great gifts if they are allowed to grow. The meals made with corn grown like this will feed the whole being and a people fed in this way can teach the world about a life in balance. The people have the roots, but the land and water they need are being taken from them.

  I want to live in a world with real corn, not a Monsanto genetically modified organism or terminator gene, hy-bred super plant. I would rather go to a Sundance than the grand opening of another Wal-Mart. Given the right circumstance and care, this corn can fulfill its mission even in the toughest of times, so can these people. They need the land as we all do. This is a critical time, the actions taken by the US Government, the BIA and the Hopi tribe have been increasingly hostile and aggressive. If we want to continue to plant on this earth now is the time to take a stand. Consider the following open letter from Huck Greyeyes a respected elder and healer from the Black Mesa area.

 Catherine and I pulled out of Anna Mae Camp late on that Sunday morning. Tired and a little frayed by the circumstances, yet energized by the possibility of new life in the garden. Leaving a stumpy scarecrow to stand guard over the sprouting corn, we run the risk of complete failure, the odds are certainly against those plants surviving. But I've been thinking about that corn and that place every day since and I'm glad we did it. I'm happy to hear Louise on my answering machine. I'm looking forward to the harvest.

  Who will you stand with? Where will you plant? Please visit these web sites for information on the situation at Big Mountain/Black Mesa.

www.blackmesais.org

http://www.theofficenet.com/~redorman/pagea~1.htm

 Draining the life from the land - Mining and indigenous people

By Brad Miller
Jul 24, 2002

Earth Island Journal,Summer 2002 Vol. 17, No. 2

www.oneworld.net

"Every time we take a breath," says former Hopi Tribal Chairman
Ferrell Secakuku, "another 50 gallons of water are gone."

As Peabody Western Coal Co. pumps three million gallons of pure
drinking water a day from beneath Black Mesa, Hopi and DinÈ
(Navajo) residents are watching the ancient springs and washes
that have sustained their way of life for centuries dry up.
Peabody has been sucking the life out of Black Mesa for over 30
years, and with the Bush/Cheney Energy Plan's emphasis on fossil
fuel extraction, Native communities are facing new threats to
their water supplies and environmental integrity by the coal industry.

In a challenge to this renewed corporate threat, a group of Hopi
and DinÈ runners gathered April 21 on the San Francisco Peaks
outside Flagstaff, Arizona, where Ferrell Secakuku performed a
traditional prayer ceremony to commence a 200- mile run to Window
Rock, Navajo Nation. The prayer run, organized by the Black Mesa
Water Coalition (BMWC), with the help of runners Bucky Preston
(Hopi) and Cardenas Redsteer (DinÈ/Chiricahua Apache), was
designed to send the message to the Hopi and Navajo Councils, as
well as the government and energy corporations, that the wasteful
use of their drinking water for industrial purposes must cease.
The run was also intended to restore bridges between the elders
and youth, and to unite the DinÈ and Hopi communities behind this
vital issue.

"We are asking that Hopi and Navajo work together and put aside
their harsh words and politics," says DinÈ Enei Begay of the
BMWC.

Peabody - whose parent company, Peabody Energy, is the largest
coal company in the world - has attempted to divide the Hopi and
DinÈ since it brokered its secret deals with the tribal councils
in the mid-1960s. It is not surprising that the leases stressed
corporate profit, not environmental or cultural protection, since
it was later revealed that the Hopi's lawyer, John Boyden, was
also working for Peabody.

Government agencies partitioned and fenced the land, impounded
DinÈ livestock and evicted thousands of families. The breach
created between Hopi and DinÈ has benefited only one sector - the
corporations seeking more energy leases on Native land.

Slurrying coal to Nevada As documented by the Black Mesa Recovery
Campaign, Peabody applied for a "life of mine" permit for its
Black Mesa Mine to the Office of Surface Mining (OSM) in January
2002, which if approved, would allow it to strip the previously
untouched region of Hopi land known as J23, as well as increase
their pumping of the N-aquifer by 32 percent. Most of the water
taken from the N-aquifer is used to mix coal into slurry and pump
it 273 miles to the Mohave Generating Station in Laughlin,
Nevada. A Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) report has
gathered data from the OSM, the US Geological Survey, Peabody and
a private firm, concluding that "since Peabody began using N-
aquifer water for its coal slurry operations, pumping an average
of 4,000 acre feet - more than 1.3 billion gallons - each year,
water levels have decreased by more than 100 feet in some wells
and discharge has slackened by more than 50 percent in the
majority of monitored springs."

Since many of the region's other aquifers are contaminated with
uranium or coal, the N-aquifer remains the primary source of
water for drinking, subsistence farming and sacred religious
practices. Activists feel the Department of Interior (DOI) should
uphold a clause in the original leases that requires Peabody to
find an alternate source of water if the tribes' supply is
endangered.

While Peabody claims to use only a small fraction of the
aquifer's water and blames any negative impact on increased
municipal use and drought, the corporation sucks up almost three
times the amount used by the two Indian nations combined. Most
Hopi, for example, must haul their daily rations by hand, and
therefore use water sparingly. "We feel strongly that Peabody is
threatening the culture of our people," says Hopi Lillian Hill of
the BMWC.

Local residents also fear that a Peabody expansion would bring
more air pollution, respiratory problems and the destruction of
burial sites and medicinal plants. While those who live in close
proximity to the Black Mesa Mine feel they bear only the negative
effects of coal extraction, the Navajo and Hopi governments
depend heavily on royalties from Peabody. For this reason,
activists are not calling for the closure of the mine. But they
are urging the tribal councils to look at more sustainable forms
of energy production, like solar and wind-generated power, to
loosen the grip of the outside, corporate influences on the two
Native nations.

"We need to stop financing the dominant society with resources
from here," says DinÈ Roberto Nutlouis of the Indigenous Youth
Coalition, and "to develop in a way that is sensitive to the
culture of our people."

English only The lack of sensitivity for the Native cultures was
demonstrated when Peabody placed the required announcements of
its "life of mine" application in local newspapers. Both Peabody
and the OSM have been criticized for printing the ads only in
technical, legal English, which many Hopi and DinÈ don't
understand. The 30-day comment period following the last notice
took place concurrently with Hopi prayer ceremonies, which
strictly limited Hopi participation. Rick Holbrook of OSM claims
Peabody fulfilled the legal requirements, and that the "OSM can't
hold them to anything more than is required." Holbrook says the
OSM has determined that the permit will require an Environmental
Impact Statement, a two-year process that will allow for
continued public input.

Activists are calling for Peabody to stop its pumping of the N-
aquifer no later than 2005. The company has considered building a
pipeline from either Lake Powell or the Fort McDowell Reservation
near Phoenix, where it has acquired water rights, but neither
option will eliminate the waste caused by the archaic slurry
line, the last one in the US. Activists have proposed that
Peabody consider using reclaimed wastewater, or shipping their
coal by truck or rail - the common but more costly method.

The slurry line may shut down regardless of Peabody's wishes. The
Mohave Generating Station is legally required to make a
commitment by 2003 to install pollution-control scrubbers, and
its owners are considering switching to natural gas, which would
eliminate Peabody's buyer of Black Mesa coal.

Peabody might have gained a new customer as Reliant Resources of
Houston entered the scene, with promises of jobs, revenue, and a
long-term solution to the water needs of the Hopi. But at the end
of May, the Hopi Tribal Council cancelled its agreement with
Reliant, citing the corporation's "internal troubles." Reliant
Resources' parent company, Reliant Energy, is one of the power
companies being sued by the State of California for price-gouging
and "over- scheduling" during 2001's power shortages. Reliant's
CEO Steve Letbetter has been documented by the NRDC to have
raised $200,000 for George Bush's campaign and inaugural
committee; the Sierra Club points out that Bush's hands- off
stance toward the California energy crisis has enriched Reliant
and other Houston-based energy corporations.

The Hopi Tribal Council is currently undecided as to whether it
will pursue a similar project with another company, but opponents
feel that other alternatives must be considered.

"This issue provides the opportunity for the Chairman to call a
summit of Hopi people to talk about a sustainable economy for the
tribe," says Vernon Masayesva, Executive director of Black Mesa
Trust.

Many Hopi say they were ignored during Reliant's initial
consultations with their Tribal Council, and are opposed to the
invasion of another corporation that will continue to devour
their water and coal and funnel the energy to air conditioners
and microwaves in Phoenix, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles.

The lake of tears Strip mines in desert areas are difficult and
costly to reclaim, so their scars are often left unhealed as they
are abandoned by the government as "National Sacrifice Areas."

The Zuni people have seen the homelands of numerous First Nations
in the Four Corners region sacrificed for coal, uranium and
profit. So as the Phoenix-based Salt River Project (SRP)
threatens the Zuni Salt Lake with plans of a coal strip mine, a
strong opposition has solidified into the Zuni Salt Lake
Coalition - composed of the Zuni Pueblo, Center for Biological
Diversity, Citizen's Coal Council, Water Information Network and
Sierra Club's Environmental Justice Program.

For thousands of years, the Zuni, Laguna, Acoma, DinÈ, Apache and
other tribes have journeyed to western New Mexico to collect salt
from the lake for domestic and ceremonial use, and to make sacred
offerings to the deity Salt Mother. The different nations could
gather without fear of conflict, since the lake was respected as
a traditional neutral zone.

SRP's Fence Lake Coal Mine would operate on 18,000 acres,
approximately 10 miles northeast of the Zuni Salt Lake. The
Coalition, citing hydrological studies conducted by the Bureau of
Indian Affairs (BIA) and a private firm, is convinced that the
mine's pumping of a nearby aquifer will lower the level of the
lake. They are also worried that mining and the construction of a
railroad to ship the coal to SRP's Coronado Generating Station in
Arizona will destroy burial sites, ancient trails and the habitat
of antelope and golden eagles in areas that are Traditional
Cultural Properties.

The mine's state permit was recently renewed for another five
years by the New Mexico Mining and Minerals Division (MMD). The
DOI issued a Federal permit on May 31, which will enable SRP to
begin excavating coal by 2005, before the supply from its mine
near Gallup disappears.

Brian Segee of the Center for Biological Diversity says his
organization is calling for a new supplemental Environmental
Impact Statement, and is appealing the state permit. The Zuni
coalition will also litigate federal approval, since as Segee
says, if "this mine goes in, there will be immediate proposals
for expansion and other mines."

Jim O'Hara of the MMD says it is stipulated in the permit that if
the water level of the lake is affected, then SRP must cease
pumping the aquifer, but Segee argues that the BIA has declared
that the system of monitoring being used is faulty, and the
baseline data skewed. SRP claims to have consulted with the Zuni,
and that the project will bring them jobs and benefits, but Zuni
Coalition member Cal Seciwa writes that the approval of SRP's
permit is "all for the sake of revenue for state and local
counties around the development site," and that "very few
benefits will materialize for our Native people and communities."

SRP, a co-owner of the smoke-belching Mohave Generating Station,
claims that "you can buy clean, green energy from SRP."

But if SRP "is being as 'Earthwise' as they claim," states Andy
Bessler of the Sierra Club's Environmental Justice Program, "they
will drop plans for the Fence Lake Coal Mine and look to energy
from wind and solar, not dirty coal."

In several Native religions of the Four Corners, it is the
Kachinas that bring rain to the land. Without it, crops wither
and livestock dies. In the Desert Southwest, it has been one of
the driest years in history, sending a message to people that
sacrificing water to obtain coal-produced energy will not only
affect the lives of the Hopi, DinÈ, Zuni and other Native peoples
- but will unbalance the entire ecosystem."We truly believe that
water is life," says Bucky Preston. And all life needs water.

[For further information and more numbers, contact: Andy Bessler;
Sierra Club's Environmental Justice Program; P0 Box 38,
Flagstaff, AZ 86002-0038; (928)774- 6103.

Brad Miller is a freelance journalist currently working out of
the Desert Southwest somewhere between the Navajo Nation and the
Mexican border.]

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www.blackmesais.org

http://www.theofficenet.com/~redorman/pagea~1.htm

Big Mountain Summary by Mark Dyken

Big Mountain Parts 1 & 2 by Michael Gerell