This past week I had the privilege of joining 8 youth from my parish (along with three other adults) in making a journey to Bluff, UT, where we worked through the
Episcopal Church in Navajoland (The Navajo Area Mission of the Episcopal Church) to help a family by doing some maintenance on their home.
I think it is safe to say that most of the youth did not really want to go on a work trip. Many were coerced in some way into coming on this trip. My favorite account of this was the words, "This trip is 8 days? I was told it was 5. I don't have enough clothes..."
"The Navajo are a traumatized people"
With those words, the Vicar of the Mission introduced us to the Navajo. We really had no clue what that meant. Most of us had at least a brief understanding of the history of the Navajo since Europeans arrived in the North America, and we knew that history was shameful. We had no idea what really to expect, though.
This mission was founded in the 1940s. When the first missionary arrived, it was more like the 1840s in the area. Soon, St. Christopher's Mission had the only health clinic and school in the Utah region of Navajoland. Over 3,000 babies were born in the Mission's clinic! Today the mission of the Mission is largely pastoral. Government agencies have stepped into the human services void that the mission once filled. Now, the Mission offers the services of the church, pastoral care, maintenance of the sacraments, aid to the poor. Aid to the poor seems to be one of the major focuses when you work among a people who are indeed traumatized.
"It costs $200 to fix the water."
Our project was to rebuild a corral and to paint the inside of a home. In hindsight, that description feels exaggerated. The corral was really a 24 foot by 24 foot sheep pin. The roof of the corral had collapsed when one of the alcoholic brothers knocked over one of the support beams while using a back hoe. The inside of the house was stained with cooking smoke. The ceiling and walls of the kitchen were grey with residue.
There are two main challenges for this family when it comes to maintaining their life. One, they have no resiliency. There is nothing to help them bounce back from a crisis. The second challenge is a major contributor to the first challenge, and it dictates most every decision the family makes: They have no money.
No one in this family has a job. That puts them in the company of 60% of the Navajo. Fr. Ian said that this family was definitely among the poorest but that their situation is far from uncommon, and there are families who have it far worse. Of the family's 13 children that are now "middle-aged" only one is not an alcoholic. The matriarch of the family is 63, looks like she is 85, and goes 75 miles, three times a week, for dialysis.
One of the youth asked Rita, the 36 year old daughter who runs the house, if they once had running water. She said yes. However, the pipe to the house broke (or something) and it would cost at least $200 for them to fix it. Matter of factly, she said, "We don't have $200."
Rita can't go get a job. She takes care of her mother. What is more, she takes care of the clan's children. While we were there, there were only two children who were around. Reportedly, many more come around. Their parents are among those 12 alcoholic children. At least those kids have Rita to watch after them. These responsibilities mean that Rita's only source of income, outside of government assistance, are the beads she makes and sells. However, she rarely leaves her home, so her market is very small indeed.
One morning we arrived to see Rita frantically switching freezers. Someone had given them a second hand refrigerator, but it quit. When it is generally near 100 degrees, you need a good refrigerator. The new fridge was larger and newer, but the old was quickly refilled since it worked. Soon, the new fridge ended up in the yard along with another old fridge and about 8 rusted out cars.
"I am so lucky to have what I have."
The most meaningful part of the experience was watching the transformations of our youth. They all live in an affluent city. I think it is safe to say that none of them have any clue what poverty really means. It was very moving to watch their views transformed throughout the week. I really believe they entered, at least for a while, that place of deep understanding that isn't condescending. I feel like they had a powerful experience that expanded their world to include "the least of these." They learned that there are people who live in true, deep poverty--the kind from which there seems so little hope of escape. I also think they learned that they have to do something to try to ease that poverty. Most importantly, I think they learned that the poor are real people.
I found Fr. Ian's comment that the Navajo are a traumatized people to be the most accurate explanation of the situation. Their lack of resources certainly was a real hurdle, but it went so much deeper than that. The place didn't need our help because this family lacked pride. The pride was evident. Rita showed a few of us where her Grandmother's hogan was and where her Great-Grandmother had lived. It was with evident pride that she told us the large rocks around the house were part of that old hogan. Again, her pride shone when she pointed out the family cemetery that overlooks the houses in their camp.
At the end of the day, I believe they needed help because they were too busy surviving each day. They are too busy managing each new crisis. They eat because of food stamps. They lost their running water. Their once large herd of sheep was poached, and now only four remain. They are oppressed beyond belief. They are poor. They are people of color. They are indigenous people who have seen their way of life battered and destroyed. They are just trying to find their way in the modern world, and the modern world isn't interested in helping that process.
"What is fair?"
I must admit that this is the greatest question for me. I find myself continually challenged by Jesus, who told us to sell everything and give the money to the poor, who told us to give not only our cloaks but the shirts off of our backs also, and who told us that whatever we do to the least members of society we do to him. I am often troubled by the deep guilt I have since I continue to live well, give too little, and even pay for that silly DSL line.
I could tell that the youth on our trip had their own struggles around these issues. It was clear that they had an encounter with their own ghosts. We all have those ghosts that plague us. After all, what did I do to be born into my privileged situation? Nothing. What did the family that we worked with do to be born into their situation? Again, nothing.
It seemed evident that the youth were starting their own struggle with the issues of poverty. Experiences like these can only shape a young person into someone who will fight for social justice. One experience is not enough though. It is easy for one instance to become just a memory. It takes numerous, and much stronger, experiences to change someone into a warrior for social justice, but these young people took important first steps and they will be forever changed.