samson-occum-blog

[samson-occum-blog]

I was born a heathen raised in heathenism, till I was 16 or 17, at a place called the Wind River Indian Reservation, in Fremont, South Dakota. My parents were alcoholics, as were many of the Indians at Wind River. They chiefly depended upon a stipend given to them at the first of the month by the federal government. This would be spent on some food for us but chiefly on booze from the liquor store just of the reservation. When we needed money, my father would always find some work at the mine or the oil rigs nearby. They hired a lot of people like my father. We lived in a house that was closer to a single wide trailer. The windows were smashed long ago and were covered with plywood and part of the roof started to cave in on the far east corner. It was home.

              The nearest town was different, less rundown but still bleak. At its center was the community center where they preached the old ways and traditions, not that anyone attending cared, they were in it for the free meal. The school was not far and it is where I spent most of my time. I learned to read and write their and would spend long hours learning of my people’s history. Many of my classmates stopped coming to high school, they had joined their parents in their ritual of day drinking at the playground near the community center. Some of my classmates had taken their own lives, but that is something we do not dwell on. We have grown accustomed to it.

              I was sent with tribe leaders backing to University when I was 17 and my four years there trained me in the skills to teach my kindred how to read and write in not just English but in Shoshone and Apraho languages too. I returned to them with hope and vigor to change their lives. I failed.

              Many of the children came infrequently before they would stop coming at all. I would watch children retrieve their parents from the park after school and would see old students there too. That was better than not seeing them at all, which usually meant the worst had happened. Speed and dope were a lot more popular among the kids, many of their homes had becomes havens for such things.

              I cannot blame myself for their failure. I tried as hard as I could but we are just poor Indians. We have been tricked and betrayed by the white man and ourselves. We suffer with no jobs and no money and no one comes to help us. Others in a situation like this would receive thousands of dollars, food, and other types of aid. Indians receive a fraction of that even though we suffer just like anyone else. I believe it is because we are poor Indians, we can’t help that we are made so. We did not make ourselves this way.