ANTELOPE GIRL – CHAPTER 21

Josh David had spent the past three days chasing his tail from one snafu to the next. It had been quite the ride.

The fun and games started before he got out of Page. The rental car agency jerked him around because he wasn’t the person who had reserved the car. He went back and forth with the surly clerk, arguing about insurance and payment. In the end, Josh just ended up charging the car on his credit card. He would sort it out later with his editor.

As he was leaving town, he realized he had forgotten to bring along his laptop, so he had to turn back.

By the time he arrived at Window Rock, it was 2:45 with the press conference scheduled for three. Of course, because everything ran on Navajo time, it actually didn’t start until 3:30. At that point, Josh was ready to start breaking things.

The press conference proved to be a total waste of time. Chairman Jimmy Greyeyes stood sullenly at a podium in a room filled with Tribal Council members and their staff, essentially reading the Peabody Coal Company press release. And that was it. No questions. As soon as the Chairman finished, the press conference was over.

When Josh tried to corral Chairman Greyeyes, his path was blocked by a burly Navajo police officer. But Josh was determined not to walk away empty-handed, so he waited in the parking lot at the rear of the Council building until Councilman Peter Etcitty came waltzing through the door. What, he asked the councilman, would the loss of Peabody Coal mean to the Navajo tribe?

Councilman Etcitty was one of the chairman’s most trusted allies. He was a round man in his early sixties with darting brown eyes and rolls of fat under his chin. His nickname was Jabba, after the Jabba the Hutt character in Star Wars. Obesity was rare with the Navajo; it wasn’t in their DNA. Even with all the processed sugar they consumed, Navajos tended to be fairly trim. So Peter Etcitty was easy to see. The last thing he wanted to see was a reporter.

“On the record?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” replied Josh as he stood ready to write down the councilman’s words.

“Well, son, it ain’t good. We stand to lose a lot of jobs and a lot of tax revenue.”

“And off the record?” asked Josh.

The fat man rolled his eyes. “The Council has some tough decisions ahead. And we will have to find some money very quickly.”

“How quickly?”

Etcitty chuckled and his fat belly jiggled like jello. “Look, Josh, you know the Chairman ain’t your biggest fan. And he would tan my hide for even talking to you. But you seem like a good kid, and I know you’re just trying to do your job. So—and you didn’t hear this from me—I think ol’ Jimmy Greyeyes is going to pull a rabbit out of his hat tomorrow. I’d stick around if I was you.”  

And the councilman tipped his cowboy hat and waddled off toward his truck.

Josh called Tom Hall to give him a progress report, along with Etcitty’s quote about lost jobs and revenue. Then they discussed what the Chairman might have up his sleeve.

“You need to stay there in Window Rock,” said Tom. “Get a hotel room and the paper will reimburse you. But you need to be there tomorrow when the other shoe drops.”

Josh ended up at the NavajoLand Inn, where he fell asleep by ten, watching a Dodgers baseball game on the in-room TV.

Josh was up the next morning with the sun. He showered and drove his rental to Ed’s Cafe. Over a hearty waffle breakfast with bacon and home fries, he sent Tom Hall his short piece about the press conference the day before. There wasn’t much to say. The Etcitty quote was really all they had.

After breakfast, Josh stopped by Tribal Police Headquarters to see what he could find out about the death of Hunter Maxwell. Josh had hoped he could talk to the first officer on the scene, Dalton Singer, but he was down in Phoenix and could not be reached. Officer Singer’s report had been sealed. No one else knew anything about the case. When he accused the desk sergeant of stonewalling, the always hostile Captain Blackthorn appeared, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and threw him out the front door.  

“Go bother someone else, you little worm! And don’t come back here unless invited. You hear me?” 

Captain Blackthorn hated the press and especially Josh because he was a belegana. Navajo was a nation unto itself and freedom of the press was often willfully ignored. Josh knew it was pointless to make a scene. 

Josh spent the rest of the morning hanging around the Navajo Tribal Headquarters, trying to pin down the slippery Tribal Chairman, who remained elusive. Just before noon, a surprise news conference was announced. No one had seen it coming; Josh was the only reporter there. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Peter Etcitty for alerting him that something was going to pop that day.

This was a vastly different Jimmy Greyeyes. He stood at the podium in the small conference room acting like he was speaking to a throng of supporters. His confidence bubbled over. 

“In light of the imminent closure of the Black Mesa Mine, I am calling an emergency session of the Navajo Tribal Council in two hours, so we can vote on the Grand Canyon Esplanade project.” 

“He’s got the votes,” murmured Josh to himself.

And at two o’clock, Chairman Greyeyes convened the Council. They were all there, which meant the word had gone out that morning and the deal had been struck in advance.  

Josh was the only news person representing a major paper there, but that’s not to say that the chairman’s wheeling and dealing had gone unnoticed. The Council chambers were packed. It was standing room only.

Next, John would later tell his editor, all hell broke loose.

With no discussion or public comments, the final vote was taken to approve the project. As the ayes were counted, a tall, young Navajo man rose to sing in a rich melodious voice a line from the Bob Marley song “Crazy Baldheads”: “We are going to chase those crazy baldheads right out of town!”

As he sang, some fifty young Navajos jumped up and stood on their chairs as they raised their arms to the sky in the clenched fist salute. Next, someone produced a large water drum and the protestors broke into two groups that surged to the front of the Council chambers. No one moved to stop them.

Josh started filming with his phone. 

The Navajos stood shoulder to shoulder lined up in two long rows facing one another. A leader from the group on the left stepped forward, singing the words to a Navajo War Dance in a high-pitched voice that almost sounded like screaming. When he finished a verse, his side repeated it in a baritone growl. Then the group on the right followed the same ritual, with their own leader singing his falsetto verse, only to be echoed by his crew. The two lines surged back and forth in time to the drum, and the dancers shuffled their feet in unison.

Josh was blown away by the whole scene that he filmed on his phone.

Chairman Greyeyes and all the members of the Tribal Council were speechless. As the war dance got louder and more insistent, like a pot coming to boil, Jimmy Greyeyes looked like he was going to jump out of his skin. Greyeyes had seen enough. He signaled to his fellow Council members and they all got up and fled for the side door, leaving the warriors the stage.

At that moment, life on Navajo changed forever.

The next day Lyndon Za, the Marley singer, staged an impromptu protest at Window Rock, a natural bridge with a giant hole in the middle, like a red sandstone doughnut. Just north of the Navajo administration buildings, it was one of the four sacred spots where the Navajo medicine men went with their traditional woven water jugs to get the blessed water for the Tóee, the Water Way Ceremony.

Several thousand Navajos attended the rally. That was like a million people in D.C. Nothing like this had ever happened before on Navajo. This time, the Arizona and New Mexico press corps was out in force, including Josh, who had a ringside seat.

Lyndon chose the massive sandstone window as his stage.  He was a natural showman. A microphone in hand, he paced from one end of the smoothly weathered rock ledge to the other, belting out a captivating speech the likes of which had never been heard on Navajo. His long black braids swung as he stalked. He was a force of nature.

In less than a day, he had won the hearts and minds of virtually every Navajo alive. The last thing the Navajo people wanted was a huge white man’s resort on their land above the sacred Little Colorado River. No more did they care about Peabody Coal leaving town. Good riddance to the crazy baldheads. It was time for a change in course, for the Navajo to seize their destiny and be more than beggars waiting for scraps from the beleganas’ table. They wanted new vibrant leaders who couldn’t be bribed or intimidated. In Lyndon Za, they heard exactly what they yearned for. They hung on his every word.  

Lyndon did not disappoint. He summoned lost visions of the true Navajo way. Against those visions, he contrasted the crooked Navajo councilmen who had sold out the Diné for jobs and money and signed on for a travesty that would defile sacred lands. 

The audience nearly cheered themselves into a riot. They were way too much for the few Navajo police on the scene. Navajos did not act like this, so the officers did not know what to do. They did nothing.

Just when Josh David thought it couldn’t get any wilder, it did.

Lyndon stopped talking. Every eye followed a silence as loud as raised speech. He looked up at the sky, speechless for long seconds as the crowd watched, rapt. Then he went all in.  

“I come to you today as Dawn Boy. I have followed the Rainbow Trail to the house of the Great Chief of All Magic.

Josh had no idea who Dawn Boy was, but it was clear from the audience’s reaction that he was somebody special.  

His was one of the most revered legends of Navajo mythology.  

The story went like this.  

Little Dawn Boy lived in the Navajo First World, where he learned to sing the magic songs from the medicine man of his village. He saw a far-off light on a white tower that rose behind a purple mountain in the clouds. The medicine man knew the bright light was coming from the home of the Great Chief of All Magic. 

His home was guarded by four doors. At the first door were two lightning bolts; at the second two fierce bears; two red-headed serpents at the third; and two angry rattlesnakes at the fourth.

Dawn Boy determined he must pay the Magic Chief a visit. The Medicine Man gave him Dawn Pollen to guide his way and gifts of turquoise and emeralds. He told Dawn Boy that when he got to the top of the Purple Mountain, he should sing one of his magic songs. A rainbow bridge would appear so he could walk across the sky to the Magic Chief’s heavenly tower.

Dawn Boy did as his teacher instructed. But when he entered the tower, the Magic Chief was very angry. No person had ever dared come to his house. He was about to kill the young stranger when Dawn Boy pulled out his gifts of turquoise and other shiny stones. The Magic Chief was pleased with these gifts and asked Dawn Boy what he would like in return. Dawn Boy sang:

Gifts for my kindred I wish. Give me, I pray, yellow and white and blue corn, and green growing plants, fragrant flowers, and black clouds and thunderstorms with lightning; and also the soft Spring showers and the gentle Summer breezes, with pale mists and golden Autumn hazes.

The Magic Chief granted Dawn Boy’s wishes. They feasted and the brave young warrior sang of magic. Then he returned over the Rainbow Trail to his home at Red Rock Village. From that day forward, his people have sung the magic song of Little Dawn Boy.

Looking over the rapturous crowd, Lyndon sang:

“With soft rains above us, 

With sweet flowers below us, 

With white corn behind us, 

With green plants before us, 

With pale mists all around us. 

Over the Rainbow Trail we go! 

Hither we wander, 

thither we wander, 

Over the beautiful trail we go!” 

It was a moment in Navajo history that would long be remembered.

And Lyndon Za had more. Lyndon pointed at the Tribal Council building and screamed. “Chairman Greyeyes and the Tribal Council have all been bought and sold like sheep. They are all Navajo witches!”

 The witch label was a lifelong curse. It was the worst thing you could say about a person.  

The audience in front of Window Rock screamed and wailed. Josh had never witnessed such a miraculous display. If Lyndon had given the order, the mob would have burned the Council headquarters to the ground with everyone inside.  

But Lyndon took it in another direction.

“I challenge the Navajo nation to stand in defiance of these witches,” he said. “I call for all of my people to go on strike, a total strike. Starting this very minute. Shut it all down! Do not shop. Do not go to work. And do not have any dealings with anything related to this evil tribal government until the witches are all gone for good.”The Navajo obediently answered Dawn Boy’s call to action, sending the Diné into uncharted territory.