Holatte-Sutv Turwv Osceola. Makeup and photo credit props to Nokosee's sister Gerryragni Osceola. Indigenous Americans have made face painting an art form. So, when I see this 1899 image of Chief James A. Garfield, an Jicarilla Apache, I gotta think it's a wonderful example of the dictum “less is more" (unlike my example below*) and it speaks volumes across time and space. As for the picture itself, I want to reach out and touch him, to tell him he is beautiful and that his people have a better life now. Unfortunately, I know that isn't true. Although his tribe "lucked out" by getting a rez with oil and gas under it, it appears little of that money has "trickled down" to the tribe. Of the roughly 3,000 members, the average income 16-years-ago was around $10,000.00. Statistics show poverty and unemployment begets higher crime plus drug abuse which begets this question: How did the Tinde ("the people," what they call themselves) not grow richer from the oil and gas? Not fall into a cycle of poverty, crime and drug abuse?
And then I think of J.T. Osceola, the once mighty chairman of the Seminole tribe who had it all-- at least as perceived by the Outside. He did his best to live with one foot in the Outside and with one in the Inside (the wild Everglades and tribal traditions). But in the end his lust for one needful thing-- his custom chopper motorcycle-- killed him.
As I have learned living-- and running -- with the New Seminole, it's not an easy balancing act. As one of my favorite authors Ken Kesey said, "You're either on the bus or not on the bus." This is the same thing my Micco Busimanolotome Osceola told me more than once, that "little girl" (he was an unapologetic sexist bastard but I loved him anyway) you're going to have to choose one over the other. I chose to be with Nokosee, Micco's only son, the "First of the New Seminole" and that meant living in the past and on the run like Geronimo's Apache's did in the late 1800s, running from the U.S. Calvary and the specter of having their freedom stolen from them, of being forced to live on a rez, out-gunned and close to hopelessness.
*The pix was taken on a slow day in an Everglades hammock over a bonding moment between me and my new sister-in-law, 14-year-old Gerryragni Osceola. We were listening to the Blonds' "Run" (below) at the time. It seemed so apropos since we were on the run from Army Rangers. Unfortunately the music and this escapist moment didn't make us feel any better.
And then I think of J.T. Osceola, the once mighty chairman of the Seminole tribe who had it all-- at least as perceived by the Outside. He did his best to live with one foot in the Outside and with one in the Inside (the wild Everglades and tribal traditions). But in the end his lust for one needful thing-- his custom chopper motorcycle-- killed him.
As I have learned living-- and running -- with the New Seminole, it's not an easy balancing act. As one of my favorite authors Ken Kesey said, "You're either on the bus or not on the bus." This is the same thing my Micco Busimanolotome Osceola told me more than once, that "little girl" (he was an unapologetic sexist bastard but I loved him anyway) you're going to have to choose one over the other. I chose to be with Nokosee, Micco's only son, the "First of the New Seminole" and that meant living in the past and on the run like Geronimo's Apache's did in the late 1800s, running from the U.S. Calvary and the specter of having their freedom stolen from them, of being forced to live on a rez, out-gunned and close to hopelessness.
*The pix was taken on a slow day in an Everglades hammock over a bonding moment between me and my new sister-in-law, 14-year-old Gerryragni Osceola. We were listening to the Blonds' "Run" (below) at the time. It seemed so apropos since we were on the run from Army Rangers. Unfortunately the music and this escapist moment didn't make us feel any better.
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