A rewarding lesson

The Navajo Nation covers 27,000 square miles across Northeast AZ, Northwest New Mexico and some of Southern Utah. It seems that the Navajo people have worked hard to remain culturally distinct in this age of blurred boundaries. While driving past the Vermillion Cliffs and through the Grand Staircase Escalante  Nat'l Monument towards the Reservation, Gale read to me about Navajo etiquette. (This is not a new tradition, btw. Wherever we go, I can count on him to brief me on ways of minimizing foot-in-mouth moments that have embarrassment potential for him and me.)

The Navajo are generally reserved and private people. . . esp with strangers, of course, and even more especially with white strangers. Of all the points of etiquette Gale reviewed with me, the one I was most glad for later was this: When they listen, it's an important gesture of respect to listen in silence---to not insert a bunch of verbal markers like "uh-huh" and "gotcha" to let the speaker know you're hanging in with them--- and to wait quietly for a while before grabbing the ball after they've finished.

Fast forward to a roadside stand along the highway running west from Cameron AZ to the South Rim of the Grand. We had many of these makeshift markets to choose from, but we pulled into this one b/c it was located at the head of a short trail to the rim of the canyon formed by the Little Colorado River as it flows towards its confluence with the mother Colorado in the Grand Canyon. It was windy. (See photo.)

The man at the stand seemed glad to see us as we drifted among his tables of silver bracelets and beaded earrings. He hailed us from the shadowed interior of his windbreak, and rose to talk. He was outgoing and more gregarious than we expected. No, his merchandise was not of his making--his wife and daughters did all the work. Yes, his prices were too low, but the Navajo Nation doesn't levy sales tax, so the money we gave him was all his. Gale and Charlie wandered off in a while (neither of them enjoy shopping as much as I). Left to my own devices, I couldn't deny this opportunity to learn more about this 60-something man. . . esp after I noticed his cap: "U.S. Airforce/ Vietnam Veteran."

"So you served in Vietnam?" I ventured. It was like a switch flipped. Instantly his demeanor changed. "Yes," came his one word response. His eyes downcast, he retreated to the back of his wind shelter again and began to work studiously on a necklace. Gale wasn't within ear range, so I continued. "I have several friends who were there-- it was no fun." I have such a knack for stating the obvious. "No," he said. I kept plodding. "We learned the other day that the Navajo language was used as code during WW II. . . and the Japanese never broke it." "That's right." he said. His tiny pliers continued to work. I thought, damn. I've completely blown this. I've overstepped-- gotten too close." Then I remembered what Gale'd read about listening. Be silent. Wait.

Many of you will find this impossible to believe, but I stood there in the shadows of Mr Kenneth Begay's shack full of semi-precious gemstone jewelry and I remained silent. I waited. And I was rewarded. After a few seconds that seemed like an hour to me, he began. . . without looking up from his work.

"Once we were flying over the DMZ--towards Cambodia--and we heard some talk on the radio. It wasn't Vietnamese. It wasn't Chinese. It wasn't Cambodian. It was strange. Another guy on the flight crew turned to me and said, 'Do you know what language this is?' I said 'Yes I do.' They were talking about some skirmishes down below and didn't want anyone else to know what they were saying, so they were talking in code." He looked up at me and smiled. "It was the first I knew," he said, "that my people's tongue was being used  in that war."

I was stunned. Not so much by his wonderful story as by the fact that he'd chosen to share it with me. In the nick of time, I'd been quiet and patient. I'd behaved in a way he saw as respectful. And I was rewarded for it in a way I'll never forget.

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After a wonderful overnight visit with our friend Bonnie Anderson, we're on our way further south today--via some pueblo ruins and the Tom Mix Memorial--to Tucson. From there we'll turn east on this Road to Texas.