acts.1.eight

Dude, you should take over my blog. I had basically the same impression during my all-too-brief yet (perhaps in some ways) all-too-long stay at Pine Ridge. I say “all too long” because I kept feeling like I was doing a lot just to fill time when I could have been doing “nothing” more effectively somewhere else in town, rather than holing up in our four-walled fort or tramping about with the rest of the herd. Indeed, Wallace, the trinket-hawkers and the time we spent at places like Big Bat’s and White Clay have been on my mind a lot while I have been over here in France (the portrayal of Ira Hayes in Clint Eastwood’s film evoked a few memories too). As I wrote a little while back on my friend Kit’s Xanga site, more than ever before I regard the Oglala Lakota and the other native peoples as fellow countrymen — exploited countrymen, but fellow countrymen all the same — whereas here, among the “white” Europeans, as well as other Europeans, they continue to be perhaps the most romanticized race of Rousseauian beings yet imagined. France and especially Germany are crawling with “Indian” enthusiasts and the fact that I actually know real Indians and have lived near Indian reservations for well over a decade causes endless facination. Everyone and their brother seems like an “expert” on the matter and there are many who are quite ready to politly share their observations on the mistakes made by White Americans (à la Kevin Costner) toward the noble savages that once thrived peaceably and in harmony with Nature on our continent (which, to hear some people talk, is roughly the size of Poland and has three principal biomes: the California taiga, the Colorado Rockies and “Baywatch” — and maybe the Lousiana bayou for the more geography-savvy people). In a very real sense, it is a caricature of my own fellow “white” Americans (and “black” Americans, et al.), who have their informed opinions on the matter but who haven’t really taken the time to just shut up and learn what can be learned by humility alone on the matter. This is not to say that I have learned much yet, and the more I discuss “Indians” with people here, the more I realise that I still know very little and the little I know is difficult to convey — indeed, in many ways it defies verbal explanation divorced from common experience and therefore tends to persuade me to simply shut up. The idea that one cannot do justice to the plight simply by using words, no matter the context, baffles people over here. Often, they just assume that I lack the ellocutive ability. In a way, they’re right. Were I Cicero himself and had no problem with a barrier between two linguistic codes (English and French), I still don’t think that I could properly explain the plight of the descendants of pre-columbian peoples in the US and Canada while so far removed from their context. I try. One woman told me that I should pursue a law degree and devote my life to tribal-federal relations. Yes, that is indeed a noble cause in many ways, yet in some ways it falls short. Again, don’t ask me to put my finger on it — I haven’t quite gotten there yet.

One thing’s for sure, Cicero I am not. So much for going to law school!

It has occured to me, interacting almost daily as I now am with the Rôma people, that they probably represent the closest proxy to Native Americans for the Europeans. When the Europeans (e.g. the French) try to find a comparison for the tragedy of the Native Americans in the West (the earlier tragedy of the East occurs to very few) they turn to the tragic history of European colonialism. Yes indeed, there is a relationship, especially to the horrors that occured in the Belgian Congo and, even closer to home, in Ireland, or more recently in Soviet Chechnya (the list goes on), but when I bring up the Gypsies (Fr: Jitans) people are completely baffled. Victor Hugo notwithstanding, the sedative Euros have enormous difficulty reconciling the tragically exploited noble savages with the Gypsies who are perceived to be dirty, dishonest, irresponsible tramps and rascals who resist integration/betterment and who will always be an ungrateful burden on society and it is quite futile to imagine that it could be otherwise.

Exactly!

Now, dear Romantic, you understand a prevalent mindset of the people that share space with your erstwhile noble savages. Now I dare you to try to truly understand your own neighbors, the “Gypsies” and their plight, and maybe, just maybe you’ll come close to grasping the plight of my countrymen, the “Indians”.

First, we can start by reconceptualising this one: X is poor, therefore X needs more money or raw resources in order live a better life.

Liberal (capitalist) or socialist, the French (et al.) have a hard time thinking outside of the box on this one.

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That got a little long, but I’d just like to say, in parting, that I am quite in agreement with you on the standards regarding women — the simple standards that I have devised boil down to the precisely the same things. I’d like to say it has something to do with the same Holy Spirit that teaches/wrangles the two of us, but I don’t want to be too presumptuous, especially when it concerns G-d and also since it concerns love and women. I have a lot of meditations on the above topics, but few opportunities to properly express them. Speaking of tough things to convey . . .

Perhaps, however, the more I think about it (as I type), the problem is not so much in the words or what they are supposed to mean (and we could go off into quite the theorectical lecture here, now couldn’t we) as what they are taken to mean. It has become evident to me that when I find a lass who either understands me or is crazy enough to give it a shot and patient/tenacious enough to sustain the effort that I will have found the “one”. I might have to scour the globe for that. That’s a bit of work. Maybe I’ll just write blog comments and hum obscure Breton airs instead.

Coming to you live from le Périgord, chez les troubadours d’autre fois,

Corineus the Galatian (F&F)

“And her hair shall be what colour please God!” — WS (“Twelfth Night”)