In Country

  

Cat de Chelly.  Not part of this story,
but a Navajo ambassador never the less.

 The Navajo Nation is a quasi-autonomous political entity that encompasses a large parcel of land in the northeastern corner of Arizona.  It is so big in fact, that the Automobile Association of America publishes a map called "Indian Country" which girds the entire Four Corners region of the western United States.  A very cool paper map, by the way, that could never be replaced by a smartphone app.  At least not for anyone over the age of 35.


The Navajo Reservation includes several famous geographic landmarks that would be familiar to anyone who has ever seen a John Wayne Western.  Monument Valley and Canyon de Chelly (pronounced 'shea') are two of the better known regions.  If you want to get your Clint Eastwood on, you must visit these iconic locations.  Just don't insult a Navajo woman selling her wares on the rim of the canyon.  Or BYO a  bottle of red wine to the local Holiday Inn Restaurant in Chinle, AZ.  Both will earn you a berating you won't soon forget.  If a Navajo woman chided Kit Carsen in 1864 like she scolded me, the Native Americans might still own most of the southwest.  I am exaggerating for effect of course, and the circumstance of the 19th century Native Americans was no laughing matter.  But I am still wincing from the chastening I received at the hands of a proud Navajo woman along the rim of Canyon de Chelly.  Especially since I only did what I thought was expected.  Leading me to lick my wounded pride by chanting my favorite mantra, "why does this shit always happen to me"?

Single Dad, artist, and Navajo historian extraordinaire,  Antonio

You see, at every viewpoint parking area there are a handful of Navajos selling Native American sandstone paintings, pottery, and jewelry.  It is like a crafts fair of Native American wares where you get to talk with the artists and hear their stories.  And while you are listening to Antonio tell you how he is a single Dad eking out a living selling modern interpretations of the petroglyphic art of his Anasazi forebears you are thinking, "what should I really offer this dude for his $25.00 sandstone painting"?   And, "Didn't I see that at the visitor center gift shop for less"?  There is no benchmark to determine the actual value except what the gullible tourist five minutes before me paid Antonio for his  souvenir.

World travelers like to crow about how they out-haggled a subsistence villager living in some remote Himalayan Valley and bragging, "you see this hand carved yak ivory tusk on my coffee table?  I paid only $10.00 for it!  Poor nomadic schnook".
Well you know what?  He is poor!  And he needs the lucre more than you need it.  He could have done more with the $20.00 you beat him out of, by feeding his family for three solid months, than you.  You, on the other hand, will piss away the $20.00 on one meal at a TGI Fridays back in America.  On this day, however, Antonio, pictured above, was more than willing to offer me a windy day special without much effort on my part.  It seems he had only two sandstone paintings left, the weather was deteriorating, and he wanted to close out his stock and leave for the day.  Two for the price of one and I could take a photograph with him as well (this normally requires an additional tip).  Sold! and on to the next "stall" where I had my eye on a beautiful turned ceramic pot with engraved petroglyphic designs.  The Navajo woman artisan had a potter's wheel in her van and she was turning her bowls on the spot.  This made the whole experience seem rather intimate.

So emboldened by the ease with which I had bargained with Antonio, and how amenable I had found the other male artisans, I offered her $15.00 for the finely detailed $25.00 crock.  Well, oh.......my.........god!  She did not look favorably upon this fiscal insult (I don't blame her either.  I just assumed one is supposed to bargain).  She proceeded to chastise me up and down about how much work it was and how she even had to dig the clay out of the earth herself (being Native American they know their natural resources), and that carving the decorative elements alone involved over 3 hours of labor.  She also assailed me with histrionic eye rolling toward my ignorant hubris.  I knew she was not going to back down because she still had a full stock of pots on her table while most of the other vendors had sold a lot of their items judging from their depleted display tables.  Either that or she knew I was an easy mark and I really wanted the bowl.  In any case the $25.00 really was quite reasonable.

So I sheepishly handed over the cash and accepted the crock from her even as she harrumphed in taking my money.  I am not exaggerating the encounter.  In fact, Tammy and I noticed that all the male artisans were more than willing to cajole us, while all of the female ones seemed to treat us with much more assertiveness and sternness.  Exactly what one would expect in a  matriarchal society like the Navajo, where lineages are tied to the bride's family, not the groom's (matrilocal as opposed to patrilocal).  Which really isn't very insightful, interesting or revolutionary but I tell this story just so I can vent about getting a stern lecture and being made to feel bad about an interaction that plays out a million times a day across the globe in bazaars throughout the world.

Which does bring me to another point about the pleasures of domestic travel.  The Navajo People share many American sensibilities with the rest of the nation but they also have a different zeitgeist and cultural outlook.  So in the Navajo Nation one can enjoy a sort of cultural tourism without venturing too far from home.  As for the BYO kerfuffle at the Holiday Inn?  The Navajo Nation is a dry country climate-wise and libation-wise.  So don't put yourself in a position to be admonished by the waitress.  It is not fun being scolded by your mother while on vacation.