Archives for posts with tag: Napi

There is, I believe, no more brutal humor on Earth, than bonafide Native American humor, and although this humor’s frequent darkness may be related to recent history (past few centuries), there’s really something else about the universal (across the tribes) trickster god (with a small g) that is fundamentally opposed to the western or modern (to the Americas) mentality. One might consider the ‘taciturn’ Indian maybe doesn’t talk to the Whites (or their close kin, the ‘Black-Whiteman’) in the terms you see here (or talk much in the presence of Whites at all), it’s either because 1) they’re too polite to say what they actually think and/or 2) They know, more likely than not, in any case it’d be a wasted effort. In this 2nd case, I have to apologize to Mr Barking Dog (see below) for violating Native etiquette and pointing out ‘stupid is as stupid does’ is the most apropos folk proverb to describe this phenomenal problem of cross-cultural non-communication; no, wait. It’s not stupid is as stupid does, it’s the dilemma of trying to explain a few simple things to ‘people too stupid to understand they’re stupid.’ Consequently, I fear for my legacy; having tried to do just that. But I might be saved by the Native rule of paradox, because someone with a little bit of humility, having actually read through this following essay’s insults, might actually get the fundamentally sound lesson in the Native humor… it’s not that I mean to give anyone a lifetime’s mental complex, but in our (Native) world there are no excuses, you have to work out, you cannot conceal, your bulls**t.

Barking Dog: “Want to understand ! Can’t get there from here. Stuck in Caucasian thought, way of doing things. Can you direct me to an area of studies starting at square one so I can understand. Or would it be a useless effort like a dog chasing his tail. Thanks for your work and sharing the earth people’s way”

So, I got this preceding message from Barking Dog over at James LaFond’s site where he [James] is kind enough to run my books (chapter by chapter.) Well, I’ve tried, again and again [1], [2], [3], [4] [5] to bring the understanding across over a period of more than 30 years, without much success. So, here’s trying again:

The Time I Fondled a Dog’s Nuts

These (pre-Cartesian-Platonic) indigenous people were patient in a sense nearly unknown today. My own understanding of, and sight in that world, derives from freak circumstance (or destiny determined by the gods) I wouldn’t wish on anyone, the death of the western idea-forms ‘didn’t happen easily’ (perhaps the greatest understatement of my life, to now.) But here is trying one more time, to bring the working philosophy across.

The first thing to look at is, is the contrast between one of the great (and perhaps only universal) ‘gods’ of the Native world(s), that is ‘the trickster’, and the construct of the mentality according to western psychology. These are mutually exclusive approach to life; the western way is all about process shaping the ego as an adaptive tool engaging one’s surroundings, the Native way had been to pre-empt the emergence of ego in any form, and this had been the role of the trickster, who could quite accurately be described as the ego destroyer; in cultures where ego had been diagnosed and treated as an anti-social mental disorder.

Culturally speaking, at the meta-level, never the twain shall meet. Here is example at the most base level; The western ‘inventiveness’ allows for ego-based individual pursuits independent of influence by surroundings, for instance a corporation is formed by an individual who applies for permits and begins dynamiting rock for cyanide heap leech mining operations. Because the Native mentality cannot perceive itself as detached from (or independent of) consciousness concerning the surrounding environment, this event would be perceived as criminally anti-social in a context the western science has only a small awareness or intellectual (not practical) grasp of:

“The doctrine that the world is made up of objects whose existence is independent of human consciousness turns out to be in conflict with quantum mechanics and with facts established by experiment” -Bernard d’Espagnat, Theoretical Physicist

Here it is demonstrated ‘Plato was wrong’ but in no way will that error halt Plato’s scientific or ‘objectivity’ based ‘progress’, because western science cannot grasp the profound perceptual mistake made in the very [ego] self d’Espagnat is pointing to. In other words, the idea the human ‘self’, ego and associated, conscious self-awareness, is in any sense independent of our organic surroundings is just not true and this cannot be practically grasped or understood at the meta-level because it is a threat to the ego-self of the very culture. For that fact, it is beyond their comprehension.

This preceding versus

“The knowledge and use of any or all the powers of the objects on Earth around us is as liable to lead a man wrong as to lead him right. It is merely power, with no way of knowing how to use it correctly … unless Spirit is with a man’s spirit for the light” -Red Tomahawk, Sioux

What is Red Tomahawk’s spirit? It is the collective consciousness of our surroundings, including the awareness embodied in the rock being blown up for cyanide heap leach gold extraction. Each of those dynamite explosions is exploding part of a process of sentient, aware intelligence. Red Tomahawk has an ages old, functional grasp of something western science is beginning to glimpse but dare not know the implications.

It follows, the indigenous perception would be, with killing off of our surrounding intelligence, the Earth is, accordingly, becoming severely dumbed down. The analogy would be, with the increasing loss of intelligent expression, our planet is becoming, in a practical sense, a brain damaged spastic. It can’t even coordinate its weather anymore. And there is no escaping consequence, we all are a part of all of it.

Then, western perception is, the exploitation, or as Red Tomahawk put it “the knowledge and use of any or all the powers of the objects on Earth around us”, to a point of destroying our life-giving environment (surroundings) is ‘progress’ because building civilization in the process enables ‘intelligent’ demonstrations of what ultimately amounts to grandiose acts of ego: “We put men in space.”

Well, you can proceed to destroy the planet by building civilization to a point you can send a shipload of colonists to Mars (to certainly die there) and no doubt this will titillate the collective ego of that very civilization, but how intelligent is it to sacrifice the underlying support mechanism, that is life sustaining nature, in the process? How is it western mentality (and the civilization it rules) cannot grasp this single, simple equation in an applied, practical sense? Ego is, quite literally, a destructive thing.

To begin to grasp Native mentality, westerner’s would have to take a mortal hit to ego, that’s the first step, and accept at the core of one’s being, you are a member of a class that are the most aggressive, dumbest fuckers to grace this planet with bipedalism since T Rex went extinct 66 or so million years ago, only less intelligent. T Rex didn’t deliberately blow his world up, only western civilization would do that.

Insofar as IQ, what you are actually measuring is the western projection of ego, not true intelligence which more closely resembles common sense, bringing us to this next:

If you can wrap your head around the idea Plato has insured your culture has created a socialization machine that mass produces people who are worse than total idiots and that includes yourself, and accept this as fact and as the beginning premise of your new intelligence (resolve to climb out of Plato’s pit of ego-driven stupidity), there’s hope for you but not much more than that, because now you have start unfucking everything concerning yourself that’s fucked up in this life and it’s a lot of work. This work begins with breaking habits in your thinking.

Rule one: “I don’t know anything” because from the point of view of the new system you aspire to learn about, you really don’t know s**t. Like a friend had recently stated to me, “I expect we grasp the nature of reality about as well as my dog understands how my Mastercard works.” Bingo. Good start.

From this immediate preceding premise, we are all equal; because in the system you are learning, you cannot *know* the nature of reality. It is what it is, you’ll never know its source or origins, you cannot, that’s the point of its name: The Great Mystery. The difference here, between your old perception, and the new perception you aspire to learn is, you have no right to jack the expression of this mystery around, like so many scientists jacking-off with their experiments in the lab do, because this all has consequence and you have no right to bring consequence down on anyone except yourself. There IS a right to behave stupidly, but only in relation to yourself, not in relation to me, not in relation to your mom, and certainly not in relation to your neighbor or larger environment. This is for the fact your environment is part and parcel of our social world; when you fuck it up for yourself, you fuck it up for everyone. This is NOT allowed. Consequently, for the socially retarded newcomer to this system, we have to inform you in absolutely retarded terms, you possess no more right to exist than the stuff you’re used to chopping down, blowing up, or whatever it is you do to enjoy a life out of proportion to your personal importance, which is, by the way, nil, except that you are recognized as valuable by the expression of the mystery, in effect our sentient environment, inclusive of trees and stones. Certainly we are not talking about recognition in any sense of Alfred Nobel.

Yeah, trees and stones. Now here’s something to think about. Let’s say because you are of the old indigenous mental construction and you know *how* to pray *through* the trees, while traveling, you come to a Y in the road. To now, you only know there is a way through the forest you are traversing, but you have no map and no detailed instruction. Because you know *how* to pray *through* the trees, the environment (which is sentient, intelligent, and social) recognizes, respects, and even *anticipates* your thought when you send it out – “which way” – and a large bird of prey drops out of a tree and flies down right fork in the road, your questions are responsibly answered along this and other lines, with 100% accuracy, throughout the trip … because this indigenous mentality can repeat this *read* of the environment with fluency and confidence, whether it is a bird calls in the precise moment, or noticing a feature resembling a face in a rock outcropping (psychosis to the Platonic mentality), even a puff of breeze moving leaves on an otherwise still day and more. When you make a reprise of this journey (now knowing the road) but the forest has been slaughtered by logging for pulp mills to make paper, it is then a Native understands what is murderous stupidity.

It is this murderous stupidity that must be weeded from your thinking. The ideas you had taken for granted, must become ideas that you viscerally hate. In every possible small way, you must learn to learn it all over again, and in every small way you must learn to resist the insanity:

“Everyone knows the Whiteman is crazy” -Blackfoot proverb

With all of the preceding said, I’d tried teaching this system to both men and women of the White world, over a period of 30 years. The result? One male, and only one, was able to grasp a working knowledge of this system, and it took five years before it began to ‘click’ for him. On the other hand, several women were able to see and begin to grasp (demonstrate a functional understanding) in as little as one afternoon’s walk together in the forest. More typically, these women were a more unique and respectful lesbian mentality without the male sense of ego found in feminist western women in a western culture where women’s emancipation has determined women adopt the aggressive postures of the western male. This 2nd were example of women who couldn’t make the phenomenon happen. Amazon intelligence they are not.

The time I fondled a dog’s nuts goes to shocking the western ego as a matter of demonstration. A younger Native male, my relative, was a hot-shot fire crewman, the elite of the USA’s wild lands firefighters. His White colleague had heard my dog was actually a wolf and wanted to see this creature. This ‘dog’ could take off the arm of anyone that ‘smelled’ wrong and wanting to see it for simple ego sake was not the brightest thing.

In any case, here was this White guy, all young and tough, walking up to see my dog and could be in easily be in danger, depending on how the dog perceived him. Not wishing to introduce fear into the exchange of energy, and not wishing to be rude and say ‘stay away from the dog’, I defused the situation by asking the question “Do you know how to determine if your dog trusts you?” The young guys looked at me, I gave the proper cue, and my dog lay down on his back for me and I then held the dogs balls and rolled them together gently, like large dice, and looking up with straight face said “When your dog will let you do this” as my dog’s tongue was spilled out the side of his mouth to maximum length and the dog’s expression was nothing short of heavenly joy.

Saying nothing (the White kid was speechless, the Indian kid knowing how to keep a straight face), the young men walked away but later, my relative (I won’t give up his identity) told me, speaking of his colleague, “Man, it JARRED him when he saw that.” But you know what? Those times that young man will want to brag he’d seen, and been up close and personal with, a wolf, he’ll be confronted with memory of the wolf rolling on its back to have his nuts fondled and his White culture’s gynophobic male identity or suppressed narcissistic homosexuality (experienced as homophobia) and it’s associated macho ego will take a hit. And that’s pretty funny, especially considering he’d never come close to knowing why I’d done what I’d done, Native humor saving his life as it were.

Y’all had to fuck everything up

Exiled

Dreamt up at an out of doors café in Sant Feliu de Guixols

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Napi. Just who is this guy? Napi is many things. Napi is a teacher, an archetype, our Blackfoot ancestor and much more. Napi is a god, he is like Jesus or a holy man. Napi is the devil, Napi is the first real human being, Napi is a fool, a friend, and the trickster- Old Man Coyote. Essentially Napi is all the possibilities embodied in any Blackfoot MALE

Everyone learns from Napi (his stories) in Blackfoot culture, and the idea behind Napi is to foster what is sane and healthy in men and put strict controls on what is not. Because men are men, there are the men’s Napi stories which are supposed to always be cleaned up in the presence of women (sorry.) Culturally speaking, some of the men’s Napi stories simply should never be told in the women’s presence at all

Did the women have the prurient Napi stories? Men were never admited (NEVER) to the women’s secret societies, so we (men) supposedly must accept at face value the idea the women only knew the cleaned up versions of Napi stories. But because I am Napi (a Blackfoot male) onetime I tricked one of the old ladies into an admission of sorts, that is I made a reference to Napi’s butt

When one of my elder woman teachers was present, I had an opportunity to identify myself in the Blackfoot language.. and instead of using my proper Blackfoot name Pee-ma-na-kwan (man with a rope), I identified myself as Penucquem (Puh-nuck-qwee-um) or that is to say I identified myself as Napi’s rectum with the proper/formal expression

That drew a belly laugh from the old lady, the spontaneous and deep sort of laugh burst out that would make a man think she had heard the dirty stories the men tell (but only behind the women’s backs.)

In actuality I cannot know, it may be she simply believed I am an asshole, that interpretation works just as well. And as she was my elder teacher, I had to stop there, because she subsequently gave a look of spine shivering evil, as though daring me to die for having breeched her dignity and caused her involuntary laugh. It is safe to say I never broached the subject with her again. She was what would be known in the old matriarchal times as a Ni-na-wa-ki, or a woman that was the highest form of Blackfoot chief. You do NOT cross these women

I will come back to Napi, and how he ate his own ass for lunch, but first I think I need to explain Indian humor is more typically healthy, and give folk here in the outside world some idea of how it works

Native humor is all about keeping things honest, in a fun and entertaining way, and consequently, this humor is often self-deprecating in a gentle or harmless way, that is laughing at having made a fool of oneself, or jokes can be created with a little license describing another’s encounter with life’s many surprises. Spontaneous jokes are appreciated, a quick, creative wit is a prized possession in the personality. The taciturn Indian is a face presented to the outside world only, within the community life is filled with fun and liveliness in most conversation.

*

A Honky Snow Cone

I was at a pow-wow in the southwest where people did not readily know me as an Indian.. looking like ZZ Tops. I was watching the dancers, there was a Rastafarian dreadlocks White guy doing what appeared to be a stoned southern style war dance, overly exaggerated and out of time and I was amazed at the Indians straight faces as this guy made an incredible spectacle of himself. I could not help but laugh, it was that ridiculous

I was thirsty, it was hot, I walked to a concessions stand to see the possibilities with this fresh memory of someone that made me feel pretty stupid about my original race. The Native ladies ceased their conversation, normal when a White comes into earshot, I noticed that and realized they would not know I was Indian. As I approached the stand, I did not have a joke in mind about my Whiteman appearance but being Indian, it had to pop out

The only refreshments on sale were all sugar laced poisons, generic colas and other pop, and I did not want any of that. I ordered what I figured was least sugar poisonous, a snowcone. The (quite pretty, actually) young woman dutifully scooped the crushed ice into the paper cone and then turned to face me and asked “Which color?” (sugar syrup, red, blue, green or yellow)

I asked “Can I have it just as it is?”

She seemed surprised “No color?”

I replied with the perfect musical reservation inflection: “We could just call it a honky snow-cone.”

She looked down at the cone of pure white ice she was holding for me with a dumbfounded expression and the other girls broke out in involuntary laughter but quickly recovered their straight faces and gave this what looked like a Whiteman with perfect Native expression a suspicious look (wondering for a brief moment what had happened, is it safe?) but I had got them

She broke out in a gentle and wry, but friendly smile as she handed me the little cone of ice and took my money.. as I said quietly “I am diabetic” and she replied while now smiling in a truly sweet way and with genuinely friendly voice, also quietly, “Thank you.”

That “Thank you” stated more than the outsider would ever imagine. Indians don’t typically say thank you except in sincere heartfelt circumstance. It was ‘Thank you for being genuine’ and ‘I recognize now you are Indian’, and it was ‘Thank you for the joke and bringing a great laugh into our day.’

*

Who Framed Melvin Bunny?

Because men are men (yes, in Native America as well) and because the culture is breaking down and becoming western, the humor is becoming ever more dangerous, as it must, to serve keeping the culture honest

So, to another real life Indian story. I hate to do this to my old friend Melvin Running Rabbit (his Indian nickname is Melvin Bunny) but here is how it is in Indian country today. It is a story about accountability

Melvin (if he is still alive) is a really good guy but he had a blind spot. He never looked at the possible consequences of those times he occasionally ran with the wrong crowd when he liked to go out of town to indulge in a really good Indian drinking binge, and those can be pretty stupendous events. I had checked it out for myself on a couple of occasions, any damn thing can happen, it is crazy to drink with Indians or, better said, when Indians drink, crazy things happen, like waking up from passed out with only one braid, the other having been cut off. Melvin was destined to a bigger joke. The Indian joke that backfired, but as the Indian world is not logical, neither are the consequences.

Melvin had, with several other Indians, drunk himself into the oblivion that seems required at these often extraordinary events, in a motel room in Great Falls, Montana, in the 1990s. There was a popular animated video out at the time: “Who Framed Roger Rabbit”

As it happens, there was one late arrival to this drinking binge who did not pass out to the typically near comatose condition and he was feeling a bit hard, or hard up. So he pulled the pants off of a passed out woman, used her like an ultra-conservative Republican on viagra would use a plastic blow-up doll for sex and then he had an idea for a joke. He pulled the passed out Melvin’s pants down and dragged him on top of the passed out woman he had just squirted full of his stuff, and left. That was a bad joke, but it gets better

If he had not done that second part of his criminal act, but rather had pulled the woman’s pants back up instead, he likely would have gotten away with the rape, because every Indian woman that attends these binges knows the risk, it has happened many a time and is often the joke story of the modern Indian drunks. She likely would have been disgusted with herself, having discovering what had happened to her, taken responsibility for being there and let go of it. End of story

But as fate would have it, along comes a family member looking for her and stumbles on the passed out old guy, Melvin, lying on top of the much younger woman, both with pants down. He called the cops and Melvin went to jail and was charged with rape

Melvin professed his innocence at his arraignment, the Indian humor telegraph was working hard on the story, supposedly in his cell Melvin was given a Viagra pill, a playboy magazine and a paper cup, to get his DNA and the subsequent big story on the Indian humor telegraph was:

“Who Framed Melvin Bunny?”

*

Napi Eats His Butt

I close this essay with a story of the proverbial trickster, our Napi. There were many stories of Napi holding philosophical conversations with his rectum, and this is where typically the Napi stories become really dangerous.  If you can understand this story, then you will have a good idea of how to see where human nature has gone wrong in the Whiteman. Because this is the Indian story of the Evangelical Whiteman, the Whitemen we have met in Andrew Jackson and George Bush. It is about the Whiteman that rules America today. It is about corporate America and nacissism in the extreme. It is about narcissistic men like Barack Obama. It is about a man that does not learn from his mistakes. It is about a man that does not put two and two together concerning the consequences of his actions. It is about a man that does not understand his relationship to essential functions in nature necessary to his survival. It is about a man that does not pay attention or listen. It is about a narcissistic man so full of himself, he lies to himself about others good intentions. It is a story about how not to live your life. And perhaps most of all, it is a story about recycling old and failed ideas. The name of this story is “Napi Eats His Butt.” The story is told by Napi’s asshole, Penucquem, and it goes like this:

Napi had been to a great feast with his brothers. He returned to his camp very full of food and tired. Napi curled up to sleep by his fire, and you know where a dog’s nose is when he curls up to sleep!

Spuurrpp! Napi farted and it woke him up, his eyes were watering. Napi said aloud ‘Well, that was really rude’ and curled back to sleep…

Spuurrpp! Napi’s head popped up again, irritated, Napi shouted at his rectum: ‘Penucquem! If you won’t let me sleep, I am going to teach you a lesson!’ Napi curled up again.

Spuurrpp! That really did it. Jumping up, Napi grabbed up Tail, out of harms way, and sat on his campfire to get even with Penucquem. “Yii! Yii!” Napi really took off, like only a hurt dog does, and this started him on his travels.

Napi moved for a long time, he was thinking of how Penucquem had bit him really hard when he had tried to punish him, he didn’t understand how his asshole could do that to him while pushed down on the fire. It was Penucquem that should have cried out and ran away.

So Napi kept moving and thinking, he was traveling a long time in a big circle…

Napi walked and thought about it for so long that finally the large scab fell off of his rectum and still walking in a circle, he came across the scab and said “What do you know! Dry Meat!” Napi was getting hungry again about this time and he was happy to have found the dried meat some Indian had lost.

The Magpies shouted out to him “Napi! Don’t eat that! It fell off of your rectum!” Napi shouted back to the Magpies “You’re not fooling me, you just want this dry meat for yourselves!”

And then very delicately because there was not much of it, and with a lot of savor because he was hungry, and very deliberately, so the Magpies would envy him while watching, nip by nip, Napi ate his butt.

“Hun Neow Wah Nee Moo Oosss” (This is what your ass has to say)

The best part of the story about Napi eating his butt is, it was just such a good story I couldn’t help myself, I stole it from the Crees. I stole it from Wee-say-kay-cha (the Cree trickster) and gave it to our Napi. It’s a Blackfoot story now-

 *

“Two Medicine Men, both teachers, visited the big city and took in a service at the cathedral. Returning home, they took their Indian students on a journey of ‘Discovery.’

“First, they killed the nicest kid in the group and told the rest it was their fault for being born. But now, if they would eat the nice kid and drink his blood, calling it communion, they would not be held responsible for anything, ever.

“And this conferred upon them the right to tell other people how to live their lives- what they can and cannot do”  –Penucquem’s Journal

Related:

Life in Indian Country

Collected stories, folklore and anecdotes concerning my many years life with Blackfeet Indians and traversing Native American territories

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A former Special Forces Sergeant of Operations and Intelligence, Ronald Thomas West is a retired paralegal/investigator (living in exile) whose work focus had been anti-corruption and human rights. Ronald is published in International Law as a layman (The Mueller-Wilson Report, co-authored with Dr Mark D Cole) and has been adjunct professor of American Constitutional Law at Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz, Germany (for English credit, summer semester 2008.) Ronald’s formal educational background is primarily social psychology. His therapeutic device is satire, uh and yeah, he grew up with and spent most his life in close association with Indians…

Chief

A Modern Napi Story

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The Great Oxymoron

Lester Log Roller was from a family of Indians named for a drunken forebear who had been ‘challenged’ by some White loggers in the Pacific Northwest to participate in the “Logger Olympics” of sport unique to their profession. Lester’s forebear actually had brought off his performance quite well, while keeping his balance on a log in a pond which he managed to roll with agility, both forwards and backwards… his fame for the event however, was the wild look of panic on this Indians face with his braids flying askew, because this Indian did not know how to swim.

The Indian’s champion log rolling performance was purely survival driven which made the event all the more hilarious to the redneck Whites that had sent him onto the log at gunpoint. The chief of this White Redneck tribe’s sense of honor, his name was Lucious Ludicrous Bean, declared Log Roller should be allowed to live for his amazing ability to mimic the loggers in the sport (“Damn, who’d believed”), but the Indian would hereafter have to be known by the new name and answer to it.

The Indian agreed to the terms required to save his life while still on the log, and was subsequently fished out of the pond both before he had drowned and nearing sobriety, because he had finally fallen into the water from pure exhaustion. Log Roller’s descendant, Lester Log Roller, subsequently was from a family of Indians that did not drink. They knew better. He went to Law School instead

Nobody in the White Academic world knew how to create a Native Studies Program because in fact to postulate a program as such in the western classroom was oxymoron. Hell, they did not even know that. Native Studies, if it was Natives doing the studies, would be non-interfering in Nature, observing the processes from which all Native intelligence had been drawn. Lester Log Roller did not know that, because he had been off to Boarding School from age five and then off to University in Kanadada.

By this time, Lester had mastered the provincial English linguistic trick of stating the just so “Eh?” after postulating something as mundane as “How aboot (yucky pronunciations) we run to the trading post for some smokes. Eh?” And his Blackfoot language was rusty, such as the time he was home from boarding school to visit and his Aunt told him to go back out (he had just come in the door) and bring in the “Napi-aki.” Lester started to go back out, he was confused, but then resolutely faced his Aunt and told her “I don’t have a White woman!” She laughed and said in English “I’m not talking about White women, I want you to bring in the milk jug.” Lester felt dumb. Napi-aki could mean either milk jug or White woman, but he did not get the context. He had been too long away at school

Lester was a conscientious sort, and so when his undergraduate major in ‘Native Studies’ was decided on, he returned home in summers and brushed up on his Blackfoot Language. But he did not realize that the answer to bring his university into line with the political correctness of the new times had been to establish a White Anthropology program staffed by White-educated mentalities in people with Red skins and call it ‘Native Studies.’ And so, Lester, like the now countless other Red skinned people of Native descent, thought this was real. He should have remembered the Blackfoot proverb “Everyone knows the Whiteman is crazy.” But Lester could not know this now applied to himself. So Lester questioned his former people’s elders to get ideas for his papers he would need to write in the discipline of anthropology disguised with the ‘Native Studies’ euphemism. And thought he was Indian

Lester went on to Law School and eventually became Director of ‘Native Studies’ at a great university which had been duly impressed with his achievements in the Whiteman’s so-called field of ‘Indian Treaty Law,’ having nothing to do with actual Aboriginal Laws of past times, but which combined with the idea he spoke Blackfoot, seemed to make him eminently qualified to run their program.

Here at university he met the great White theoretical physicist David Bohm and they had discussed David’s curiousity as to why it had been noted as early as the 1920’s the Native American languages seemed to have no problem describing many phenomena of the new theoretical physics, which western languages had difficulty coping with. Lester had no idea why either, but it seemed there must be something to it and so they began a dialogue… and eventually Lester became a god. To at least three or four people.

Lester, later on retired and living in a townhouse in the better part of Lethbridge, Kanadada, had continued with his anthropological interest in studying his former people and was particularly interested in their form of government before they had been conquered. His anthropological studies got him up and running on three legs in Blackfoot ways, like the proverbial wild dog that had chewed off one leg to escape a trap… and that was about it

Lester had by this time taken over the dialogue and thought he had some things figured out: Like how the old time chiefs circle of oratory had worked. Not. What he attempted to replicate in fact became a lunatic caricature of what had been his ancestral wisdom. It was not meant to be evil and in fact it was not evil. It was merely stupid. But Lester could not know that

By this time, these dialogues, with David Bohm now dead, had become sponsored by a ‘Wannabee Indian’ organization called ‘New Age in Native America’ run by an anal-retent-hyper-liberal White intellectual who fancied himself an enlightened feminist man. Though one might suspect otherwise, this man was not ‘bi,’ neither bi-sexual, nor bi-cultural

Narcissus Yabadabadoo Montenegro was a “Coyote” in the strict local Hispanic sense of the term, that is a ‘Spanglo.’ You would never know to which community of his ancestry he was loyal to, because this sort of Coyote could only be loyal to himself. His ego was of a soft burnished sort, the kind of lovely passive-aggressiveness whose nasty aspect was presented in the effeminate dark side aroma of the flower he was named for. As a real Indian, you just did not want to get too close to Narcissus if you were to enjoy the genuine natural beauty of his expression. And so it also was with the NANA sponsored dialogues he so expertly organized for the world to know the truth of the New Age in Native America

When Narcissus gazed into the reflective pool of the soft loveliness in his ego, he could detect no offensive aroma. His ethnocidal nuance as applied to Native American thought and philosophy was of a much prettier and more refined sort than that established for his intellectual forebears in the psychological literature developed by Erich Fromm: who postulated the Nazis much enjoyed the smell of their own farts.

A far cry from the camps and ovens, the ethnocidal ‘thrust’ of Narcissus’ ego priapismic tendencies was to bring about the immolation of the Indians beliefs and thinking with grandiose graphics of Taoist imagery superimposed on Native American fruits and vegetables extrapolated to western print: advertising the many ‘Red Skinned [Elmer] Fudds’ (PhDs) he would gather alongside White skinned western scientists in a grand orgy of psyco-somatic ego-stroking masturbation in high intellectual workshops of inter-racial discourse

Napi fell for it in the beginning. It was attractive, because Lester, a Blackfoot Indian who could speak his language was master of ceremony and that fact, taken together with the promoted agenda of Native America’s relationship to an observational philosophy of Quantum Mechanics, convinced Napi at the start he would learn something. Well, Napi did learn some things, he just did not learn what he had expected, like a wider understanding of Native Quantum Reality. Napi learned about Quantum Mechanics in the laboratory from the White scientists and absolutely nothing at all from the many PhD Native Americans because they had no idea at all of how Native Quantum Reality functionally worked.

Damn, it was sad. Not one PhD, not a single PhD from either side of the Racial divide, understood that to be Native American in thought and philosophy had absolutely nothing to do with Race. PhD. Wow. The White western scientists were sometimes frustrated with the Red western scientists who could only tell stories from anthropology that were totally out of context and consequently nonsensical. That fact only made the Red western scientists equal to the White western scientists totally out of context with Nature and nonsensical lab experiments

Napi simply observed the first year he attended. The second year he contributed a little bit of real Indian thinking and freaked out Lester because it looked as though the entire event could be shown up as a case of ‘The Emperor Has No Clothes!’ The third year Napi had tried to explain to Narcissus and had approached Lester directly about making a contribution, how some things could change to open up the dialogues to real learning, but Napi was frozen out instead. No upsetting the gravy train of ego allowed here!

Rather the ‘face’ of the event was to be preserved at all costs, a portrait of the mysterious and knowledgeable Indian, Lester, presiding over an event that might one day yield his great secrets held in abeyance: to his lesser Native beings and the handful of toadying sycophant Whites who peered upon his Native holiness with expressions of Heavenly reverence as though they were alter-boys seated upon the left and right hands of God. In fact, it appeared to Napi that Lester didn’t know shit. Lester only knew how to rest on his laurels from his former Native Studies program directorship at Harvard, look important, and otherwise act cool and all knowing. That’s it.

chief2

This lampoon of Leroy Little Bear and the ‘Language of Spirit’ dialogues at SEED Open University, goes to the point of what you see isn’t what it was and what it was, is something you’re not going to get at any ‘native studies’ program, either…

The women’s secret societies had been the driving social engine in the Blackfoot culture, the anthropologists were males and males were NEVER admitted to these societies. The upshot is, when every sister, mother, daughter and wife of every man of consequence delivered identical message, the men would meet and take the nation in the direction these women had insisted upon. The anthropologists only saw the men meet and come to decisions. The ‘circle’ at SEED supposedly replicating the ancient native governance system, is entirely devoid of the matriarchal concept and background. An important note would be, the anthropologists were allowed to keep mistaken assumptions (mistaken assumptions that now are integrated material of so-called ‘native studies’) because the culture they were studying did not have a concept of correcting so-called ‘wrongs’, people are supposed to figure out their mistakes for themselves.

The Blackfoot word for wife, ni-naki, translates literally as “boss.” Ni-naki is the lesser form of the word ni-na-waki, which had been the highest form of Blackfoot chief in pre-contact times, and could only be a woman. The equality there was really quite balanced, with a slightly higher female authority, with great respect between the sexes and women had been fully entitled to be warriors, the term for such was sak-wo-ma-oui-aki-kwan, loosely translated as ‘defiant women.’

The men with more than one wife were seen by anthropologists as polygamists in the western sense, the western observers not realizing the women determined this. Close sisters or best friends shared the man and without this female consensus, polygamy did not happen. And it was the important women who determined who would be a man’s ‘sits besides him wife.’ In the present time, relating to any politically correct western anthropology program with the ‘native studies’ euphemism, it is the western ideas are coming to dominate the native perception of themselves, with the loss of language and oral tradition through enforced western educations, these people don’t even know who they were anymore. But what had been was, the women instilled the culture’s values and stability.

Another misconception is the countless forms of gender in the language, the western linguists puzzling over how so many masculine and feminine forms could be kept straight and why so many when in fact this was the language expressing varying degree of androgyny in descriptions, an alien concept to western linguists.

The unfortunate conclusions concerning the western culture, drawn from thirty plus years work bridging the cultural gap, can be read in my essay ‘You’ve Got Apes!

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The Satires

Related:

Life in Indian Country

Collected stories, folklore and anecdotes concerning my many years life with Blackfeet Indians and traversing Native American territories

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