An Elder's Words
The unspoken culture of San Diegan ancestry
By Tai Gomez
By Tai Gomez
As I sat in the kitchen of a Kumeyaay elder ‘Uncle’ Nick Elliot, I felt nervous. Family pictures, woven baskets and artwork hung from the brightly colored kitchen walls. Uncle Nick lives on the Manzanita Kumeyaay Reservation where he grew up. During our interview, Uncle Nick told me about his views on the treatment of native people. “They have never stopped trying to get rid of indians.” I did not understand what he meant. At first I thought he was talking about the settlers and the removal of native people to reservations. When I asked him about hardships growing up on the reservation: education, poverty, or plain danger? He chuckled, “Those were all challenges you know, my father worked a dollar a day, Sundays he got eight dollars.” Money was always tight in Uncle Nick’s family which was composed of his two older brothers and his father, who was a day laborer. Uncle Nick told me that “one of the biggest problems growing up was discrimination.” When he young he was called things like “dirty old Indian” or “crazy Indian.” At one point, he went to jail for fighting. Nearly a third of all American Indian victims of violence are between ages 18 and 24. I thought about how it must have been hard to identify as Native American. I asked him if he ever hid from it. “It was never hard to identify as an Indian.” When folks in town would say those things he and his friends always had smart answers—things like, “Excuse me, I took a bath this morning.” I asked Uncle Nick about life before and after the casinos were built on the more famous Kumeyaay lands. “Well, you gotta look at how we grew up.” Uncle Nick spoke of the 40’s and how the people have been suffering for a long time. “We give you these lands, these are yours. You can do anything you want with them... they said. But you can't put a casino or any businesses on it without our permission.” Most non-natives in the U.S. have been taught to believe that American Indians and their culture cease to exist after 1900. 87 percent of references to American Indians in all 50 states’ academic standards portray them in a pre-1900 context. “Students in schools across the country learn about the first Thanksgiving, perpetuating a fairy tale about struggling pilgrims and the friendly Indians who shared a harvest banquet.” For the majority of elementary and secondary students, lessons like these may be the only time they learn about American Indians at all. A staggering 87 percent of references to American Indians in all 50 states’ academic standards portray them in a pre-1900 context. “They have never stopped trying to get rid of indians.” It became clear to me what he meant. My final question to Uncle Nick that day was are native americans represented honorably in San Diego? “Are we represented as Kumeyaay people? No we are not.” The Kumeyaay people are at the far left wall at the Museum of man with their three beautifully woven baskets and hut house display united in a blown up dark brown photograph. What's left are the Sycuan, Vieja, Barona billboards. This made me think of the difference between the two one was united the other separated. I took a look at how these Kumeyaay bands represented themselves.They put in a lot of money to build new stadiums to attract more city folk to their casinos. Uncle Nick is concerned that they look so concerned with their share that they can't see themselves as one nation one Kumeyaay people. This made me think about this as a double edged sword—on one side are native peoples divided into their own tribes in modern San Diego, and on the other the integrated image of Kumeyaay people with little acknowledgement as the indigenous culture of their city. A double-edged sword may be a bad thing; separate problems are coming together to break apart the identity of native people. But a sword can be useful, too—it can be used to cut through the display, it can be used to slice away outer layers to reveal the truth that hides underneath, and it can be used to protect. |