“WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A SHEPHERD.”

I imagine that is what my grandfather said when he was a young boy growing up near Blanco Canyon in New Mexico.  I remember him telling me stories about when he used to herd sheep as a child.  That is until he was ‘enrolled’ in school.  At a young age my grandfather was removed from his home and sent to a boarding school.  There he was forbidden from speaking Navajo, practicing Navajo traditions and culture, and even learning from his elders.  He was made to pick an English name and a birthday.  Everything that was ‘Navajo’ was pushed aside and replaced with what was ‘American’.  He no longer was given the option of becoming a shepherd when he grew up.  He was forced, at an early age, into a whole new world and this world had little value or patience for who he was or where he came from.

In an effort to give their children the best possible chance of surviving in this new world, my grandparents encouraged them in English and in their education.  At the same time, they also heavily deemphasized the Navajo language and traditional way of life.  As a child, I saw my grandparents nearly every day and for several years, as they grew older, I practically lived with them, sleeping at their house nearly every night.  But they rarely spoke Navajo to me and only told me stories when I asked, which was not very frequent.  As a result, I never considered becoming a shepherd.  I never considered moving back to the Reservation.  I thought I was to take the path that led deep into this ‘new world’ that lay before me.  I graduated from Rehoboth Christian high school and enrolled at the University of California, Los Angeles.  And I have to admit; upon leaving for college I had no plans of ever returning for anything more than a brief visit.

But nearly 12 years later (about 5 years ago), I moved with my family from where we were living in Denver, CO back to the Navajo Nation.  Ever since I left for college and especially as I began raising a family I began to realize how important it was to understand who I was and where I came from.  I wanted to understand and speak the Navajo language and to become familiar with our culture and traditional way of life.  The world is becoming more and more integrated and assimilated; television, radio, the internet and the Global Marketplace are bringing people together in ways that were never imagined even 25 years ago.  Unfortunately, as we are being drawn ‘together’ we are also being stripped of many of the things that make us different and unique; things such as language, cultural traditions and dress.  Kids on the Navajo reservation are sitting in our trailers and hogans watching TV and surfing the internet and being bombarded with the same ‘ideal’ images for body, clothing, careers and life styles as the kids in Beverly Hills, Manhattan and Miami.  Our Navajo children look around and see the unemployment and depressed economy of the reservation and quickly realize that learning to herd sheep, speaking Navajo and knowing their clans will be of little value in this new global economy.  So they learn the same thing my grandfather was told, that things which make us distinctive and unique are supposed to be shed and tossed aside in an effort to ‘fit in’ and succeed.

This is exactly what happened to me, and after I realized it I was incredibly grateful that I still had a chance to reverse my course and offer my children something different.  So my family and I moved back to the Navajo reservation and were given an opportunity to live in a one room hogan out on a sheep camp located on a dirt road six miles off of the nearest paved road.  For three years we lived there with no running water or electricity.  We had a dirt floor and an outhouse about 50 yards away.  Sheep, cows and horses frequently grazed right outside our door, and we lived alongside and at the mercy of the elements (wind, cold, heat, rain, snow and mud).

Since graduating from college I have been trained and began working as a computer programmer and data analyst doing technical support, database design and web programming.  And while living in Denver I started doing contract work for companies remotely, outside of the Denver area.  Most of the time, I would telecommute over the internet and occasionally would travel to visit my clients on site.  Prior to our move back to the Navajo Nation, I tested and discovered that I could receive a digital cellular signal at our hogan.  This meant I would be able to keep working for my clients; by connecting my cell phone to my laptop I could use it as a modem and get on the internet at DSL speeds (I call myself the Verizon Wireless poster child).  Once I was on the internet, I could perform all of my assigned duties for the clients I was working for, or at least in 3-4 hour segments, which was the battery life of my laptop and cell phone.  But I was also able to charge them in our car if a longer work session was necessary.  I found this arrangement worked out extremely well and was delighted that I could give my children the experience of growing up in a very traditional Navajo setting while still demonstrating to them that we could also actively participate in the Global Marketplace.  I especially remember one afternoon, I was returning from herding sheep.  It was the first time I took them out by myself, and it felt like a graduation of sorts.  I recently had completed a computer contract, and we were beginning to wonder where my next project would come from.  I had my cell phone with me and as we came up over the hill, I saw that I had received a voicemail.  A previous client of mine had called to let me know they had some additional work for me and were wondering if I could begin working for them again soon.  Some of the work would require travel, but much of it could be done from our hogan.  I remember at that moment feeling a surge of pride, hope and purpose.  What a wonderful privilege it was to be able to raise my children in such a culturally traditional and rural environment and yet still have the opportunity to work in such a technically advanced and competitive field.

About a year and a half later my family and I moved from our hogan to Fort Defiance.  Our current house is still located on a dirt road, but now we do have electricity and running water.  I am still doing contract work and have clients around the country that I consult for on a continual basis.  My oldest son attends Dine Bi’olta, the Navajo Immersion school here in Fort Defiance.  At his school, Navajo is the primary language of instruction, and he is learning daily about the culture and traditions of our people as well as math, science and reading skills.  We regularly travel back to our hogan and occasionally pull him out of school so he can participate in activities with family on the sheep camp and around the community.  I see all of this as a valuable part of his education and understanding of his identity.  He knows and sees that daddy works on his computer and often has meetings with people around the country and even the world.  He also knows that at times I need to travel to do my work, but frequently I am able to do it from our house in Fort Defiance or even from our hogan out at the sheep camp.  And this is exactly what I want him to learn.  I want my son to know that he can live on our reservation, participate in a traditional way of life and spend time talking with and learning from the elders of our community while at the same time also participating, competing and succeeding in the new Global Marketplace.

I miss my grandparents and often wish they could have lived long enough to see the full circle I have traveled.  I know my grandfather would be proud of where we live and how we are raising our children.  And I think he would agree with me when I say that I am convinced that the future leaders of our Navajo people, our country and the world, will not just be those who have successfully navigated and mastered the academic and economic paths laid before them.  But they will also have a deep understanding of their own identity and a strong connection to the communities they come from.  These leaders will know who they are both within, as well as separate from, the Global Marketplace.  They will know how to navigate through it, but will not allow it to define them.  And their children will have the opportunity to say “WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A SHEPHERD.”

Mark R. Charles
mcharles@wirelesshogan.com
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PAVED ROADS

“Be still and know that I am God”

That is the exhortation we hear from God in Psalms 46:10. But how possible is this in our modern technological world? What does it mean to be still before God? I used to think I understood this but after living for 3 years on the Navajo reservation in a traditional hogan with no electricity or running water, no television, no hot showers or washing machines; no microwaves or refrigerators, no public transportation or paved roads leading up to my house, I found there is a level of stillness that I never knew existed.

In Genesis chapter 11 we read the story of the tower of Babel. The inhabitants of the earth were increasing and they decided to build a tower in order to make a name for themselves, lest they be scattered abroad upon the face of the earth. The people wanted to trust in themselves and place their confidence in their own efforts and technology. And even what they built made sense. If you are few in numbers and the environment is harsh, it makes perfect sense to build a city and erect a tower. The city walls will provide security within and the tower will allow those traveling outside the walls to be able to go a greater distance and still see the way home.

But God wanted the people to trust in him and so he came down and confused their language and scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth. This passage is a good reminder for us to keep our trust in God and not rely upon the works of our own hands. And that is an easy thing to do; as long as our hands are producing something. It is easy to trust in God for our daily bread when we have a good job and receive a regular paycheck. It is easy to trust God for our future when we have a retirement fund and a savings account. It is easy to trust in God for our health, when we have excellent insurance and live near a good hospital.

Our towers of Babel have been there for so long and have become such a part of our landscape that we do not even realize that we trust in them anymore. Every day we wake up, see the tower and know where we are. We feel at peace because the tower is there. That is, until the tower is gone. How do our hearts feel when the paycheck is no longer available? What is our response when we are laid off and our health insurance policy is declined or Social Security in on the verge of going bankrupt? Panic sets in. Our hearts cry out, “We need these things. That is how God provides for us.” We have become so accustomed to our towers of Babel that we no longer see them as ‘our towers’; we see them as gifts from God. And when they are gone we feel as if God has left us!

“God where are you? We cannot see the tower you gave us!” We scream as we run to where the tower used to be. “God, please help us to rebuild this tower. We need it! Please God! Where are you? Where is the beautiful tower you gave us?”

But God is silent.

Bills come due, sickness sets in, and our credit ratings take a hit.

And still God is silent

“God!” we scream, “where is the tower? We cannot see it. We are lost. Please help us!”

Finally, we fall silent. The screaming is over. We are hungry, cold and sick. The towers are gone, God is silent, and we feel as if there is nothing left. But then we remember the words of the Psalmist. “Be still and know that I am God.”
God is the God of creation. He created the mountains, oceans and deserts. The animals, fish and birds of the air are the work of His hands. Every morning He paints the sunrise and every sunset is His masterpiece. Rain, snow, earthquakes and volcanoes are the signs of his power, blessing and judgment. God is the God of creation.

We are the people of the towers. Skyscrapers and cities, airports and harbors, insurance policies and saving accounts; all of these are the fruits of our labors. We have erected them to create a name for ourselves. And when we see them we feel safe and secure.

But God speaks through his creation. He called Moses in a burning bush. Every rainbow is a sign of God’s promise to never again destroy the earth in a flood. Often when we read of, or see, God’s judgment, He is using His creation to destroy our towers. And yet, in our foolishness we continue to challenge Him and build bigger and better towers. We build skyscrapers high into the sky and put the foundations on springs or rollers to protect against earthquakes. We build our beautiful homes on the edge of cliffs so that we may have a view others will covet. We send people to the moon and place our flag there, as if to claim some sort of ownership. We offer ‘Lifetime warranties’ on our products and sell insurance policies to cover everything imaginable. “God will not win,” we say, “we will prevail.”

I did not realize how much this mentality permeated my thinking until we moved to our hogan that is located on a dirt road, six miles off the nearest paved road. The dirt road is pure clay and when it gets wet from rain or snow it is practically impassable. In fact, I have gotten stuck on this road numerous times as I traveled home in the rain. Once I was able to walk home, but another time my family and I had to spend the night in the car. So I have quickly learned that when it rains we do not go out.

One Friday as my wife and I were getting ready for bed, I checked the weather. It had been a beautiful sunny day, so I was surprised to see the forecast calling for 3 days of rain and snow beginning that very night. We had planned to go grocery shopping the next day as we were nearly out of food and water, but when we saw the forecast we decided that I should drive the 25 miles into Window Rock immediately in order to pick up what we needed in case we were stuck at the hogan in the snow for the next 3 days. So I did.

The next morning the sky was cloudy but no rain or snow fell. After a couple of hours of debating we decided to head back into Window Rock to run a few more errands. We took our 4×4 truck just in case the rains came. They never came. The next day was exactly the same. It was cloudy in the morning and we debated back and forth on whether or not to drive the 60 miles to church. We finally decided to try it, again taking our 4×4 truck so we would have a better chance of making it back home should the rains come.

On our way to church, as we were driving the final 4 miles up a winding road back in the hills deep in the heart of the reservation, I noticed it had been raining quite hard. There were pools of water all over the ground and some small streams still ran alongside the road. But I also noticed I was not afraid. In fact I felt no tension at all, for the road was paved. “If this were the road near our hogan” I said to myself, “I would be very worried, for we could get stuck at any moment and have to walk several miles back home.”

When it rains at our hogan we literally cannot go anywhere, so we sit. We read books, we pray, we spend time as a family. We are still and in that stillness we remember God. When it rains at our hogan we can hear God inviting us, saying, “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere. Be still and know that I am God.” But if our road were paved we probably would not hear God’s voice in this way, for the weather would have very little impact on our lives. Even during the rain and snow we could still get in our truck and do what we needed. We could go where we wanted and do as we pleased. We would feel safe and secure thinking God was with us, because look, He has blessed us, the road is paved. Our tower is strong. We can go about our business.

We would never realize that with the pitter patter of the falling rain God was faintly whispering, “Wait, don’t go! Be still and know that I am God.”

Mark Charles
mcharles@wirelesshogan.com