HAVE A PLAN OF ACTION

Black Bear: 

Some years ago, I was asked to attend a community meeting at a small reservation in one of the western states. Two young men took their lives within a four-month period and the community was scared. They came together for comfort, for information, and to discuss what they could do to prevent further suicide attempts. They wanted to save their young people and achieve some sort of healing.

I had been invited because of my research in suicide prevention among Native young people, however, they did not specify what topic they wanted me to address, or, present on. I was struck by the size of the crowd. The total population of the community was only about 400 and nearly 175 were in attendance. I noticed immediately the lack of any young people--all in attendance were adults. Since I was the last presenter, I sat back to listen.

The first presenter was a Catholic priest in his 70's. He was gentle and kindly. He told the people they must have faith. They must pray. He said, "God loves us. Only He knows why these things have to happen."

The second presenter was a psychologist from the Indian Health Service. He spent all of his time talking about studies, giving statistics, and answering questions. "Why did this young person kill himself?" "Why did this have to happen?" "Why........?" At first I was a little irked. I thought, "If you want to know why this is going on, why don't you ask the kids, they will tell you."

I began to think about my role. I remembered watching grandmothers, aunties, or older ladies, and that whenever there was a death in the family, or some other trauma, they would always get busy doing something. They would begin to cook, for they knew the people would need to be fed, or, they would begin to clean--sweeping, dusting, picking up. It didn't seen to matter--only that they were doing something. Trauma, especially the loss of your children or other loved ones, creates a confusion, a depression, a swirl of negative energy that frequently prevents rational thinking. It looks and acts like a "black cloud" that hangs over you--it blocks the light and keeps you in a state of hopelessness. If one is allowed to remain in this state, our elders tell us "that one too will become ill". The grandmothers intuitively understood this and began to work, to do something--they undertook a task that would get them moving and out of their head.

Now it was my turn. I thought, yes, the people needed to have their faith reaffirmed and be told to pray. The apparent randomness and sudden violence needed to be put in some "universal or cosmic" order. The people also needed for someone to explain "why" to them. There was, however, one critical element missing. No one had told them how to deal with the intense pain, fear and loss, no one had helped them formulate a plan of action, and no one had given them tasks to do.  A critical component of prevention is intervention!!  And, intervention requires a plan, and, action.  The community and families must reach out to those that are high risk. WE need to take care of our own.  We must not expect others to do it!!

When we read these words, we see the “wisdom” of our elders—the wisdom that comes out of living life, in frequently harsh landscapes—becoming resilient through self-subsistence--understanding the natural world around them—“listening”, “seeing”, and “feeling” the traditional lessons of those that have gone before.

And, these lessons are still real today!

Peter Matthiessen, author of In The Spirit of Crazy Horse, crossed over this past week.  In his book, Matthiessen quoted Okute, or “Shooter” (Lakota), “We see the change in our ponies.  In the old days they could stand great hardship and travel long distance without water.  They lived on certain kinds of food and drank pure water.  Now our horses require a mixture of food; they have less endurance and must have constant care.  It is the same with the Indians; they have less freedom and they fall an easy prey to disease.  In the old days they were rugged and healthy, drinking pure water and eating the meat of the buffalo, which had a wide range, not being shut up like cattle of the present day.  The water of the Missouri River is not pure, as it used to be, and many of the creeks are no longer good for us to drink.”

WISDOM OF THE ELDERS:

by: Black Bear from the Blackfeet Tribe in Montana--an artist/scholar


The drum stopped and the plaintive song ended.  The circle of dancers slowed and came to a halt, looking at each other with bright shining eyes, still breathing hard, not wanting to cease.

Napi knew in his heart that a healing of the people had occurred.  This circle had come together in pain and fear, wanting to pray and lift the darkness that covered their community.  Now elders and young people hugged and laughed, and for a moment thoughts of those relatives who had taken their own lives were gone.  Napi knelt before the altar and smudged himself with the pungent sage and gave thanks to the Creator.

The curling smoke carried him to a night years before, to the Chuska Mountains of Arizona.  A wizened Navajo elder squatted over a crackling juniper fire and sipped his black coffee.  Napi asked him, "Why are our young people taking their lives?"  Napi waited for him to respond.  Some fifteen minutes passed before the old man replied, "We do not talk of death."  Napi waited for more, but none came.  His mind raced, thinking of the many young lives lost to the people of the Wind River reservation.  How could you not talk about death?

Napi remembered talking with a Wind River social worker about the clustering of suicides--all young people. There were many reasons given--alcoholism, poverty, joblessness, abandonment, loss of culture, sexual abuse and other forms of violence.  Napi knew that these were superficial and only symptoms of a deeper hurt.  The social worker said that many experts on suicide and prevention came to Wind River offering assistance and money for studies.  The tribes began turning away outside offers of assistance--unless there was something offered that the people did not already know.

The tribal government tried to mandate that there would be no more suicides.  There were many community meetings, but nine young lives were lost in two months!  It wasn't until they became very afraid that they began looking "inside" for the answers and turned to their traditional ways.  The spiritual leaders and pipe carriers performed a ceremony that had not been performed for sixty years.  The pattern was broken.  There have been suicides since then, but not the hysteria or clustering.

Suddenly, Napi understood what the Navajo elder had told him about not "talking about death".  Our traditional ways give us guidelines for living and for dealing with death. Our elders tell us that "to speak it will make it happen".  Death is such a powerful symbol that it is not good to speak casually about it.  There are ceremonies to help the people grieve and honor the passing of the spirit to the other side.  When the grieving is over, the people are to get on with their lives.  There are other ceremonies that help the people to heal.  There are also ceremonies to celebrate life and its passages.

But, we seem to have forgotten our ways.  Today, we mostly talk about them--we no longer live them.

With a rush, Napi came back into the circle of dancers now.  Tears came to his eyes.  Thank you Creator, thank you, for showing us the way.