Tohono O'odham......

The Papago. The name of the Amerind Tribe where I grew up on the outskirts of Tucson. The picture is of San Xavier del Bac, the White Dove of the Desert, a mainstay of the Reservation area.

Just kinda feeling like remembering tonight.....it feels good sometimes. I had a number of Papago friends growing up, there being no "Indian School" that properly educated anyone, let alone the kids.

Since I've been gone, the Tribe has officially changed their moniker back to the original Tohono O'odham......seems the Mexicans and Anglos tossed the Papago term out at them and it stuck.

Hey, can't blame them, the New-Old name has a nicer ring to it, and they named themselves......"People of the Desert".

A proud and peaceful people....steeped in the Traditions. Their only mortal enemy, that they recognised, was the Maricopas.....a marauding, merciless band of Apache. A number of historians cede credit to the Papago for getting them in essence wiped from the face of the earth.

But not until after Harvest. They would be attacked, their women stolen, raped, their fields ravaged.....they would wait. And they would respond in overwhelming force, using whatever additional weapons they might have access to after the Season's crop was safely in the larder..

Comes to mind, the Camp Grant Massacre of 1871 in which a group of Mexicans, Anglos, and Papagos killed a few hundred unsuspecting Apaches who ostensibly were under protection of the United States Army. Earlier that year they had attacked a Papago village.

Don't ever mess with a pissed off Papago....or Tohono O'odham. Wollf? I was Friend. It didn't hurt at all that the kids, my buddies and the Elders were mesmerised by my Grandfather's history. And of course that I gravitated to sports that they embraced....Wrestling and Boxing.

Football, basketball, baseball......games. Fighting and learning to defend yourself and your Chosen.......necessary. My High School was primarily Hispanic, with a few Anglos and Amerinds tossed into the mix. Life was interesting for this little Wollf.

Funny....well maybe, story.....Virgil, I hope you take this well if you're still with us...... After Varsity Wrestling meets, or sometimes just to do it, a number of friends would drive the couple of miles out to the Resevation Gate, visit with and get an Amerind Gentleman to purchase our small and motley group of teenaged Anglos, Amerinds and Hispanics, a case of beer at the local Mini Mart.

Usually cost us a bottle of Thunderbird.....yuck. Then we'd move on out to the Reservation Graveyard at about dusk.....weave our way between the Headstones and Crosses, and sit on the central bluff and get.......tipsy.

Virgil....remember him? He was the Native Police. He was charged during his shift until ten o'clock each night, to make sure that things were secure, and that no mischief was performed on his Reservation, on his watch.

Unfortunately for him, my friend Augustine, a fellow Papago, knew Virgil well, and knew also that his Superstition would not allow him to enter the Lair of his Ancestor's Spirits after dusk.

I wonder if I'll go to hell for taking advantage of his deep-felt beliefs? Thus the idea for drinking in a place where the Local Gendarmerie, which knew us well, and the Native Police couldn't touch us.

We drank with the Ancestors. We regaled each other with tales of Heroism, of Girls, of our strength in our battles......and heard stories from the Papago Youth among us of their History.

All the while, poor Officer Virgil.....constrained by an invisible boundary that he could not cross....shouted at us to "Come out of there Boys!! It's dangerous!! You are not allowed!! You are drinking!! Come out Now!!"

We didn't. We invited him in...."We're right here Virgil! Come on in and we'll go peaceably!"

"You boys know that I can't!!", he'd cry.

We'd wait till ten o'clock, at the end of his shift.......we'd hear him start his cruiser, and we'd hot foot it to the Reservation Gate. By the time he had complained, traded his Cruiser to his replacement, and he got back to the "Misbehavers"....we were out of jurisdiction.

We'd wait around by the gate for a bit and wave goodnite to Virgil, who was good natured enough to wave back....and then we'd meander home.

Somehow, I think old Virgil enjoyed the game as much as we did. Sleep well Virgil. I remember you.

Thanks for listening.....someday, I promise....I'll edit a few of these and try to make them interesting......

Wollf