Dine'

I came to northern Arizona to do a story about the Navajo - their history, and their way of life. As with many projects - nearly all, if I am to be honest, that deal with indigenous cultures, the going is slow - even when one has established contacts within the cultures. This time is no exception.
I arrived here with the guarantee that I would be able to tell the story of an 83 year old Navajo woman who still tends to her sheep, everyday, and still lives in the conditions of no electricity, and no running water. Heat is supplied by wood fires, but the wood must be collected in the hills. But as I was nearing my destination, I received word that the daughter, (who would be my translator), would not be available. Since the mother speaks only Navajo, the story was on hold.

But as good fortune would have it, I had another person that became available to tell their story. I was told to be there by 2:00p.m. yesterday afternoon. Just before leaving the house I received a call telling me that the youngest daughter was "getting ready" to load her bulls, for transport to another location.

I arrived just in time for the loading of the three bulls; an event that was not photographically powerful, but was great to witness. It also opened a door for another possible story within this budding project. But just as I arrived at the house, I was told that there was a bit of an emergency: the horses had escaped from the corral. Locating them, and returning them, was now the priority.

While the search went on for the horses, I had time to talk with the youngest daughter about her role in the business - that her father had started in 1976. I was also able to make a few photographs of the bulls being loaded.

Shortly after finishing, the horses were on their way back. When I saw Freddie (the father) walking across the plains, with the horses, I knew hat a great photograph was to be had. I began to make my way, on foot, towards Freddie - shooting frames along the way.

After the horses were returned to the corral, it was time to sit down with Freddie; but that was not to happen. There was a snafu that would prevent it - a very understandable snafu, indeed. Instead, Freddie and I stood outside, for several minutes, to talk informally. He told me of his ranching, and his raising of bulls - for the rodeo, which he intended to keep doing - in his partial retirement. I made tentative plans to photograph him early next week - "if" he was going out to the ranch, where he kept his bulls. It would mean that I will ned to stay on a few extra days, but well worth it if it can happen.

This is their world, that I have entered into; not my world that they have joined into. And these two worlds are very different - in the way that things unfold. To lose sight of that is to be callous, and arrogant - on my part. I believe in this story; but more so, I believe in this culture. I believe that their story needs to be told - as much for them, as for those on the outside. I believe that there is much to be learned from them - the Navajo people.

_David