My mother is a tough Lady. She always tells us: “Don’t whine”.
Uncle Joe is a CPA. We call him “Chief Joseph” to bug him. He grins: “I’m not a Nez-percé. I’m Umatilla.”
I tease him: “Wasn’t your great-grandmother a Walla Walla?”
My aunt works two jobs, but it doesn’t matter. (Don’t whine). Plus, they have all come to the Roundup: the Umatilla, the Cayuse, the Walla Walla, even the Nez-percés, the Yakama, the Palouse and others.
This is me, wondering what the background will be? I mean, what am I looking at?
What? Monument Valley? Seriously? What are they thinking? I want to talk to the manager! Producer. Whatever.
That’s better. Me again. Get ready for the annual Roundup of the Confederate tribes of the Umatilla reservation. I will be your host today.
My mother says our people have been living here for 10,000 years. In what the white man now calls Oregon. She should know. Her name is Sacagawea, after the Shoshone woman who traveled West with Lewis and Clark.
Uncle Joe (Chief Joseph, hehe) says that Lewis and/or Clark were the first white men our people met. They were in a bad shape. We gave them food and shelter. Also a horse. An Appaloosa probably. They were “invented” around here. By the Nez-percés I think. (The author of this post adamantly refuses to draw an Appaloosa. He claims horses are wayyy to difficult to draw. ‘Sides, he already drew some in a previous post).
My cousin (right) is called Wolf necklace. He’s working his way through College. He says that Clark or Lewis, when they received the horse, wanted to trade it for something. Our chief smiled and said: “A gift is a gift. We expect nothing in exchange.” White men don’t understand zilch. I’m just being polite, my mother is close-by. She will have no cussin’.
I like my dress. So far. But the background is wrong. Monument valley? That is Navajo land. Not John Wayne’s not John Ford’s. Nor Jimmy Stewart’s or Gary Cooper’s. Navajo land. ‘Sides, there’s a highway to the left. And a diner… Spoils the view.
My land is forest and trees, and rivers and water, and prairies… Not a desert… 🌵
My mother and my aunt did our costumes for the Roundup. The old way. The blue and red beads? Takes ages to sew. (And a hell to paint, the author whines) But it’s worth it. A testimony of who we are. Are. Not were.
My aunt says there were only 250,000 left of our nations at the end of 19th century. No-one really knows how many of us there were before the white man came. We’re close to 3 millions now. We’ve come a long way.
Did I mention Uncle Joe is a CPA? He’s also the appointed CEO of the tribe’s casino in Pendleton, Oregon. Many of the 574 tribes run casinos. I find it ironic that the white man’s greed is one of the main sources of income of the tribes. 😂
Okay. The dress is all right. But why on earth did you chose this “décor”? Hey Mister? Talkin’ to you. 😉
I see. The sunset. Aren’t you colour-blind? (Ever so slightly, Dear, but the paint tubes have the colour name written on them. Helps)
My name is Shoni, after the WNBA player. I’m a pre-med at Oregon State. I’m too short to play basket-ball, but I’ll be the best Doc around. I hope you enjoyed the Confederate Tribes Roundup… Stay safe. 😷
Author’s note: a heartfelt thank you to Randal Collis, aka Dalo. He already inspired my sketching and painting for a previous post on Women of excellence. These are based loosely on some of the mind-blowing photos he posted of the Pendleton Roundup. Great shots. You MUST visit his post:
His work has been truly inspiring, though I’m not sure I will draw/paint so much detail in the future, the little beads are nerve-racking… Having said that working on Dalo’s photos has given me ideas for further topics… and helped my hand improve some. (Still do many mistakes. There is room for improvement.) Thank you Dalo.
And thank you all for flying Equinoxio Airways again. You’re the reason I keep posting and experimenting. Stay safe.