wfn.org | Commentary: A Native reflects on war and military service

["NewsDesk" <NewsDesk@UMCOM.ORG>]

May 1, 2003 News media contact: Linda Green7(615) 742-54707Nashville, Tenn.  
  10-34-71B{250}

NOTE:  A head-and-shoulders photo of Ray Buckley is available at
http://umns.umc.org/photos/headshots.html.

A UMNS Commentary
By Ray Buckley*

In Tuba City, Ariz., there was singing coming from the high school. It was
not the sound of a glee club or the school choir.  It was the sound of prayer
floating from the building into the dry high-desert air.  Seven hundred
people from the community had gathered to pray for a local woman who was in
trouble. Her name, heard in the prayers, was Pfc. Lori Piestewa
(Pie-ESS-te-wa), and she was missing in action in Iraq. 

Millions around the world had seen her picture via CNN and MSNBC.  For many,
Lori Piestewa was the first Native face they had seen. They did not know the
difference between a Hopi and a Navajo.  Many had not thought of Native
people serving in the military.  Many more Americans had never seen a woman
soldier missing in action, and Lori's face, along with others, became stamped
in our memories. For this moment in time, Lori Piestewa had become the most
famous Native face in the world.

Federal policies often pit Hopi and Navajo interests against each other. The
small Hopi reservation, surrounded by the expanse of the Navajo world, seems
almost afloat in a desert sea. Still, over the course of several days, Native
people--Hopi and Navajo-- responded in traditional fashion.  They stood in
lines outside of the Piestewa family home, bringing gifts of food and
comfort--and praying.  

On this night, the 700 gathered in a gymnasium prayed that a hometown girl
would be found safe.  Believing that "we are all related," they prayed for
sons and daughters of other mothers and fathers, and also for the families
and children of Iraq.  Somewhere, others were singing too, and their songs
were carried to heaven, mixing with the songs and prayers for Lori Piestewa.

Across the United States and Canada, other Native communities saw the face of
Lori Piestewa.	It was a face that could be theirs, or that of their child or
their mother.  War is always different when you recognize your own face. 
People began singing and praying in the Native languages of Osage, Cree,
Haida, Seminole, and Ojibway.  Drums played among the Dakota, Kalispell,
Pima, and Micmac.  Salish voices were heard, as well as Kickapoo and Choctaw.
 In the land of the Hopi and Navajo, so familiar with flocks of sheep,
prayers were prayed for the safety of this lamb, this one of us.  Others
prayed for the somebody-who-looks-like-me. 

It was a matter of a few days really, such a small space of time to the
mountains and the rivers.  The Native adage, "Only the mountains live forever
upon the earth," seemed to echo through the hollow space in our hearts.  Lori
Piestewa had come home.  Her body had been returned to Tuba City, but we were
honoring her living spirit. We stood quietly in long lines, holding pictures
of other soldiers, or those who had fought many years before.  We held eagle
feathers and Bibles, crucifixes and sweetgrass.  When we spoke to her family,
our voices were soft, and we seldom made eye contact.  We were honoring this
daughter, this sister, this mother, this friend, and this
one-who-was-like-us.  We sang in many languages. Our weeping was the same,
for laughter and tears are the same the world over. We sang for Lori
Piestewa, who was among us, and for those who had no one to sing for them. 
We are singing still.	

Native people have fought in every war involving this nation.  When we could
be sold into slavery, we fought.  Before we were citizens, our people served
in the military. Before we were allowed to be treated in public hospitals,
our soldiers served. The languages of our people protected U.S. and Allied
troops. Choctaw voices in World War I, and Comanche and Navajo in World War
II, confused those we were fighting against. When our soldiers came home, our
people held healing ceremonies to ease their minds, and we welcomed others
who were not Native, but had no one to sing for them. 

We are deeply familiar with loss.  We understand hunger.  We understand
death.	But we understand prayer, and we value healing.  We have carried our
homes and our churches on our backs, but we know where we find each other, we
find community.  Our strength and our survival have been in our prayers and
our communities.  We are people of the song.

A Song for Those Far Away

We have said your name on the wind.
It is coming toward you.
It is coming toward you.
We have danced a prayer upon the earth.
It is moving toward you.
It is moving toward you.
We have sung for you a sacred song.
We are singing with you.
We are singing with you.
We have called Creator with our hearts.
He is standing with you.
He is standing with you.

# # #
*Buckley is director of the Native People's Communications Office at United
Methodist Communications in Nashville, Tenn.

Commentaries provided by United Methodist News Service do not necessarily
represent the opinions or policies of UMNS or the United Methodist Church. 

*************************************
United Methodist News Service
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