A Real Trading Post

The other day I was standing behind the counter when a woman walked up, looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Is this a real trading post?” Although I was a bit surprised by her direct approach, it was neither the first time I had heard the question, nor the first time I had been anxious about answering it.

From a historical point of view, the answer to the woman’s question is very complicated and is probably no. From a contemporary perspective, the response is less complex, however, a careless reply can lead to a real mess. That’s because a “yes” will almost always be followed by, “Well, if it is, I have something to trade.” That usually means the individual has an item he or she doesn’t want, and feels their less than treasured belonging should be in the trading post collection of unsaleable items. At this point the collection is substantial, so Barry and I are cautious when it comes to enlarging it.

Over the years we have acquired a number of beautiful parking lot stones from children just beginning to hone their trading skills. There have also been a few completely unidentifiable acquisitions from the local Navajo people who, “only need a few bucks for gas”. One of those acquisitions has become very useful as a door stop.

I am also always a little afraid the something will turn out to be a disgruntled spouse or an out of control child, and under those circumstances I prefer to keep my rugs, jewelry and baskets. Although I like spouses (I have had a couple myself) and children, I currently have just enough to satisfy my needs, and am confident Barry feels the same. This is, however, Utah and an extra spouse and lots of unruly children wouldn’t be extraordinary.

Since I generally want to avoid the second question until I have a feel for what type of person I am dealing with, and whether it really is a spouse or child they want to unload, I often launch into a discussion about early trading posts. That allows me time to properly evaluate the situation, gather information and craft an appropriate response when the trade question arises. From time to time it also greatly irritates the customer.

Since I was in my information gathering phase, I began explaining to the woman how the earliest Indian traders were itinerant, and that they would load their wagons in towns like Gallup and Farmington, New Mexico, hitch up their teams and set out on their journeys into Navajo and Hopi lands. I described how these individuals traded pots, pans, coffee, flour, canned goods, saddles, lumber and other items for livestock, weavings, pottery and other hand crafted goods that were then brought back and sold to the Anglo market.

Since there was little money to be had, the transactions between the Indian people and the traders were generally exchanges of one item for another; seldom did cash change hands. I told my companion that about the only thing we traded at Twin Rocks was money for arts and crafts, and concluded that part of the discussion by saying that I felt that fact alone indicated this was not a real trading post.

She looked disappointed, so I went on to explain that, when the Navajo people were allowed to return to their homeland after their internment at Fort Sumner, the federal government began licensing Indian traders. These traders were allowed to establish permanent trading posts on Indian lands. I mentioned that the posts generally carried all the same merchandise the itinerants had, and the Navajos and Hopis also provided the same goods they had in the past. This meant that, except for the presence of a permanent location on the Reservations, the trading business remained very much the same. I once again pointed out to my visitor that we probably don’t qualify as a real trading post because we didn’t trade pots and pans or canned goods for the items we carry.

By this time the woman was growing a little impatient. She obviously did not want a longwinded answer, she just wanted to know if I was interested in trading. She began drumming her fingers on the counter, and a look of frustration appeared on her face. It was obvious that she was wondering why anybody would allow me to operate this store, under any circumstances.

At this point the inquisitor with inferior trade goods will often blurt out something like, “In the 1970s my husband bought me this gigantic squash blossom necklace which I can’t wear because it’s too heavy and I want something else!” Then I know where I stand and can make a sensible decision. If that necklace is too large for its present owner, it is probably too large for anyone else too, so no trade accommodation will be made. That also lets me know that there will be no additional family members to feed and clothe.

Now the woman had really had it with me and said, “Look, I inherited a few things from my grandmother and can’t really use them. Do you want to see.” I sheepishly nodded my head yes. She went to the car and retrieved a little bag with a few small, but very nice pieces of jewelry. We agreed to trade and she settled on a contemporary bracelet. The deal was done. We were both satisfied, and as she began to walk away she turned and said, “Thanks for the history lesson, but all I really needed to know is whether you wanted to trade. And, by the way, this really is a trading post isn’t it?” “At times,” I answered, thinking that I had gotten off easy since I hadn’t acquired any gravel, door stops, unwanted spouses or unruly children.