Dead Man Walkin’

The other day I was strolling through Twin Rocks Cafe when I noticed Chris* reclining in booth 4, while she and her mother waited for lunch to arrive. Since there are not many customers during this time of year, Barry and I have the opportunity to do a lot of strolling. That gives us time to contemplate our situation, and although one might conclude all that thinking would eventually result in concrete action, that is not usually the case. For Barry and me, thinking usually just leads to more thinking, and less doing. We suffer from what is commonly labeled Implementation Deficit Disorder or IDD, a malady which runs in the Simpson family. As far as I am aware, there is no known cure or treatment. Fortunately, the ailment is rarely fatal and typically leaves no permanent external scarring. As a result of our handicap, if you want something done around Twin Rocks, Priscilla is your best bet. Unlike Barry and me, she does not suffer from a contemplative personality. For Priscilla, action is the watchword, and you better get out of her way when she fires up. Barry and I often wonder how we would survive without her. We also think about that a lot when we are on our walkabouts. So far, as one might guess, we have not come up with an answer.

Back at the restaurant it was an overcast day, and, as I approached Chris and the exit, I anticipated the chill of a late January afternoon and thought about the hot July and August days that would arrive all too soon. Living in the desert has given me a healthy appreciation for cold weather. During the long, hot summers of Bluff, I frequently yearn for cooler temperatures and a bit of moisture. Although I have no desire to live in snow country, I love the crystal clear December nights when stars sparkle brilliantly and light penetrates the darkness like a laser. I have often driven north from Bluff in the depths of winter; felt the thick, heavy gloom enveloping me; and noticed the illumination of our neighbors to the north reaching out to me.

As I strode towards the exterior door, I realized Chris’ left foot was immobilized by a medical boot strapped onto to her lower leg. “What happened?” I queried. “Work-related injury,” she replied, going on to explain the incident and its aftermath. Corrective surgery culminated in a cadaver tendon being spliced into the damaged limb. That caused me to think of the 1995 movie Dead Man Walking, starring Sean Penn and Susan Sarandon. I quickly realized, however, that since Chris is Navajo, this recycling of body parts raised complex issues associated with traditional values. Consequently, I paused, scrunched my nose, and scratched my head. “Yep,” she said, correctly interpreting my concern for Navajo beliefs involving death and dying and how they might affect her situation.

As is often the case, this Navajo story begins with Coyote. The saga goes something like this: One day, a group of Navajo people began debating whether they should live forever or be allowed to die. In order to decide the issue, they elected to place an animal skin on a pool of water. They determined that if it sank, death would become an integral part of their world. If, however, the hide floated on the surface, they would experience eternal life. The people, however, became distracted and failed to closely monitor the situation. As a result, while their backs were turned Coyote threw stones on the skin, causing it to sink. For that reason, death eventually comes to claims us all. Coyote believed that if people did not pass on, all available land would soon become occupied and there would be no place for new arrivals to establish themselves. He therefore preferred death over eternity. Priscilla has echoed these same sentiments, saying that without death people would not appreciate life and that the elderly have to move on so the young can take their place in society. 

Navajo people believe the deceased go to the underworld, and they take great care to ensure the dead do not return to walk among the living. Such postmortem visits are avoided at all costs, and traditionalists are consequently reluctant to view a dead body.  Navajo people exposed to a corpse are required to undergo long and costly purification rituals to cleanse themselves. Additionally, in the past, the decedent’s hogan would be destroyed if he or she expired inside the structure. For these reasons, historic trading post operators often found themselves functioning as caregivers to the dying and undertakers once the final moment arrived. It was not enough to engage in economic activity, the traders became important members of the community and were responsible for tasks such as ministering to the sick and dying. 

When we are faced with issues such as this, Barry and often feel we are operating at the intersection of traditional Navajo convictions and contemporary ideals. Bluff, which sits immediately north of the Navajo reservation, functions as a veritable crossroad of cultures. Here, age-old beliefs mix with modern values to create a complicated spiritual concoction. Not far from Twin Rocks Trading Post, many Navajo elders live in much the same way people existed 100 years ago: no live water, no electricity, burning wood for heat, and without telephone or other modern conveniences. Traditional ways weave in and out of our daily lives, and we often don't know whether to respond to a situation in traditional fashion or with present-day strategies. For that reason, we at times refer to ourselves as “traders on the edge,”—on the edge of a rapidly changing life way, on the edge of a civilization that may not exist at the time of our own deaths, and on the edge of massive cultural changes.

When I asked Chris how her traditional family members were adjusting to the implant, she said it took a long time for her to build the courage to discuss it with them. When she did, they shrugged their shoulders and said, “We can do prayers!” Even Coyote would be comfortable with that solution.

*In this story, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.