Mr. Write's Page

Like many Native American people, the Havasupai of Northern Arizona consider themselves the Chosen Ones. There is no particular conceit involved. They simply believe that their creator put them here, the world is theirs, and the rest of us are irrelevant.

Further, like the Hopi and others, they believe that time is on their side. They are confident that the obstacles and annoyances they face — drought, famine, sickness, Americans — are mere ephemera, destined eventually to go away. The tribe, on the other hand, will abide forever.

Your guess is as good as theirs as to the truth of things. But that philosophy has instilled in them a world-class tenacity. It has enabled them to endure a lot of hardship and crap.

Speaking of which…

Before we Americans came along, the Havasupai Nation covered most of Northern Arizona: north to the Colorado River, south to present-day Flagstaff, east to the Hopi Mesas, and west to Prospect Valley, the land of the neighboring Hualapai tribe.

Before the arrival of Europeans, most of the Havasupai lived in the western part of Grand Canyon, where the canyon widens and the waters of Havasu Creek allowed them to farm successfully in an arid land.

In the summertime, they grew corn, squash, melons and beans. After harvesting their crops in the fall, they moved to winter settlements on the rim of the canyon, where they hunted deer, antelope and small game. They traded with the Zuni and Hopi, exchanging buckskins and red ocher for pottery and turquoise.

But as European settlers, cattlemen, and miners poured in, the tribe was systematically muscled out of its homeland.

The process was speeded up by the U.S. government, which stepped forward to protect the settlers when tribesmen reacted badly to being burned out and chased off their land.

Call it a blessing or a curse, but in 1882, the U.S. government declared that the entire region was so spectacular and beautiful, it needed to be protected and preserved for the people. Everyone — Red, Yellow, Black, and White — was ejected.

All we left the Havasupai was one tiny village, 500 meager acres along Havasu Creek.

For the next 93 years, the tribe fought in the U.S. courts to get their land back. Being a practical people, they used our legal system, not theirs.

Imagine the patience and tenacity that required. Imagine the bureaucratic nightmare the tribe endured, for generations.

Finally, in 1975, they won a small victory. The government returned 185,000 acres to the tribe — an almost laughable portion of the Havasupai homeland that once covered such a vast territory.

But remember, the Havasupai believe that the status quo, namely our presence, is temporary. Someday, we will be gone, and the land will be theirs again.

I tried to keep that philosophy in mind as I went to the Havasupai website and read this stoic explanation of their circumstances:

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Our people have lived in the area for many hundreds of years. Prior to the early 1800s, our people roamed a vast area on the upper plateau. During the fall and winter months, we would move our families up to the plateau regions, subsisting by hunting and gathering what the earth provided. During the spring and summer months, we moved back to the canyon and planted gardens.

When the reservation was created in 1882, the federal government confined us to the 518 acres at the bottom of the canyon, and we lost almost 90% of our aboriginal land.

This loss of the economic base had a major influence on our culture, forcing us to rely more on farming and seeking wage labor outside of the canyon.  Eventually, the Tribe began to rely on tourism, as people found their way to our beautiful homeland.

In 1975, Congress reallocated 185,000 acres of our original hunting grounds back to the tribe.

Tourism provides the main economic base, providing jobs in the various tribal-run enterprises such as the lodge, tourist office and café. Federal programs run by the Tribe provide most of the available jobs.

Many people support their families by packing supplies. Most of us purchase our supplies out of the canyon and bring them in on horseback or by helicopter.

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When it comes to the Havasupai, the operative words are patience and tenacity.

I know who I’d put my money on.

Raven’s-eye view of Supai, Arizona.

Supai bound.

Running errands with Pop.

Downtown Supai.

All the news that fits.

Tourists frolicking below Navajo Falls.