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This is real good. This is our country. What is it? This is occupied now by strangers, by foreigners. The ground here, this is our blood that is us. And you could never, you could never fit into it. That's why you cannot appreciate the beauty of it. That's why you're destroying it. That is Apache Indian Medicine Man Bernard Second, telling part of the story of his people today. For the Children's Foundation in Washington, D.C.,
this is Jeff Cayman reporting in Occupied Territory, the lives of Indians and Mexican Americans in the state of New Mexico. At the National Indian Youth Council's headquarters in Albuquerque, Sam English and Gerald Wilkinson are coordinating efforts, aimed at organizing Indians into units of political power. I asked them to define what they see as the main barrier between Indians and dignity. White people. What do you mean when you say white people are the barrier? Take a BIA agency office, the area office here in Albuquerque. I suppose a general idea ought to be that those people work for you. You know, you ought to have the freedom to roll, to ask people questions. You know, relating to anything related to Indians. But, you know, if an Indian walks in there, I think that the whole situation reverses, and you become scared. You see, you walk in, you know, the BIA Bureau of Indian Affairs,
you know, you feel like Indians ought to be a control of that. I mean, like the guy sitting behind that big wooden desk, ought to be an Indian or somebody, you know. But it's not. You go talk to somebody, talk to a person all off, so you go talk to anybody. I don't play baddies with anything else. There's always some white guy sitting behind some big, fancy desk, you know. You're scared to ask him questions. Yeah, I think one of the big problems when you grow up in a situation where you have almost total outside control of everything that you do. If you're anything you want, you must go to them. And so you get really kind of an inferiority complex in a lot of the Indian schools. If you go into an Indian school, they force you to choose a religion. Either Catholic, Protestant, or Mormon, you don't have any choice about that. What is it going to take before the power structure notices that the Indians really want change? You might take a couple of uprisings. You know, you may define them as being bloody rebellions, well, we just define them as being bloody uprisings.
And believe me, you know, that's conceivable. That could happen, you know. The Bureau could walk back, could come to work to one of their offices, one of these days, and find a damn thing burned down. Indians living in New Mexico today find themselves confronted with hostile bureaucracies. The White Run Federal Bureau of Indian Affairs, which employs Indians at substandard wages and working conditions. The police agencies, state, county, and local which seem to take uniform delight in beating and humiliating Indians. And the state and county courts, which perform in such a fashion that some tribes have begun their own legal aid agencies to protect their members. What is even more destructive to the Indian, however, is his contact with the plastic world of the White Man. He will be right back with more bozo funerumi after this word. That is the sound of a TV set, a color TV set, in a recreation room for children on the Mescalero Apache Reservation. The kids come home from school every day
and wrap themselves around the tube. The pool tables and a jukebox, filled with such Indian classics as twist again, like we did last summer. A patchy medicine man Bernard II is second by the policy of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, which forces Indians to leave the reservation to go to school. They leave the most important things in life. They leave their parents and they leave their grandparents in their relatives because all of them, not only the parents, but the grandparents in their relatives, have a part, have every one of them have a little part in their upbringing. While they are drawn into adulthood, they have a part in that. To teach them the right way, the way of the people. And when the White Man takes them from there, from their relatives and their parents and great grandparents, they have destroyed that. They have destroyed that. All that they can get from them
because they have removed them from that. And when they are in the White Man's world, the White Man's world is a cold world. And automatically, just because of the coldness of that world, they turn off and sure they learn the mechanics of that world. But they are cutting in the middle, in the middle of two worlds. And they will eventually go back to where they came from. But it will be a long process and they will bring more problems with them as they go back. Many Indian children return from the federally-run schools with deeply-etched feelings of inferiority and rejection. The kids often begin their school experience with bright-eyed enthusiasm, only to emerge with the dull quiet of beaten people. It is common to hear White teachers say they purposely avoid learning about Indian culture. Because, after all, they are there to eradicate Indian ways and substitute white ones.
At the Public Health Service Hospital in Gallup, New Mexico, a psychiatrist talks about the agony of dignity that Indians go through. They find out that we don't respect them. And they find it out in a million ways that white people simply don't respect Indians. It even comes through, I suppose, and maybe it hurts most, then, from the white people who think that they really do respect and like Indians. And then they want to see them in war bonnets, or they want to see them do their charming point things. The Indian is first human. He, like you, becomes angry when abused. The anger is directed not against the white men. That's both too frightening and in some ways it goes against a Navajo culture tradition, I think. So that he's angry at himself and that makes him depressed. Or it makes him fail. One of the brightest young Navajo patients of mine came to me because he's always failing. And he's begun to realize that he fails for no good reason. He makes himself fail because to go on would get him into a position
where he'd have to express his anger against white people. The most dramatic demonstration of the Indian's inner directed anger is the massive and self-destructive drinking that has become a basic part of life for Indians in New Mexico. Again, Apache Medicine man Bernard II. My people were of mighty people and proud people. But now, whatever the white men came, he lied to them with all the lies that they could give them. In return, they gave nothing to them. The only thing they could give them was liquor. They give them liquor and the bad ways that they had. They gave it to the Indians. They gave it to my people. And now my people are bad because of that. Because they had no way of controlling that. Because we lived a good life. And we didn't have no such badness in our lives. But when the white men came, he brought those badness. And then he just worked their minds where we could control. We couldn't control the liquor they did. Now our people are killing each other. At Eddie's bar in Gallup,
poverty stricken Indians wearing cowboy style clothing and sloshing beer and hard liquor down their mouths, jam the airless dance floor and billiard room. It is to these sounds and the accompanying pressures of life in the brittle, cold, white man's world that the original Americans drink their lives away. It is a ritual which before the white man was unknown to these children of the sun and the land and the rain. In Eddie's bar one night, I met a 22-year-old Navajo, a just completed tour of duty in the Army overseas. At Eddie's 50 cents of beer price, the young man had little laugh of his separation check. If you listen closely to this great grandson of a proud warrior, you will hear all that needs to be said about Indians and liquor. Ladden, in the tenorano here, no, and get drunk every night. That's what they do. And just hang around a lot of guys get drunk. That's the way they in and live over here in Gallup. Do you live the same way?
Maybe I'll be living there every night. I won't be. I don't know about that. I'll think about it when I finish my mind. No. My mind. When I get out of nowhere, I think I'm bad. Why does so many Indians live that way? I can't understand now. Why? In a lived airway. I don't know. I don't understand. Whose fault is it? Well, I think this is the fault is it. What about the white man? Isn't it his fault? I don't think so. It's in his fault. The alcoholism of that Indian is about as much as own fault as is the fate of the baby in this story from a physician who has devoted himself to serving the needs of the Navajo. The child in the story is a victim of the white politician's lack of concern. I saw a child, a little Navajo child, come into the Gallup Indian Service Hospital. Four days after the mother had started out to bring him into the hospital.
Many of the Navajos don't have transportation of any means. No car. Only a horse. This mother wanted to bring her child in for a mile diaria. And by the time the child arrived, it was severely dehydrated and died two days later. At the Mescalero Apache Reservation, the son was setting behind the blue mountains. Medicine man, Bernard Second, was talking. You come here and you ask questions. And I pray for you not because I want to demonstrate anything but to show you the way we think yet. See, the son has gone down. The son has gone down. If he is going down and may all the badness in life, may take it down with it. And tomorrow, when it comes up from this side, may bring only goodness to us. May bring only goodness for us so that we can live in a good way. We, this is the way we pray.
And this world, a trouble times. This is the only thing we can say. But see this country here, when it belongs to us no more. When we are here no longer, then there will be no one here. Because when our blood cries from this land, no white men will live here in a happy way. They will only know what's said way, a sorrowful way, and they too will go. And then in some way, the clouds will come again, and the thunder will thunder again. And the rainers will come, and the rainbows will shine, and the eagle will fly, and we will come again. One day, we will come a mighty people again. I am not a dreamer. I am a practical man with a practical religion
that I have been taught by those long way back, long before the coming of the white men. And I have faith in what I believe in. Because if I didn't, I'd be like you. But I am not. I would never give up what I am for the hollow ways of white men. But now I smoke and drink for a little while, and then, pretty soon, I'll sing for you. The medicine man then sang two holy songs that could not be recorded. There were songs of the sky, and the sun, and the land, and the one without a name. Soon after, he consumed a dozen cans of beer, and a quart of wine. He too was a victim of the occupation. Like the Indian in New Mexico,
the Mexican-American or Chicano is also living in occupied territory. The first explorers to plant a European flag on the peaceful soil of the New World, their Spanish ancestors staked the first legal claim to the land. Spanish kings gave the land to loyal subjects. They, in turn, passed it on to their children. What is now New Mexico was once a part of old Mexico. The rise to the land spelled out in grants dating back to the 16th century. Immediately after the war with Mexico, the land was taken in conquest by the United States. Then the cutthroat-American businessmen, real estate sharks, moved in on the anxious owners of the soil. To varying forms of business trickery, courtroom maneuvers, and government policies, the land of Mexican-Americans was gradually gobbled up, stolen. The process is continuing today, and it is conceivable that one day soon, there will be no more land in the hands of the people who settled it first. Every mountainside, every country. Chicanos, Mexican-Americans,
are discriminated against in every area of life today. Police brutality is part of the ordinary expectation of Chicanos in New Mexico. Here, a husband and wife in their late fifties tell about being arrested, along with their sons. They took our sons in the cellar and they beat him up. They got my bush against him on those cells. Still walls, and just beat him up. They stopped the car and beat my boys up there. They beat the boys inside the car on the way to jail. In your presence. In our presence. What eventually did the court do about this? What was the court's decision? If I'm not saying nothing. The husband and wife had both been gainfully employed prior to the encounter with law and order. Following it, both were so badly shattered emotionally that the family was forced to go on to the welfare roles. The total impact of the incident on the wife was all but paralyzing. I couldn't even get out. I was afraid to go out. I was afraid that they might pick me up or something for nothing, you know what I mean. I even got afraid to go to a store.
I didn't feel afraid to go and do air and certain things like that. Pete Domenici is the chairman of the Albuquerque City Commission in effect the mayor. It is Domenici's plan to become governor of New Mexico. I asked him about the people and the police. I don't believe that police brutality exists in our city to any substantial degree. I'm ready to admit that any department of city government just as any corporation or business with 450 employees cannot in this day and age assume that every single apple is a good one. Sadly, the problem goes far beyond apples or pears. It could develop into dramatic confrontation.
Chicanos cannot find work when whites can. When they do, they are paid less. They are badly treated by the welfare system. And even the federally financed war on poverty has been rigged against them. Local agencies of the Office of Economic Opportunity are always run by Chicanos. It must report to Anglos, to whites. So jealous of their petty power are the Chicano Agency directors that they generally contribute to an environment of distrust that exists almost throughout the Mexican-American community. Since I was in kindergarten, we've been just kind of self-taught, not just by ourselves, but by our educators and somewhat by our parents, not to trust each other. Just plain being Chicanos, not to trust each other, you know? Because I don't know why, but they just work. And it just is that way. The clear-cut racial discrimination against Chicanos in New Mexico extends deep into the public school system. This boy is 16. One day, there was a fight between my friend and some other boys.
And there was quite a lot. I came to help him. And he called in just these boys and my friend and myself, and he asked us what the country very was. And he says, well, I told him that, well, these boys are picking up my friend and I came to help him. And he asked these boys, and they were angry, guys, and he asked them, well, this is true, and he says, no. And so they sent these boys away, and he expelled my friend and me. When welfare worker Maria Durran tried to organize welfare recipients for the protection of their rights under the law, she was quickly removed from her job and blacklisted. Today, she is on welfare. Some women even turn into prostitutes. They don't want to do it, but when you have 10 kids, eight kids, and your husband can't come back to live with you, you can have your boyfriend at home, but you can't have your husband. And that's the stupidest thing I ever seen. And are she either steals
or she gets away? I mean, this is very, I mean, I can hardly express it or explain it. You see, a woman, especially a Chicana, well, you know, the minority, or any woman, well, I'm going to say about myself. When you have your kids, your kids mean everything to you, and you do anything for them kids. And if you don't have enough money, you're going to go get it. It doesn't matter. Even if you don't need it, as long as the kids have food and clothing and a roof or their head, you're going to get it. So, when a woman gets a job, she'll do anything to get that job. Even if she has to go to bed with the owner of the place where she gets a job, and that's another thing that's happening here, and you're mad to go to.
And she doesn't want to be on welfare, so she gets a job. So she has to be a mistress of whoever owns a place. The system is so tough on Chicanos that many of these formerly honorable and honest people turn to crime. As a matter of fact, it is only within the walls of the county prison in Albuquerque that the Chicano is in control. There, he dramatically outnumbers Anglos and his jellers are afraid of him. A young Anglos who spent time in that jail talks about Chicano prisoners. They're all good people, and I felt sorry for him, you know. But actually, what it was, they were just trying to help themselves, you know, burglarizing for money and peddling dope mostly, and actually none of them were professionals. I mean, they really didn't know what they're doing. They wouldn't get caught so much, you know. They were just go out and hit a place and get caught and go to jail and spend five years and come out, and they get desperate again to do the same thing over again. Just outside the city limits of Albuquerque, there are people who pay their taxes, but don't even get clean water. Oh, it's the worst we can use it to drink it
or take a bath. It's real bad. Why is it bad? They got soap or something, you know. It's contaminated. Yeah, they got a real stick, you know. And we can use it for to drink just to wash dishes and use it for home. What do you do for water then? At Mr. Chavez, we used to bring the water at forces street. How far away is that? It's about two miles. You had to carry the water that you were going to drink or bathe in for two miles. Yes. How often did you have to do that? Well, every two days. Sometimes, and sometimes, every day. Were you actually drinking the dirty water before you knew it was bad? I started drinking the body a week. You know, and I started to get sick. And I went to a doctor and then the doctor told me to not drink the water. We started to bring it from there. And how long has the water been bad? Since we've moved here.
In 1950. 20 years. The lady's husband suffered a form of paralysis and a discoloration of the skin, all as a result of drinking the water. The community worker who brought in fresh water for the people got in trouble with his bosses and almost got fired for trying to help the poor. The community worker's face was scared for a number of days of pain. Like the Indians, the Chicanos have discovered that white people, anglos, simply don't respect them. Not even their right to the most fundamental human dignity. Here an angry social worker tells of a plot to sterilize the mother of 16 children. Several attempts were made to bring the lady into the hospital so that she would... So a hysterectomy could be performed on her, thereby leaving her from, I guess, a process of ruining any more children. This was contrary to her beliefs,
and it upset her greatly. And there were several attempts made and each time that she was picked up, she was very reluctant and didn't abide by it. And in turn, this has caused a great deal of distress on her part, and she will have nothing to do with any agency. The younger ones are approached with a method of plant-parenthood contraceptives, and the forms of pill are taken orally and all sorts of things. All other measures to are used, but she is definitely not alone. Did the agencies of the Anglo-establishment try any halfway measures on this woman? The doctors at a center and inserted a coil known as some sort of a contraceptive device in her without her being aware of what was going on. About two years ago, a group of militant chicanos calling themselves the Brown Barays came to the surface in New Mexico. Like the Black Panthers, these Mexican-Americans talked about picking up the gun to do combat with injustice.
Like the Panthers, their leadership was quickly attacked by the establishment. Today, the Brown Barays are quietly at work, organizing in the Barrios, a little Chicano ghettos of New Mexico. Some of the Brown Barays have enlisted in the armed forces, not to serve the United States, but to learn how to use the gun. If social conditions don't change dramatically in New Mexico soon, the Brown Barays will surely win tremendous support. Wild child in a world of trouble now. This program was produced by the Children's Foundation in Washington, D.C. Wild child in a world of trouble now. This is Jeff Cayman speaking. Wild child in a world of trouble now. This is the National Educational Radio Network.
Series
Four documentaries
Episode Number
3
Episode
In Occupied Territory
Contributing Organization
University of Maryland (College Park, Maryland)
AAPB ID
cpb-aacip/500-th8bmm0w
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Description
Description
No description available
Date
1970-00-00
Topics
Social Issues
Race and Ethnicity
Media type
Sound
Duration
00:25:09
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Credits
AAPB Contributor Holdings
University of Maryland
Identifier: 70-8-3 (National Association of Educational Broadcasters)
Format: 1/4 inch audio tape
Duration: 00:30:00?
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Citations
Chicago: “Four documentaries; 3; In Occupied Territory,” 1970-00-00, University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC, accessed March 29, 2024, http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-th8bmm0w.
MLA: “Four documentaries; 3; In Occupied Territory.” 1970-00-00. University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC. Web. March 29, 2024. <http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-th8bmm0w>.
APA: Four documentaries; 3; In Occupied Territory. Boston, MA: University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC. Retrieved from http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-th8bmm0w