LO LO MIA

in this land of swirling sands carved rock and color liver people no less colorful than the land itself the Indians there's as the land of torrid heat where hot winds win over its vast expense beautiful to behold but treacherous and humble are their homes that not the tony horizons for indians unlike white man and his lust for worldly goods have a patient's born of wisdom to them all of life's elements are man's destiny and a few head of sheep can make life Lola Mia hardships have their compensations 24 without them how could one enjoy the mystic beauty of sunsets or starlit nights that fill one with awe and reverence grateful to our the Indians for the wall of their sheath which the Navajo women weave and fashion into the rugs of exquisite beauty and skill they are paying for the world over how many years or scores of years have their patient hands slowly woven yesterday's dreams into the reality of today time to these people as neither beginning nor end for the whole of all things that have come to them and all things past is only yesterday and out of yesterday is born their glory for today though reticent in the presence of most white men the Indians are not a sullen and uncommunicative people but a witty race that like to joke and sing for festivities they will travel hundreds of miles by wagon or by horseback sometimes spending many moons on route and pitching their camps along the way once a year the various tribes from the Great Plains and the entire southwest head for gala where they make a pilgrimage and in their worship perform spectacular dances in old chance gallop the Indian capital breaks out in flamboyant colors and life as the banners fly and thousands of Indians congregate old glory and all her pride opens the parade in her wake tread the first true Americans many are the brothers of this proud race whose names today go on chronicled and unsung there are people part of the United States there are men fought loyally on all battlefields giving their lives to in the notorious Bataan Death March that our democracy might live on their native dances in all their fascinating pageantry our dance today as by their pastoral ancestors for uncounted centuries before them every ritual and movement of a dance is directed in accordance with their ancient law of exactness Indian ceremonies and dances are America's oldest form of folklore and the most colorful of all our native arts they are the sagas of an imaginative and incredible prehistoric race with pride and skill the women of the Zuni tribe balance decorated pottery upon their heads as hoary as the mountains deserts and canyons in which the Indians live are the legends of these people whose paths of ancient glory have been woven into a majestic tapestry by the threads of years long past threads of life and threads so old they might reveal the very beginnings of man upon the American continent if only they had not been so tightly woven the Apache double dancers defies the limitations of human muscles and our masters of intricate steps at no other place in the world but gallop a white man turned back the pages of red man's history and live anew the colorful past of this once mighty race whose world of long ago remains to live side by side with the world of today and whose age old rituals shrouded in the mists of antiquity hold one in strange fascination long after the last beat of tom toms have faded away amid the teeming crowds with excitement running high are the wagon wheels of indians rolling their way to the ceremonial grounds where tribal dancers to the rattle of seed filled gourds and daring bronc riders will unfold for you a ceremony of unsurpassed beauty and skill yippee ride em cowboy ride'em and how he tried and another brave dances forth to ride for a fall get on with it cowpoke and that little beat 'let will get away at the time William the Conqueror was invading England the Indians of the southwest were in their golden age of Pueblo building and centuries before the coming of white man Indian tribesmen garden there are startling shaggy head dresses were doing the same bubble Oh dance they do today animal ceremonies are among the oldest of the Pueblo Indians having been danced from time immemorial with dropping drums and verbiage chance the Indians danced the legends of their gods Marcus and feet move an exquisite precision as they treat intricate patterns on the sand nature is the altar of this deeply pious people whose dances are forever fraught with religious meanings there are dances for rain and for patients to understand white and there are dances to for help and for the banishment of fear from tormented souls Wow here we go again with the Bronx will he make it not on that bucking tornado hang on cowboy let that guy use makes you bite the dust and he did hey rope that critter mr. well not bad seed filled gourds flesh against the clutter of turtle ladders choruses chat like the sobbing of the winds through distant Pines slowly and with dignity they filed past the proudest of managed to perform their age-old ritual this is the red bands world of 1000 yesterday and this is red man's world of today echoes that bind the centuries together there is no stopping their rivers of life they flow on and on and with them flow all their tears their joys and their hopes for man is a part of that same river and its course is his destiny strong of faith the Indian never complains when his crops failed norgren famine Lear's from his desert wastelands he prays instead with enraptured persistent as of now to evoke the blessings of rain here again and dramatic form is the Indians spiritual motivations for a better world his supplications for happiness and is veneration towards animals all tribes hold that animals have the gift of speech and many are the legends based around them the Apaches say the cards brought them fire and they respect them for that reason while the Navajos on the other hand regard them as bad omens should one cross his path while making a journey he will return home to wait three days before starting out again the plotting Buffalo however is venerated by all indians a daring young rider comes bucking into the scene pitched for a fall alright but up in a flash and raring to try again this time it's a frisky mule I gave you a laugh too though most of red man's dances are of a sacred nature there are some that are performed for pleasure alone but in either case they're always danced as if an answer to a powerful inner need for expression and whether they appear in beaded buckskin costumes or naked simplicity their figures are still interested here we have the gymnastic dance of the pueblo tribes leaping through hoops to weird music and chants this handsome brave dances the last measured steps of the Magnificent intertribal ceremonial and as the Sun casts long shadows over the hills there nay ho high with white man and distant tribesman comes to an end and in a short while they would start making preparation for their long weary journey back they will go to their remote and lonely Hogan's where blows and wickiups scattered throughout the rugged canyons and desert Mason's back to their changeless and unchanging eternal pattern of life where one century is like another and where time stands still in eternity back to familiar things and scenes where spirits come down from the mountains to murmur through leaves and twigs back to their wild and far-flung open spaces rather will always be the Sun the dreamy distance and the endless blue of the sky and back to their ancient homelands away from Vallecano saw a white man bury me sing dance and worship all things of beauty and pious meditation and where they may lift words of prayer out of the stillness and let them climb the solitudes up and beyond the stars unmolested and unriddle by those whose tender thoughts are alien to their own whatever the Indian is and whatever he believes stems from the maker of all mankind let us borrow red man's prayer in saying adieu all great spirit maker of man that others may say Lola Mia to forbid did I judge any man until I have walked for two moons in his moccasins