Cedric Sunray
Native American Times, September 6th 2005
The word tragedy can hardly signify the extent of the pain being suffered
by many in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. While America comes to grips with
the enormity of the despair, people, many of them black, in the previously
unheard of 9th Ward of New Orleans (one of the country's most impoverished
ghettos), already understand the touch, taste and sound of generations of
poverty.
A poverty created by a very real caste system, which exists here in
the United States of America. And Indians are no exception.
Indian Country has it's own 9th Ward of faceless individuals and families
who have been some of the hardest hit over the course of this past week.
The Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) won't be assisting them anytime soon.
The United South and Eastern Tribes (USET) won't be shipping supplies their
way. And by all current accounts, the National Congress of American Indians
(NCAI) has also left them out of the loop. The reason: federal recognition.
The United Houma Nation in Southeastern Louisiana and the MOWA Band
of Choctaw Indians located just north of the City of Mobile, Alabama have
been forgotten. The United Houma Nation will not receive final word on their
petition before the Bureau of Acknowledgement and Research (BAR) until September
2006 and the MOWA Band of Choctaw Indians pending bill HR3526 is currently
being reviewed in Washington D.C.
Though forgotten in legal terms. Poverty hasn't forgotten them. Racism
hasn't forgotten them. Help, it seems, has. While the federal government
and national Indian organizations intent on assisting federal Indian tribes-many
of whom need little assistance-send money and supplies from one casino wealthy
southeastern tribe to another, the United Houma Nation's eastern territory
sits submerged under the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Homes, vehicles, personal
mementos and their traditional lands have disappeared. From Boothville in
Placquemines Parish to New Orleans, Houma Indians have had their lives turned
completely upside down. When the phone rang last Wednesday my heart
was in my stomach. My Aunt Dove was calling me to let me know that they had
escaped New Orleans and made it many miles north to Clinton, Louisiana. Her
beloved pets had not. Many of her irreplaceable photos of tribal history
and family had remained as well. She was all right though shaken. The previous
evenings had been filled with emotion and non-stop phone call attempts by
my wife and I. Two days later,the Houma's Vice Principal Chief Michael Dardar
would call. He and his family had also escaped. His words to me were simple.
"There is nothing left down the bayou. Our home is gone. All the people home
is gone." News from the MOWA reservation, though better, wasn't that great
either. Tribal citizens had extensive roof and water damage. No electricity
or phone service for a week meant no edible food in refrigerators or contact
with the outside. Our tribal school, they told me, had been closed since
the hurricane struck. Needed repairs are upcoming.
The MOWA Choctaw and United Houma Nation are one and the same. As communities
of primarily impoverished and identifiable Indian people, we have never had
the best of what America has to offer. The prosperity parade doesn't march
down the roads of our communities. And neither will assistance. Our lack
of federal recognition has placed us at the mercy of federal bureaucrats
and the Bureau of Indian Affairs. We are the neglected of the neglected.
You see, it is easy to forget about people, when you marginalize them
and pretend they no longer exist.
Just ask the people in New Orleans's 9th Ward.
Cedric Sunray is an enrolled tribal citizen
of the MOWA Band of Choctaw Indians and has numerous family members among
the United Houma Nation of Louisiana. He is employed as a Cherokee Language
Teacher and Coach at Tahlequah High School in Tahlequah, Oklahoma