There's nothing any of us can do
About what has happened in the past
But we can protest what is happening now
Or might happen in the future
If good people do nothing.
I was reading the paper one morning when a story caught my eye:
"Mohawk Natives Protest Expansion of Golf Course on Reservation Land."
"Jesus," I thought, "Hasn't enough been taken from them yet?"
If the headline had read
That the Mohawks were protesting
The building of a homeless shelter
Or a human rights center on their land,
I might not have been so . . . annoyed.
But the expansion of a golf course
That is already encroaching
On the small, unwanted scrap of land they were given
After the attempted genocide of their people
Hundreds of years ago?
Another few yards of playground for rich, fat, mostly white men?
(I doubted there were many Mohawk members at the country club.)
Another waste of land that should be a park
Where children of all colors can play
Or a forest
Where everyone can shed the dust of the city
And reconnect with nature?
Another in a long line of insults
To a people who have been stripped and beaten?
The article said help was needed in organizing a protest,
Circulating petitions, making phone calls, etc.
I called the reservation and volunteered.
I was told there would be a meeting.
They asked many questions but finally gave me the address.
I went to the house and was escorted into a basement.
There were twenty or so men there.
I was the only white one.
The quiet in the room was palpable.
The tribal leader started the meeting
But it seemed uninspired and awkward.
Finally, one of them said,
"Isn't anybody going to ask him who he is?"
The leader paused and said,
"I'm sorry, but a few of the men here
Are concerned about your intentions.
They're afraid you might be a government mole."
I laughed at the absurdity of it.
Me, Agent Mulder.
I said, "As romantic as that sounds,
I'm just a college student from L.A."
They asked me many questions
To satisfy those who were still suspicious
But one answer won them over, I think,
More than any other.
The question was:
"Why do you care about what happens to Mohawks?"
I thought for a moment and answered:
"If I have to be a Mohawk to care about Mohawks,
We're all sunk. Aren't we?
I mean, isn't that just the problem?
Hasn't that always been the problem?
If I have to be black, or Hispanic, or Asian,
Or Arab, or a woman, or a drug addict,
Or poor, or Homeless
Or anyone who is suffering
To care about them,
Then mankind is certainly doomed,
Isn't it?"
Most accepted this answer
But there was one man
Who was more angry than the others
And possibly more racist toward whites,
Probably with good reason.
He said it wasn't worth the risk to have me there.
I got up to leave, saying,
"If my presence here offends even one of you,
I'm willing to leave.
I've already disrupted the meeting enough."
The tribal leader asked me to stay.
I looked at the angry man sitting next to me
And gently reminded him
That a lot of whites marched with blacks
During the Civil Rights Movement
And got beaten with batons,
Bitten by dogs,
And blasted with fire-hoses
Along with them.
He looked at me.
For a moment, I wasn't sure
If I was going to be hugged or punched.
He took a deep breath
Then nodded to the leader
For the meeting to continue.
The protests dragged on for months.
After thousands of phone calls and petition signatures,
After a barricade of the road leading to Mohawk territory,
After frightening Mohawk children with tanks,
After three deaths,
A negotiated truce was won,
A truce that could have been achieved
In a few days of rational discussion.
When I heard the news,
I lamented that violence, as usual, had occurred
But applauded the Mohawk victory
And the brave warriors
Who raised their fists and yelled, "Not this time."
I also celebrated a smaller, personal victory
Knowing I had played a small part in it.
And today, almost twenty years later, I hope
A few of them remembered
And maybe even told a story to their children
About the crazy, white boy
Who sat down with twenty angry Mohawks
In a cold basement
And spoke of brotherhood;
The pale-face
Who made Victor Frankl's words live again
In another context:
"There are only two races:
The decent and the indecent"
Author notes
(The photo above is probably Canada’s most famous picture from the Mohawk-Oka Crisis, which was a land dispute between the Mohawk nation and the town of Oka, Quebec from 3/11/90 until 9/26/90. It resulted in three deaths, and would be the first of a number of violent conflicts between Indigenous people and the Canadian Government in the late 20th century.)
A contest entry
- Raised Fists by poetryality.
2568 points, ended March 1, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 24 of 24
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A well-written account of a principled, moral stance, and the concluding Victor Frankl quotation is very effective.
Excellent,
Bill
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You make me feel inadequate and, encouraged at the same time. I feel very honored to have run into you and your strong ,genuine, caring heart. Without people like you, I most likely wouldn't be sitting here writing this to you. I thank you and all the soldiers, warriors and peacemakers that came before me to make this world better. We must all continue to do so.
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Gypsy,
Yes, we must. We all dream of a utopia without war or crime or hatred, but the battle between good and evil will never end. It is more important than ever that we choose sides. The nazi's of our generation - the Islamo-fascists - our more evil than any who have come before. Even Hitler would have scoffed at the idea of strapping bombs to his children, but they don't. I heard an Arab speaker just the other day saying, "All it would take to kill a few hundred thousand of the infidels is for one of our brave warriors to smuggle a suitcase full of anthrax from Mexico to California, then blow it up in the middle of Los Angeles. Allah bless the hero who accomplishes that."
I hope not, but I'm afraid our greatest battle may be ahead of us, in this lifetime. (Just call me Mr. Sunshine. lol)
Thanks for your thoughtful comment. I appreciate it.
Mark
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The only thing we can honestly do about a past that is filled with maltreatment, and disrespect to humankind is make sure we do not perform the same atrocities again. I can no more blame you for the actions of slave masters than you can blame me for the violent actions of the slave who did what they thought they had to seek freedom.
We must do is co-exist. What we must do is seek a better future for the children, all children. What we can do is share ways not to fall in the same dark hole, again, and again...
My great-grandfather (on my dad's side) was from the Choctaw Nation. He was a medicine man. It took me a long time to be able to share that truth with anyone because of the stigma so many have given holistic medicine, and the references to voodoo because of cultural differences.
I am honored to have your STAND submitted in my contest. Excellent work! I wish you the best in the challenge.
Much Love & Respect ♥
Renee
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oh how i have missed such profound and personal telling of a story. i would love to sit with you as you tell a story such as this just to see if i could be anymore mesmerized than i am now. the factuality of this is the intrigue for me. you made a difference and when you convey your experience with us, your telling of them makes a difference in good writers and great ones. you, dear, mark, are a great one.
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We may not all be able to sit in the basement and join a fight of this magnitude, but if each of us just said no to one or two things that exploited others it would help.
Refusing to buy products made by children or in countries that still ignore the toxins they are dumping in rivers and the air would be a start.
Turning a blind eye is so easy how does one get others to "see" what is going on in the world, their city, sometimes their own backyards?
I hope you are still standing up for others in this way.
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This is awesome Mark, it reminds me of so much that goes on in our country with the aboriginal land rights etc, it such a sad and common story. We have a big thing over here about saying sorry to the stolen generation, but there is one thing i do want to say and that's 'thank you' to whoever or whoevers it was that taught me that to judge others by the colour of their skin was wrong. When I hear outright racism and it turns my stomach, then I know there is hope even if its just hope for me.
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I am Indian.
Because I have Cherokee blood in me, I can appreciate this piece. It is very timely and presented well. I am glad I stopped by to read it.
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I'm of course upset by the instance referred to in this, but reading it raised an interesting question in my mind: Are we responsible for the actions of our ancestors? I had nothing to do with relocating any indigenous peoples ever. Now I do all that I can to aid various causes, this usually consists of donating a bit of money (being a college student it aint much). But there is no reason for me to feel bad about the fact that native peoples were herded into reservations.
Now some may call that thought cold, but I assure you it's not. I don't care about the plight of indians or blacks or whites or latinos or any other race, what I care about is the plight of people. No man can, and no man should take responsibility for the actions by or against a "race" (in quotes because it is a construction propagated by morons).
When you look at a indian reservation you shouldn't feel guilt, you should feel empathy.
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I agree, Steve. We're not responsible for what our ancestors did hundreds of years before we were born, but as the first few lines of this poem state, we should do what we can to prevent similar events from occurring today.
I don't take responsibility for anything someone of my complexion has done in the past. As I always say to people who try to associate me with white/Irish people in the past, "If you're mad at what an ancestor of mine did, dig him up and kick HIS ass!" Empathy is what I feel. It is the emotion that will make or break life on earth for the entire human race.
Thanks for the input. Nice to hear from you.
Mark
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You're right of course Mark, the past is the burden of the dead alone, but the future, the future is our burden.
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Your experience was inspiring and renewed a faith in the human connection. Thank you for that
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Nice job. I was trying to recall the incident and whether it occured in Canada or New York. Most people have no idea about the struggle of First Nation people in Canada. I highly recommend the book One Dead Indian about the death of Dudley George.
Thanks for sharing a great poem. It was long, but necessarily so and kept my attention from start to finish.
Top notch writing.
Mike
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Superb Plus +
Ah, 'tis a fine write, indeed; and please pardon the length of the following, however, your poem reminded me of this one:
Martin Niemöller
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When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out.Friedrich Gustav Emil Martin Niemöller (14 January 1892 – 6 March 1984) was a Protestant pastor and social activist.
[edit] Sourced
Als die Nazis die Kommunisten holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Kommunist.
Als sie die Sozialdemokraten einsperrten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Sozialdemokrat.
Als sie die Gewerkschafter holten,
habe ich nicht protestiert;
ich war ja kein Gewerkschafter.
Als sie die Juden holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Jude.
Als sie mich holten,
gab es keinen mehr, der protestierte.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
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Silverbergen,
I know that poem well. Everyone should. Thanks for sharing it, and for your kind words.
Mark -
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You are quite welcome. Yes, everyone ought to, in all of its many versions.
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You have shared such a powerful and important message here in this write. Wow! It must feel really good to know that, as a young man, you stood up for what was right, when many others would just as soon ignore the problem, than to get involved. You wrote this so beautifully, and hopefully many will be touched by its message of peace and hope in humanity. Blessings, Patty
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Thanks, Patty. Great to hear from you, as always.
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You write so well thank you for being the person you are . If we had more if only.. the world has become gray and greed is rampant.
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Thanks, Rheea. I agree that the world is getting darker. I wonder how long the human race will last, or if it may be decided for us by a ravaged and uninhabitable planet. Fortunately, we still have the right to choose what we will focus on, and the lack of probability or even the impossibility of winning a good fight is never a good reason not to enter the fray.
Mark
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beautifully written and a great stand you took on this poem. Good Luck in the contest and may the ink in your pen forever flow.
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bluejeans51,
Thanks. Yours, too!
Mark
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Great poem for a very worthwhile stand.
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Thanks.
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