• About

northierthanthou

northierthanthou

Tag Archives: California

Couple Murals from the Mission District of San Francisco

12 Monday Feb 2018

Posted by danielwalldammit in Street Art, Travel

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Art, California, Graffiti, MaestraPeace, Mission District, Murals, San Francisco, Street Art, Travel

I’ve been to San Francisco before, not often, and never for long. This summer I spent a couple days in the city with my girlfriend, Moni, and her friend Annie, all before starting the great road trip with Wonder Woman as our companion. That was this summer, but what do I recall from before?

I was once on a massive field trip to San Francisco with virtually my entire grade school when by a perverse coincidence someone in California decided to kidnap a school bus full of children and bury them alive while waiting for the ransom. The seventies were kinda wacky that way, but don’t worry, they all made it.

…and someone at my school had to tell countless concerned parents that we were all on course and fully accounted for.

The field trip, itself I don’t remember much.

I remember a speech and debate tournament held at Berkeley way back when I was in college. I remember a hoard of people drumming in a courtyard, lots of great bookstores, a lovely trip to the wharf, and plenty of great street performers. I also remember wearing red ribbons in protest of apartheid. This was a new thing at the time, not just the color and the specific cause, but as I recall the notion of wearing ribbons as a political statement. It wasn’t then quite the cliche that it is now. Two athletes realized what the ribbons were for. That was all.

I also remember attending an anthropology conference held in San Francisco. We were palling around with an ex-Jesuit priest who had done his fieldwork in China. The guy swore he knew a great dim sum place near the hotel. We were snaking up and down the side streets until he finally hooked a quick turn into some place quite unimpressive, at least until they started serving the food. I remember him asking about spicy chicken feet. He was told they didn’t serve it to the customers, because we wouldn’t know how to eat it. After speaking to her in Mandarin for awhile, she agreed to feed him, and she brought out just enough for HIM to eat it. The rest of us got to watch.

Gustatory voyeurism!

I remember a little here and there from other trips, but nothing worth mentioning.

This time I recall getting very sick on a tour boat. I do that sometimes. Pretty much whenever I’m on a boat. Sometimes on a plane. Once recently in the back of a sled. Needless to say, roller coasters are right out! Anyway, I got off the boat this time and found myself miserable and bucking up for a day of hard work just to make it through what should have been good fun. So, Moni and Annie let me sleep in the park for an hour or so after which I actually enjoyed the rest of the day. At the very end of the evening, we decided to check out some street art. Seeing me go crazy with my camera as the sun went down, her friend, Annie, graciously agreed to take me back to check out the art in the Mission District again the next day.

I think I love Annie!

My all-time favorite was the Women’s Building with its great mural, MaestraPeace. We weren’t the only ones there with cameras, which is quite fitting, because a lot of great talent went into this piece.

MaestraPeace Mural was painted in 1994 by a “Who’s Who” of Bay Area muralists: Juana Alicia, Miranda Bergman, Edythe Boone, Susan Kelk Cervantes, Meera Desai, Yvonne Littleton and Irene Perez.

Seriously, that painting is very cool.

We were hunting some murals in a small alley at one point when a local suggested we go check out Clarion Alley. Moni was a little annoyed that I was talking to random homeless people, but honestly the guy helped me out quite a bit. Clarion Alley was great advice! Moni was even more annoyed the next day when I was accosted by a homeless man who wanted me to leave Clarion Alley very quickly. He wasn’t as helpful as the first guy. Still, I got my pics, and he didn’t shoot me after all, not that he had a gun mind you, but shootings were mentioned.

…as were donuts.

Anyway, I clicked away at my camera for the better part of a full day, and I could hardly tear myself away as the sun fell again. I have no doubt that I missed a great deal. I’m also told that much of the artwork would be different if we go back.

I really must test this theory some day.

(Click to embiggen!)

The Women’s Building

Hidden Purplitude
Hidden Purplitude
Crouching Lady
Crouching Lady
In Loving Hands
In Loving Hands
Beautiful in Green
Beautiful in Green
Lovely
Lovely
Healers
Healers
In Fabric
In Fabric
Dance
Dance
Main Figure
Main Figure
The Corner Staircase Looks On
The Corner Staircase Looks On
A Detail
A Detail

Random Artsities

Eyes
Eyes
Matronly Wave
Matronly Wave
Wicked Headdress
Wicked Headdress
Lotta hands
Lotta hands
Remembrance
Remembrance
Probably not all that uncommon
Probably not all that uncommon
Odd Theme for an urban setting
Odd Theme for an urban setting
Cartoonish Bot
Cartoonish Bot
A kind of hope
A kind of hope
Hm...
Hm…
Sexy-Saucy
Sexy-Saucy
Skull
Skull
Tall Headdress
Tall Headdress
Face to face
Face to face
Casa Sanchez
Casa Sanchez
Working together in headdresses
Working together in headdresses
Sexy White-Haired Girl
Sexy White-Haired Girl
Oddly Futuristic Feathers
Oddly Futuristic Feathers
From out in the bay?
From out in the bay?
Oscar Romero
Oscar Romero
Sexy Hair Bomb
Sexy Hair Bomb
Amiri Baroka
Amiri Baroka
Bad Doggies!
Bad Doggies!
Futuristic Somehow
Futuristic Somehow
Drug-induced whale?
Drug-induced whale?
Seen him once in concert
Seen him once in concert
Cartoony Wonder
Cartoony Wonder
Gold Hue 1
Gold Hue 1
Psychodelic Flowers
Psychodelic Flowers
Golden Hues 2
Golden Hues 2
Leyenda Azteca
Leyenda Azteca
Rosa
Rosa
Imprisoned Beauty
Imprisoned Beauty
Frida on Green
Frida on Green
Pan-Purplitude
Pan-Purplitude
Mission Girl
Mission Girl
Gold and Purple
Gold and Purple
Moody Girl With Flowers
Moody Girl With Flowers
Wings
Wings
Eyes Over Hands
Eyes Over Hands
Deer Man Will Paint
Deer Man Will Paint
No Ban on Stolen land
No Ban on Stolen land
Dragon Head?
Dragon Head?
Beautiful
Beautiful
Hemp
Hemp
Against Gentrification
Against Gentrification
Blue Background
Blue Background
Deb in a Bath
Deb in a Bath
Big Wall Mural
Big Wall Mural
Bullhorn
Bullhorn
Dark Glasses
Dark Glasses
Beauty Bar by Deb
Beauty Bar by Deb
Whaling Wall in San Francisco
Whaling Wall in San Francisco
Note the building from another pic
Note the building from another pic
26239122_10215319195278210_5540301171360502791_n

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

A Wondrous Road Trip!

23 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by danielwalldammit in Bad Photography, Travel

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

California, New Mexico, Road Trip, Route 66, Santa Fe, Summer, Taos, Travel, Wonder Woman

26907655_10215389345631925_8037646231883862717_n

Just south of Taos

It was the summer of Wonder Woman. I mean, I know she was in the theaters this last summer, and I certainly enjoyed the movie, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She was in our car. Wonder woman, I mean. She was in our car.

Yep!

We were wondering what that strange sound was coming from the back. We didn’t hear it often, at first anyway, but it was just an odd sound. Were the Jarritos bouncing up against the Mexi-cokes? Maybe something was falling out of the luggage? No, not that over and over like that, and it doesn’t sound like bottles. Neither Moni nor I could quite place it. And then an impression started to form, but it just couldn’t be right. I thought perhaps all those years of role-playing geeketry were playing havoc with my ears, because I couldn’t possibly be hearing it right. Still, the more I listened, the more convinced I became.

“Is that a sword?”

“It does sound like a sword, yes.”

Hearing Moni confirm my seemingly-impossible impression was a little reassuring. It was also a little disturbing. Why in the hell would the sounds of sword fighting be coming from the back of our vehicle? And then Moni remembered the costume. I had bought her a Wonder Woman costume for super-hero day at her gym. It came with a plastic sword and that sword made sounds whenever you moved it around. We meant to give it to one of of her nieces or nephews, but I guess we never got around to it. Instead, the noisy blade was buried somewhere in the back beneath a pile of luggage, snacketry, random shoes, and countless things we probably didn’t need. Evidently, the sword had room to juggle. So, Wonder Woman had room to fight in the back of our vehicle.

No matter! We would dig her out soon enough.

I think we first noticed the sound on a trip to Sequoia National Park. We could still hear Wonder Woman doing battle after a diversion to Monterey, another trip to Sacramento and San Francisco, several small trips around Los Angeles, a road trip to Santa Fe by way of the Navajo Nation, at least three trips back to to Taos Pueblo through Espaniola, one to Bandelier, one to Kasha Katuwe, and one each to Santa Ana Pueblo and Cochiti. We never did find her, or if we did, we missed the chance to find her a new home. Hell, she was still fighting her foes when we made it finally back to California at the end of the summer.

We actually did make an effort to find Wonder, but we were thwarted by the piles of unnecessary baggage. So, Wonder Woman spent the summer with us. She protected us from evils all across the southwest, and even scolded us when we did wrong. She could be kinda bossy that way, but otherwise, I must admit the living weapon herself was actually pretty good company.

Presumably, her sword is in storage now.

It’s been a little over six months now, so I guess it’s time to share some pics from our road trip, the one Moni and I took with Wonder Woman.

 

I’ve already blogged about a few of these things, but I do plan to produce at least one more post about the street art in San Francisco. I’ve posted about the Institute of American Indian Arts before, and about Santa Fe. These are definitely favorite stops of mine. Here are a few pics (click to embiggen)!

Moni's Nephews in the Kiva at Old Pecos
Moni’s Nephews in the Kiva at Old Pecos
Little Sister isn't impressed with the Quinceañera pics
Little Sister isn’t impressed with the Quinceañera pics
Institute of American Indian Arts
Institute of American Indian Arts
Bandelier
Bandelier
We need one of these trucks here in Barrow before the next 30 days of night
We need one of these trucks here in Barrow before the next 30 days of night
Restaurant in Taos
Restaurant in Taos
Just south of Taos
Just south of Taos
Church at Taos Pueblo
Church at Taos Pueblo
Institute of American Indian Arts
Institute of American Indian Arts
Old Pecos Pueblo
Old Pecos Pueblo
Near Bandelier
Near Bandelier
Whaling Wall in San Francisco
Whaling Wall in San Francisco
Old Pecos Pueblo
Old Pecos Pueblo
Pecos
Pecos
Tragedy at La Brea Tar Pits
Tragedy at La Brea Tar Pits
Muckrock Mural at Taos
Muckrock Mural at Taos
Somewhere in Northern California
Somewhere in Northern California
Window Rock, AZ (I used to work a short stroll from here)
Window Rock, AZ (I used to work a short stroll from here)
Bandelier
Bandelier
Santa Fe
Santa Fe
Three Amigos?
Three Amigos?
Fat Man replica at Los Alamos
Fat Man replica at Los Alamos
Horseshoe Bend
Horseshoe Bend
Taos Pueblo
Taos Pueblo
San Dimas
San Dimas
Santa Fe
Santa Fe
Kiva at Old Pecos Pueblo
Kiva at Old Pecos Pueblo
San Francisco
San Francisco
The Institute of American Indian Arts
The Institute of American Indian Arts
Somewhere in Los Angeles
Somewhere in Los Angeles
Madrid, New Mexico
Madrid, New Mexico
Getting some shade near Horseshoe Bend
Getting some shade near Horseshoe Bend
This guy was bathing in a fountain at Window Rock, Navajo Nation
This guy was bathing in a fountain at Window Rock, Navajo Nation
Note the building from another pic
Note the building from another pic
Face off!
Face off!
Women's Building in the Mission District in San Francisco
Women’s Building in the Mission District in San Francisco
Yeah...
Yeah…
San Francisco
San Francisco
Horseshoe Bend on the Colorado River
Horseshoe Bend on the Colorado River
Moni and Annie at Harvey Milk's old haunt
Moni and Annie at Harvey Milk’s old haunt
Seems to be a car show in town (San Dimas)
Seems to be a car show in town (San Dimas)
Coastline near Monterey
Coastline near Monterey
Stump in Sequoia
Stump in Sequoia
Big Stump
Big Stump
I think Moni wanted to drop me off here, not sure why
I think Moni wanted to drop me off here, not sure why
Pomona
Pomona
26239122_10215319195278210_5540301171360502791_n
San Juan, Fiesta
San Juan, Fiesta
Thai Restaurant in San Francisco (I think this was our waiter)
Thai Restaurant in San Francisco (I think this was our waiter)
The Ned Hatathli Center at Diné College
The Ned Hatathli Center at Diné College
San Francisco Mural
San Francisco Mural
This Guy lives near Williams, ARizona
This Guy lives near Williams, ARizona

 

 

 

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

Arts District, Los Angeles

03 Sunday Dec 2017

Posted by danielwalldammit in Street Art, Travel

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Art, Arts District, California, Graffiti, Los Angeles, Murals, Painting, Street Art, Travel

20046668_10213715189019056_3737017398696896189_nLong before Moni and I took to the road to spend this last July in New Mexico, I spent a couple months with her and her family down in San Dimas, California.

I’m usually a little lost in big cities. Vegas would be an exception, because it was once home, but usually cities make me a little uncomfortable. You see more people in 5 minutes down there in L.A. than you will up here in months on the North Slope (and that’s just on a quick trip to Target). I find it all just a little bit disconcerting.

Still, the big cities do have their strong points…

Oh yes, they do!

(click to embiggen!)

Sexy & Violency
Sexy & Violency
Almost missed this
Almost missed this
Cuteness fenced in
Cuteness fenced in
Oh yes!
Oh yes!
Looking Up
Looking Up
You can see right though her!
You can see right though her!
Wild, and yet somehow peaceful (it's an odd combination)
Wild, and yet somehow peaceful (it’s an odd combination)
You are being watched
You are being watched
Colorful
Colorful
Not just a door, this is a porthole
Not just a door, this is a porthole
Stop staring at me!!!
Stop staring at me!!!
Wolves of Los Angeles
Wolves of Los Angeles
Lovely in blue
Lovely in blue
Creepy green Victorians (they hang out near the nice grandma, not sure why)
Creepy green Victorians (they hang out near the nice grandma, not sure why)
Close-p of a large and very busy mural. (The whole thing was cool. I just figured I'd better pick.)
Close-p of a large and very busy mural. (The whole thing was cool. I just figured I’d better pick.)
Gotta have skulls!
Gotta have skulls!
Just gorgeous!
Just gorgeous!
Adadarem Madmanart and Kwuemolly, Outer.Source
Adadarem Madmanart and Kwuemolly, Outer.Source
Okay, this is just plain cool
Okay, this is just plain cool
The interior design of a dragon
The interior design of a dragon
Possibly my favorite
Possibly my favorite
Mystical Garage Door
Mystical Garage Door

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

Sometimes the Ocean Takes Liquid Form

18 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by danielwalldammit in Bad Photography

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Beach, Blue, California, Newport Beach, Ocean, Photography, Photos, Sea, Travel

DSC04626

The Ocean through Moni’s Lens

This last December, I underwent a brief bout of Southyness. One of my favorite moments came when my gal took me to Newport Beach.

The thing about the beaches in California is you can actually swim in the water. I mean, I didn’t, but other people did and I saw it with my own two eyes. You can actually swim on those beaches. Right now, you can swim right in that water. Totally true story!

Right now, we can walk on our water.

No miracles necessary.

(Click to embiggen.)

IMG_20160202_095907
IMG_20160124_165806
IMG_20160118_014503
IMG_20160203_185758
IMG_20160211_040021

I think Moni took the big orange shot of the beach with my phone while I zoned out with the camera. I must have snapped over a hundred pictures of that silhouette family. Presumably, they have full bodies in a different light scheme. The mother kept taking pictures of her child and I just kept taking pictures of her doing it. Hopefully, she doesn’t mind.

…and hopefully, she isn’t really a shade, because then I’d be in big trouble.

All in all, it was a beautiful evening.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

Guest Post – On the Anniversary of the Murrieta Protests

01 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by danielwalldammit in Childhood, Politics

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

California, Children, Immigration, Justice, Murrieta, Politics, Race, Racism, Social Justice

unnamedNote: My friend Monica had some experience with the children bused in at Murrieta California. I asked her to write something about the events as she remembered them, and thankfully she sent the following. I’ve edited it a bit, but for the most part I’ve tried to preserve the tone of her own writing. I think she has a very interesting story to tell.

I hope you agree.

* * * * *

It’s been a year since America, and the rest of the world, got to know Murrieta, CA. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

In the months prior, the United States had been overwhelmed with a  tide of Central American children and minors entering illegally. Parents desperate enough were sending their children alone to the US in the hopes they would be granted asylum. Encouraged by false promises from smugglers who painted these amazing stories of how in North America they keep the kids and help them build a better life.

There is a glitch in America’s immigration system that makes staying in the USA rather easy.  Smugglers knew about it. When the United States gets Mexican immigrants trying to cross the border illegally, they get deported almost immediately. The same can not be done with Central American immigrants who get detained, processed and eventually released in the US, sometimes with family members, friends, etc. After that, they get a month notice to appear at an immigration office. This almost never actually happens and immigrants simply start a living without documents in the US.  This is the source of the chaos we all saw last year.

Most of these little immigrants were detained in Texas, but their facilities were just overloaded. Texas needed help from other states in processing the rising number of minors. One of the States that were willing to help was California and the kids were sent in buses to different counties to be processed.

Enter Murrieta.

Word got out that kids were being transported there and a group of people started organizing to make sure “illegal aliens” were turned away. Sadly, the whole world got to know Murrieta through the protests. When the buses arrived, the protesters blocked the way screaming at the buses full of kids who didn’t quite understand what was going on.  People held nasty signs and kept screaming at the kids.  I got to watch all of this on TV, I could see the kids’ faces full of terror, and crying and it broke my heart.  I can’t understand how people can be that vile to children.  When some of the protesters were interviewed, it was clear to me that they didn’t really understand why the kids were there. They wanted them out of town.

I went to bed that night and all I could think of was the kids’ faces looking through the window at the people shouting; “DEPORT, DEPORT !” Some of the protesters kept screaming that they wanted an America without people coming over and take away their rights. It wasn’t clear to me which rights they were referring to, or how children were taking them. These kids just needed to be processed and, sadly, send back to their crime ridden country.

The next morning I woke up and I started searching for more news about this. The buses had been turned around and redirected to different places.  I went to work and while I was driving, I kept thinking how the kids must feel. They were alone, their parents had left them by themselves and I was sure they were scared. When I got to work, the news kept showing the confrontation between angry protesters and pro-immigration activists. Ironically, by blocking the entrance to the town, the protesters effectively delayed the deportation process and obstructed law enforcement (a crime in itself).

I found out some of these kids had been abused by drug criminals/thugs in their own country. Most of these crimes never get reported for the fear of retaliation. I found out the majority of these kids were from Honduras, a country that has the world’s highest murder rate. Others were from some of the poorer rural areas of Guatemala and El Salvador.

Their story touched me.

I have been living in the USA for 27 yrs but I haven’t lost my accent, so I have encountered racism quite a few times.  I imagined how the kids must have felt after seeing people shout and spit at them (people were spitting at the buses).

Local municipalities and churches sent word requesting the public’s help. Families that could host some of these kids for a few days while they were being processed, mostly seeking bilingual people so that it could help the kids feel at ease. I called the place where they had a group of these kids in Fontana, CA. and offered my house to a couple of children. They took my number down and they called me the next day. They had 3 siblings from Honduras who they didn’t want to separate and wanted to see if we were willing to take them. I said yes immediately.  Even though I wasn’t sure if I was able to afford it, I thought since my family is big as it is 3 little kids wouldn’t make much of a difference.

The next day, my son and I went to pick up the children. When I saw the kids I broke down crying. They look exhausted, hungry, and scared. At first they were hesitant when I started talking to them, so we stayed around the place a little longer until they seemed a bit more comfortable with us. We have a spare room, so they were going to be able to sleep together. The kids’ ages were 4, 6 and 7. The little girl was the oldest.

That day we got home, we fed them and showered them. The next day we took them to the park where they, being kids, enjoyed running up and down a little hill. The 4 yr old kept asking me when he was going to see his mom. You could see his little face getting sad every time he talked about her. I told him; “soon.” Then he hugged me with a very tight embrace. It was so hard for me to hold back my tears. I didn’t want him to see me cry. I watched them in awe holding hands, the little girl acting protective with their younger siblings.  When we got home, she began to feel more comfortable with us, so she started sharing stories of her town. She talked about how at night, they are supposed to lock all the windows with a big pole, so no one is able to open them from the outside. She also talked about food. She kept telling us how she felt so full now and that sometimes the 4 year old is the only one who eats a second meal a day because he needs it, so he can grow tall and strong. You could see the 4 year old’s face blushing as if feeling ashamed he has to eat a bit more than his siblings.

The 6 year old wasn’t talking as much as his sister. Out of the 3, he looked more frail. I knew he needed more time to feel comfortable at my house.  I spared them from any type of images on the TV about the nasty confrontations still going on between activists and protesters.

That night, I asked the kids if they wanted to do something in particular, since I had to take a week off from work I was able to spend more time with them. The 7 year old looked at me and with the reddest face possible she asked if we could drive by Disneyland, they wanted to find out how it looked. That comment touched me so deeply. I knew even though she was so young, she was aware that it would cost money they didn’t have. So she was settling for just the option to look at Disneyland from the outside. I told them we could, as long as they were able to go to bed earlier. The 6 year old jumped and went straight to my son and hugged him so hard and said; “thank you.” It was hard to keep our eyes dry in front of them.

The next morning the subtle noises from their bedroom woke me up, it was only 7am and the 7 y/o had already made their bed and was trying to comb her little brother’s hair. I just didn’t know how to react, I’m not used to kids being that independent at such a young age, so I told her I would finish it. The 6 year old was particularly chatty this time, and he was telling us he is used to get up at 5am every day to go with his dad to get fresh made bread so his mom can prepare some sort of sandwiches that she sells in the corner. And by the time they get back, it’s time for them to go school.

I just didn’t know what to say. I finished combing his brother’s hair and I asked them if I could hug the 3 of them and they answered me with a big hug. I was able to score tickets for them for Disneyland and they were laughing in excitement.  I would never forget the look on their little faces as they were handed their entry ticket.  Needless to say it was a long day for me, but the perfect day for them.  We exited the park around 10 pm, and we had to make a short walk to the car. My son took us through a short cut across the parking lot, and I noticed the 7 year old stopped cold. I asked what was wrong and she pointed at some tourist buses parked in the front. She asked me if I was going to leave them there. I assured her we were not and they looked at me and smile and held my hand tighter.

On our way back, the 3 of them were trying to sing different Disney songs and kept talking about every single thing they got to see.  I only kept thinking how difficult it would be for them the day they had to leave. That thought almost made me regret having signed up for this.

The next day the children woke up later than usual and went down to have breakfast. I just kept admiring that little 7 year old acting like a little mother to her 4 year old brother. It’s difficult to imagine all the things they have seen in their short lives. As breakfast progressed, they kept getting more and more comfortable, so much so that the 6 year old started talking about the day they were in the bus. He told us people kept hitting the bus and throwing things at it. One of the officers inside told them to sing songs, but his little brother at some point got so scared that he peed on his pants. The 4 year old got really offended and started to cry out of embarrassment. I told him it was normal to be scared once in a while and hugged him. The 7 year old kept quiet but got up to hug his little brother. I asked her if she had been scared too and she said that they were sitting down resting their heads on their laps, but the shouting and the hitting on the bus made most of them cry. The 6 year old told us that when they got down from the bus, they had to cover their heads with a little blanket so the mean people would not see them. The 4 year old kept hugging me but started asking for his mom. I promised him they would see her soon. In the meantime, I was trying my best not to cry with them.

I tried to change the subject because I wanted them to just be happy at the moment and forget about the atrocities going on, but the 6 year old kept talking. He was telling me that a friend of the family had this magazine with him one day, and that is where they saw pictures of Disneyland. He said that when the friend left the magazine unattended, he ripped the page that featured the Castle and placed it under one of the beds in their little house. The 7 year old interrupted him saying that it was that day when they went outside to play ball in front of the house, when a car pulled over across he street. Their parents had taught  them to come inside the house or to hide under a parked car when they thought something bad was happening. So when they saw the car coming to a screeching halt, they instinctively dropped to the ground and moved to the nearest parked car for cover. She said she was holding the 4 year old’s hand but she decided to cover his eyes instead. A guy jumped from the car holding some sort of a rifle and went inside the little house, it didn’t take long when he came out dragging a young man, who according to the 7 year old, was about 17/18 years old. Outside they kept shouting at each other while the siblings were moving underneath the car, when all of a sudden the teen tried to run away and the guy with the rifle just shot him. the shooter went to say something to him and started to kick him. Then, he just got into his car and drove away leaving the young  man there dying. Neighbors started gathering and called an ambulance, but she says they sometimes don’t even come and people have to ask around for help.  Their mother had already run outside looking for them and when she saw them, she took them inside the house.  She told me that while they were hiding, all that she could think about was the magazine with the pictures of the Castle and people smiling. That is why when their parents told them they were gonna send them to America, they thought about Disneyland.

My son asked if the children knew if any of their friends had been sent to America as well, and the 6 year old said that he didn’t think so, because in order to come you have to work really hard to save money. The 7 year old said she used to help cleaning a house for some lady who owns a store next to the school. I asked her about her house-cleaning duties because I couldn’t think of a 7 year old working as a maid. It was just too much. She said that she had to sweep the whole house, make the beds and gather all the dirty clothes and put them inside a tub with soapy water. But that was only after school, because before school she helps her mom making the sandwiches she sells in the corner.

I just had to ask them how was the trip coming to America. They said they took a bus for days, and that a lady had been with them all the way until they arrived to Mexico. Once they got to Mexico, the smugglers moved them to a van with another group of people and left them at a warehouse for a few days. The 4 year old was quick to point out he didn’t like that, the warehouse had roaches that would crawled on top of them at night and also, they forgot to bring food one whole day so they decided to sleep most of the day instead.  The 7 year old said she felt like crying most of the time, but she didn’t want to make her siblings cry more, because they were scared.

All I could think of was the people from Murrieta, how deplorable that adults would willingly scare these little kids that have been through enough, they’ve suffered enough trauma.

The smuggler came back the next morning and took one group to a van and they had to wait a little bit for him to come back for them, when he came back he had sandwiches and juices, he gave them to them and told them to be ready because they were the next group to leave. They devoured the sandwiches and grabbed the bag with clothes, then walked with the smuggler to the van.

In the van, the smuggler kept giving them instructions. He told them that once they crossed to America, a border patrol would find them and they would help them.  The 6 year old kept complaining with his sister about being warm, they had to wear two layers of clothing because they weren’t allowed to carry much inside their bags.

The smuggler took them to the edge of a river (which I’m assuming is the Rio Grande) and told them he had a raft hidden there that would take them across. So they got into the raft and in no time were across the river where another guy helped them get out and told them which path to follow. He said they shouldn’t worry because the border patrol would look for them and help them.  The children told me they walked quite a bit until a border patrol saw them and the kids ran towards it. They said it was much better after the patrol took them to the building because they weren’t cold or hungry. They were able to take a shower and change clothes.  The next day the officials explained they would load the children into a bus because they were going to California (Murrieta).

I asked the kids if they had any family here because I found it more troublesome that their parents would just send them without any adults waiting for them. They said they had an uncle here, but they don’t remember his address. They only had his phone number, which the border patrol took away. The patrol assured the kids they were contacting him.

After this, I decided to take the children to a park, that whole conversation had left me flabbergasted.  I got to keep them for 2 more days before I had to report back with them, it was extremely difficult saying goodbye to them. They all cried while we were hugging.

I wasn’t allowed to keep any personal information from them, so after I left them there, I had no way to contact them again.  I’d like to think that they made it to his uncle and that they are receiving all the help they desperately need.

All this situation is disgraceful. These are tiny people who depend on us, adults, to take care of them. It’s unbelievable to think that people would turn their backs on the children and also intimidate them so much. Kids don’t understand about borders laws; deportation. All they know is that they are going to a safer place where they don’t have to worry about being hurt. Apathy is going to hurt us more than we think.

About a month after they left, I read about a group of kids being murdered after they had been sent back to Honduras.  My heart sunk.  I just wish we’d lived in a world where kids didn’t have to suffer like this.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

Today’s Pointless Yarn: A Rude Awakening and an Odd Dream

10 Friday May 2013

Posted by danielwalldammit in Childhood

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

1970s, Apple Valley, California, Childhood, Concussions, Dreams, Head Injuries, Skateboarding, Victorville

alphbet

Looks different but the drainage is still there

I remember waking eager in anticipation one night. I think I was about twelve  at the time, and we were living in Southern California. A friend had invited me to go skateboarding at a local drainage ditch just out behind the Alpha Beta (about half way between Apple Valley and Victorville). This was a perfect half pipe, and a nice down-hill at that. My friend was a far better skater, and so this was also a chance to pick up a trick or two, and enjoy a day on my board. Plus, it was a rare sociable moment in the life of a young hermit. I was really looking forward to this day. The only problem was it was night-time.

This confused me.

I was pretty sure I had had a full night of sleep, and this didn’t seem like the darkness just before morning. It really seemed like the darkness just before you go to sleep and stay that way for the night. Luckily my Mom entered the room shortly after I sat up and asked me how I felt. I was eager to go skateboarding, but a little confused about the time.

…and about the dream I had, the one where I had already gotten up and gone skateboarding. Then my friends kept pestering me to call home, and I didn’t know why, but in this dream they seemed to think I should get ahold of my parents for some reason.

People talk a lot about making your dreams come true. I don’t think this is what they typically mean by it. At any rate, I got a cool new phrase out of the whole experience, “post cerebral concussion syndrome.”

71.271549 -156.751450

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

California Admitted as a Free State, …Oh Wait!

16 Wednesday Nov 2011

Posted by danielwalldammit in Education, History, Native American Themes, Politics

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

American Indian, California, Civil War, History, Narrative, Native American, Semantics, Slavery, Story-Telling, teaching

Okay, so we just started a section on slavery and the civil war in my American history class. One thing that always irritates me here, or maybe it just amuses me, I don’t know… Anyway, I think about it whenever I cover this subject. Every textbook I have ever used on American history explains that California was admitted as a free state under the terms of the Compromise of 1850.

So, what’s the problem?

The problem is a little known law passed in California that very year, ostensibly for the protection of Indians. The law imposes a $50.00 fine on anyone forcing an Indian to work against his will. So, that should be good, right?

Actually, no.

The law also contains the following provisions:

When an Indian is convicted of an offence before a Justice of the Peace punishable by a fine, any white person may, by consent of the Justice, give bond for said Indian, conditioned for the payment of said fine and costs, and in such case the Indian shall be compelled to work for the person so bailing, until he has discharged or cancelled the fine assessed against him…

and

Any Indian able to work and support himself in some honest calling, not having wherewithal to maintain himself, who shall be found loitering and strolling about, or frequenting public places where liquors are sold, begging, or leading an immoral and profligate course of life, shall be liable to be arrested on the complaint of any resident citizen of the county, and brought before any Justice of the Peace of the proper county, Mayor or Recorder of any incorporated town or city, who shall examine said accused Indian, and hear the testimony in relation thereto, and if said Justice, Mayor or Recorder shall be satisfied that he is a vagrant, as above set forth, he shall make out a warrant under his hand and seal, authorizing and requiring the officer having him in charge or custody, to hire out such vagrant within twenty four hours to the best bidder, by public notice given as he shall direct, for the highest price that can be had, for any term not exceeding four months; and such vagrant shall be subject to and governed by the provisions of this Act, regulating guardians and minors, during the time for which he has been so hired.

Oh there is a lot more to the act, and plenty of reassuring clauses that appear to keep people from exploiting natives, but it should not take a lot of imagination to read between the lines here and see how this story actually went down. To say that this law opened up the native labor-market to exploitation would be putting it mildly. …too mildly.

In essence, the law made it illegal to enslave an Indian, at least on one’s own initiative, but if someone was caught being an Indian on a city street, the city could bond him over to you for a price. Oh yes, folks would have to go through the trouble of slighting the moral integrity of the Indian first, but how difficult do you think it would be to find a white guy willing to do that?

Not very.

It’s not the most efficient form of slavery one could devise, but it is slavery non-the-less, and that is why it always bugs me to see textbook after textbook announce that California was admitted to the Union as a free state under the terms of the compromise of 1850.

…in the very year they created a legal procedure for enslaving Indians.

Oh I get it; this kind of issue simply falls outside the scope of the narrative in question. It was not even on the horizons of those debating the major issues of the day in Congress. So, if one is recounting the events leading up to the Civil War, then this piece of information does not really change that story much. Neither does the existence of a viable slave-trade in the interior Southwest. If one is focused on the question of slavery as it was framed in the national politics of the day, then yes, California was certainly admitted as a free state.

Or is that the problem, the terms of that debate?

The bottom line is that ‘slavery’ is just a word, and you can choose to use it or not as easily as you can any other term regardless of the realities of the labor conditions in question. So, historians can skate right past these instances of captive labor (much as the great figures of the era did in their own approach to the issue) while focusing on the institutional forms of slavery that were the main issues of the day. But of course that same sleight of hand is necessary to cap off the story of the Civil War in the standard way, describing it as bringing about the end of slavery in America.

To give closure to the issue of slavery in our national storyline, one has to ignore the use of debt-peonage in conjunction with Jim Crow Laws, or at least classify them as a whole new kind of problem. Using the word “slavery” in the chapters leading up the Civil War and dropping it afterwards creates the illusion that the new social problems are significantly different than the old ones. This approach suggests that the problems associated with slavery were somehow resolved with the closing chapters of Reconstruction, perhaps not to the satisfaction of all concerned, but resolved nonetheless. And Jim Crow then becomes a whole different kind of problem, as do a host of similar practices.

Just like the California Law for the protection of the Indian.

***

Note: The law can be found in the California Statutes from 1850. It is also included in the primary documents for the following textbook:

Albert L. Hurtado, Peter Iverson. Major Problems in American Indian History: Documents and Essays. Second Edition. (Houghton Mifflin, 2001).

71.271549 -156.751450

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Share on Tumblr
  • Print
  • Email

Like this:

Like Loading...

Top Posts & Pages

  • An Uncommon Security Guard: Dave Eshelman, AKA 'John Wayne'
    An Uncommon Security Guard: Dave Eshelman, AKA 'John Wayne'
  • Oh Come On!
    Oh Come On!
  • The Politics of Personification
    The Politics of Personification
  • Map Ain't Time Either.
    Map Ain't Time Either.
  • A Very Soylent Spoiler Alert
    A Very Soylent Spoiler Alert
  • Tears of an Uncommon Indian
    Tears of an Uncommon Indian
  • I'll Just Leave This Here
    I'll Just Leave This Here
  • The Village of Wainwright, Alaska
    The Village of Wainwright, Alaska
  • What Does it Mean to Like Something?
    What Does it Mean to Like Something?
  • About
    About

Topics

  • Alaska
  • Animals
  • Anthropology
  • atheism
  • Bad Photography
  • Books
  • Childhood
  • Education
  • Gaming
  • General
  • History
  • Irritation Meditation
  • Justice
  • Las Vegas
  • Minis
  • Movie Villainy
  • Movies
  • Museums
  • Music
  • Narrative VIolence
  • Native American Themes
  • Philosophy
  • Politics
  • Public History
  • Re-Creations
  • Religion
  • Street Art
  • The Bullet Point Mind
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • Uncommonday
  • White Indians
  • Write Drunk, Edit Stoned

Blogroll

  • American Creation
  • An Historian Goes to the Movies
  • Aunt Phil's Trunk
  • Bob's Blog
  • Dr. Gerald Stein
  • Hinterlogics
  • Ignorance WIthout Arrogance
  • Im-North
  • Insta-North
  • Just a Girl from Homer
  • Multo (Ghost)
  • Native America
  • Norbert Haupt
  • Northwest History
  • Northy Pins
  • Northy-Tok
  • Nunawhaa
  • Religion in American History
  • The History Blog
  • The History Chicks
  • What Do I Know?

Archives

  • April 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011
  • November 2011
  • October 2011

My Twitter Feed

Follow @Brimshack

RSS Feed

  • RSS - Posts
  • RSS - Comments

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 8,084 other followers

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • northierthanthou
    • Join 8,084 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • northierthanthou
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    loading Cancel
    Post was not sent - check your email addresses!
    Email check failed, please try again
    Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.
    %d bloggers like this: