Below, please find two articles by Peg. The first, about her Prayer Walk at Big Mountain; the second, a piece on the summer 2001 National Farmworker March for Justice, written for the Friends Bulletin.
Prayer Walk to Big Mountain.
January 27-February 2, 2000, by Peg Morton
Big Mountain is a plateau on the Black Mesa in the northeastern corner of Arizona, shared for centuries by the Dineh (Navajo) and Hopi people, who carried on trade and intermarried. The area covers rich mineral resources, especially coal and uranium. Peabody Coal has a huge strip mine in the area. Many factors have come together to create increasing conflict between the Dineh and Hopi people. It was partitioned by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, separating the two groups. Many Dineh people were evacuated from their ancestral lands, provided housing on the "New Lands," down river from the largest nuclear accident in U.S. history. People who live there suffer from serious health problems. Others signed a lease agreement giving them the right to stay on the land for 75 years.
Some were unwilling to accept these options. They will not give up their sovereignty, believing that it is their sacred duty to stay on the land of their ancesters and to protect it from destruction from mining. Now after 34 years, there are about a dozen of these households. Mostly they are elders in their 80's. They are not permitted to make renovations on their properties; they have no elecricity, no water. Sheepherders, they are limited in the number of sheep they can own. They are aided by volunteers who come to help with sheepherding and are a public presence there.
I have often yearned to go to Big Mountain, to express my solidarity with these courageous elders and to learn first hand about their situation. And I want to experience actions that come from a spiritual place. Carrying a letter of support from Eugene Friends Meeting, I joined a Prayer Walk to Save Big Mountain initiated by a group of Japanese people who had begun their walk on New Years Day on a sacred mountain in Japan. Carrying peace pipes, they walked for 300 miles, gathering thousands of signatures, and then flew to Flagstaff where I and others joined them.
Dawn of January 27 found me driving with about 24 Japanese people to a slope of the San Francisco peaks where we were to begin the Walk. Standing in a ceremonial circle, about 40 of us prepared to begin the 130 mile walk. We were Dineh, Japanese, Germans, English, Irish and from many US states. A Swedish group was already on Big Mountain presenting petitions. I was struck by the fact that people from other countries are coming to the US to stand in solidarity with oppressed peoples here, and to carry their experience home, just as so many of us have done in Central America and other countries. February 2 was the date on which the Hopi Tribal Council was to be officially granted land title, another step towards the forced eviction of these traditional Dineh elders and the destruction of this land. However, we knew that court cases would delay the evacuation.
We began the walk, peace pipes carried in front. Support vehicles, which I used a lot, followed. The pace was rapid, yet there was a sense of reverence among us. Two Buddhist nuns, Jun Yasuda and Ichikawa, were an important part of the Walk. They devote their lives to Prayer Walks for peace and justice. They and others carried light-weight drums which they beat to a steady rhythm, chanting, throughout each day. The Buddhist group opened each day at dawn with drumming and chanting. We were smudged in a sacred circle to begin each day, and we stopped at places sacred to the Dineh people. We were frequently reminded that "this walk is a Prayer Walk. Every step is a prayer. We walk in beauty."
We began next to the site of a pumice mine which completely strips the area worked. Pumice is used to fade blue jeans. We then passed through an area dotted with old uranium mines. Closed years ago, they have never been covered. We passed an expanse of uranium tailings, dumped and left uncovered for many years near what is now the remains of a small Dineh community. The People had been forced to leave due to illness. Now these tailings are
covered with dirt.
We stayed the first four nights, sleeping on mats in Navajo Chapter houses, where we were welcomed in ceremonies by Dineh people who provided us with traditional Dineh food, mutton stew and fried bread. The elders had tears in their eyes, knowing that we had come from many parts of the world to support them. One night, the ceremonial speeches turned into a party, with Japanese, North American and Dineh people taking turns singing and dancing. The high point was when a Dineh elder woman danced a traditional dance around the room with a young Japanese man.
Many people, Dineh and others, joined the Walk as we approached Big Mountain. During the final three days, to avoid confrontation with the Hopi Tribal Council, we walked over soft dirt roads in the back country. On Big Mountain, we camped out on the properties of two Dineh elders, meeting these strong, stolid women and their families, as well as some of the volunteers who live and work with them. We watched a herd of sheep, saw a beautfiul traditional weaving in process, ate newly slaughtered lamb. We gazed at sunrises and the stars, and froze with the cold at night. I may never have felt so spiritually connected with the earth as during those seven days almost entirely outside in the desert, often in silence. On the final day, almost 100 of us joined in a final ceremony, each puffing on the peace pipes that had come so far, some Japanese joining the Dineh in the entry procession.
And then it was over. Back in Flagstaff, Jun and Ichikawa did a two-day dry fast. I and others joined them to chant in front of the Navajo-Hopi Relocation Office.
Reflections: At the beginning of the Walk, Bahe, a Dineh leader, asked why we each were going on this Walk. His own reasons touched me in a deep place. He said, "I am going because I want to recover my humanness. That can only happen when we Dineh people are able to recover our culture, in the context of the ancient lands on which our culture is based." Somehow I was stunned into a recognition of my own life journey, and became able to relate my own individual needs to the needs of my European-American, Puritan culture. I was at the Walk not only to walk in solidarity with the Dineh people in their struggle to maintain their own culture and to save Big Mountain, but also to recover my own humanness.
Throughout my adult life, I have felt compelled to stand with those who are oppressed and to learn from them. I have felt spiritually united with them. I picture, and often feel, an invisible shell around me, locking me away from my full potential for warmth, love and spiritual vitality, and have recognized that myupbringing emphasized my intellectual development perhaps at the expense of other parts of my humanness. I wonder if this may be a trait, to one degree or another, among people of European-American background. As we have concentrated on the development of our intellects, of technology, have our hearts been blocked from loving fully? Has our awareness been closed to some degree to the sufferings of those around us, to the courage and steadfastness of all the diverse struggles of oppressed peoples the world over, to the depth, richness and wisdom that can be found in their cultures? And are our hearts to some degree closed to the oppression that our culture inflicts on theirs?
But perhaps we can look back on our cultural heritage before this era, in earlier times. There were pagan cultures of the Stonehenge, and of women spiritual leaders, witches, women of wisdom who were massacred, millions annihilated. These were cultures that honored and understood the earth, as traditional indigenous people still do. This is our cultural heritage, and we can reclaim it, as many Friends and others are trying to do. We can look back to Jesus, who lived mainly outdoors, a man of love, of an open spirit, an open heart, of wisdom, who honored the diverse people and groups of his world, who suffered with those who suffered, who was a healer, who was willing to die, who did die, as he followed his life path so threatening to the oppressors. We can reclaim this Jesus into our culture and respond to his teachings.
I am finding that one way I, coming as I do from an oppressor group, from white privilege, can more deeply find my own humanness is to let down the barriers that separate me from people who are persecuted, discriminated against, diminished because of race, color, gender, ethnic background, sexuality, social class, or whatever. When I walk in solidarity with them, feeling their suffering, learning from the richness of their cultures and from their strength and persistence, I am helped in finding my own humanness. As that happens, I become less able to engage in or permit oppressive behaviors. I believe that we have to walk together. We have to recover the best in our cultures. Our cultures must travel together, to regain our humanness. We are all on a pilgrimage, walking. We must walk together, a Prayer Walk.
Walk for Farmworker Justice
Summer 2001, by Peg Morton
"Ministry of the Dispossessed," by Pat Hoffman, is about the farmworker struggle to organize under the leadership of Cesar Chavez in California in the 1960's and ‘70's. (1987, Wallace Press, Los Angeles.) In her concluding paragraphs, Pat Hoffman writes: "Every one of us has the responsibility for our own conversions. ... We need, time and time again, to be turned off the paved highways marked ‘Status Quo.' We need to turn on to the rutted dirt byways with no markings. The only way we know we're on the right road is that all the poor people are on it. They're walking. ..." (Pp. 135-6)
This June 18-24, faith communities, unions and others were invited to walk with farmworkers in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. The Walk for Farmworker Justice was a huge effort to expand the consciousness and commitment of those who eat the food the farmworkers pick, to bring us into the struggle. A symbol of the struggle was carried around each day on a rickety truck, to be present at the educational and cultural events of each evening: Sitting at a table were cardboard representations of Farmworkers, Religious Organizations, and Consumers. The empty chair is waiting for NORPAC, the Growers Cooperative in the Willamette Valley.
The farmworker struggle in the Willamette Valley has gained momentun over the past years, under leadership from the union, PCUN (Pineros y Campesinos Unidos de Noroeste). It focuses on agricultural workers and on the growers cooperative NORPAC. NORPAC has refused to endorse the right of workers to organize under PCUN. NORPAC growers have resisted farmerworkers efforts to organize. Workers, organizers and supporters have been fired, threatened and even on some occasions attacked.
Following the Chavez UFW model, PCUN has reached out for support, very much including faith communities. They have invited delegations to visit camps and the fields, working to spread the message of the farmworker struggle, and finally initiating and promoting a boycott of NORPAC products (Santiam and Flav-R-Pac). While faith communities have balked at this latter confrontive tactic, it has expanded effectively around the country through coordination of PCUN, the Campaign for Labor Rights and the Student Anti-Sweatshop movement.
The Walk itself, in the planning for a year, was initiated by faith based and labor support communities and welcomed by PCUN. A core group of around 40 gathered on June 18 for orientation and nonviolence training, then a long ride in a rickety bus for our first educational and cultural evening among farmworkers. In these daily events, we heard testimonies from farmworkers, their personal stories, the organizing projects of women and youth, and more. We sang; we yelled "Si, se puede!" ("Yes, it can be done!")
Each day we were driven to a walk site. Various faith communities from around the valley, helped serve breakfasts, snacks and dinners, in parks and churches near where we walked. Envision 100 women, children and men, strung out single file on the edge of a narrow country road, along a field. No workers to be seen: They were removed. We carried signs and red PCUN flags. An agile young woman, Cassandra, bellowed through a bull horn from across the road, calling for us to respond: "What do we want?" "Justice!", as she pointed, gestured, and leapt around.
Cassandra was only one of many young adults in their twenties and even younger who provided leadership in many facets of the Walk. They led discussions, worked out logistics, collected and accounted for money, provided security each day for the walks and rallies. It is inspiring to me that this new generation is rising up so competently to provide leadership in the struggle for a better world.
Each day saw an increase in numbers. On Wednesday we walked close to a labor camp, with wide-eyed children peering out a window. We came to the camp of a large farm, whose manager, has never been willing to speak to PCUN representatives. We bellowed in Spanish to anyone who might be there, behind the fence, who we were, and our desire that the grower negotiate with PCUN. To our surprise, the manager of the farm was there and invited us in. We trooped in and surrounded him. as he answered our questions politely, for nearly an hour. It is his firm belief that the farmworkers' union would add significantly to his economic woes. Ramon Ramirez, President of PCUN, spoke of the benefits of cooperation. This was the first time ever that these two had had a direct interchange. We were encouraged. However, since the Walk, the same manager has published a vitriolic letter in a Salem newspaper.
Thursday was Youth Day, devoted in part to workshops where youth group members organized by Latinos Unidos Siempre (LUS), based in Salem, shared both personal stories and organizing experience. "When I was 3, my mother took me to the fields each day while she worked. I cried and cried."...The empowerment and effectiveness of youth organizing for justice, their own and others, was evident. Augmented to some 200, we walked energetically through the streets of Woodburn.
Friday was Ecumenical Day, culminating in a beautiful interfaith service. Our Walking Theologian, Jane Redmont, who teaches at the Graduate Theological Union at Berkeley, provided opportunities throughout the week for relating our divergent faiths with the farmworker struggle.
Saturday was Union Day. Union-sponsored buses arrived for a walk and rally in Stayton, home of NORPAC. There may have been 300 of us. We were treated to guerrilla theater. We marched through the streets of Stayton, and stood in front of NORPAC, shouting our messages. There was a vigorous rally in a nearby park. I welcomed a foot massage from a volunteer who had brought a chair and oils for the purpose.
At noon, over sandwiches in another park, Enrique Diaz raised his severed arm. It was severed recently by a forklift at the Pictsweet factory, where mushrooms are grown. He believes that the incident would not have happened if they had been willing to hire a trained forklift operator. He, and other Pictsweet workers I talked with during the Walk, spoke of long hours with no overtime, piece work that meant less than minimum wage, constant pressure to work at even higher speeds. Workers, mostly Latino, are attempting to organize under PCUN, and are meeting high resistance from the company. Enrique has no coverage for expensive pain medication. We passed a hat. Pictsweet is pressuring him to return to work. Later, in Salem, we trooped on to demonstrate in front of Pictsweet. It was quite a surprise to see a man decked out in suit and tie at the front of the march. He was the mayor of Salem, who joined Enrique and others to speak from a pick-up truck. He pronounced strongly that such conditions should not exist and must be ended.
At supper, I encountered two women who had surrounded the same float as I at the WTO demonstration in Seattle. On another evening, I ran into a friend who has since departed to accompany a threatened indigenous community in Guatemala. It's an ever-expanding global network of solidarity.
Several hundred farmworkers and their families, relieved from field work, joined us in the pouring rain for final march, rally and interfaith service at the Capitol. The Governor, the Mayor of Salem, the President of the United Farmworkers and the Executive Director of Ecumenical Ministries of Oregon, were among those who spoke.
What were some of the messages from the Walk?
1. The importance of keeping the vision: There are no human enemies. We are all human.
2. By joining the farmworker movement and following the lead of farmworkers, we are contributing to their empowerment while increasing the effectiveness of the struggle. Our personal presence builds both their trust and our own. It is one struggle for justice. The sacrifices farmworkers make to bring food to our table is way beyond any sacrifice we have made.
3. We are working in solidarity with farmworkers, so that they will achieve the dignity and respect they deserve, decent housing, a living wage, work safety, health care, education, freedom from persecution, and importantly, the right to organize so that they themselves are empowered to work effectively for these goals.
4. Some obstacles that come in the way: Uninformed consumers, racism, the invisibility of farmworkers, the weakness of the farm economy, the global economy that affects all agriculture, the lack of legal backing for organizing. (The National labor Relations Act of 1936 does not cover farmworkers.)
Having been a child in the 1930's, when John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath was published, I have to ask: When will farmworkers achieve these goals? When will their exploitation end? The answer, of course, is immensely complex, involving an exploitive global economy that hurts growers as well as workers. But farmworkers will never gain their place at the table until they can organize and become strong leaders in the struggle.