Navajo Reservation

This just in: Dorothy Benally of Beclabito needs a reliable sheepherder. He must be willing to take the flock up into the mountains for at least two months. Call collect . . . . The squaw dance for Frank Woody at Ojo Encino has been postponed . . . . And to anyone who's listening, Elmer Bigben would like the people of Red Mesa to leave messages at the chapter house. Rise and shine.

Even seasoned drinkers have mothers. This is certainly the case with the Enabler, who despite an ongoing penchant for brooding over a stiff bourbon also enjoys the simple pleasures of taking her mother out for a scoop of gelato. With Mother's Day approaching, the Enabler's thoughts have turned to her provenance, and the many sacrifices her mother made to ensure that she was well-swaddled as a child. In her early years, the Enabler was raised on the Navajo reservation in northern Arizona.

"A Mystery Only to 'White Skins' " (Commentary, June 13), about the viral disease on the Navajo reservation, has many inaccuracies. I practiced on the reservation for two years and am familiar with their medical problems. Although the latest investigation by doctors concludes the disease is caused by droppings from rodents, what do the Navajos do to solve the problem? Nothing. Johnny P. Flynn states that the disease is the result of young people forgetting ancient Navajo teaching.

"My weapon was my language," World War II Marine veteran Joe Morris Sr. told a crowd of nearly 200 in a San Bernardino park on Veterans Day in 2004. "We saved a lot of lives. " Morris, one of the Navajo code talkers whose use of their native language in transmitting messages successfully thwarted Japanese code breakers in the Pacific during World War II, died July 17 at the Jerry L. Pettis Memorial VA Medical Center in Loma Linda of complications from a stroke, said his daughter, Colleen Anderson.

On the shoulder of the rutted dirt road that leads to Littlewater, a few hundred feet from where it branches off the main highway, someone has planted a large hand-painted sign. It reads: "No News Media Allowed--TV, Radio, Etc." Here on the wind-swept eastern edge of the Navajo reservation, state and federal health investigators, newspaper reporters and network camera crews have been knocking on doors at isolated homes asking questions.

The thick mud of a Navajo Reservation back road has gotten the better of Father Cormac Antram's Chevy Blazer. We're stuck 10 miles from the nearest pavement, surrounded by sagebrush and spirits. But we have plenty of company. About 50 Navajos have gathered at a private cemetery in Coyote Canyon, about 25 miles northeast of Gallup, N.M., to bury one of their own. Blanche Charlie was 84, a respected member of the tribe and longtime friend of Antram.

Alcoholism is destroying the Navajo Nation and the situation is a "national disgrace," New Mexico's Alcohol Beverage Control director said Friday. Abe Rodriquez told a congressional panel that when he took over his job 19 months ago, he began looking at the problems centered around Gallup, Farmington and Shiprock--the largest communities where Navajos can buy liquor.

The article on Father Cormac Antram of the Navajo reservation ("The Holy Wind Talker," by Leo W. Banks, March 23) invites newfound hope that peace can be obtained between two very different cultures. Thank you for a great story. Karen J. Gendusie Oak View, Calif.

"My weapon was my language," World War II Marine veteran Joe Morris Sr. told a crowd of nearly 200 in a San Bernardino park on Veterans Day in 2004. "We saved a lot of lives. " Morris, one of the Navajo code talkers whose use of their native language in transmitting messages successfully thwarted Japanese code breakers in the Pacific during World War II, died July 17 at the Jerry L. Pettis Memorial VA Medical Center in Loma Linda of complications from a stroke, said his daughter, Colleen Anderson.

Even seasoned drinkers have mothers. This is certainly the case with the Enabler, who despite an ongoing penchant for brooding over a stiff bourbon also enjoys the simple pleasures of taking her mother out for a scoop of gelato. With Mother's Day approaching, the Enabler's thoughts have turned to her provenance, and the many sacrifices her mother made to ensure that she was well-swaddled as a child. In her early years, the Enabler was raised on the Navajo reservation in northern Arizona.

A teenager has been charged by federal authorities with killing a nun whose body was found in her Navajo Nation home earlier this week. Federal court documents show that 19-year-old Reehahlio Carroll of Navajo, N.M., was charged with "the unlawful killing of a human being with malice aforethought." FBI spokesman Darrin Jones confirmed Carroll is accused of killing 64-year-old Sister Marguerite Bartz. She served at St. Berard Catholic Church in the tiny town on the Navajo reservation.

More than 50,000 people are arrested across the Navajo reservation each year -- yet there are only 59 jail beds here. Officials say the lack of jail space has led to a revolving door for criminals, most of whom are released within a day of being booked, and few of whom serve out an entire sentence. "It's been a horrendous situation," said Hope MacDonald-Lonetree, a Navajo council delegate. "You can't assure the safety of the police and judges and the prosecutors when you have the perpetrators running around.

The dirt track we're bumping along doesn't qualify as a road -- even here on the sprawling, remote Navajo reservation. Next to me, behind the wheel of an old pickup, Christian Bigwater downshifts as he maneuvers over and around the rocks in our way. "You're in for a treat," he says as he stops at a point beyond which even he won't risk driving. From here, we hike through scraggly pines and yucca to a promontory from which the treat -- Canyon de Chelly -- reveals itself.

The Environmental Protection Agency plans to resume long-stalled testing for toxics on the Navajo reservation unleashed by abandoned Cold War uranium mines, but it and four other federal agencies have yet to come up with overall cleanup and health plans, their representatives told seven House members in a closed meeting this week.

MOST OF THE MINING companies that drilled, dug and blasted for uranium on the Navajo reservation during the Cold War did nothing to repair the environmental damage they left behind. For a time, tribal leaders staked their hopes for a cleanup on Superfund, the landmark legislation that forces polluters to pay for remediation of toxic sites. More than 1,000 abandoned mines are scattered across the Navajo homeland, which covers 27,000 square miles in Arizona, Utah and New Mexico.

MARY AND BILLY BOY HOLIDAY bought their one-room house from a medicine man in 1967. They gave him $50, a sheep and a canvas tent. For the most part, they were happy with the purchase. Their Navajo hogan was situated well, between a desert mesa and the trading-post road. The eight-sided dwelling proved stout and snug, with walls of stone and wood, and a green-shingle roof. The single drawback was the bare dirt underfoot.

A slate of Navajo Indian candidates running against Anglo-dominated government in a rural Utah county was soundly defeated Tuesday. Only one of the six Navajos was elected. Mark Maryboy, a Navajo Indian, was reelected to the three-member San Juan County commission. The Navajo candidates for county clerk, treasurer, assessor, recorder and sheriff were all defeated by wide margins.

A teenager has been charged by federal authorities with killing a nun whose body was found in her Navajo Nation home earlier this week. Federal court documents show that 19-year-old Reehahlio Carroll of Navajo, N.M., was charged with "the unlawful killing of a human being with malice aforethought." FBI spokesman Darrin Jones confirmed Carroll is accused of killing 64-year-old Sister Marguerite Bartz. She served at St. Berard Catholic Church in the tiny town on the Navajo reservation.

The article on Father Cormac Antram of the Navajo reservation ("The Holy Wind Talker," by Leo W. Banks, March 23) invites newfound hope that peace can be obtained between two very different cultures. Thank you for a great story. Karen J. Gendusie Oak View, Calif.

The thick mud of a Navajo Reservation back road has gotten the better of Father Cormac Antram's Chevy Blazer. We're stuck 10 miles from the nearest pavement, surrounded by sagebrush and spirits. But we have plenty of company. About 50 Navajos have gathered at a private cemetery in Coyote Canyon, about 25 miles northeast of Gallup, N.M., to bury one of their own. Blanche Charlie was 84, a respected member of the tribe and longtime friend of Antram.