I've been doing some consulting and teaching on
the Wind River Reservation (N. Arapaho and
E. Shoshone tribes) and recently got lost there.
I had taken a wrong turn and just kept driving
and driving and driving. I was convinced that
at some point I would have to get to an
intersection with a road I'd recognize so
I kept driving.
As long as the Wind River mountain range was
on my left, I reasoned, I'd eventually find a
road to turn left and would at some point hit
the highway I knew at the south end of the
Reservation.
To give you an idea about the drive I was now
taking, from the east side to the west side,
the Wind River Reservation spans from the foothills
of the Wind River Mountains across the plains of
West Central Wyoming, "covering nearly three million
acres, an area larger than Rhode Island and Delaware
combined, and extends fifty-five miles from north
to south and seventy miles from east to west."
Earlier this week, I didn't know these dimensions.
I just kept driving.
The land on the Reservation, while vast and open
beneath an enormous blue sky, is actually quite
barren and hauntingly devoid of signs of life.
The more I drove, the heavier the sorrow I
felt. I noted that other than a few scattered
houses here in there - most in disrepair - there
was really nothing out here.
The lack of anything - stores, rest stops, gas stations,
restaurants - was the reason why I did not stop
to ask directions. The lack of anything is the reason
why the Wind River Reservation is struggling with
outrageous levels of unemployment (over 60%).
It is not even a thriving tourist attraction although
it has all the potential to be with a worldwide
interest in all things Native American and historical.
By the time I reached the west side of the Reservation,
I was emotionally drained, simply devastated at the
thought of what "we" (white people) have done to
the native people of this land. I felt sucked dry by the
barrenness of the land despite the stunning sky and
majestic mountain range in view.
I finally found a left turn on a road that I recognized
and headed toward the Wind River Mountains as the
sun began to fade. I found my way to the familiar
highway and headed to my destination. I had somewhere
to go, but so many people on the Reservation are
without their destination.
What more can I do to help? I thought. What more
can I do?
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