Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir

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Mission to the chapel in Monterey, and from there to Mission Santa Cruz, where he tried to sell the church’s land illegally as the Americans came flooding into the country. And then—he just vanishes from the record. Poof. Nothing. Erasure is a bitch, isn’t it? Vicenta, I don’t know if the fact that your story survives, that Isabel’s angry words fight for your dignity and honor, really brings any kind of justice to you. Not the kind of hands-on justice I’d like, anyhow. When the <strong>Indians</strong> at Mission Santa Cruz killed their priest—a man known for his use of metaltipped whips and thumbscrews—they made sure to rip off his testicles, too. Now, those were some <strong>Indians</strong> who listened to the “eye for an eye” part of the Bible pretty good. But the scribblings of an obsessed white man trying to record the memories of an aging Indian woman attempting to tell the story of an Indian girl’s rape one hundred years before—can this change the world? Maybe nothing can bring you justice after all this time, Vicenta. That’s probably too much to ask. I
hope for the basics: I hope someone was there for you when you ran home. Someone to hold you. Someone to help you clean yourself up. Someone who comforted you after the nightmares. I hope nobody told you it was your fault. I hope some old lady cussed out Father Real in front of the gossips. And if no one did any of that for you, I hold onto this: Isabel remembered your story, and she told it to Harrington, and he told it to me, and I’m telling it to everyone I can find. You told first. Maybe that’s why Isabel felt, of all the stories she knew about violation and invasion and loss, your story was the one to tell Harrington. She was proud of you. She respected you for refusing to shut up. She liked that you weren’t a good Mission Indian. Maybe she even thought future Indian women could learn from you. That 34 percent hasn’t gone away since I started this letter. Vicenta. If that was your name, the padre should have been more careful about giving it to you. Even in Spanish, it means “conquers.”
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© 2013 by Deborah A. Miranda All r
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P.O. Box 9145, Berkeley, CA 94709 (
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Table of Contents Title Page Copyri
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Chairwoman, Ohlone/Costanoan-Essele
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DeAnna Rivera, Wendy Teeters, Kimbe
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Introduction California Is a Story
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heels and tight dresses. She’d tr
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Theirs was the kind of desire that
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ut who are we, when we have survive
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the way Tonto spoke if you wanted t
Page 25 and 26: as a truth. As a whole. Even if the
Page 27 and 28: South while simultaneously requirin
Page 29 and 30: those giant dioramas behind glass),
Page 31 and 32: video project must have been a lot
Page 33 and 34: where voices can speak after long a
Page 35 and 36: Los Pájaros based on writings by J
Page 37 and 38: ut the women were caught with Spani
Page 39 and 40: When arrows were raining everywhere
Page 41 and 42: Deby Miranda, fourth grade picture
Page 43 and 44: Tell them to dig a big round basin
Page 45 and 46: Mission San Miguel campanario, circ
Page 47 and 48: lusty songs out beyond the padres
Page 49 and 50: Discipline Due to their animal-like
Page 51 and 52: customs.” Luckily, the Spaniards
Page 53 and 54: Also known in Spanish as azotes (st
Page 55: striking force. The whips might be
Page 58 and 59: Wooden club used to strike quickly;
Page 60 and 61: tuned-up souls. These reconditioned
Page 62 and 63: grandchildren, was never legally an
Page 64 and 65: Padre Figure 11. Franciscan mission
Page 66 and 67: we were his beloved and abused floc
Page 69: Dear Vicenta
Page 72 and 73: Well, I shouldn’t complain. Those
Page 74 and 75: Vicenta, I keep thinking of how you
Page 78 and 79: Not conquered. Nimasianexelpasaleki
Page 80 and 81: Meadows knew she was a valuable res
Page 82 and 83: sacred, and we have a right to spea
Page 84 and 85: Isabel Mar. [19]37 understands “j
Page 86 and 87: amongst the men, passed as just men
Page 88 and 89: seek every kind of way to feed them
Page 90 and 91: his plump arm, swung him around acr
Page 92 and 93: Bridges: Secularization Post- 1836-
Page 94 and 95: Wear their heavy aprons, high-necke
Page 96 and 97: Ularia’s Curse “Pero la maldici
Page 98 and 99: “Will you miss us, River?” she
Page 100 and 101: and Santa Clara, and as editor of t
Page 102 and 103: From The Argonauts of ’Forty-nine
Page 104 and 105: or near the goldfields in ’49, sh
Page 106 and 107: In 1857 the California State Legisl
Page 108 and 109: So when I see this woman’s image,
Page 110 and 111: Exorbitant amounts of money are mad
Page 112 and 113: Ms. Hawthorne shared that this phot
Page 114 and 115: have so many questions. What kind o
Page 116 and 117: as humiliating and opprobrious. It
Page 118 and 119: face. Oh let black smoke rise above
Page 120 and 121: ecognizable. Old News 1. It is diff
Page 122 and 123: with great desperation. 2. Sacramen
Page 124 and 125: 3. San Francisco Bulletin, January
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killed one Indian, wounded several
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Jacinta’s Medicine Jacinta Gonzal
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They pierce the body like knives, l
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including my great-grandfather Tom
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If there was a connection to the mi
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in Monterey, was working to raise i
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Fr. Casanova’s Mass at Carmel, 18
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Mission register, baptism of Tomás
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María Inés García, probably on h
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Tomás Santos Miranda died in 1943.
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clearly were meant to keep rabbits
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a cookout. It reminds me of how my
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to turn tail and run for the hills.
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His hands—or rather, the one hand
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In 1877 it had been 107 years since
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through the infinite varieties of C
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yet still have an identity and comm
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Jr., circa 1981 I want Tom’s voic
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Also beneath the surface of this st
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a hell of a—he said, “I’m goi
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and of course, since he was old, hi
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stealing horses, drinking, and caro
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José Robles, circa 1879 Recently,
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would clear up and the air was clea
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“Well then, I can’t tell you ve
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two. I took my first drink when I l
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He Told Me, “Have You Ever Been i
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He says, “How high do you want to
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play cards all the time, but I didn
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I says, “You’re Slavonian, aren
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One morning George came up to the h
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I thought, “All these bastards ha
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The government can do some funny th
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never heard anything, Dad. They had
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out behind the church instead of as
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flogging in silence; oh renowned Yo
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dark civilization we endure. Teach
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though. I have arranged to talk to
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gangrene of the leg. I immediately
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ecord. 3. The ulcer on Juan’s leg
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John Peabody Harrington, April 29,
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Teheyapami Home Achiska: 1961-Prese
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luminous in the dark air, she is hu
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to me for that easy solution. My fa
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My lips are pressed so tightly toge
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But Buddy kisses my mama in a way t
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earth, bruised. And after my family
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What if it doesn’t kill him, what
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unwrapped, coming loose, unleashed
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kitchen knife—from my house, ride
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cost, but doesn’t transform. I fi
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want, though. Innocence; the almost
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calluses formed on my fingers from
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safe in Mommer’s kitchen. The pin
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In that cusp of time on the mountai
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disappearance at every turn. If I
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I am of the seventh generation sinc
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Eventually the woman who gave birth
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stalks were watered generously each
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around the gopher traps she’d wat
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asked, pointing to two girls runnin
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about the girl without a mother, th
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oom several times in an hour to wra
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After a second he asks, “Is this
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times” without success. I know he
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walked the woods and pastures toget
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ear-view mirror as he saw that conc
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where it floated around for decades
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of arms and legs, mind and humor, h
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design together, complement the sha
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uried their subversive tongues. Now
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I try to write all this down, but w
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And he saith unto them, Follow me,
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to apply that first year. After all
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of Life does not—cannot—teach C
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ut not over here, and secret techni
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Breath of Life tribe, located in th
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never occurred to any of us that Da
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want to use, the work of language r
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Mantuxite, mantuxite, It is true, i
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tourists, carry our ancestors out t
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Do you remember us? Do we look like
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of lumber, my father made bunk beds
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My father was pleased when I progre
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My father liked to cook. He was ver
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Sitting down to eat a meal cooked a
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steady carpentry jobs right from th
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uneven circles, slung them one by o
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lack coffee that he’ll let himsel
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My father, however, had one piece o
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Power: Al Miranda Jr. and Deborah M
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undemanding, gentle if withdrawn. B
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tolerate bed-wetting, for example,
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I remember Little Al trying to cove
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I knelt down and pulled the soaking
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kept moving. It was the drinking, i
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“Is Al Miranda there? Midge Miran
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Alcohol worked on him like an evil
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even changed her surname to Ramirez
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eucalyptus trees, dust, and sweat.
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leather belt from his waist, doubli
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That was the first time I really un
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very end, our father was alone. Al
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one, take a breath, swim to the nex
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I need a song with guts. I need a s
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“I have substantial evidence that
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pair of socks in Southern Californi
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green suitcase up and over curbs an
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are, hairy skin gaped. Ay! Well, ha
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He risked a quick glance up at her
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Just as he straightened fully, suit
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confused but very happy mojo. He st
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ought a bag of cookies from the Hos
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(see the sample report to learn the
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Mission Project Worksheet Name ____
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Please, parents, try to refrain fro
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Dear 4th Grade Students and Parents
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fun and I can’t wait to see what
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World” “Art and literature and
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drawn toward a mysterious light whi
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landmark is Pico Blanco or Mt. Diab
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constructions that surrounded it, t
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Places of power are not tread on li
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stocks, flogging, whatever the padr
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Hand-drawn map of El Potrero, as it
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In 1852, seven years after Fructuos
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died unexpectedly in 1893, at the a
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years were ended with drunkenness.
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Perhaps it seems strange to others,
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uglier alternative, suggested some
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looked at us, but it didn’t come
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(probably six feet tall at the most
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foot—pale cream, clean, nothing g
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from.” These are stories worth fo
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dandy; Al Miranda, Keta Miranda, an
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Smithsonian Institution, 1907-1957,
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most missions had two priests worki
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and Carmel: Eden by the Sea (Guilfo
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About the Author Deborah A. Miranda
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About Heyday Heyday is an independe
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Alice Guild; Walter & Elise Haas Fu
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Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir

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