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[read ebook] KAIBETO MEMORIES: a trader s daughter remembers
growing up on the Navajo Reservation at Kaibeto Trading P
Description
KAIBETO MEMORIES: a trader's daughter remembers growing up on the
Navajo Reservation at Kaibeto Trading Post in remote northern Arizona,
1936-1960. By Elizabeth Anne Jones Dewveall.With her parents our author
witnessed first-hand a special chapter in U.S.-Native history as they
traded with a rural population of Native Americans. Theirs was an
isolated operation that was open dawn to dusk nearly every day. Their
trading post provided canned meats and fruits, tobacco, ammunition, and
cloth for dress-making-- and received in exchange sheep hides, wool,
artfully-woven rugs, and silver-and-turquoise jewelry. Transactions were
in pawn, credit, or cash. There was no other store. The Natives adapted
their culture as the traders adapted theirs. Elizabeth Anne makes
points, often incidentally, that understanding and cooperation are the
ways to meet mutual needs, with a byproduct being acceptance of
differences that begets mutual respect.For instance, trader parents
Ralph and Juia Jones interacted compatibly with their patrons and
occasional employees in ways that induced a Native couple to name their
children Ralph and Julia: "Little Ralph" and "Little Julia".And again,
Elizabeth Anne tells of "watermelon day" when a truckload of the sweet
and juicy fruit arrived from the nearby Hopi Reservation, and all
present sliced and slurped together: "We may have been a group divided
by language and culture, but on watermelon day we were supremely united
by taste buds and flavor. "The Kaibeto Memories were remembered long
after their occurrence, for during recent COVID downtime Elizabeth Anne
recorded her experiences for family and friends. After urging that her
stories were an important aspect of U.S., Native, and Southwest history
and anthropology, she allowed them to be published for others.Now
abandoned, the Kaibeto Trading Post was situated near a life-giving
spring in a region where roads were more like paths in the sand and over
rocky ridges, snow-covered in winter and subject to flash floods any
time. Here is where author Elizabeth Anne spent her childhood, with more
Native Americans as playmates than those of her own race and where she
learned to be a young trader. She chronicles incidents with
rattlesnakes, favorite dogs, fishing in a now-forgotten desert lake,
exploring nearby canyons alone, visits from relatives to her "digs"--
always in the context of an only child in close contact with involved
parents--and then away to distant schools, and finally her own marriage
and operation of the post as her own family comes to be.To Elizabeth
Anne, some of her stories must be told. Here is another:"We had a picnic
where some huge cottonwood trees provided luxuriant shade. I was at the
stage of pregnancy where I didn't care if I had a boy or a girl, I just
wanted "it" out... I was seated on the ground, leaning against a tree
trunk and thinking I was not going to be able to get up until my husband
showed up to help. I dozed off and then heard footsteps. When I opened
my eyes, it was not Bob who stood there but a little Hopi man named Mark
Quarshero. In his right hand he held a beautifully painted gourd rattle
which he began shaking over my bulging middle. It didn't take long for
him to tell me there was a little girl in there. He gave me the rattle
for her protection, then walked away as if he had done the most normal
thing in the world. SueAnne still has the rattle. I still have the sweet
memory."