Word: navajos
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...Leupp, Ariz., Yazzie Greymountain scotched reports of his death, in a letter to the Highway Patrol: "Yazzie Greymountain is me who is not dead. If I was a dead accident then I couldn't write you this letter, could I? That's right. . . . I am 100% live Navajo Indian. . . . I have one wife which is called Tonlin Barton Greymountain just like my name. It makes Tonlin cry when she reads that I am a dead accident. . . . My leg is broke and there are bumps on my head but I am alive and not a dead accident...
...regalia, picketed the U.S. post office at Watonga, Okla. Inside was a mural by Edith Mahier of the University of Oklahoma, depicting their ancestors under the reign of Chief Roman Nose. Explained 71-year-old Chief Red Bird: "Picture not like Roman Nose. Breech clout too short, look like Navajo. Roman Nose's baby look like stumpy pig. No good. It stinks...
...flat sandbox floored with fine, clean sand, on the third floor of Manhattan's Museum of Modern Art, squatted two full-blooded Navajo medicine men. The elder, Charley Turquoise, sported a bushy black mustache that belied his 73 years. The younger one was Dinay Chilli Bitsoey, which means "Short Man's Grandson." They were practicing one of the oldest and most mysterious arts...
Charley Turquoise and the Short Man's Grandson were making the ritualistic sand painting that forms the climax of the five-day Navajo Thunder Chant. The painting should have been made in a hogan, or House of Song, built of cedar logs and mud, with its entrance facing east. The Museum of Modern Art couldn't supply a hogan, but Charley and the Short Man's Grandson were always careful to enter their sand painting from the east. Because the Thunder Chant's sand-painting medicine was strong medicine, and any pictures of it might make...
When they had finished, Charley systematically destroyed the sand painting, for it would have been bad medicine to leave it as it was. The destruction took 40 minutes. With the help of Mary Peshlakai, a Navajo squaw who had come with them from Window Rock, Ariz, to weave blankets for the Museum's Indian exhibit, Charley and the Short Man's Grandson muttered, groaned, sprinkled corn pollen over the figures they had painted. Then they stood to one side and chanted. It was not funny. It was moving. Still chanting, Charley carefully shuffled over the design, destroying...