Thursday, May 14, 2009
I don’t mind living on an Indian Reservation. Technically I live in the park, but just across the creek (within viewing distance) is the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. There are some sore subjects between the park and the Blackfeet. I don’t want to go into detail, but in some ways we are inhabiting their land. The
The only thing I have a slight problem with, is the way outsiders are treated. I have a Toyota Corolla, with
When I got outside, it was a different story. I had a gentleman standing against the wall right by my car. It only took a few seconds for him to come over and ask for “help.” At the same time, a younger gentleman came out of no where to ask for “help,” too. I’ve seen beggars in Browning before. They are usually at the liquor store begging for a drink. The liquor store is an interesting cultural experience. The store is part bar and part liquor store. The store is really just a small room on the end of the building with shelves of liquor, protected by bars and a sales person behind the counter. I know there are stereotypes of Native Americans, but I’d like to think of a better life. So, it was hard to have beggars asking me for money at the grocery store! Some people have cash ready for situations like this, but I just can’t. The first gentleman had a cane and he looked like middle class. The second gentleman smelled like booze and looked a bit disheveled. I wasn’t going to give money to either of them…so I didn’t. I climbed back into my white-American-girl-car and drove back to the sanctuary of my country.
I wanted to talk about this story because I felt a sense of guilt. Guilty that the