The Indigenous Story: a Horror Tale Unheard of and Untold a review by Mona Angéline

 

We are not Animals book cover

 If you had to talk about the lives of the indigenous peoples that inhabited California before and during the arrival of whites, would you have much to say? Do we really know much at all?

That was precisely how I felt before I read "We Are Not Animals" by Martin Rizzo-Martinez. Their real story, the way they must have felt, the way they must have made sense with a world pulled out from under their feet.

To me, the indigenous story had always been effusive. It was a world so far away and so unheard of, so unspoken of, that it felt near impossible to really connect, to understand the fragments I did learn of.

And then, Rizzo-Martinez’s book appeared in my life. A work of art that taught me so much, a read I won’t forget for a long time to come.

The author's masterpiece is an indelible read. It is not for the faint of heart however, both because of its violent content and the academic style that makes for a somewhat strenuous read. I am an academic, and even I avoid tough material for fun!

I wouldn’t be able to give the manuscript any less than five stellar stars however because it is an incredible work of research, and I can't think of anything out there that covers the depths of the hardships that the indigenous peoples of California (and especially those of the San Francisco Bay and Central Coast areas) faced. The only book that does come to mind is Jean Pfaelzer's "California, a Slave State".

Rizzo-Martinez relays the history of the Native American diaspora with such detail, and on the basis of documented individual lives, that I was able to really relate to the indigenous world for the first time. And believe me, it's not that I haven't been trying.

The author describes the indigenous journey in the area as a timeline of violent horror that played out, roughly, in five steps.

First, we read about the arrival of the Spaniards in today's California, prompting mass baptisms of local Native communities. Many of their members moved to the missions after being baptized and were practically imprisoned there as a result.

We are then introduced to a brief period of emancipation after the missions are closed and secularization is established, which grants Native Americans Mexican citizenship and even (theoretical) land ownership to the indigenous population.

This is short lived though. Once California becomes American, the horrors of a massive genocide ensue, the story we've heard and shivered from.

How do the remaining indigenous people manage to stay afloat after being the target of a government endorsed coordinated mass extinction? Their answer lies in individual survival. People resort to hiding among and disguising themselves as the non-indigenous. The loss of the tribal community this entails is irreversible however.

The book concludes with a short foray into today's attempt at a consolidation of the original tribes, with the reestablishing of culture, traditions, nations, and in some cases, land.

This terrorizing journey spanning approximately 200 years is so rarely told that I deem this book among the most important I've read in a long time.

I applaud the author's in depth research and comprehensive history. We need more of these works, more efforts to tell the stories of a people forgotten. I hope that this book will lead to a more narrative, accessible story told widely.

It is immensely important to disseminate the truth about the indigenous story. It is time.

 

***

Mona Angéline is an unapologetically vulnerable writer, reader, book reviewer, artist, athlete, and scientist. She honors the creatively unconventional, the authentically "other". She shares her emotions because the world tends to hide theirs. She is a new writer, but her work was recently accepted in a number of literary magazine. She's a regular guest editor for scientific journals. She lives bicoastally in Santa Cruz, California, and in New York and savors life despite, or maybe because of, her significant struggles with chronic illness and mild disability. Learn about her musings at creativerunnings.com. Follow her on Instagram under @creativerunnings and on Twitter at @creativerunning.

Poem by Mykyta Ryzhykh

 

First published in Crank, May 2023

Copper night knocks
On the back of the head asks:
"What street is this?"
And this is not a street,
This is the whole life.
Here at the age
Of 4 I drank sleeping pills,
At 14 I lost my virginity,
At 24 I lost my family,
At 34 my father died (thank God, my father died).
Now I'm free like the cry of a newborn.
I'm single, like when I was born.
A lonely body without everything
Meaningful, invented, composed.
The body, by its movement forward,
Has reached the very beginning.
Ashes close to dust.
And suddenly the night opens its
Lunar hood, and now death looks
At me with its bony eyes.
"Come on, friend," I said to death,
"I hope you don't turn me into a zombie."
The door of cast iron milk opened.
And I started drinking.
My teeth turned black and fell out.
Birds pecked out my eyes.
My body fell off me. Copper night,
Pig-iron milk, golden memory.
And suddenly: emptiness.

Man and Pelican by John Grey

Photograph by Michèle from Flickr

 

At six a.m., I am sipping coffee,
as the first pelican of the day
perches alone on a jutting rock,
before setting off
to poach on the sea’s salt lands.

I am only moderately awake
but the bird goes from sleep to hunt.
from one need to another,
while I’m still gathering up
all of my mind’s belongings.

By the time I swallow the last drop of java,
that pelican will have snared his first fish
maybe a second, even a third,
with a plunge that I’d need
two more hours of yawning and eye-rubbing
and twenty years off my age to match.

The pelican is only ever what it is.
At six a.m., I am half the man
I used to be, and maybe 2/5
of the one I am now.
So far, today, I’ve accomplished nothing.
My gular pouch is empty.

 

***

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, California Quarterly and Lost Pilots. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and  “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Isotrope Literary Journal, Seventh Quarry, La Presa and Doubly Mad.

Dandelion Water Bird by Katie Hughbanks

 

Dandelion Water Bird by Katie Hughbanks (c)

Katie Hughbanks’ photography has been recognized internationally, including two honors from the London Photo Festival. Her photos appear in various publications, including in Peatsmoke Journal, In Parentheses, L'Esprit Literary Review, New Feathers Anthology, Glassworks Magazine, and Black Fork Review. She teaches English and Creative Writing in Louisville, Kentucky, USA.

My Instagram handle is katiehughbankspics

Strange Fruit by Lynn White

Banana (Musa) (1904) by Elsie E. Lower.

First published in Cajun Mutt Press, November 4 2020

 “If this is justice I’m a banana,”
I remember this being said
and I liked the sound of it
humour and pathos 
combined
incongruously.
So sometimes I used those words
to express how I was feeling
in various situations.
But strangely
the oddness,
and incongruity
of the expression
impressed no one.
So I moved on to express myself
with different words, 
forgot about it,
until now
when the sight of a banana
hanging singly by it’s stem
on a hook not made for the purpose
(how could it be?),
made me realise
that the banana,
a fruit with no juice
and usually no seeds,
is always incongruous
always out of place
wherever it appears.

***

LynnWhite lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality.   https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry -1603675983213077/