August 29, 1998
SANTA MONICA, Calif. (AP) -- Minutes after the road-weary walkers stretched out on a sliver of shaded grass by the sidewalk, two people in stiff white shirts marched from a nearby apartment building with fingers pointed.
"You can't stop here," one man said, placing his hands on hips. "This isn't city property, it's private property."
"Hey, I know how you feel; I'm a half-breed myself," the other said. "But we have to think of the tenants. You've got to move."
So the California Indians walking 500 miles to Sacramento gathered their drums and water bottles and accommodated the white man's wishes once again.
"About 97 percent of the people we've encountered have been supportive, but there's always that 3 percent who are like those guys, or who bare their bottoms or flip us the bird," a walker named Drinking Water said as the band settled under a palm tree across the street.
"But it's OK. These people are important because they provide balance."
The 21-day march that began Aug. 22 is occurring in a politically charged environment in which the majority of California's tribes are battling the state over the types of gambling allowed on reservations.
On Friday, Gov. Pete Wilson signed legislation ratifying compacts that allow 11 Indian bands to run the first state-sanctioned tribal casinos. The rest of the tribal casinos are operating without the gaming compacts required under the 1988 Indian Gaming Regulatory Act.
Calling the Wilson compacts too restrictive, a coalition of tribes is promoting Proposition 5, a November ballot initiative that would allow forms of gaming deemed illegal by the state. It's a big-bucks campaign costing both sides up to $1 million a week.
The tribes say their economic survival is at stake.
"There's a hidden agenda in the push to take Indian casinos down," walk coordinator Gayle Kelly said. "The casino issue has to do with the sovereignty issue ... in a broader sense, it's an attempt to get rid of the treaties."
But organizers insisted the walk is not political.
"The people who are walking are not businessmen. They're not casino people. They're spiritual," Ms. Kelly said.
It's a journey, organizers said, for the unification of the state's Indians into a "United Nations of California Tribes" and for their right to live "free of outside restraint, conditions, or imposed cultural genocide."
"The signs that we're under attack are everywhere," Ms. Kelly said. "There's Ward Valley (a proposed dump site for nuclear waste opposed by native groups), Indian men in prisons are forced to cut their hair and our right to private enterprise is being challenged."
Some tribes have mailed money to help fund the trip. Occasionally people on the street offer $10 or $20.
The walkers, representing various tribes, plan to camp out on the Capitol steps for three days once they arrive on Sept. 16 and to hold talks with the governor and state lawmakers.
By Thursday, the group had walked 120 miles in five days. Drinking Water, a tall, lanky man in his 50s with shoulder-length gray hair adorned with hawk feathers, still found the energy to dance a zigzag step as he held one side of a "Solidify Our Sovereignty" banner.
After a brief sojourn on the grass to apply ointment to blisters, powder feet and change socks, the group of about 25 headed north on the Pacific Coast Highway.
The idea for the walk came to an elder named Robertjohn in a dream. Considering it as a message from ancestors, the group representing various California tribes set out from Pala Indian Reservation near San Juan Capistrano.
The Pala tribe, which doesn't have a casino, was the first tribe to sign a gaming compact with Gov. Pete Wilson.
"We've suffered sore muscles and bleeding feet," said Robertjohn, who wore a tribal headdress of feathers and carried a staff topped with the head of a golden eagle. "We're doing this to make an offering for our children and for all those who love the land."
So they walked, with drums beating and voices chanting, an average of 30 miles a day. Some wore baseball caps, others bandannas; most had feathers tied to their hair or hats.
They wore necklaces with horse teeth, bear claws and strings of seeds, and carried rattles made from kelp and ocean pebbles.
Motorists and pedestrians paused as they passed, most giving a thumbs up or a smile.
Like worker bees, a crew circled the walkers to provide water and energy bars. At each break, Rosemary Castillo of Santa Barbara passed a burning sage branch over the walkers' bodies. The smoke provided purification, she said.
Each night, the supporters have tents and clean clothes ready at the stopping points in state beaches or parks. Mornings begin with a sunrise ceremony.
Then, it's back on the road.
"We're making a door for politicians to walk through," said Jimi Castillo of Whittier. "We can't make them come. But we have a message for your governor: We're walking."
Link to: California's Modern Indian War
Link to: California's Modern Indian War
California's Modern Indian War-BLACK BACKGROUND