A Paiute Meeting in Big Pine
A legacy of lies, dust, and poisoned minds
The City of Los Angeles stole their water
Theft breeds mistrust
After 15 minutes pass, the doors to the Alan Spoonhunter Memorial Gymnasium remain closed. The crowd begins to mutter. No one has a key. Near the front of the assembly, Shannon of the Woods clears her throat. “There’s no one here,” she announces, “and the meeting began 15 minutes ago. If no one opens these doors, we won’t be able to hold council.” “That’s what they want!” “Right. So we’ll hold it out here. I’ve got nowhere to be.” A couple people glance at the sky. “It’s supposed to rain,” croaks an old woman. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” says Shannon. At this moment, Jacklyn Bryan, Tribal Administrator for the Big Pine Paiute Tribe of Central California — irrigators of the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains and cousins to the Shoshone — appears in a silk shirt embroidered with flowers. The Paiutes go silent. She looks at the doors and looks at the sky. She stares off at the big desert to her left, stretching toward Nevada. Someone asks suspiciously if she has a key. Jacklyn shakes her …
