The Peace Pipe in Powwow Highway

With its 1988 release, Jonathan Wacks' Powwow Highway received scant attention from movie going audiences or critics. Yet its popularity among counter-cultural circles has significantly increased with its recent availability on home video. Why now? Among other reasons, Powwow Highway is an "authentic" Indian movie in opposition to "Yuppiedom" and its concurrent self-interest over environmental well-being. Powwow Highway also celebrates dope-smoking by challenging the "Just Say No" hype of the 1980s. Moreover, it depicts the Vietnam War and the Indian-led Wounded Knee Uprising of 1973 from an Indian veteran's perspective.

Based on the 1979 novel by David Seals, a member of the American Indian Movement (AIM) and the Cheyenne Nation, Powwow Highway employs the paradigm of the American "road" movie ( Route 66, Easy Rider, Bonnie & Clyde ) to interrogate the form. Rather than beer-guzzling, girl-chasing white guys, Buddy Red Bow (A. Martinez) and Philbert Bono (Gary Farmer) are two stoned "Aborigines" who travel the contemporary Powwow Highway of Indian America.

Their journey begins when Buddy receives a phone call from Bonnie (Joanelle Nadine Romero), his estranged sister, arrested in Santa Fe by the "pigs" for possessing a kilo that they allegedly found in the trunk of her car. With her are her two kids, Jennifer and Sky. When Buddy finds out that he is an uncle, he pledges to drive to Santa Fe to bail Bonnie out. Later, we learn that that is exactly what the Feds want, to get Buddy off the Rez because he and "the other AIM sons-of-bitches" are making it hard on the multinational corporations to exploit the mineral-depleted Indian land. With two thousand dollars earmarked to buy bulls for the tribe, Buddy and Philbert take to the road in Philbert's "war pony" Protector, a 1964 "shit-colored" Buick LeSabre just purchased that day for a lid of grass. Starting from the Lame Deer Reservation in northern Montana, they veer east to the Black Hills and to the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, back to Denver, and finally south to Santa Fe -- each site redolent with "American" History.

Though Buddy worries that Philbert is too "blissed out," he enlists his help. Mostly, he needs Philbert's wheels. Of the two, Buddy is more "realistic": he's been to Vietnam where he received a purple heart; he was in the AIM-led Wounded Knee Uprising in 1973; he is convinced that white America is hungry for the little coal-uranium-oil that is left on the Rez. In contrast to Buddy's pessimism, Philbert believes in the Cheyenne past to explain the present as well as the future. In fact, Philbert is a kind of postmodern Trickster who uses the "white man's" own tools, like television, to dupe whitey. Tricksters were powerful people for the Cheyenne, as healers, visionaries, and as warriors. Significantly, they made people laugh during hard times. If Philbert is like the visionaries of old, Buddy represents assimilation and brute strength without vision. Unlike Philbert who wants to keep his weapons "clean," Buddy takes along a gun in case there is trouble. Philbert's "weapons" are humor and craft.

As Trickster, Philbert steers Protector to the Black Hills instead of continuing south while Buddy is asleep. There, he climbs the sacred mountain to "gather medicine" by finding four tokens and to earn his warrior name, "Whirlwind Dreamer." At the mountain's summit, he meets the prophet, Light Cloud, in the shape of a coyote, an animal of great cunning and endurance, also revered as a trickster. All along Philbert plays it like a gentle, bumbling Zen "clown"; after all, he is six feet, three-hundred pounds. With his new-found vision, though, he effortlessly lifts Buddy off his feet when Buddy grabs him in anger for not heading south to Santa Fe. And Bonnie, the "Captive Woman," is rescued by Philbert with the kids' help, while Buddy is with Bonnie's best friend, Rabbit (Amanda Wyss), who initially put up the bail money.

By the movie's end, Philbert and Buddy smoke beaucoup joints, attend a powwow at the "infamous" Pine Ridge Reservation where they are challenged by "goons," make it to Santa Fe, rescue Bonnie and the kids, "liberate" the bail money, find true love, outwit the Feds and the pigs (with the help of the Tribal elder), and finally, survive a car crash when Protector loses its brakes. The picaresque tongue-in-cheek plot is pure Hollywood, but at the heart of Powwow Highway is the gathering of righteous power by the oppressed in this fucked-up 20th century America.

Powwow Highway has its detractors. In Fantasies of the Master Race, Ward Churchill faults it for its gratuitous comic elements, which, as Churchill sees it, trivializes the sacred. For example, when Philbert climbs the Black Hills, he leaves a Hershey bar as a gift for the Ancestors; he sees a silent movie on TV that demonstrates how to pull the bars off Bonnie's prison window; he watches Bonanza even though the Indian actors are whites in red paint. Churchill describes Philbert's willing colonization as "cultural genocide," where the victim himself unwittingly collaborates in his own oppression. To illustrate his point, Churchill asks us to imagine children playing "Jews & Nazis." But Indian children can play Cowboys & Indians without that shock of recognition, since our history books, our movies, our novels have almost always characterized Indians as savage warmongers, not as tragic victims of a "real" genocidal policy.

Categories of genocide are racist as well -- privileging white-or light-skinned people. For example, at a southern California university where I teach, a poster announced a "Conference on Genocide." Represented were Jews, Armenians, Cambodians, even Gypsies, but not Indians. When I called the professor in charge to question him on its exclusion of Indians, he explained that "Indians don't fall within the 'official' definition of genocide, namely 'the systematic, planned extermination of a people.'" When I challenged this assumption further, he told me what happened to Indians was not planned or systematic; "we just went too far." Consider: most of us know more about "ethnic cleansing" in Bosnia-Herzogovina than in indigenous Guatemala, or about the enforced relocation of the Miskito Indians by the Nicaraguan "Marxist" Sandinistas in the 1980s, than about the enforced relocation of the Arizona Navajos in the 1990s. Even more telling, the United States refused to sign the 1946 United Nations Genocide Convention (which was in response to the Nazi "Final Solution") for forty years. The 100th Congress finally did ratify it only after "the Lugar-Helms-Hatch Sovereignty Package" reduced "the convention to nothing more than a mere symbol of opposition to genocide" (Churchill, Indians Are Us? 17).

In spite of Churchill's protestations, Powwow Highway does enumerate very real problems of contemporary Indians because it is informed by life in the U. S. today. As Buddy tells the smart-ass Sandy Youngblood (Geoff Rivas) who wants to sell out to an multinational corporation: "Seventy-five percent of our people living below the poverty line. And you tell us that stripping off what's left of our natural resources are gonna change that. Maybe you should tell us something different. This ain't the American Dream we're living, this here's the Third World!" When Philbert assures his friends that "the Trickster will play a little joke on the white man," we want to believe this as well. The back drop for this scene is uranium or strip mines that are tearing up the landscape. We are also told that the water on the Rez is undrinkable because of uranium seepage into the ground water. The government has even named these unrecoverable territories "natural sacrifices." Ironically, natural sacrifices are mostly found on reservations (Churchill, Fantasies 272-3). In fact, when Buddy criticizes Wolf Tooth (Wayne Waterman) for moving from Pine Ridge to "Condoland" in Denver, Wolf's wife retorts: "A shooting a week, Buddy. It's like living in Belfast!" Subtly, Powwow Highway recapitulates the (continued) destruction of Indian people and their land.

Powwow Highway is also one of the first films to mention Leonard Peltier, an AIM political prisoner, who is serving two consecutive life sentences since 1975 for the alleged murder of two federal agents on the Pine Ridge Reservation. Recently, the parole board has denied a request to re-open Peltier's trial for the next fifteen years, in spite of his nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize (Farulo 2). Michael Apted's recent Incident at Oglala (1991) investigates Peltier's frame-up. Curiously, though, his Oglala makes no mention of the "Peabody Coal Company, Anaconda, Kerr-McGee, Westinghouse, et al.-which have been demonstrably victimizing Indians far more extensively and systematically than any individual(s)" (Churchill, Fantasies 271-2).

Mostly through Philbert's steadying influence, Buddy reconciles himself to his time spent in Vietnam. He mounts his purple heart onto a necklace of Indian beads which he wears at the powwow; he defends Wolf Tooth, another "brother" from Nam; and still another "messed-up" vet (Graham Greene) saves Buddy's ass by challenging the goons at the Pine Ridge powwow. More importantly, when Protector crashes, Philbert (who everyone thinks has died) emerges from the dark canyon clutching Buddy's Purple Heart-the third of the four tokens from the Elders.

Paradoxically, Indians in Vietnam were the most problematic of all the fighting "minorities," although all wars are problematic for Indians: they were not granted citizenship until 1924. In Richard Drinnon's monumental Facing West: The Metaphysics of Indian-hating and Empire-Building, he contends that the United States' presence in southeast Asia was the "logical" extension of Manifest Destiny, an ideology sworn to sweep "inferior" peoples out of the path of the rightful heirs to America-the Anglo Saxon. With westward expansion, the United States "inevitably" found itself in Hawaii, the Philippines, and in Vietnam.

As generally acknowledged, Vietnam was also referred to as "Indian Country" and some of the equipment used there were named after Indian tribes as well:

Contemporary and remembered accounts of the war are replete with comparisons to the American West, an association abetted, even sponsored, by the official policy of naming helicopters after Indian tribes, evoking the Indian wars-Sioux, Choctaw, Shawnee, Chickasaw, Mohave, Iroquois, Cayuse, Kiowa, Chinook, Tarhe, Cheyenne. (Spark 89)

Furthermore, "gook" might be derived from "Chingachgook," one of James Fenimore Cooper's "Noble Savages." "Like scalps, you know, like from Indians. Some people were on an Indian trip over there," admitted one My Lai veteran (Drinnon 456). As General Maxwell Taylor said before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in 1966: "We have always been able to move in the areas where the security was good enough. But I have often said it is very hard to plant the corn outside the stockade when the Indians are still around. We have to get the Indians farther away in many of the provinces to make good progress" (Drinnon 368 ).

In his "Preface to the 1990 Schocken Edition," Drinnon discloses that he wanted to end Facing West with the following, but his editor did not think it "provided an upbeat note on which to conclude":

Originally I had closed this study with an insight from Lame Deer: Seeker of Visions: 'I have seen pictures of Song My, My Lai, and I have seen pictures of Wounded Knee [the 1890 massacre]-the dead mothers with their babies,' said the Sioux shaman. 'And I remember my grandfather, Good Fox, telling me about the dead mother with a baby nursing at her cold breast, drinking that cold milk. My Lai was hot and Wounded Knee was icy cold, and that's the only difference.' (XI)

In Tom Holm's insightful "Forgotten Warriors: American Indian Servicemen in Vietnam," he claims that unlike the "good" Indians who served in World War Two, "American Indians who fought in Vietnam received little or no notice . . . " even though "approximately 42,000 American Indians served in Vietnam since 1966 to 1973" (57). Still, those figures might be inaccurate since only reservation Indians were counted, not city dwellers, "Breeds," or Indians with Spanish-sounding names from the Southwest who were counted as Mexican-Americans (57). The disproportionately high numbers of Indians volunteering to fight in Vietnam were complex: Holm cites lack of job opportunities as the primary reason Indians turned to the military, as well as persuasive military recruitment. But he also suggests that in a gerontocracy (a society ruled by elders), young Indian males are encouraged to leave the tribe to gather the necessary skills for maturity and warriorhood.

The Hollywood stereotypes about Indians' "stealth" and "animal instincts" followed them to Vietnam, where many Indians were assigned, among other duties, to "walk point on patrols." In fact, casualties for point men were extremely high, since they were expected to "scout" ahead of the troops, "the position most vulnerable to booby traps and mines" (Holm 62). Similarly, since Indians "looked like the Vietnamese," they were used as part of "killer teams": men who conducted hit and run raids while dressed as the enemy. Obviously, death by "friendly fire" was inordinately high for killer teams (Holm 63).

Many returning Indian soldiers went through purification rituals to purge them of battle trauma. For example, "The Sioux held victory ceremonies; Kiowas took part in soldier dances; Cherokees were ritually cleansed of the taint of battle by medicine men; and Navajos went through elaborate 'Enemy Way' ceremonies to restore the returning veterans to a harmonious place in the community" (Holm 60). As one veteran reported, his tribal culture and the military were in conflict on numerous occasions:

We went into a ville one day after an air strike. The first body I saw in Nam was a little kid. He was burnt up - napalm -- and his arms and legs were kind of curled up. . . . Made me sick. It turned me around. See, in our way we're not supposed to kill women and children in battle. The old people say it's bad medicine and killing women and children doesn't prove that you're brave. It's just the opposite. (Holm 65)

Contrary to the majority of Westerns, Powwow Highway characterizes Indians as tragic, comic, and complex humans. Perhaps Robert Altman's Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson (1976); Arthur Penn's Little Big Man (1970); and Kevin Costner's Dances With Wolves (1990) are the notable exceptions to Hollywood's objectification of Indians. Still, Paul Newman's Buffalo Bill is more poignant than Frank Kaquilts as Sitting Bull or William Sampson as the "Indian Interpreter." Similarly, Little Big Man is a sensitive portrayal of the Cheyenne, but Dustin Hoffman is still a white in red paint. Yet Penn's analogy of Custer's civilian massacre at the Washita River with the My Lai massacre in Vietnam took some courage. The film industry would rarely touch Vietnam during the war itself (except in documentary form: Vietnam: In the Year of the Pig (1968); No Vietnamese Ever Called Me Nigger (1968); and Hearts And Minds (1974), to name a few). Besides John Wayne's jingoist The Green Berets (1968), Hollywood's treatment of the Vietnam "conflict" would mostly be conveyed through "Mex-Westerns"- The Magnificent 7, The Wild Bunch, The Professionals -- where mercenary-gringos are hired to save Mexicans from themselves: an all-too-familiar tableau of intervention into the "Third World" (Slotkin 405-489).

Even John Ford, the "master" of the Western, admitted that he "killed more Indians than Custer, Beecher and Chivington put together." Amazingly, Ford went on to say: "Let's face it, we treated them very badly-it's a blot on our shield; we've cheated and robbed, killed and murdered, massacred and everything else, but they kill one white man and, God, out come the troops" (Bogdanovitch 104). Cheyenne Autumn (1964), one of Ford's last films, is his "apology" to the Cheyenne. However, in Cheyenne Autumn the Indians are not even noble warriors but are wooden and child-like, the whites, paternalistic. Once again, Indians need white folks to help them help themselves -- in this case, a missionary woman and a cavalry officer, no less. Not only that, the Cheyenne in Cheyenne Autumn are actually played by Navajos who speak Navajo, much to the Navajos' amusement.

In Dances With Wolves Kevin Costner, producer-director-star, tries to redress the terrible wrongs done to Native people in the characterization of a writer-artist-soldier, Lt. Dunbar, who lives near the Sioux as their white "brother." Although loosely based on "real-life" accounts of "white savages," like John Dunn Hunter for example, Dances recycles some of Hollywood's old representations of Indians: the lone white hero with his Indian sidekick, which, in this case, just happens to be the whole tribe. Dunbar even alerts his Indian neighbors to the presence of buffalo, as if these Masters of the Plains are too inept to feed themselves. By placing the story in the past, the "noble savage" is invariably idealized, so that present-day problems of poverty, alcoholism, toxic dumping, and violence on the Rez are not dealt with at all. Even the landscape is idealized: the camera work is a stunning gold sepia with the clarity of an Andrew Wyeth landscape. To Costner's credit, the actors speak Lakota and not speakum Injun. Very recently, though, Dow Chemical Corporation made a commercial whose voiceover piously explained how Dow was "lending a hand" in cleaning up the Lakota Reservation (heavy emphasis on the "K"). It is enough to make you want to napalm your own television set. Too bad Costner did not direct a more courageous movie, such as Dances With Dow or My Lie [My Lai?] On the Plains: The True Story of Custer's Last Stand.

Powwow Highway also challenges the "Just Say No" shuck & jive of the last fifteen years or so by having Buddy and Philbert enjoy marijuana without being addicted to heroin or cocaine. Compare Powwow Highway to the 1980s "cult-favorite" about the Sex Pistols, Sid And Nancy: in many ways the latter accommodates itself to Ronnie and Nancy Reagan's anti-drug ideology. While Sid and Nancy shoot, snort and fuck, their game is grim, desperate and fatal, not the joyous anarchy of Powwow Highway .

Essentially, Powwow Highway demonstrates how "smoke" is a more positive component of Indian culture, at least for our two warriors. For example, during the above-mentioned confrontation with "goons" at the powwow, Buddy asks the vet who threw a knife in his defense to go outside to smoke a "number" with him. The vet, who is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder because he spent months in a tiger cage in Nam, asks Buddy to dance instead. (This role might be clichéd but the overall impression is sympathetic). Smoke, then, represents community-dancing, vision quest, sharing-among Nam vets, Cheyenne and Sioux.

Alcohol is more closely akin to dissolution. Specifically, the camaraderie between Buddy and other vets contrasts with a scene in a bar where Buddy confronts Sandy Youngblood, the above-mentioned sell out. Buddy chastises the bar maid for "serving fire water to an 'Apple'"-red on the outside and white inside. Sandy throws his drink in Buddy's face, and the men fight brutally until Rabbit pulls Buddy from the bar. Earlier, Philbert asks his clearly alcoholic Aunt Harriet (Maria Antoinette Rogers) to tell him about the Elders, but she is "sick and tired of people asking her about good old Indian wisdom." Her cynical laughter and self-disgust are powerfully rendered in this understated scene where Harriet's face is in half-shadow, except for the light of a flickering TV.

Historically, Euro-American suppression of Indian "smoke" has its genesis in one of the first "encounters" between Europeans and Taino Indians (named the "gentlest of people" by Columbus). During Columbus's war party in 1503, his "lieutenant," Nicolas de Ovando, and his men, were feted by Anacaona, the Queen of Hispaniola (which is the present-day island of Haiti and the Dominican Republic). There, the soldiers might have witnessed the ceremonial imbibing of cohoba, a powerful hallucinogenic herb:

Participants first thrust a long, intricately carved spatula down their throat to purify their bowels by throwing up. The powder was placed on the dish-shaped top of a carved divinity, the zemi, and inhaled through twin pipes placed in the nostrils. The inhaler was also carved in a human shape. (Gibson 8)

Historians do not say whether the Conquistadors "inhaled"-they most likely preferred their own conventional table wine-but history does record that the village was ransacked for gold, almost all Tainos were burned alive, including Anacaona's brother, and she herself was hanged for sedition (Sauer 149). In fact, within ten years, the Tainos were made "extinct," either by warfare with the Spaniards, death by enslavement, suicide, or by women aborting their fetuses (Gibson 8).

In 1990 Justice Scalia of the U. S. Supreme Court upheld Oregon's decision to ban peyote by the Native American Church (founded by "peyotists" in Oklahoma, 1918). The case of Employment Division vs. Smith and Employment Division vs. Black is notably bizarre. Both Alfred Smith and Galen Black were fired from their jobs at the Council on Alcohol and Drug Abuse Prevention Treatment when word got around that they imbibed peyote in a religious ceremony. When both men filed for unemployment compensation in Oregon, their request was denied on the grounds that they had "broken the law." Similarly, marijuana-based churches like the Aquarian Brotherhood, Ethiopian Zion Coptic Church, and Rastafarians have also sued for the right to use "herb" in their ceremonies. Of course, the U.S Circuit of Appeals of the District of Columbia has denied their request as well (Boston 9). Nevertheless, in November 1993, President Bill Clinton signed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act thereby overturning the Supreme Court's decision on the illegality of peyote, among other things (Silk 8). Recently, though, President Clinton reneged on his promise to support the RFRA, making peyote use illegal once again.

Is peyote as dangerous as the Supreme Court and DEA claim? Steve Pavlik, who teaches American Indian Studies on the Navajo Reservation, insists that for "perhaps ten thousand years Native Americans have known and used peyote, eating or drinking it for medicinal purposes and as a sacrament in religious ceremonies" (30). Furthermore, most "users report experiencing 'a warm and pleasant euphoria, an agreeable point of view, relaxation, colorful visual distortions, and a sense of timelessness'" (Pavlik 30).

Tangentially, the recent rebellion in Chiapas, Mexico, is linked to the suppression of indigenous people under the pretext of the War on Drugs as well. The following communiqué from the General Command of the Zapatista Liberation Army illustrates this point:

We ask whether the U. S. Congress and the people of the United States of North America approved this military and economic aid to fight drug traffic or to assassinate the Indians of southeast Mexico. Troops, airplanes, helicopters, radar, communications equipment, arms and military paraphernalia are being used now not to fight drug traders and the big capos of the drug mafias, but to repress the just struggles of the people of Mexico and the Indians in Chiapas . . . and to assassinate men, women and innocent children. ("The Voice of the Zapatista" 34)
Clearly, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, the "War on Drugs" has replaced the old war(s) on Communism. Barbara Trent's documentary Panama Deception reiterates this point. According to Trent, one of the objectives of the United States military was to destroy the Panamanian Defense Forces. In this way, President Carter's Panama Treaty, which was to turn the Canal over to Panama in the year two thousand, would be annulled, since Panama could no longer "defend" the Canal. By repossessing the Canal, the United States could use Panama as a strategic point for wars fought in the twenty-first century involving South and Central American drug traffickers and the drug "Mafia." Nevertheless, the oligarchy-controlled Panamanian drug industry was (is?) supported by the United States.

In spite of Hollywood's negative response to drugs, Powwow Highway offers an alternative vision to our alcohol-saturated culture and should be commended for at least establishing a dialogue about the relative harmlessness of using marijuana. Although some Indians and whites smoke tobacco while they sip, relatively few Americans smoke grass. Besides pressure to keep it illegal from the powerful alcohol, pharmaceutical and tobacco lobbies, grass is, to some extent, anti-capitalistic-pleasure that cannot be commodified like "deviant" sex, sleep or death. The question still remains: in a culture that uses tobacco, alcohol, sugar, chocolate, and sex as diversionary pleasure, why, then, this demonizing of marijuana? And why are there no distinctions made between drug abuse and ceremonial drug taking?

At least for Philbert and Buddy, their shared pleasure in smoke is one of the key elements in their friendship. In an irony-laden scene, Buddy explains to Philbert that Bonnie was "popped" by the pigs for a pound of grass, and that they must bail her out. While relaying this information, Buddy pulls out a joint and lights it. After passing it to Philbert, he asks: "so will you help me?" Philbert takes a long and sloppy hit and affirms: "We're Cheyenne-all the shit in the world won't change that." And without smoke, Philbert would not own Protector, who was bartered for grass, not bought for dollars. Finally, what funky weed were the warrior-dreamers like Dull Knife, Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull smoking in their peace pipes of old? Don't ask, just pass the fucking spliff!

Maggie Jaffe

Works Cited

Bogdanovitch, Peter. John Ford. Berkeley: U. of California Press, 1978.
Boston, Robert. "Peyote Impasse." Church & State February 1990: 8-11.
Churchill, Ward. Fantasies of the Master Race: Literature, Cinema and the Colonization of American Indians. Monroe, ME: Common Courage Press, 1992.
- -. Indians Are Us?: Culture and Genocide in Native North America. Monroe, ME: Common Courage Press, 1994.
Drinnon, Richard. Facing West: The Metaphysics of Indian-hating and Empire-Building. New York: Schocken, 1990.
Farulo, Lisa et al, eds. Spirit of Crazy Horse November 1993-February 1994: 2.
Gibson, Michael. "Lost Eden of the Tainos." International Herald Tribune 5 March
1994: 8.
Holm, Tom. "Forgotten Warriors: American Indian Service Men in Vietnam."
A White Man's War: Race Issues and Vietnam. Ed. William King. Vietnam Generation vol.1, no. 2 (Spring 1989): 56-68.
Panama Deception. Dir. Barbara Trent. Empowerment Project Production, 1990.
Pavlik, Steve. "The U.S. Supreme Court Decision on Peyote in Employment Division v. Smith: A Case Study in Suppression of Native American Religious Freedom." Wicazo Sa Review Fall 1992: 30-39.
Sauer, Carl Ortwin. The Early Spanish Main. Berkeley: U. of California Press, 1966.
Silk, Mark. "New Law Overturns Supreme Court, Expands Freedom To Practice Religion." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution 20 November 1993: sec. E: 8.
Slotkin, Richard. Gunfighter Nation: The Myth of the Frontier in Twentieth-Century America. New York: Atheneum, 1992.
Spark, Alasdair. "Flight Controls: The Social History of the Helicopter as a Symbol of Vietnam."
Vietnam Images: War and Representation. Ed. Jeffrey Walsh and James Aulich. London: Macmillan Press, 1989.
"The Voice of the Zapatista." Covert Action Quarterly no. 48 (Spring 1994): 34-37.

Essay: Remember Wounded Knee Poem: Can't Happen Here Film: The Peace Pipe in Powwow Highway News: Did the Makah Kill JJ? Song: Coyote A Lakota Prayer:We Are All Related If They Were Going to Kill My Brother