In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

One brisk Chicago morning, twenty-seven-year-old Ansel Deon set about his job within the tribal hall of the American Indian Center, or AIC. Around and above him, cultures clashed. Banners comprised of tribal flags hung from a high ornate molded plaster ceiling. A mural of three Native women extended over a Corinthian pilaster. A grand stage filled one side of the room, opposite it a soft-drink machine. Ansel, barely looking up, made his way down a row of folding tables. Reaching into a tattered cardboard box, he selected two small balls of different-colored yarn and positioned them next to a slim, round stick. He then rummaged in a plastic box containing colored feathers, chose one, and added it to the yarn and stick. After making eight such place settings at each table, leaving one place empty, he moved to the next table and repeated his task, unknotting or rewinding yarn as necessary. There will be forty-two grade school kids this morning, he said, and no, he does not need any help. But thank you. It was November, Native American Heritage Month, or, as Ansel referred to it privately, “Rent-an-Indian Month.” As cultural coordinator of the AIC, one of his jobs is to help non-Natives understand what a Native person is. He knew he would be the first Native most of the schoolchildren would have knowingly met, that he is, in effect, the rented Indian. For reasons he revealed later, he wore everyday clothes: a baggy shortsleeved polo shirt, baggier jeans, tennis shoes, and a backward baseball cap with a Rez Dogs logo. From time to time, he removed it to flip back a glossy 92  c h a p t e r 5 City Kid ansel deon (lakota/navajo) ch005.qxd 12/14/10 8:33 AM Page 92 forelock of black hair. Apart from the cap, and turquoise stud earrings, Ansel did not advertise his heritage, but did not hide it either. There was little hiding Ansel. He is maybe six feet, two inches, and wide. The 200-pound mark must be a distant memory. When second graders, humming with barely suppressed excitement, arrived from Chicago’s Belding Elementary School, Ansel’s was a commanding presence. “I would greatly appreciate it,” he announced with his usual courteous phraseology, “if everyone would put their coats and lunches on the tables there”—he pointed to a space under the mural of the Native women. He asked the children to sit at the table settings, and teachers and chaperones to sit at the empty places. The children, a world medley with name tags of Khan and Velkov and Rodriguez (Belding’s Web site calls the student body a “mini–United Nations”), followed Ansel’s instructions in near silence. They seemed nervous until his deep-set brown eyes lightened. He had them shout “Hello!” then asked, did they like the bus ride over? “YES!” When he was a kid, he always liked it when his school bus went over bumps, did they? “YES!” The group was his. Ansel launched into an introductory talk he would repeat almost word-for-word to second graders from Chicago’s Lozano Elementary the next day. In years past, he traveled to the schools to make presentations, but teachers recently requested that the children go to the center instead. Overall, there have been fewer visits than usual. Ansel con- fided that this November is “a subpar Rent-an-Indian Month.” You could not tell it in his delivery. “To give you guys a brief introduction to what I am,” he said, making his fingers into air quotes, “I am a fullblooded ‘Native American,’ or ‘American Indian,’ or ‘First People,’ or ‘First Nation,’ or ‘aboriginal,’ or ‘indigenous person.’ You have all of those things working to one person. I belong to two different tribes. I am an enrolled member of the Oglala Lakota, or Oglala Sioux, tribe from Pine Ridge, South Dakota, and I’m also a Navajo, or Dinéh, from Farmington, New Mexico.” “I am born and raised here in Chicago. I spent twenty-seven wonderful years, and then again twenty-seven not-so-wonderful years. Now that’s just me growing up. As you kids know, sometimes we have those real high points and sometimes we have those low points.” He confided none, instead delivering some heavy-hitting context. ansel deon 93 ch005.qxd 12/14/10 8:33 AM Page 93 [18.119.125.7] Project...

Share