Today was a wild experience in the old SoDak. On the schedule of Orientation events, my roommates and I saw that we were to head out to White River in order to go to a local Recovery center there. After giving the guy who was to host us a call, we were told that we could come early in order to help celebrate a sobriety birthday, marking one of the members 26th year of sobriety. Definitely honored and humbled to be asked to such a personal event.
We were, however, tired. Orientation has proved to be long, and we are all feeling the effects of little sleep, long days, and lots of sitting. Though genuinely excited and moved by all that we have been learning, it can be extremely draining to constantly be in "learning and listening" mode.
After trekking the 30 minutes up to the Recovery Center for an Open AA meeting, one in which guests and visitors are allowed to sit in, I can honestly say that this was the place I needed to be tonight.
The reality of life on the Rez includes high rates of alcohol and drug abuse. Alcoholism is extremely present here, as is the addiction to meth. This is intimately tied in with issues of familial breakdowns, domestic abuse (in physical and psychological forms), and a host of other issues among the Rosebud community, as well as among many other Native populations throughout the States. It's the reality for many of the men, women, and children.
But it's not the whole picture.
I have, and will continue, to try and be conscious about the portrait I paint of this community of the people who live here. It is not responsible to simply say that the community is only broken, in shambles, and in need of saving. To do so would be both highly paternalistic, as well as insulting to all those working hard to restore and bring life to the place they love. On the other hand, it would also be dishonest to try and minimize the serious effects that these plights have had in this community. It the stark reality that, while riding my bike around, I will see people stumbling their way down the highway, that while driving home at night I will see packs of drunk or high people roaming the interstates. It is what I have have been told numerous times to be the truth by people within this community. And it saddens me. It causes me pain. Real, deep, pain.
But tonight, listening to the stories of those people in the AA meeting, hearing the courage with which they stood looking into the abyss of their own existence and came out on the other side stronger and full of hope, I found myself full of hope. To see people working through such a devastating reality, speaking words of love and hope for those still struggling. It gave me a lot to think about, a lot to try and digest.
There was a challenge there for me. What am I called to be doing here? I can't save the world, and as a matter of fact, I don't know if I even want to try and bring that pressure on myself. I won't make all these things better, even if I had a million years to do it, but even so, I'm here. What am I to do?
In this meeting, people who didn't know me, had no reason to trust me, opened up and shared their lives with me, shared their stories. People living in the the second poorest county in the United States were concerned for my welfare, concerned that as a JV on a limited budget that I might not be eating enough, insisting that I take more food, even take it home with me. These people who have less than me are every day teaching me what it means to really love and give of oneself. They are a challenge to me. There is more I can be doing, better ways for me to be loving. I am hoping each day that I am going to have the courage to answer that call.
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