I wrote recently about a book I had just finished, Shadows
at Dawn by Karl Jacoby.
Many sides to every story
I mentioned in this post a desire to visit the site of the tragedy outlined in this book – Aravaipa Canyon. And so on this trip to Tucson, I did just that. This morning I headed up to the canyon to just be there at dawn – to listen for the silence.
There is no memorial to this tragedy, no marker identifying
the site of the massacre of more than 100 Apache, mostly women and children by
a posse made up of Papago Indian, Americans and Mexican Americans (noting this
part of the USA had only recently been part of Mexico). So I wandered a few miles up the road that
more or less follows Aravaipa Creek from its confluence with the San Pedro
river, the site of Camp Grant, the US army base after which the massacre is
most commonly named.
And stopped – and listened to the silence…
I guess I don’t really know what I expected to see… or feel… or think...
Some words from the gospels came back to me
“What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken
by the wind?”
Didn’t really help – but it got me thinking.
I wandered around a little in the crisp morning air. Heard what might have been 3 different types
of bird chirping from somewhere in the peculiar foliage that adorns the
desert. Listened carefully for rattle
snakes. Watched a rabbit scurrying
about, probably annoyed I had disturbed his morning. And finally it sunk in…
Injustice is not an event, something you can pin down with
at marker or a memorial. Injustice is
not a moment in time that can be frozen.
Something you can look at and say, yeah – glad we put that behind us. Although often I think that is exactly what
we hope to do.
Very few are truly willing to listen to the other side(s),
before or after major events that erupt due to injustice, to truly understand what
the injustice represents, why it exists, and .
The passage I quoted in the aforementioned post still stands well in
this regard, particularly from that sense that we are so eager to point out how
we have been wronged, we find it impossible to listen well to other parties.
“Given
the obstacles to merging these fragile and diverse forms of storytelling into a
single tale, it is, paradoxically, by venturing in the opposite direction -- by
listening for the silences between accounts; by discovering what each genre of
recordkeeping cannot tell us -- that we can capture most fully the human
struggle to understand our elusive past. What this past asks of us in return is
a willingness to recount all our stories -- our darkest tales as well as our
most inspiring ones -- and to ponder those stories that violence has silenced
forever. For until we recognize our shared capacity for inhumanity, how can we
ever hope to tell stories of our mutual humanity?”
Karl Jacoby, Shadows at Dawn: A
Borderlands Massacre and the Violence of History
The injustices, in this particular instance suffered by all
the involved parties in one way of another at the hands of one of the others
led to this shameful massacre as the milestone event recorded in history. And they also did not end there. The legacy of the event for some was very clear and tangible, for
others less so. The underlying causes of
these injustices were not resolved by this event, they continued for many
years, decades even, some not fully resolved today.
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