A Jaunt Down the Valley

Justin and I and another 1st year ling grad, H, drove down to Bakersfield yesterday. You know, just to celebrate the heat in truly California style by spending the day in a car in the central valley. No, really we went to a fundraiser for the Kawaiisu Language and Cultural Center.

The valley is always flatter than I remember, and wider, and longer. We drove past many crops and one large (and very smelly and depressing-looking) cattle operation (if you've driven down I-5 you know the one). We passed cotton gins and food processing plants and occasional and isolated farmhouses. I really wish the farmers of California would sign their crops along the highways. It would be great advertising for California produce, raise people's awareness of varieties and also remind people of where food comes from. I could identify a few things, but only on a really broad level: fruit or nut trees over here, some kind of grapes there, looks like wheat here. Could wheat already be golden and looking ready for harvest? I was also surprised because it seemed kind of short: more knee-high than waist high. The plant looked like wheat as we whizzed past at 70 mph, but I'd have loved to see a sign telling me about it.

The edge of Bakersfield where we got off the freeway was as unlovely as its reputation. We stopped in a corner store for directions and one of the customers was wearing a true sombrero, the kind you see on mariachi musicians, but this guy was just a guy in jeans and a t-shirt buying beer. His friend, in a cowboy hat and apparently already fairly well into a beer-hydration project (hence the red, not-so-white, and blue eyes), gave me really excellent and detailed directions, repeated several times and including hand gestures (while Sombrero Man in the background was saying, "Okay, she gets it!")

A few minutes later we saw on the road in front of us in the camper of a small pickup truck two nubian goats (the ones with the floppy ears). That made me really happy. We wondered if they were on their way to become BBQ or if they were just moving house/pasture. Maybe they were being taken down to the community pool for a swim. Who knows?

Arriving at the ranch, we found it a bigger event than we had expected. There were tents and tables and port-a-pots (bañitos), a bounce-house for the kids, and an amplified band playing classic country music. One of the three musicians was a Kawaiisu elder, and one of the last language speakers.

People had come from pretty far away: L.A., Palm Springs, even Texas. Many people were related to each other, maybe most, but not all. Some of those who had come from far away were from different tribes.

It was hot, even for the locals, and everyone mostly sat around and sweated. It seemed to me a great place to be to appreciate the full valley summer experience. I was really happy to simply sit and watch people interacting, but also enjoying talking to some people. There was a big feed: potato salad, green salad, chili beans, rolls, a big pile of meat with bbq sauce. Sheet cake for dessert. Lots of bottled water (no alcohol).

Some guys got up and did traditional music, drums and songs in language. A couple of elders danced a slow and solemn dance. They were a brother and sister and they held hands and moved in a stately way across the space in front of the musicians, back and forth, many times. It was quite moving.

People were acknowledged to the group, including one elder in her 90s. There were lots of reminders to buy raffle tickets and fill out language surveys and feel free to go back for seconds, there's lots of food back there.

There was a raffle with many, many prizes. I had just told H about my lucky streak in Australia where I won movie tickets several times in raffles, although I'd never won anything at home, when suddenly they were calling one of our numbers! In the end, four of our ten tickets were winners! The nicest prize we got was a medicine bag. When we were leaving, one of the musicians came up and told us that it was made by his friend Sarita, a member of an Iowa tribe.

After the raffle, the three old men played again and enticed a couple of women (one was a sister) to come up and sing with them. It was all very sweet and warm and community-feeling.

A little girl named Raina, about 2 or 3, befriended me. She was talking to me during the raffle (which was amplified), so I couldn't always hear her, but she had a few phrases which were easily discernible: "I'll be right back." "I'm just checking on you. Are you okay?" She would go off and do something and then come back to me with these phrases. Very cute. She knew my name and I think when we were leaving she called me her cousin, which makes sense since probably most people there were her cousins!