Last week I wrote–not for the first time–about the bizarrely uphill battles the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians fight every time they want to do anything more than merely continue existing the way they currently do in the county.
Of course locals are wary about any proposals that might make their pocket of paradise even a smidge more Vegas-like, and that’s certainly understandable, but I’ve lost count of the times the tribe has come forward with cash in hand and been treated like the money was actually an ornery skunk.
But this particular recent column touched on two fronts: a slip-up by Supervisor Janet Wolf, who, while fumbling around for the proper title, called Chumash Tribal Chairman Vincent Armenta “chief,” and a proposed deal that would bring a huge chunk of money into the county in exchange for already-offered sheriff’s services that I’d call a no-brainer if not for the fact that it took about five months for the entire Board of Supervisors to agree to smile and accept the really-it’s-not-a-skunk wad of dough from the tribe and pacify the sheriff himself, who was behind the arrangement from the get-go.
But I’m not here to rehash all of that.
In fact, I’d prefer to not be talking about this subject again at all right now. But shortly after my column hit the literal and virtual streets, I received this message in my inbox from one “MM 93103” with the subject line: “kinda funny, really.”
This apparent Santa Barbara resident wrote: “So after ‘Buried My Heart at Wounded Knee’ and the hundreds of similar events the Chumash want the Whiteman to police the reservation?
“2) They just couldn’t get a couple sworn American Indian police on horseback?> say a nice Golden palomino or an appaloosa>had to be a SBSD squad car? Not much of an imagination.”
I left the punctuation as received, oddly free-floating “2)” and all.
Nothing like sloppy punctuation and grammar, a slightly mistitled reference to a game-changing written exploration of the West (it’s Bury My Heart …), and a completely out-of-the-blue and pointless equine-based jab to both offend and confuse.
On the surface, MM seems to be critical only of the tribe’s apparent lack of desire to sacrifice modern and standardized methods of public safety in favor of some clichéd notion of frontier justice set on four hooves and a saddle. I can hear MM now: “Get it, guys? Because Indians ride horses? Beautiful, noble horses? That’s comedy genius, right there. I can’t wait for my stand-up deal.”
I think there’s more than that to the email, but I’m not going to waste any more of my time trying to parse MM’s irony.
I will say, however, that I think raising a question of trust isn’t that far out of line, especially since some leaders on the non-tribal side of just about any interaction between the two sides raise a skeptical eyebrow as soon as the tribal chairman takes a step in their direction.
I wouldn’t blame any member of the tribe for having at least a sliver of doubt when it comes to dealing with elected officials who oversee everything else in the county, state, and country besides the Chumash tribal lands, but I don’t think MM was being serious and supporting the side of the historically oppressed, attacked, stolen from, and destroyed.
The Canary is out for justice. Send ideas to canary@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Nov 13-20, 2014.