Adobe

On vacation in the Southwest we walked the dusty roads through the Taos Pueblo, trailing a fresh-faced young Hopi who reminded us that though his talk was free donations would help with his college education. Later he confided to us that actually, he was about to join the Army.
We bought a painting of the pueblo in relief against a sunset descending on the landscape like time overshadowing an ancient people, and apparently it has. Our Indian guide explained that the pueblo has been continuously occupied for over 1,000 years by the Red Willow people. Well, continuously in the sense that the condominiums are owned by Indian families and passed down from generation to generation. In fact the current generation lives elsewhere, choosing to visit occasionally for a religious ceremony or community event. The upcoming generation has even less interest and some properties are falling into disrepair.
Summers, some young people sell crafts in living quarters turned store fronts and tell stories of learning to pot, paint or make jewelry from their elders. The artist who sold us our painting told us he was going to be featured in Southwest magazine in August. (When I heard a similar story for the third time in as many art galleries, I figured this must be the latest art marketing ploy, but still, I believe him.)
The charm of the pueblo is the discipline of maintaining it as it has been for a thousand years with no running water and no electricity – a sanctuary for the preservation of cultural beliefs. As I reflected on the value of doing this I wondered how my own life would be different if I lived in spare circumstances. I imagine that people who live in simple dwellings would spend more time with each other building community and passing down tradition.
More than the weather that wears away the adobe walls and must be plastered annually, it seems that technology has worn away the young people’s desire to invest in this way of life short of an occasional pilgrimage to the pueblo, like the fun family camping trip that creates good memories of simpler days.
Much as we want to preserve culture, life is a contaminant. New possibilities fire the imagination. Our children forge new connections. They move away. Perhaps they carry with them some of the old values that will inform new generations.
Adobes must be tended to survive generations. They are merely earthly dwellings after all. The soul of a people must be tended as well. Keeping the Kivas hidden creates space for the sacred. What does sacred mean, but “do not touch?” Sorting out what remains worthy of reverence, which values are untouchable is soul work.
In the welcome warmth of the sun after unseasonable cold, a young Hopi girl circled my husband on her bicycle. “Great day!” she commented with a wide bright smile, and rode on. I think she knows.