Whitey on the Res

The house now is nearing completion, although running water is still in the works. It’s a cute little one-bedroom cottage with a spacious loft area and earthen floors and walls. Our work here includes a variety of projects, like collecting and drying herbs, helping build a cob storage shed and fixing and installing loads of little things in the house. My biggest task is to build a fence around the property to keep horses and cows at bay (their residue is everywhere and shoveling it is on neverending project in itself). Once again, I’ve found myself spending most of my days digging holes. With all the skills I’ve developed, I’m now thinking about starting my own hole-digging business when I’m done WWOOFing.


This permaculture project is very low/no budget, so most of the building supplies are donated and most of the tools are borrowed. Resourcefulness is a necessity, and we often find ourselves scrounging through heaps of construction junk to find a post or sheet of plywood just the right size. The race now is against the season, and we’re rushing to get done with everything that has to be finished before winter comes. The first snowfall can happen anywhere in the next 2-6 weeks, and not much can be done after that.

So far I’m liking it here. Two more volunteers, Chip and Alexis, arrived the day after I did. We stayed in our tents only the first two nights. After that, the temp dropped dramatically so we all moved into the house. Gerald, Shannon’s father-in-law, will eventually move in here, but he prefers to stay with Shannon in the next town until it’s finished.

With no running water, we have to fill up coolers at the neighbor’s garden pump. There’s an outhouse, an outdoor mirror and sink (no pipes) and a camp shower, although dinner is served at Shannon’s house a few miles away so we tend to shower when we go there. Like Utah, ambient light is scarce out here, so on a clear night you can see a zillion stars in the sky. And if you stare long enough, you’re bound to catch a few shooting stars.

I heard plenty of horror stories from my friends about coming here. They ranged from “all reservation Indians hate white people” to “everyone on the res is a kleptomaniac alcoholic and they’ll steal anything you leave unwatched.” I can’t say everyone here is immaculate, and alcoholism is definitely a big res issue, but so far everyone I’ve met has been very friendly. Shannon is Jewish and from California, and she’s been completely welcomed into this culture.

Gerald quickly became one of my favorite people here. He’s a skinny guy in his late sixties, although he can wield a sledge hammer like nobody’s business. He has a strong Lakota accent and tells great stories about growing up with his grandfather in these hills before anyone else settled here. He also has some sad stories, like being slapped on the knuckles with a ruler anytime he spoke the Lakota language in public school. Overall, he’s totally mellow and very happy about his new house. I have to be careful leaving clothes lying around because he’s likely to grab my jacket or hat and walk to the next town with it. It’s not theft, it’s just his way; he lives minimally and is used to sharing everything with his family and neighbors. And he always returns what he takes.

So far, I only had one awkward moment. A few nights ago, I stopped by a local quickie mart—the only store for miles—to pick up some food for Shannon. Two Indian children were sitting outside when I walked up with the two other volunteers, who are both white. Once kid kept saying “Where are all these white people coming from?” while the other just shouted “Hey white people! Give us money!”

Oh well.