Hello from another Thivah based in the other side of the Ocean, full of curiosity and respect for nemenha, as the current translitteration writes numunuu in Italian. Horses are the link, horses are the moles in human life, they always tell the truth. Take care (I love the number of poles in your tepee).
Questo è un articolo che val la pena di leggere in inglese com’è, duro se non impossibile da tradurre per quel che c’è sotto e tra le parole. Lo scrive chi si definisce “il solito figlio di brava donna bianco” (traducendo a spanne), in realtà, pare, un giornalista che vive da anni con il Popolo e il cui miglior amico è un batterista metà Comanche e metà Kiowa. Anche le foto sono tutte da gustare. Grazie da noialtri Thivah rispettosi e italici.
In my eighth year at The Lawton Constitution, I’ve caught myself reflecting on one of my roles as Native American topics reporter. A role I relish.
Before starting this gig, I lived in a community – Cyril – with a heavy Comanche lineage. It was founded on former Comanche allotments. My best friend and drummer in a late-great- two-piece rock band – Pinto – is half Comanche, half Kiowa. His momma is my Comanche momma. Heck, I knew her before him.
The people I called my friends/family were Comanche. Predating that, as a child, I was consumed with curiosity about the people who were here before us.
It’s amazing how much information and history I learned that was never of use in school.
That’s one of the weird lessons life teaches: No matter what you learn, no matter how useless any knowledge may be, there will always be a moment…
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Rancho Comancho 