Chapter 30

 

 

Ben checked Zac’s text once more. Second pre-season soccer game and another two-nil win. Zac ended the text wishing his dad could be there to cheer the team. That part meant the world. As a post script Zac had included a picture of Romo; the puppy was growing quickly and now weighed fifty-five pounds. Boy and dog both looked happy. Ben closed his phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket before climbing into the Bronco next to Chief Billie.

“Good news?” The chief started the Bronco and headed up to the road.

Ben filled him in on how Zac was doing, even showing him the picture of Romo. School had just started and Raven had shared that the pandemic restrictions had taken some getting used to, but all of the students seemed to be accepting the wearing of masks and distancing. No wonder the freedom of being outdoors on a soccer field meant so much. It wasn’t confining, yet was probably safe, and offered a chance to interact with friends. Ben was glad Zac was happy—a dog, friends, soccer—no wonder life seemed pretty good.

A couple hours on the road gave Ben the opportunity to bounce some ideas off of the chief and, likewise, give him feedback on his plan. Coordination and communication were of utmost importance. Choosing the right people as team leaders would make or break the chief’s proposal. Ben was flattered to be asked to head up one of the allotted areas.

In Albuquerque, they left the freeway and took Twelfth Street north to the Indian Cultural Center in the North Valley section of the city. North Valley, South Valley, the Heights—it was a city of sections. In what natives called ‘the close-in North Valley’, the museum with an A1 rated restaurant was a showplace for the nineteen New Mexico Pueblos. Over the years it had become a major tourist attraction offering year-long special events—dances, art exhibits, and workshops.

The chief pulled into the parking lot. A few cars but nothing like it would normally be. At least most of the people getting out of their cars were wearing masks. But the Center’s conference room was less than a quarter full with marks on the floor as to where to stand to maintain proper distance. Signs in the entry advertised several workshops and lectures with an art exhibit featuring Pueblo women artists taking place that morning. Judging by the few people in attendance, the virus had interrupted the art show featuring women. There was going to be a lot of catching up to be done once the virus was over.

Dr. Black had saved two seats next to his at the large conference table in a room adjoining the Center’s business office. The chairs were six feet apart. What a strange new normal, Ben thought. But normalcy was in the center of the table where a huge platter of nachos sat next to paper plates and napkins.

“Better help yourselves, these are disappearing fast.” Dr. Black’s mask hung from one ear as he spooned a dollop of sour cream onto a paper plate before also scooping up more of the bean, beef, and cheese concoction. “This is going to be my lunch. I highly recommend it.”

“Looks good.” Chief Billie loaded a plate of his own; only Ben said he’d wait a while.

Three of the principal Pueblo representatives were forty-five minutes late. Usually people just nodded and said, ‘Indian time’. It was a local joke of sorts that Indian and Anglo time differed. Ben could remember more than one meeting at the Indian hospital that didn’t start at the time advertised. It was just something a person got used to.

Finally, representatives from fifteen of the nineteen Pueblos were seated in the room, scattered safely with distance between them, and Dr. Black called the meeting to order.

“I want to point out that what we decide today—the extent of your contributions—will not just benefit the Hopi and Navajo. The guidelines as to how we want to set up what Chief Billie calls a search and rescue mission will also be available for any help you might need with your own support in identifying those with the virus on your respective reservations. So, keep in mind what your own needs might be and how your own Pueblo might be best served. Chief Billie, fill in a few details for us.”

“Thanks, Doc. I think all of you know distance is the enemy of the Navajo. We are working against an immovable barrier in providing timely, sometimes life-saving, help. You can’t get around an area the size of New Jersey in a day—or even two or three—and do a good job of discerning need. Now, we’re relying on word of mouth, not reliable first-person cries for help. And we’re missing a lot of the elderly who are in dire need. When it comes to testing, that can be impossible if individuals have no means to travel, let alone receive the test results after they have returned home. Wherever possible we need to take help to the people and follow through with checking back.”

“How is the hospital camp that I’ve heard so much about coping with these problems?” the Laguna governor asked.

“Surprisingly well seeing that we’re understaffed and have far from adequate supplies. As of tomorrow, we will have eight hospital tents, a triage tent, and living facilities to house fifty families or personnel. We are tentatively looking at two additional hospital tent camps strategically placed on the reservation depending in part on what we learn from a search and rescue operation.”

“I’m not sure I understand how your Pueblo neighbors can help,” the governor from Zia commented.

Chief Billie then mapped out how with seventy-five men and women divided into teams of three, they could cover all corners of the reservation in two weeks or less, assessing problem areas, administering tests, contacting backup for anyone needing hospitalization. A team could order a food or water truck if an area was in need of service. He ended with a dire warning.

“We have people dying because they have no access to help. We must do everything possible to save lives. If you feel that you could provide some manpower to help us, please leave your contact information with Dr. Black. There will be a meeting at the Indian Health Hospital this Friday. Anyone interested in volunteering should attend. Volunteers will be paid a per diem, plus mileage if you are using your own vehicle, and provided a place to stay—room and board paid for—at the hospital camp.”

Another forty-five minutes was taken up with more questions before the group broke up.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee.” Dr. Black pointed down the hall to the restaurant. “I think Ben needs some of my time.”

All three men agreed that the meeting had been positive. They would know more on Friday. If seventy-five plus individuals showed up, then the morning would have been productive. Everyone there appeared to agree on the need and moving quickly. But acknowledgement and action could be miles apart. Still, the three men were congratulating one another.

“Now, let’s see if we can solve another problem.” Dr. Black slipped into a red Naugahyde booth. “I don’t know when times have been this challenging. Ben, what do you need?”

“I hate to lean on you any more, but safely getting supplies to camp is going to require your help. Shamelessly, I need to beg some of your cronies in Washington for a piece of that forty million dollars of virus money allocated to IHS. I’m asking for five million—every penny to be spent on PPE plus some one hundred ventilators, and all to be sent to the hospital camp on the Navajo reservation.”

Ben continued to lay out his plan of airlifted supplies, stockpiled in Albuquerque, and then via convoy taken to the reservation. The minute he had a letter of introduction from president Nez, he would be back in Santa Fe to plead his case with the governor to make use of the New Mexico National Guard.

Finally, Ben sat back and waited for Dr. Black’s comments. “It’s doable. I don’t think you’ll have any problem borrowing the Guard. If you need additional backup, I’ll volunteer to go to Santa Fe with you.”

“I’ll take you up on that. I see the current camp as a depository for the bulk of PPE and a place to allow us to stay ahead of ordering supplies and restocking the outlying areas. We’ll be able to set up our own testing lab and establish contact tracing in addition to treatment.”

Chief Billie replied, “I’m investing in a hangar-style metal building to be erected behind the hospital tents by borrowing from my own building fund for this year. Once this virus has passed us by, I’ll be able to store police vehicles and parts, especially tires, closer to where they are used. Having the fleet located in Shiprock puts a strain on the force. Makes it impossible to handle vehicle repairs in a timely fashion.”

“We already have a second community well going in, two new Wi-Fi provider towers, along with underground cable—plans for a small commercial center are also on the table. A gas station, grocery store, and the Two Sisters restaurant would all be welcome, permanent additions to this area of the reservation. The trailers may or may not stay. Six more closed septic tanks are going in, banking on the area housing becoming permanent whether it’s trailers or cement block homes. I think any investment in this area will be rewarded by tribal interest and support. In the meantime, the health care provided is lifesaving.” Ben added.

“So, let me get this straight. IHS will provide protective equipment in bulk in addition to whatever hospital mechanical equipment is needed, such as ventilators, using federal monies already approved by Congress. The hangar will act as a storage receptacle and, under supervision, orders for supplies will be filled from this stockpile. We can use the garages at the Indian Hospital to collect and hold everything until the convoy is ready to load it and proceed to the reservation.”

“Exactly. Do you see any stumbling blocks? Anyone refusing to use funds in this way, for example?” Ben asked.

“I think the plan is pretty straightforward. Let me make some calls and get back to you no later than tomorrow afternoon. I think we’ll get the support.”