From Sunday evening, March 8
Minerva came to speak to the group after dinner tonight. It was such a privilege to listen to her, to see the effect of drugs on her life and how, thanks to her faith, she was able to pull through and help others. Her father died when she was a young child and her mother turned to alcohol to cope. She wound up in foster care, eventually marrying an abusive, alcoholic husband before escaping. With three small children, Minerva began to rely on Speed to stay awake for her 16 hour work days. It wasn't long before she was addicted to other illegal drugs. It all stopped, she says, after the "miracle," spurred by her prayers and that of her sister, a Catholic missionary.
"The cravings were still there," she says, "but the Creator made it okay, made it not effect me anymore."
Upon completion of drug treatment, Minerva was asked to stay on as a counselor. She accepted, going back to school to earn a degree. Now, after 25 years, she's returned to Pine Ridge, where she says she's busier than before - organizing youth, helping to keep the tribal law and working for treaty rights.
Alcohol and drugs have really destroyed this community. The Pine Ridge that Minerva remembers didn't have nearly the same social ills. Now, gangs infest the young people and drug trafficking is ignored by the corrupt tribal government. Calmly, jaded by the reality of this harsh life, she told the story of a young girl who had joined a gang at age 10. Unable to live with herself after the sexual abuse and other gang initiation rites she had endured, she committed suicide. She was 14.
"It's what the young kids are doing now," said Minerva, shaking her head slightly in resignation - like my parents might do when discussing youths' baggy clothing or iPods.
Suicide.
Gang rape.
It's what the kids are up to nowadays.
Recently, the young girl's friend addressed Minerva: "Grandma," she said, "I'm 9 now. Next year, the gang will come for me."
Still, there's hope. Minerva has established a youth group, Blue Hand. The color blue is sacred to the Lakota, a symbol that these little sacred hands will not touch alcohol, drugs, gamble, or abuse. There's hope. Some 21 years ago, Minerva began to mentor a group of 5 children, which in a few weeks had grown to 100. Recently, she was approached by a man who identified himself as one of those children.
"Auntie, I listened to what you said and I don't do any of those things," he said. The man later brought his wife and children to come meet her. His wife spoke of how grateful she was for Minerva's influence, how she didn't do drugs or drink and wanted to find a husband who abstained, too. If not for Minerva, her husband may never have heard the message not to drink or do drugs, she said.
"If only one out of 100, that's good," said Minerva. "I have to believe that this is just a phase in our history."
And if there were one thing she would like us to share with others when we returned home?
"That we're still here. The Lakota, we're still alive. We will never be gone."
Tomorrow, I'll share my conversation with Minerva's granddaughter, which in many ways, was more illuminating and insightful.
"The cravings were still there," she says, "but the Creator made it okay, made it not effect me anymore."
Upon completion of drug treatment, Minerva was asked to stay on as a counselor. She accepted, going back to school to earn a degree. Now, after 25 years, she's returned to Pine Ridge, where she says she's busier than before - organizing youth, helping to keep the tribal law and working for treaty rights.
Alcohol and drugs have really destroyed this community. The Pine Ridge that Minerva remembers didn't have nearly the same social ills. Now, gangs infest the young people and drug trafficking is ignored by the corrupt tribal government. Calmly, jaded by the reality of this harsh life, she told the story of a young girl who had joined a gang at age 10. Unable to live with herself after the sexual abuse and other gang initiation rites she had endured, she committed suicide. She was 14.
"It's what the young kids are doing now," said Minerva, shaking her head slightly in resignation - like my parents might do when discussing youths' baggy clothing or iPods.
Suicide.
Gang rape.
It's what the kids are up to nowadays.
Recently, the young girl's friend addressed Minerva: "Grandma," she said, "I'm 9 now. Next year, the gang will come for me."
Still, there's hope. Minerva has established a youth group, Blue Hand. The color blue is sacred to the Lakota, a symbol that these little sacred hands will not touch alcohol, drugs, gamble, or abuse. There's hope. Some 21 years ago, Minerva began to mentor a group of 5 children, which in a few weeks had grown to 100. Recently, she was approached by a man who identified himself as one of those children.
"Auntie, I listened to what you said and I don't do any of those things," he said. The man later brought his wife and children to come meet her. His wife spoke of how grateful she was for Minerva's influence, how she didn't do drugs or drink and wanted to find a husband who abstained, too. If not for Minerva, her husband may never have heard the message not to drink or do drugs, she said.
"If only one out of 100, that's good," said Minerva. "I have to believe that this is just a phase in our history."
And if there were one thing she would like us to share with others when we returned home?
"That we're still here. The Lakota, we're still alive. We will never be gone."
Tomorrow, I'll share my conversation with Minerva's granddaughter, which in many ways, was more illuminating and insightful.
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