This past week has been a whirlwind. Leaving D.C. on Saturday for Maryville, TN, I’ve spent the past week in and around the Great Smokey Mountains, learning more about the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians and their relationships with the United States Federal Government than I ever thought I could learn. Spending the past week with my participants has been an amazing experience, marked with plenty of laughter, music, and adventuring. We’ve talked to elders, culture bearers, and tribal leaders about everything from the casino system to integrated systems of care for tribal members. We’ve learned some of the traditional idiosyncratic practices underlying communication between tribal members, ways in which the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians are trying to spur economic growth within the Qualla Boundary, and areas where certain factions of the Eastern Band are in conflict with one another.
Along the way, the participants and I worked to clear cultural heritage sites and provide fuel for residents. Through our direct interactions with a litany of community members, the participants were able to apply the information I taught them through the curriculum I created months before, sometimes catching our community partners off guard. In a conversation about the Major Crimes Act, Sen. Sullivan’s POWER Act, and the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA), I particularly remember a member of the EBCI’s Attorney General’s staff remarking “Wow, you guys really did your homework!”, something I took great pride in hearing. As a leader of the program, and one of its creators, I was thankful to finally see everything fall into place. Nothing made me quite as happy as falling asleep at the end of the day, secure in knowing my program was running smoothly, waking up excited to see what new relationships and ideas lay just over the horizon as a result of the program. However, excitement was soon tempered with reality. My faculty advisor, the director of all Alternate Break programs, daily would pull me aside to talk about COVID-19. Without reception on my phone, I had been flying blind as to the progression of the crisis, though his updates had me wary about the future of our program. He spoke of rising cases in Italy and then New York, of an outbreak in Washington State and potential travel closures all across the United States. Before we had come to Maryville he had been forced to cancel every other planned Alternate Break except for mine and Puerto Rico’s, twelve in total. I understood his position, and that of my family. That of every family of our participants, watching the same distressing news on the television, reading about it on their phones, seeing it break over social media. The instinctive urge to pull their children in, to call them back to their care, to watch over them and be supportive of them. As the numbers infected rose, and the number of deaths similarly rose, we were forced to pull the plug on our program, returning first thing Friday. Driving back to D.C., the mood was somber. Everyone wanted to stay and live freely for as long as possible, dreading quarantine a life away from their new found friends. I joined them in that feeling. Though I had a responsibility to keep everyone safe and look out for their best interests, I couldn’t help but to feel a bit greedy in my want to keep our group intact. I wanted to learn more. I wanted to laugh more. I wanted to show off a culture similar to my own. A people similar to my own. The thought of leaving everyone and everything left me a bit empty. As we neared D.C. and phones lit up and people split off, I was grateful to spend some more time with my (now) former participants. Pushing off the necessity of leaving just a bit longer, we stayed up talking and reflecting on all we had gone through. All we had learned. The ways in which we all had grown closer. The things we were surprised by and scared by. Times where we were frustrated and upset. The little moments of friendship building and love being shared. It was there, on Emily’s bed that Friday night, where I learned that while our trip may have ended a bit early, the bonds made would last forever. And the knowledge gained would too.
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Photo used under Creative Commons from Mike Juvrud