Zuni

 The drive from Gallup to the Zuni Pueblo is short - less than an hour along a two lane highway. When we arrived we stopped at the cultural center to get our bearings, and really to show our respect. The woman there was friendly and helpful. We opted to not take a tour, so she showed us where we could go, and where we could not. She reminded us  to  not take any photographs which I would not have done anyway. She suggested that we simply drive just a little further on, and  stop at some local galleries. And so we did, parking in front of  the first gallery we came to. However, we were surprised to  learn that it, and the second gallery, were closed. We walked a little further on, and found an open sign. We were welcomed in.

Here we found ourselves not in a gallery, but a shop where raw materials, including turquoise, were sold. For as long as I have known him, Tyler has been interested in jewelry and jewelry making, so he was quite intrigued. There we met an amiable fellow, I shall call him Ben (not his real name), who seemed to be delighted to have someone to talk to, and talk he did. He told us several times that he would buy his materials from no where else. The woman behind the counter, I believe she was the owner, reminded him with no humor that he had not brought her any of his dragonflies in a long time. Ben never really responded to her comments, keeping instead to what was really a friendly  monologue.     

I mentioned to the owner that I was surprised to discover that the two galleries we walked by were closed. She rather off-handedly replied,

 “They are from Pakistan. Who knows what hours they keep, but the  shop down the street is open.” I do wish I had pursued that conversation a little further, for I was surprised to hear about the Pakistani shopkeepers, but I got distracted by a stack of magazines residing on her counter: the “New Mexico, Special Collector’s Edition” dated February, 1995. It was an issue dedicated to turquoise. She said I was  welcome to take a copy.  We thanked her for her hospitality, and walked out the door.

Tyler and Ben both walked a little ahead of me. Ben kept talking, treating Tyler like an old friend. The gallery was indeed open. There, Ben found other people to talk to, and I found  a lovely bracelet to  replace the Zuni bracelet I bought decades ago. That bracelet eventually lost all its very small inlaid stones.  

As I paid for my purchases (I also bought a wooden salt cellar decorated with hummingbirds in black, blue, and red),  the woman behind the counter spotted the magazine. I told her  it was from just down the street. She was so intrigued, I suggested that she take the copy, and I would stop by the shop and pick up another copy. I did find myself wondering just how much the owners talked to one another. 

After picking up the second copy of the magazine, we then returned to the truck.  The woman at the materials’ shop wanted to know who received the first copy and I explained and thanked her for her generosity.  

We then took a drive down the dirt road that was the street. We knew we were not welcome to go into the area that I think of as the heart of the pueblo. We could do that only if we took the tour, and that certainly made sense to us. As I peruse the New Mexico magazine, I am reminded of the challenges of holding in balance traditional ways, with the influx of money that travelers, settlers, and developers bring.  This has been the case ever since the Spanish, who were more interested in finding wealth rather than balance, first arrived.   

I will digress here, as I just came across an ad in the February 1995 issue of the “New Mexico” magazine that mentions a cookbook, The Best from New Mexico Kitchens. I have that cookbook. It was sent to me many years ago by my mother’s best friend, Arlene Hart. I remember her with love. Her laughter and her books were such a beacon for me in some lonely times.  She wrote in her very intentional handwriting the following inscription on the first page: 

“To Sue Ann Donaldson from Arlene Hart 

Many happy hours

‘slaving  over a hot stove’

To feed your friends ‘Tex-Mex.’”    

   

Arlene was a fine cook, and while there probably were days when she may not have been in the mood to be in the kitchen, preferring instead to sit and read, I don’t think she really thought of herself as a slave. I hope not, anyway.  I must have asked my mother for a recipe for green chili sauce because Arelene highlighted the titles of the following recipes:  green chili sauce, tame green chili sauce,  and salsa. I am smiling.  Arlene always cooked by a recipe; my mother almost never did. That was a source of much laughter between the two of them.     

    

On our way out of Zuni on our way to El Morro and then Albuquerque, we stopped and filled up the truck with gas. Our hope was that at least some of the money would stay in the pueblo, if nothing else to help pay for the salary of the young man who worked there.       

     

Since I have no photographs of Zuni, I am attaching a photograph that was taken at the beautiful Red Rock Canyon State Park, Cantil, CA which is outside of  California City.  I love this image of Tyler, gazing ever further on.