Navajo and Hopi Land

 I am nestled in the small town of Kenyata, AZ, not too far from the Utah/Arizona border and in Navajo and Hopi country. The people of this rugged, majestic terrain have been kind and offered us, tourists, their homes, a peek at their land and overall wellbeing. COVID has taken its toll on the Navajo people – 50,000 dead. 50,000 souls perished, now a part of the spirit realm. My heart aches for the loved ones left behind.  Their loss was devastating. We stay masked to protect them.

We have seen many sites on our road trip around Arizona. We forked over some cash and headed into the bowels of Monument Valley on a tour truck today. Well worth it. Our pictures cannot capture the beauty of this land. It’s as if Mother Earth said, “No, you must see it yourself to capture my creation.” The black swaths and striations of the red rock towered over us. These mesas, mountainous rock formations with flat plateaus on the top rise out of the ground, showing off and piercing the skyline.  An ocean once saturated this land. Deep, deep water with creatures whose bones now tell their tales. This dry land was wet. Now it is sprinkled with pops of green thanks to the blessings of snow and heavy rain for a spell in the winter season. 

With our tour guide, we spoke of treaties long ago that our government failed to honor. We spoke of boarding schools that snatched the Navajo language from the mouth of babes, once again being spoken in schools for a new generation healing from their parents’ and grandparents’ wounds. 

We have had a whirlwind couple of days traipsing this land, south to north and then south again.  The Grand Canyon left us speechless. We came at high sun in the heat of the afternoon and then again at sunset when the color bursts were pink, purple, orange, and gray. A sight that as I said before, Mother Nature said we must see ourselves because our manmade contraptions to capture this site will fail us and flatten the thousands of layers stretching into the horizon for hundreds of miles and also plunging vertically down into Her depths by thousands of feet. I stand at the edge braving to look down and spot condors flying below me, small black slivers as they search for their prey. I am grateful to the National Parks department for maintaining this land so well. I pray that these places stay sacred and public for all of us to see and love. It must be quite challenging to manage the millions that trek to this Mecca of America that humbles us so profoundly. I am truly grateful for this experience. I hope to always remember this journey west. I will head back to Cherokee and Creek land in the southeast soon. Until then, I will enjoy this place and pray to return one day. This joint Fay and Fran production taking the kids west will always be a memory cherished.