The story of Whitehorse The Man is a true story of one man, from the Navajo Nation, who survived to provide for future generations. He looked to his one creator and knew when he left this world, he would be reunited with his beloved wife, Theodora.
In the distance, billowing thunderclouds against the orange
and red sky peered behind the towering steeples of Monument Valley, Arizona. A
familiar sound of the Ancient Ones could be heard chanting, singing and dancing throughout
the Valley as though they came from beyond to rejoice in the birth of a new
life. On this day, August 12, 1906, the Dine, on the Navajo Reservation, were to
receive its newest member whom they named Whitehorse. Dine are proud people who
live by their culture and traditions, but most importantly, their word. The name
Whitehorse symbolizes strength and freedom. A little brother was born a year
later. Whitehorse grew up on the reservation until the death of his parents
around 1914. A trapper passing through the village took ill and passed
away. Later, they realized the trapper carried their worst fear. . .Yellow
Fever. One-by-one, including his mother, father and many families became ill and left to join our Ancestors. Yellow Fever, the bringer of death, spread like wildfire. His parents weren't the only ones who succumbed to this virus. Over 800 people contracted this devastating
illness and perished; some never to be heard of again--lost and forgotten souls. This was the beginning of a life that has been sleeping in the eyes of
the Garcia family, descendants of Whitehorse who neglected their heritage by not
acknowledging Whitehorse The
Man.
I remember as a child, waking early each morning to join Apa (Dad) at the breakfast
table before he left for work. I would climb on his lap and ask him, Apa, tell
me again about when you were a boy growing up in Arizona. I could see the gleam
in his eyes, along with such sadness. . .he would hold me in his arms, look
back and remember. Mom would be cooking breakfast and making his lunch for the
long day ahead. I can still see the smile on her face as Apa looked back and
reminisced. Paloma Blanca (WhiteDove) he would call me, "when I was a young boy, my
father, your Great Grandfather, accidentally killed a man. A stranger arrived on
the reservation and stole money from your Great Grandfather. When he approached the stranger for the money, the man got violent. Your
Great Grandfather and this stranger got into a scuffle; and when your Great
Grandfather struck him, the stranger fell back and hit his head on a rock. . .the stranger died. Because of this terrible accident, he was forced to change the family name to Garcia. He had to lose his identity, because he knew the officials wouldn't believe him." Dad went on to say that in the early 1900's, it was much more acceptable to be known as a Spaniard than an American Indian. Indians were hated throughout the land, and Indian killings happened too often. Justice would not intervene. He knew only too well that if they found out he was Indian, they would hang him without further investigation. "Oh well, he was only an Indian," the officials would say.
