One must feel it to understand

I can’t describe the experiences I’ve had in Hopi. One must see it, smell it, taste it, hear it and most importantly feel it to understand.

How would I describe Yapaha, running down on the dusty plaza in the village, screaming and trying to catch corn, cereal, nudles and tupperware from young Hopi boys? How would I describe when we got our hair washed, and we got real Hopi names, getting accepted into the family, as real Hopis? How would I possibly describe the Nanha mud fight, the ride on the back of the truck in 65 miles per hour, with our feet hanging out or the time when we got pulled over by the police? How would I describe what we saw in the Kiwa that late night? How would I describe the sunsets, the sunrises and the nature, the view, the smell of Hopi tobacco and the sound of the wonderful music? How would I describe the hours in the field or when the turkey died and I had to carry it, how we picked fresh chili from the garden or how we walked to the water spring and I tasted the best water I’ve ever had?

I will not describe it, but I will tell you (eventually when I take my time) and I’ll do my best not to make you understand but to make you interested enough to go by yourself and therefor be able to understand.

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