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Indigenous Culture

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Moving With The People

A dim line of light appeared in the darkness beyond the window of the plane, along with some tiny flashes. As the line broadened, I realized that it was dawn, and the flashes were lightning. The line grew broader, up and down, until it reached the Indian Ocean far beneath us, and I searched in the gloom for the island of Sri Lanka.

By Morris Earle, Jr. October 1981
The Sun Interview

An Interview With Medicine Story

In the tribal way there is a concern not only with the family and the tribe, but also about a continuum that began with the ancestors, with maintaining a way that has been passed down, a good way, a sacred way, and passing it on to the unborn generations. This is the only major world viewpoint that has such a heavy reliance upon the unborn generations. There is a tradition always to plan for seven generations ahead.

By Howard Rubin September 1981
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Artists And Magicians

Within the intuition of magic is an inborn drive to always remain on the edge. The artmagician appears to be mad or, at least, very strange. He goes to the gas station or restaurant and eyes follow him. He is feared or admired; it matters little which. His passage leaves a backwash of affection.

By Roxy Gordon August 1980


Task: to be where I am.
Even when I’m in this solemn and absurd
role: I am still the place
where creation does some work on itself.

Tomas Tranströmer

July 1980

Faces Of India

The photographs in this selection are available as a PDF only. Click here to download.

By Rameshwar Das February 1979
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories


Following through on an attempt to understand white South Africa’s control and manipulation of the Black/Colored/Asian majority is a journey that invokes a logical progression of disbelief sliding to horror, then, finally, a half step beyond to revulsion.

By William Gaither July 1977

Sex Is Not Strawberry Jam

My thumb was out and Interstate 86 out of Providence, Rhode Island was getting hot. Me and my St. Bernard, Roger, were thumbing across America. It had been a messy morning.

By Karl Grossman July 1976