‘Oh, no, Newcomers!’ A Taos parable

One day, a thousand years ago, a herd of buffalo were grazing beneath what would someday be called Taos Mountain and enjoying the warmth of a summer afternoon. As they chewed the tasty grass, a trio of them shared jokes, chatted about the weather and wondered if that herd to the east would come to visit. To their surprise, instead of the other herd, they saw a group of strange, skinny, two-legged creatures arriving out of the western horizon. They were Pueblo Indians, fleeing the drought and coming to a more hospitable environment.

“Oh, no, newcomers!” cried the Buffalo. “They’re going to change our way of life.” And they did.

Six hundred years later, the people at Taos Pueblo were shucking corn, drying meat and mending their tools when some strange people wearing shiny armor and riding odd-looking beasts arrived out of the southern horizon. They were Spanish Conquistadors, searching for gold and wanting to spread the words of their particular interpretation of the Creator.

“Oh, no, newcomers!” cried the Taos Pueblo people (and the Buffalo.) “They’re going to change our way of life.” And they did.

Two hundred and fifty years later, the Spanish and Indian residents of Taos were sitting in the Plaza sharing stories and a smoke when a troop of blue-clad Dragoons thundered out of the southern horizon. They were units of the United States Army, coming to claim the territory of what would be called New Mexico for their upstart country.

“Oh, no, newcomers!” cried the

Spanish and the Taos Pueblo people (and the Buffalo.) “They’re going to change our way of life.” And they did.

A hundred and twenty years later, the American, Spanish and Indian residents of Taos were shopping at the markets, managing their businesses and tending their gardens when legions of hairy, weirdly-dressed young people descended on the county from all four horizons in VW vans with flower stickers. They were the Hippies and they chose Taos as the ideal place to establish their alternative lifestyles.

“Oh, no, newcomers!” cried the Americans and the Spanish and the Taos Pueblo people (and the Buffalo.) “They’re going to change our way of life.” And they did.

Fifty years later, the Hippies, Americans, Spanish and Indian people were working together in the schools, hospitals, community centers and businesses of Taos County when huge SUVs with white license plates came snorting in from the eastern horizon. They were the Texans and many had come to buy a second home in a more mild and scenic area.

“Oh, no, newcomers!” cried the Hippies and the Americans and the Spanish and the Taos Pueblo people (and the Buffalo.) “They’re going to change our way of life.” And they probably will.

Fear of newcomers is as old as civilization and, unfortunately, so is conquest and enforced change. Anyone who thinks only white Europeans are guilty of such behavior has a remedial understanding of human nature and the flow of global history. In this, we aren’t much different than our distant ancestors, the chimpanzees. Noted primatologist Jane Goodall has observed violent acts of aggression between groups of chimps to either take over or defend territory. It’s wired into us. I’ve been in Taos for only seven years, but I still find myself falling into suspicion of any new arrivals. I try to catch it because such narrow-mindedness prevents me from being the kind of person I hope to be.

If there is an ingrained need to split Taos’ population, I suggest that instead of the vertical separations of race, religion, class and gender, we try a horizontal delineation between those who contribute to the Taos community and those who take. You’ll find examples from the cross-section of all who live here.

In her recent “La Raza” commentary in Tempo, writer and artist Anita Rodríguez describes the interconnected relationship between the Hispanic and Pueblo residents in the days when she was growing up. She says, “We found a balance between privacy and intimacy, forming structures that accommodated our religious differences, smoothed over old grudges and had deep emotional meaning.” Wise words. But now they include every one of us.

It’s worth noting that the mountains around Taos are nearly a billion years old. We puny humans will have come and gone in the time it takes for them to sneeze. One term that has been flung by some at new arrivals to Taos is “Settlers.” If we take the long view, however, we are all settlers. Even the Buffalo.

Dear Representatives and Senators, We are writing on behalf of the New Mexico Acequia Association (NMAA) and the New Mexico Acequia Commission (NMAC). We represent rural communities that will be impacted by any legislation to legalize recreational cannabis in our state.

We appreciate that the bills address issues related to legalization of cannabis, including tax revenue, regulations and criminal justice concerns. However, we believe that the bills must do more to address the potential negative impacts in rural communities where the production of cannabis is likely to take place.

Negative impacts to rural New Mexico include, but are not limited to, impacts on scarce water supplies, increased degradation of water quality, unintended consequences on land and water rights ownership, and cultural erosion and other negative socioeconomic impacts. The final compromise bill must have robust protections for rural agricultural communities and strong safeguards for our precious water.

Overall, the final compromise bill must have a stronger emphasis on RURAL EQUITY for communities that will be impacted by cannabis production, and must also have stronger protections for the land and water rights of historically marginalized, traditional communities.

In some of the draft legislation, such as HB-12, the pathway for equity is focused on communities that have been disproportionately harmed by rates of arrest through enforcement of cannabis prohibitions. HB-12 has several provisions that seek to ensure that those communities affected by years of criminalization of cannabis are included in the economic boon to come. However, there is not the same level of consideration for traditional, land-based communities, such as acequias, where a significant agricultural land base and senior water rights are located and are now at risk of being lost to wealthy outside interests.

Sincerely,

Paula Garcia, Executive Director, NM Acequia Association; Harold Trujillo, President, NM Acequia Association; Ralph Vigil, Chairman, NM Acequia Commission