Original Pechanga's Blog: Congress to Look into ENFORCEMENT of ICRA?

Original Pechanga's Blog: Congress to Look into ENFORCEMENT of ICRA?

A request for an oversight hearing into the enforcement of the
Indian Civil Rights Act?

Senator Allen comments on SB1070

OneCaliforniansOpinion: At one time I lived in rural San Diego County, within a few miles of the Mexican border. I can attest to a great amount of foot traffic. We noticed more traffic at night, but I encountered "illegals" moving North in the middle of the day. I never, in those days, felt fear, as I felt they were interested in moving as far North as they could as quickly as they possibly could. Fifteen years ago the physical risk seemed greater for those seeking a new life than it did for me.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/04/29/EDA41D700U.DTL

Sylvia Allen

Friday, April 30, 2010

I'm an Arizona state senator. I want to explain SB1070, Arizona's immigration bill, which I voted for and which was just signed by Gov. Jan Brewer.
Rancher Rob Krentz was shot to death on his ranch over a month ago and the shooter fled into Mexico. His family suspects a drug smuggler is responsible. I participated in a state Senate hearing two weeks ago on the border violence that is, and has been, sweeping our border communities for years. From those hearings, we learned that:
-- The people who live within 60 to 80 miles of the U.S.-Mexico border have been terrorized by the Mexican drug cartels and human smugglers. One rancher testified that 300 to 1,200 people cross his ranch every day, vandalizing his property, stealing his vehicles, cutting down his fences and leaving trash. He testified that in the last two years, he has found 17 bodies and, alarmingly, several copies of the Quran.
-- Another rancher testified that drugs are brought across his ranch in a military-style operation, with guards armed to the teeth. A point man with a machine gun goes in front, a half-mile behind are the fully armed guards, a half-mile behind them are the drugs, and behind the drugs are more guards. This was not the only rancher we heard who talked about the drug trains.
-- One man told of two border crossers who came on his property, one of them shot in the back and the other in the arm by drug runners who forced them to carry drugs and then shot them. They frequently hear gunfire at night and are afraid to leave their ranch for fear of what the smugglers will do to it.
The Border Patrol is not on the border. It has set up 60 miles away with check points that do nothing to stop the invasion. The officers are not allowed to use force in stopping anyone who is entering.
The national media do not report on these stories because it conflicts with their perception of the illegal immigration issue, which is based on an assumption that all illegal immigrants are law-abiding landscapers, maids and day laborers. While this is true in many cases, it is also true that our federal and state prisons and county jails are full of a disproportionate number of illegal immigrants who are committing a disproportionate number of crimes.
The federal government has failed to do anything substantive to help border states like Arizona. We have been overrun by immigrants and, once they are here, the state has the burden of funding services that they use. With a $3.5 billion state budget deficit, we have many difficult decisions to make, and one of those decisions is that we don't have the money to care for people who are not here legally.
This has to stop. The border can be secured. We have the technology, we have the ability to stop this invasion. We must know who is coming into the country, and they must come in an organized manner - legally, so that we can assimilate them into our population and protect the sovereignty of our country.
The national media has distorted, disfigured, and dismembered Senate Bill 1070 to the point that its reputation no longer bears any resemblance to what the bill actually does. Those who claim it is racist, or will foster a Nazi-state are themselves fostering unwarranted and irrational hysteria.
The fact is that Senate Bill 1070 merely makes it a state crime to be in the United States illegally. It also explicitly prohibits law enforcement officials from solely considering race, color, or national origin in determining immigration status.
Many lawmakers who supported SB1070, including me, also support amnesty, but not until we secure the border. Failing to secure the border only moves us closer to some form of a North American Union with no borders and no national sovereignty. Many of those protesting SB1070 have called for just that.
Maybe it is too late to save America. Maybe we are not worthy of freedom anymore. But as an elected official, I must try to do what I can to protect our Constitutional Republic.
Living in America is not a right simply because you walk across the border. Being an American is a responsibility. Freedom is not free.

Sylvia Allen, a Republican from Snowflake, serves in the Arizona Senate.

This article appeared on page A - 14 of the San Francisco Chronicle

Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/04/29/EDA41D700U.DTL#ixzz0mbbUf0Nt

Illegal Americans - A short story

While I posted today regarding my impatience with Congress on their lack of action on immigration... I do want to show another side of the immigration story. Once upon a time I read a news story about a young woman who had won and election in her town. It wasn't until after she had won that she discovered she was not a US Citizen. I wondered how this could be. How could she not know. .... and how would a mother explain to her child (who had just been elected to the city council) that it was true, she was not a citizen. Explain to her that she had been living here illegally since she was a small child. I let my imagination tell me a story and I'd like to share it with you here.

Illegal Americans -

The story of a family

Unseen clouds gather over my grandchildren as they run through the park squealing and playing tag. How different from me they are with their corn silk hair and freckles. They run to me for cold water and a cookie as if I were an oasis. I wash their hands and faces with a cloth wet from the fountain and kiss their cheeks. They look at me with innocent smiles and eyes as blue as water.

"Abuela! Abuela!" my granddaughter shouts, "Mira! Mariposa!"

"Yes, meja, I see. The butterfly is beautiful. Go, now and play with your brothers. They are calling you."

At least my daughter has allowed enough Spanish that I may converse with them in bits of my own tongue.

We came to this country so long ago but the language escapes me. Spanish keeps my heart close to those I miss, the family we left behind.
Our three sons, Raul, they've done well. Ramon's owns two restaurants now. All that responsibility, my love and he runs our janitorial service too. Guillermo is a priest, no longer the wild boy. Raphael, my angel, is what they call pediatrician. That's a fancy name for a doctor of children. Paloma, the mother of these that chase butterflies, has decided to run for city office.

Dio's mio.

Paloma was studying at the college to be a nurse and work with her brother. I, myself, am proud she is gaining her education, but now she wants to be a council woman. I am proud of Paloma but I feel it, she is calling the storm clouds.

I call to her but she can not hear me. She is talking with Mirabelle the meddler. That girl takes after her mother. Excuse me, Raul, but your sister has always been a bruja and her daughter is her image. No good will come of this conversation.

********

"I don't think you should do this."

"Where is your patriotism, Mirabelle? Council woman is just a first step. One day I could be president! Don't you understand? Besides it's already done. The deadline was yesterday and I've filed."

"There are things you don't know, Cousin, things your mother should have told you before now."

"Mama taught me to love my country and I do. I want to be a part of building something for my children, our children. Frederick understands. He worked hard for his naturalization. You and I were lucky to have been born in the United States, Mirabelle. Very lucky."

“Cousin, you are mistaken. You and I were not born in the United States. Your brothers were not born in the United States nor were mine. Speak to your mother if you do not believe me."

********

Paloma knows. I can see it in her eyes. Raul, we should have told them.
I wait on the patio of my small house, knowing Paloma will come with her questions. She finds me in the shadows of my patio, my refuge from the heat. I motion to my heart, my beautiful daughter. Sit, my hands say. Sit on our patio where you used to play amid the beauty your father built, laying Mexican tile around his fountain.

Her eyes are intense today. Yes. She has seen the threat to her future. The clouds are here.

"Mama, Mirabelle said something very silly but I have to ask you. Is it true I was not born in the United States?"

"It is true," I whisper.

"Oh, Mama, you let us believe…"

"Mija, you know of the Amnesty of 1986? Your papa hired a man to help us. He wrote our stories and filled out papers. He told us all was well. We have been citizens since then, all of us. Mirabelle's parents hired the same man. It is true none of you children were born here, but we bought your citizenship. It does not matter where you were born."

My bones are cold as I say these things. I did not like the man we hired. He looked at me as if he was hungry and I was a plump chicken. He used something sweet and wet to slick his hair. His hands were soft unlike Raul's. I did not trust him, but Raul saw nothing but the prize. Citizenship. How can I tell Paloma I fear her cousin is right? I fear the man we hired took our money and did nothing.

"This is 2007, if our papers were not good, if we were not citizens, we would know. They would have told us we were rejected; told us to go home."

"Oh, Mommie, I hope you are right. Do you remember Johnny Salgado from primary school? He's an attorney. He'll know what to do. I’ll ask him to look into our status. I wish Papa was here."

She moves to sit at my feet as if she was still a child. "Hush, hush," I sing and pat her hair, "You will be fine. Now, straighten up. Go wash your face. Fredrick will bring the children soon."

"Paloma?" I call before she passes into the house.

"Yes, Mama?"

"Have you told Frederick of your fears?"

"Not yet, Mama," her strong shoulders slump, "I am afraid. He is so proud of his American wife. He loves the history we share of immigrant parents, but he loves that I am first generation American."

********

Paloma's friend Johnny is here. She told me she did not want him to visit her home for fear Fredrick would hear them. Small lies, meja, withholding truth will cause more troubles I tell her. She promises her husband will know soon. I know Fredrick. He would not like Johnny Salgado, the child who chased Paloma and now is a handsome man.

"What did you find out, Johnny?"

"Not much, I'm sorry. You said you're running for city council?"

"Yes."

"Paloma, have you ever voted in an election?"

"Of course, I've voted in every election since I turned eighteen."

"That could be a problem."

"Why?"

"If we discover you are not a citizen, you have been breaking the law. It's a crazy thing. It is not against the law for a non-citizen to register, but it is against the law for him to vote."

"But…"

"I have a friend who specializes in immigration law. If you can show him copies of the paperwork or if you can find the name of the attorney your parents worked with my friend will be able to help us…help you."

"I'm not sure the man was an attorney. Evidently Papa trusted him because he said he was from Sinaloa, the state as Papa and Mama ."

"I can't help you without those papers."

"I'll get them. If Mama doesn't have them, Ramon will. He handles Reyes Cleaning for Mama. He took all Papa's business papers."

"Get them. Get them as soon as you can. I'm sorry that these circumstances brought us together again….but I am glad you called me."

"It is good to see you again. Perhaps you and your wife can join us for dinner when this is settled. I think you would like Fredrick."

"No tengo ninguna esposa, Paloma, you still hold my heart." Smiling he kissed her hand and walked toward the door, "Thank your mother for the cookies."

"Of course," she said to his back as he followed the path to the driveway, "Of course."

********

I pull chairs from my kitchen table to the patio. My children are coming for a `meeting.' They wish to discuss our lie, Raul. Tempers might flare inside where it is warm, but the breeze crossing the patio will keep our children and their emotions cool. You are here with me, Raul. I see you in the design of the patio as clear as I see you in the faces of our children. Your laughter rings in the sound of water spilling in the fountain. There is a clatter in the courtyard and then voices. It is time to take the tamales from the oven.

"…so you see the need to call this family meeting." Paloma finished speaking and waited for her brothers reactions.

"Wait until we've eaten, Paloma," I beg, waiting to postpone what is to come.

"Mama, I wish you would have shared this…this situation with us," scolded Ramon softly, "We would have helped so that you wouldn't worry."

"Ramon, you were eleven. It would not have been right to share our worry with you. Now sit. I have fresh tamales. No need to argue on an empty stomach." I motion to the chairs and from habit they do as asked.

"But to not tell us," Guillermo chided, "At some point you should of told us."

"It was done, Guillermo. Papa took care of it. An abogado from Sinaloa made everything alright. After that we saw no need. We kept using the same papers we'd used before. The schools had what they required. Everything was taken care of."

It is Rafael's turn to scold me. Instead he takes my hands and holds them.
"Mama, you wanted to give us the best and you have. Everything you have done, you did because you loved us. You and Papa were protectors. You did well. We'll work together now and everything will be fine."

"Rafe, is this how you are with your patients? You are a good doctor. I feel better."

For a while we eat in silence, each lost in thought. I relish the time with them, knowing it will end too soon. My children will not stop without finding their answers.

"So, Paloma, we understand the problems, or some of them," Ramon began to question, "Where do we stand?"

"I need the papers from the Immigration Reform Act of 1986. That's what Johnny calls it. Ramon, have you seen them?"

"I've only looked at Papa's papers regarding the business. There are still those boxes in the garage that Papa marked as `family'."

"Bring them here to the patio, Ramon. We can go through them together," I suggest smiling at them. They have learned one lesson, Raul. They deal with the present and treat the past as dust to be swept up or blown away.

********

Today Paloma meets with the attorney's and I have been commanded by her highness to be there. I want to remain an ostrich but she will not allow it. I pray they find what they need and leave me alone.

What shall I wear, Raul? What does an old woman wear to her execution? Yes, my love. I am being dramatic. I shall stop.

I pull out the light cotton dress Paloma bought for me last summer. Perhaps she will be in a better mood when she sees me wear something she bought. At least I shall be cool. Mmm…I need my shawl. She keeps her car too cold with the air conditioning. I'll freeze without something around my shoulders .

She's here. I'll meet her in the driveway and show her I can be ready on time for once.

"Mama! You look beautiful!"

I smile. This part of my day will go according to plan. "Thank you, meja. You remember this dress, yes?"

"Yes, I love you in yellow. When I saw it I knew it had to be yours. I hope it is both beautiful and lucky."

"We have been lucky until now, daughter. We have each other."

********

Paloma pulls into a parking garage that is bigger than my hometown in Mexico. The buildings that surround it are so tall I cannot count the stories. All that expensive marble and glass, what kind of people work here?

"Can we afford this attorney? Your papa's company would have to clean these buildings for years to afford one of these big shots!"

"Johnny's office is here, Mama. His friend will meet us here. They are charging nothing so far," Paloma says as she leads me inside, "Johnny is a corporate attorney, Mama. They make lots of money and his firm is very well known."

"Umm," is all I can mutter. My mouth is dry. I distrust tall buildings in a place that suffers earthquakes.

The elevator is lined with mirrors. Paloma fusses with her hair. I look at the reflection of the woman next to her wearing a yellow dress. She looks lost and frightened. I sympathize with her and am glad I am not so old as she looks.

"Here we are. Mama, don't be afraid. These people are on our side."
She's attempting to comfort me I know, but I am beyond comforting. Nothing good can be coming. The storm clouds are so close I smell the rain.

********

"Hello, Senora Reyes. I'm so sorry for your troubles."
Salgado speaks to me but is looks at my daughter. She is no plump chicken, Johnny Salgado. You would do well to remember she has a husband and brothers. I think these things but I do not say them. I will talk to Paloma later.

"Ladies, please meet Mr. Guzman. He specializes in immigration matters."
I study Guzman. His hair is slicked back in the same way as the gentleman from Sinaloa but I like his face. He hides nothing. This is good.

"Senora Reyes, I have looked through the documents Paloma gave to Johnny. I don't want to frighten you, but there does seem to be a problem."
He pauses, but I say nothing. Let him say the words. We've come this far. I need to hear him say it.

"All the forms are here, Senora, completed and ready in the envelope for mailing. I see rent receipts as proof of living here continuously since 1972. You were only required to prove you lived here continuously since January 1, 1982. Senora, everything needed is here, however no one ever submitted the documents to the government."

I say nothing. What can I say?

"Do you understand, Senora?"

He's looking at me with his honest eyes, what does he see when he looks at me?

"We paid to be citizens of this country, Senor. Guzman," I hear a voice that does not sound like me but there are things that must be said and I keep talking, "We paid the coyote for passage and documents. We walked across the desert with five children to meet strangers with a truck who would take us to the city.

There were thirty of us, Senor Guzman, packed into the compartment of small delivery truck. The air was hot, smelling of gasoline and sweat. We were packed like those small fish that come in cans... sardinas. The men, the coyotes, they did not care. La migra chased the truck through the desert and into the mountains. Paloma does not remember, but the cobarde viles put us out of the truck and screamed to us that we should disperse. We ran hiding like rats or dogs. Raul hid our papers near his heart and we lifted our children in our arms and ran. When we stopped the baby, Teresa, no longer breathed. She is buried in our new country of America.

In the beginning, in Santa Ana, we lived in a quarter portion of a garage. Paloma's father worked hard with his hands until at last he built his own business. We cleaned offices and houses, Senor Guzman. Did you know that? Raul hired immigrants to work for him so they too could build a life.

We paid taxes. We paid to the coyotes, the government, our accountant, our employees, and the man from Sinaloa who filled out these papers. We paid. To the Sinaloan alone we paid ten thousand dollars. We are never in trouble. We are good citizens. We are Americans."

I stop too long to take a breath and Guzman speaks.

Senora Reyes, there is a letter from your husband. It was folded into the government forms. I hope you will forgive me. I read it."

"Tell me. Tell me what Raul has written that he could not say to me."

Guzman looks at me with his sad eyes and then at Raul's words as he reads. "Ana, my love, I could not post these pages. This is a time of joy, excitement and fear. Many say this government is no more honest that the government of Mexico. We have come so far and built so much in this country I question the risk we take now. I pray that I am wrong but fear reigns in me. Until now this government has not bothered with us. To them we are invisible. If I mail these forms we will be seen. If our papers are wrong, if on a whim they do not like us, they will send us back. Do you see, my love? My choice is to trust a government and give them information they may use against us or to keep us as we are…invisible. I hope I am making the right choice. God forgive me if I am wrong."

"Senora, the government of the United States sees you as a criminal. You and your family are immigrants, yes, but you are illegal immigrants, criminals who have broken America's law."

"We are not a family of criminals. We are good citizens. Paloma wishes to serve her people in the government."

"I speak as a Hispanic man, Senora. I understand. I wish it were not so, but you have broken the immigration law of this country ."

"Never doubt, Mr. Guzman, that I love both my new country and my old, but I am an American."

"Illegal immigrant, Senora, whose best hope is for another amnesty."

My voice is gone. I am crumbled and empty in Johnny Salgado's expensive leather chair. Paloma cries. Both abogados stare at me with sadness.

"Is that our only hope, Senor?,” I whisper, “Is there nothing this family of illegal Americans can do?"

"Perhaps, Senora." Guzman sighs, "If the second amnesty does not come, perhaps we can write letters to officials friendly to your situation. Your daughter is tied to this country by her children."

"Our future…yes, my golden grandchildren…first generation Americans."

***********************

While you are welcome to share a link to this site, it is illegal to reproduce this story in whole or in part without the authors written permission.

Pechanga Tribal Chairman Mark Macarro

I noticed last night that Pechanga's Tribal Chairman, Mark Macarro... you remember him as the face of the Pechanga Tribe in all those commercials for the gambling propositions.... well, CapitalWeekly.net...has him listed at #66 on their top 100 most influential people list. That's up from the last list I saw... he was only #79 at that point.

Guess being number 66 doesn't have anything to do with the crimes against his tribe.

The casino money has afforded them a pretty slick public relations identity. I remember when he appeared in the news piece by Colleen Williams on channel 4....you can view it here. ... Mr. Macarro appears to be a soft spoken individual who wears his hair in a long ponytail. The visuals are great... we are supposed to pick up the subliminal signals of his walking beneath the Pechanga Great Oak and bending to pick something from the ground and believe he is a grounded individual, sensitive to the history and nature of what is, once again, Indian land. Oh, by the , Mr. Macarro is in a commercial just before the show where he misstates the facts about the courts and the disenrollments.

Colleen Williams interviewed him about the civil rights violation of some tribal members.. well.. ex-tribal members... seems Macarro and his government committee decided to ignore the report of Dr. John Johnson, who is also seen in the video, curator of the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History with over 40 years experience in tracing the history and lineage of California Indians... anyway.. they hired Dr. Johnson to look into the background of some of the folks who'd been Pechanga for over 120 years... because it seems these folks were not lining up to vote the way Macarro wanted them to... Dr. Johnson researched and came back with a report that said yes, they really were Pechanga so the committee ignored it... stay tuned.. I've more to say about that in other entries... but... this brought the total dis-enrolled to over 300. I've seen various figures relating to the total membership of the tribe, but the general consensus is that 25% of the tribe has been dis-enrolled...by Macarro, the membership committee and tribal counsel that violated their own constitution to do so.

Check out more dis-enrollment stories here

"No appetite in Congress for immigration reform"

Dear Congress,

Your boss says you have no "appetite" for immigration reform because you've had a tough year and you have elections coming up. I'm so sorry you find your work so difficult. I'm sure we could find other positions for you.... how about picking strawberries in California? .... Chicken farming?.... A fishing boat in Alaska?

I really resent your spending time (and none of your over paid salary) running for re-election. What say we limit your advertising. Think of all the contribution money that could be pumped into more relevant issues if we just posted your voting records online, published them in the paper... and... gee... just let them stand for themselves and speak to who you are and what you will do. Then you wouldn't have to bother to campaign and could get more great work done.

Fiddling while Rome burns went out of fashion a long time ago.

Hey, it's just.... OneCaliforniansOpinion

Class Consciousness

Funny what returning to school will do for you.

Cultural Diversity is a required course. Now, I'm not a youngster and I have difficulty sometimes with "Political Correctness", or "PC". Most of the time it seems like "BS". I expected this class to be all about PC. I know this stuff is important to some, but to me it just seems silly. I feel as if I'm expected to ask my neighbor each morning how he/she/it/they prefer to be addressed. I prefer to think of us as Americans. Altering that designation in any way, seems to me, to be ... well... unAmerican. American's have a heritage and customs relating to where their ancestors came from, but ... we're Americans. Let's stress what we have in common.

Back to the class. I enjoyed it. It was less about PC than culture and history. I've found new interests. I've even found a calling to become an activist. My consciousness has been raised.