Melanie Yazzi - Weaving Memory

 

When I was little, I grew up on the Navajo reservation. My parents were educators. They taught Head Start. Because they both were working, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. They lived in a very rural area. These were my mom's parents. We would be out in the middle of nowhere. They were dirt roads, and this was a time period when some people had cars, but a lot of people still had wagons and horses, and that's how they got around. 

 

I remember waking up early in the morning, and hearing my grandfather pumping the kerosene lamps to get them started, because there was no electricity. I would smell bacon and eggs, and my grandmother would be making tortillas and potatoes for us to eat. My grandfather would be getting ready to go take the sheep out. I remember just thinking, this is a really beautiful time. We would have breakfast together. This cold air would come in the morning, and we would be just being with each other.

 

My grandfather would go out to the corral, and I would then help my grandmother mix milk for the lambs. We would mix up this milk, and put them in these large containers of Coke and 7UP, and put the nipples on, and go out to the corral, and feed the lambs. I also remember part of my job was to siphon out the water we didn't have running water. And I would take that hose and siphon out water for the dogs. Our dog dishes was a tire that my grandfather cut in half. We'd put the food in there, and all the dogs would come running. 

 

They always had really weird names. I was trying to remember some of the names, like Mop, Bucket, [audience chuckles] and Daisy, Boots. What's your name? [audience laughter] Those were really their names. It was really strange. But they'd all come and eat out of this trough. After that, then we would go inside. In the one room where we all slept, there was a bed where my grandma and grandpa slept. It was like a queen bed. We had fixed that. One of my uncle's beds was off the side. It was a twin bed. The rest of us, slept on mattresses and cushions on the floor. So, we would get all those cushions together and fold them up and put them against the wall to get this space cleaned up. 

 

This room that we slept in altogether was then transformed into my grandmother's studio. She is a traditional Navajo weaver. We would get that space ready. There were two windows on either side of the room, and the light would be coming in the morning. In between the two windows was her loom. I remember we used to sew these flour sacks together to make these white sheets that would go over the loom and the rug to keep it clean. And then, we would lay out the cushions in front of the loom for my grandmother and a sheepskin for me to sit with her. Because my job was to be with her and be her companion and help her. She would be carding wool or spinning. 

 

There were times when she would make the yarn into these balls. Part of my job was to stand there with my hands out, and she would wrap the yarn around my hands. I get tired as a kid, and I would just bend over and lay on my back, and transfer the yarn over to my feet. [audience laughter] I'd be laying on my back, and I'd be touching her skirt, and just smelling my grandmother. Often people would ask me like, “What reminds you of your grandmother?” And I said, “You know, it's BENGAY.” [audience laughter] I'd smell that, because she's always saying she ached, and she would wear that. Every time I would smell it, I would think of her. So, I'd be with her, and she would be talking with me. As my feet were in the air, she would pet my feet, and say beautiful things to me, and just encourage me to be a good person.

 

One day, we were driving to off the reservation. It's like an hour to get to a town from home. We get there, and I remember being really little, and all the adults were talking in the car dealership. I looked over, and they were unraveling and rolling out this rug across the hood of the truck. My grandmother was there talking with the car dealer man. They were going on, and you're supposed to be good and sit there. So, we were later driving back home in a brand-new truck. I remember my grandpa leaning towards me and saying, “See how important her weaving is?” She supported us in many ways, and it was really beautiful. 

 

As I started to get older, I started getting into art making. I loved making art. I started making prints in high school, got into printmaking, and in undergraduate school. And this question would always come up from people, because they'd say, “You're an artist?” And I'd say, “Yes.” And they'd say, “You're Navajo?” And I'd say, “Yes.” They'd say, “So, you must be a traditional Navajo weaver.” And I'd say, “No.” “You must make jewelry.” No.” [chuckles] They'd look at what I'd make. Sometimes people would be disappointed that I wasn't carrying on this tradition. 

 

And so, at one point, I asked my grandmother, “What do you think of what I'm doing and what I'm making? Sometimes I think I should be weaving like you.” My grandmother said, “I didn't grow up going to school or learning English.” She's speaking in Navajo, and she says, “But the way I see it, you're weaving thoughts and ideas and these designs in a different way, something like I can't do. And in that way, I see you as a traditional weaver.” It's really amazing to hear that from my grandmother and gave me strength to move forward with what I do. I moved forward in my life making art, and thinking about and remembering this strength she gave me. 

 

As I move forward in my life, I kept going through this questioning. I was teaching at different universities, and I ended up coming to this university here in Boulder, and I remember there was always this question of, “Should I be here? I really should be back home. My parents are educators. They've given up everything to be there. Should I be there, too?” And this weight of like, “Where should I be? What should I be doing? Was always inside me.” 

 

My grandmothers had since passed, and I was asked to help with a project at the university at the Natural History Museum. It turns out our Natural History Museum on campus has one of the largest Navajo rug collections in the US, and I helped with this project. All the time, I was looking in the database for Thelma Baldwin, looking for her rugs, and nothing would come up. So, the exhibit comes, and I call my parents and my uncle and tell them, “You should come to Boulder and see this exhibit that I helped put together. It's really beautiful, and there's some rugs from where our people are from, and you should come see them.” 

 

So, my parents came. I was really excited. We were coming into this room with all of these rugs on the walls and on platforms. My mom got really quiet. I started to point. But before I even showed her, she said, “That's my mom's rug. That's your grandmother's rug.” I stop. I look at it. I said, “Mom, how do you know?” And she says, “Because I was carrying you. I was pregnant with you when she was weaving that rug.” We walk up to the rug and look at the label. And the label says, “Mrs. Thelma Baldwin.” Because during that time, women were known by their husband's names. And all my life, I was told to be a strong Navajo woman and always keeping my name. 

 

It was amazing to find her rugs there. And then, my uncle found some other rugs that belonged to her. And then, off to the side, I see my dad getting a little emotional. And I said, “Dad, are you okay? What's wrong?” And he said, “This is my mom's rug.” We were just amazed, because my dad's mom didn't weave a lot of rugs. We look at the label by her rug, and it says, “Anonymous.” We call the people at the Museum and tell them the story. And they're saying, “We're so glad that you could share this.” And then, I tell myself, this is where I'm supposed to be. They're here, and I'm here. Thank you.