Meet the Elders! #1
The first Q & A at the Elders Panels held during the 2003 Conference

The Elders Panel is about to begin. Left to Right: Don Coyhis, Horace Axtell, Bill Iron Moccasin, and Ozzie Williamson

There are many Elders in Native American communities who have earned the title, “Sobriety Elders.” They might not call themselves that, but in addition to being Elders in the traditional way, they have also come through their own sobriety and recovery Journeys in one way or another. There are many sobriety Elders who have come forward to support White Bison over the years. These women and men have given their time and energy to the four Hoop Journeys, to the Firestarters circles, to the Daughters of Traditions circles, to the Conferences, and to other White Bison activities. The 2003 Circles of Recovery Conference in Albuquerque was fortunate to have the presence of three Elders who support White Bison’s work as sobriety and Wellbriety Elders. Here is the first of a few Q & A exchanges with the Elders at the Conference. This first question was like a warm-up for the other questions to come. The Elders took the opportunity to introduce themselves for the discussion that followed over two afternoons.

Meet the Elders—Part 1
The opening question at the Elders Panel on September, 19, 2003

Don Coyhis
There is a lot of knowledge in our community. Many of our communities have knowledge systems that have been in place for thousands of years. We have three Elders who have helped us now for years—we’ve known these three for a long time. We thought that those of you who came to the Conference might have something to say, or something you might want to have them comment on about how they look at nation building and leadership. We thought they could speak in order to draw on some of those things they know from the old days. The “old days” doesn’t mean going back and living in a Tipi. It means that there were certain thoughts and things that they knew that really apply to today. If we bring back some of the ways they did it before, I think that could help. So this is an opportunity to dialog with our Elders and amongst one another. Maybe somebody else among you knows the answer or has an experience that is similar, or knows how we can do something better. A lot of what we have to do is to link to the past. For much information, they are the link to the past.

For example, imagine that their grandpas talked to them! That would take us back to the 1800’s. They heard the traditional stories when they were little. If we don’t learn that and bring it forward we will struggle more in the efforts that we need to do around community.

Does anyone have any comments or question you would like to ask the Elders about what we are doing?

First Question
As Elders, all three of you, have you had visions—a dream or a vision that brought you to White Bison? Could you share any vision with us?

Horace Axtell says HI! after the Elders Panel at the 2003 Conference. Ozzie Williamson is at the right

Horace Axtell
My name is Horace Axtell, I’m a Nez Perce, and my Indian name is Isluumts. I would also like to add that I didn’t get to know either one of my grandpas. All the things that I learned in my childhood were from my grandmother. She was one of these people who never ever learned to read, write, or speak English. With her teachings I accumulated a lot of her wisdom, but I never got to know the manly ways because my father and mother broke up their marriage when I was still a baby. The things I learned mostly came from the people who used to visit my grandmother, all of which didn’t know how to speak English, or read or write. That’s where I listened. I listened to their stories, I listened to their directions. Some of the men who came were warriors who fought in the Nez Perce War of 1877. I had the opportunity to go into the sweat house with them. Some of the important things that I learned were what I was told in the sweat house, where power is.

Our belief in the Nez Perce way is that the sweat house is not a spiritual place to us—it’s a place of wisdom. The old men will tell you the stories. We believe the sweat house is like an old man. He’s like an old medicine man who has all the wisdom. That’s one of the reasons we go there.

Talking about visions, I certainly had visions in my life. The first vision I had was that I wanted to be a jockey. I grew up on horses. I made up that I was racing when I was on a horse. I was always way ahead. That’s the way I grew up—I tried to be ahead all the time. Not to be a person that brags, but a person that tries to be there when I am needed. That’s the vision I had. The vision I had with White Bison is that I met Don Coyhis a few years ago and I learned what he stood for. As years went on, I kind of wanted to be connected with him. One day he called me and my vision came true. I became a part of White Bison and I still have other visions that I look forward to. Some of the things that he does for the people, I sing songs for. I sing songs for what White Bison stands for. When I sing, my vision is what I am praying for. My songs are all prayers for our people. When I’m singing my song, I can picture the faces of the people that I’m praying for. That’s my vision.

Bill Iron Moccasin
My name is Bill Iron Moccasin. I’m 85 years old, I’m a Teton Sioux from South Dakota. My home reservation is the Cheyenne River Reservation, and I started on my own personal journey with sobriety on January first, 1954. When you’re talking about visions, I realized early on, after I sobered up and wanted to help my people, that we had a problem. I realized that if there was a common denominator across Indian country it was substance abuse. I realized that substance abuse was the prime cause for all our social problems. It’s caused us a lot of grief and social problems. Child abuse, neglect, and all these things we face today.

I had a vision back in those early days to try to bring about a safe Native American society. In the early 50’s, where I came from there was very little, if any, Native American involvement in Alcoholics Anonymous. A few of us had the same vision and we had to struggle and support each other. Eventually we got Indian alcohol programs funded. One of the talks we had today spoke of how we, as a people, are treating ourselves from within our society. We came to that conclusion by doing a survey. There was only about 1% success rate amongst our people going to the established treatment centers run by the dominant society, so we concluded that we had to try to treat our own people because we know our own problems. I couldn’t sit in on a therapy session and talk about my issues. I couldn’t say, “a damned honkey,” but he could say, “a drunken Indian.”

I went to an AA meeting in North Platte, Nebraska and the speaker was telling a story about how he got the point where he felt he had to do something about his drinking. He said, “I got so damned bad that I was finally drinking with the Indians...” I said, “Hold on there, hoss...” We were considered the lowest of the low. Having gone through those types of experiences, my vision was the same vision that White Bison has. That we need to do something across Native America. During the years that I’ve been sober, I’ve been a program director, a counselor, I’ve worked for the state, I’ve worked for the Veteran’s Administration, and I’ve worked on three different reservations in South Dakota. We’re just now beginning to realize that we’ve only more or less scratched the surface.

We are in a pattern of survival. Our ancestors put together a social system that guaranteed survival, guaranteed a safe society. We didn’t have a need for jails or court systems, welfare systems, or foster care systems. They were all built into the social system of our ancestors. The principles of our societies parallel Alcoholics Anonymous. I realized that by studying our history and our culture. I’ve told the clients that I’ve worked with, and other people in my territory, that if we look into the history of our people, look at what our ancestors had developed, we’ll find all the answers to the problems that we have today. I think Mr. White’s talk brought that out today. I had that thought probably 15 or 20 years ago, but I’ve never published anything. I only wrote one article in my life. That said that AA has cultural relevance. I wrote that for some people in the state penitentiary in South Dakota because they said AA was White man’s stuff and they didn’t want to get involved. I worked with them for six years inside the penitentiary. I’ve done a lot of things I probably didn’t get recognition for.

I remember back when we first started AA on our reservation. Every year they took all the superintendents from the reservations and had a big meeting. They were looking for successes or something new on the individual reservations and they would give recognition. There was another gentleman who started AA groups on our reservation. I told my friend that he should have gotten the recognition instead of the superintendent. He said, “You know Bill, you and I, we shouldn’t give a damn who gets the credit, just so the job gets done.” That’s been a guiding principle in my life as far as this problem goes. I recognize and appreciate anybody who works in the field of alcoholism because they are helping me realize my vision. That’s why, after I met Don when he came to our community and invited me down to Colorado Springs to the first gathering, I gladly accepted, and felt it as an honor to go down and try to help him the best that I could and to help him realize his vision and his dream.

This is my life’s work. I’m in my 50th year in my journey. I’ve been sober now for over 37 years. I do have some knowledge about the problem and some suggestions about what we need to do.

Ozzie Williamson
My name is Ozzie Williamson and that’s a great Indian name. Having the name of Williamson as a child created a lot of problems for me. It was very confusing in the community I was living in because I was living with my grandmother, who was a very traditional Blackfeet Indian lady. Some of the things that she was teaching me, or was trying to teach me, were almost the opposite of what I was experiencing when I went to that school.

When I walked down the trail with my grandmother, she always wore moccasins with a soft sole. If there happened to be a little stick on the trail, she would stop and kick it off the trail. One day I said, “Grandma, why do you always do that, why do you always stop and kick those things off the trail?” She said, “It just makes it easier for somebody else to come by.” I never realized until she was long gone years later that the things she tried to tell me were very similar to the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. What I heard in AA was similar to some of her teachings.

As far as visions, I’ve never really had a vision until Don and I got together a few years back in Billings, Montana. Don started sharing his vision of something like this. We spent about eight hours talking, listening, and sharing the thoughts we had. After he left, I visioned something like what’s happening today because of the talk that started with Don and me.

I was forced into treatment many years ago. I didn’t just go and say, “Hey, I want to get sober!” I had a hell of a time getting into treatment because it wasn’t very easy in those days. I was in jail and I was losing my second family. I knew if I didn’t get out of jail I was going to lose my job. If I lost my job and my family I’d be back on skid row where I was at when I lost my first family. The Montana mental institution had a program where they said you can go and take the cure. That’s what they called it—“take the cure.” I finally got my wife to sign me into that place where they take the cure. In order for an alcoholic to get sober in those days, you had to have a county attorney and a judge sign some papers to put you in the nut house.

When I was in that nut house they put me in as big room, the receiving ward, with alcoholics and drug addicts, and the nuts. We were all in the same room. It’s not long before you find the niche that you belong in. We alkies were pointing the finger at the druggies, the junkies. We thought we were better than they were. And the junkies were doing the same thing. They were pointing the finger at us because they thought they were better than we were. The nuts were right in the middle—they were happy. They didn’t give a darn what was going on.

They had me before a board of psychiatrists and asked me all kinds of questions. One doctor said, “How much do you drink?” That’s what did it. I went to that treatment program. Montana had just started to try to help alcoholics back in 1969. They put me in with a bunch of other people who really didn’t know much about treatment. I was there for six weeks and I think that’s what really did it. That was the first time in about 25 years that I’d been sober six weeks in a row. It really felt good to be sober and to know what was going on.

When I got out, I went to AA right away and started listening to the people. That’s when I realized that the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous is very similar to the traditional Indian way of life. The only thing that’s not there in traditional life is Step 1, which mentions alcohol, and that’s the only one in the 12 Steps that mentions alcohol.

I really got into Alcoholics Anonymous and I really tried my best to help other alcoholics at the time because they said that is the best therapy for us. The nurses and the doctors hated alcoholics in the hospitals. When an alcoholic went into the hospital drunk, they didn’t want any part of him. We often went to sit with an alcoholic who was in the DT’s or dying with cirrhosis. We often spent two hours apiece sitting with that person while they were in the hospital. Many were dying while we were there trying to help them. There were no treatment programs in those days. There were no detoxes. The detox that they used for us was jails. But today it’s a lot different. I had my last drink on August 17, 1969, at about nine o’clock in the evening.

People ask me how I can remember the date and time of my last drink. Shortly after I sobered up I had to take a civil service test and get my arrest record. That was the last time I was in jail so it was pretty easy to find out my last drink. But nowadays, things have changed. People who are experimenting with this stuff are younger. A lot of alcoholics are alcoholic at a very younger age. But looking back to the time when I got sober and started trying to do something, and up to this date, we have made a lot of progress because there are a lot younger people coming in.

When I first came in it was the old, hard-core, broken-down alcoholics who were in there. I was 38 years old when I sobered up, and a lot of the old timers told me, “You are too young to be an alcoholic.” Looking back at that time, and looking to where we are now, we have people in their early teens going into treatment. To me, that’s progress because they are catching them a lot earlier then they did when we were out there.

Probably every one of us in this room has had a vision of something like this—wanting to get sober and wanting to help other people. Wanting to eventually see a Nation of sober Indians and no longer having that image of the drunken Indian that so many of us carried. When I walk down the street today I don’t care what town I’m in. I hold my head high because I want them to see a sober Indian walking down that sidewalk. And with that, I’m going to say Thank You!