The Hundredth Meridianrnbv Chilton Williamson, Jr.rnPapagueria: IIrnPast Robles Junction where the roadrncoming north from Sasabe meets Highwayrn86 we crossed onto the Papago reservationrnheading west toward the Indianrncapital of Sells, no lights ahead save thernconstellation of the Kitt Peak Observatoryrnlifted high against the night sky byrnthe bulk of the Baboquivari Mountains,rnand almost no traffic. Saguaros stoodrnlike ghostly warriors behind the creosoternbushes, the mesquite and palo verderntrees, and shrines appeared at intervals,rninteriorh illuminated by the glimmeringrnlights of votive candles. These shrinesrnhouse small wooden statues of St. FrancisrnXavier, brought by Papagos from thernMexican town of Magdalena de Kinornsouth of Nogales where the body ofrnFather Kino, discovered near Magdalenarnin 1966 by archeologists, reposes underrnglass; eery year many thousands of peoplern—Mexicans, Yaquis, Mayos, Papagos,rnand Lower Pimans—converge on therntown to celebrate the Feast of San Franciscornde Asis. The practice is one amongrnmany known collectively as “SonoranrnCatholicism,” the folk-Catholicism ofrnthe Tohono O’odham which probablyrndeveloped during the second half of thern19th century in northern Sonora and includesrnthe collection of sacred images,rnthe recitation by laymen of sacred texts,rnand community feasts, with dancing,rnheld in front of the Indian chapels underrna ramada before a cruz mayor. “Do yournbelie’e in flying saucers?” Mike Riosrnasked as we passed beneath the blackrnmassif of Kitt Peak. Years before he hadrnbeen driving west at night on 86 whenrnhis son cried out that something was flyingrnoverhead. Mike pulled off the road,rncut the engine, and switched off thernlights. As the family watched, the luminousrnblue shape passed above them andrndischarged five smaller shapes whichrnquickly dispersed, making no sound atrnall. “1 wonder about them a lot,” he said;rn”where they came from, what’s insidernthem. I guess my dream in life is to seernone of them land.” An oncoming carrnwith one headlight out passed at dangerousrnspeed, leaning precariously into therncurve. “All these crosses you see alongrnthe road,” Mike remarked; “ninety percentrnof those accidents are alcoholrelated.”rnSpeaking above the noise of thernengine he explained how as a fornrerrnvice-chairman of the tribe he knows arnthousand percent more than the peoplernhe has to work with, most of them 20rnyears younger and unappreciative of hisrnexperience and special knowledge.rn”Malcolm Forbes wrote a storv aboutrnme. I was invited to the Forbes DiningrnRoom on Wall Street when I was on arntrip to New York City.” He had alsornserved on several pan-Indian councilsrnand spent two years near Ganado on thernNavajo Reservation with his wife, a Navajornwoman who lives now in Phoenix.rnMike confided that his next project afterrnthe water litigation battle was going to bernthe Kitt Observatory, which he said isrnguilty of underpaying its labor and failingrnto promote the Indians it employs.rnJust this evening he had filed papers relevantrnto the water business by Federal p]xpress.rnRecently a California companyrnwith ties to the Rothschilds had wantedrnto build a development for 100,000 peoplernincluding office towers and $400,000rnhomes (which, they promised, “anybody”rncould move into) on a 14,000-acrerntract on the San Xavier Reservation underrna 100-year lease. The Bureau of IndianrnAffairs, Mike said disgustedly, hadrnthought this a fine idea. The people inrntop positions at the BIA, he explained,rnare Anglos whose main concern is forrntheir jobs and pensions. At Sells, whererncattle and horses roamed the nightrnstreets of the capital, we stopped to buyrngas before continuing on to Pisinemo.rnMike described how he had been alreadyrnhalfway to Cleveland on the bus whenrnthe Bureau of Indian Affairs, decidingrnthat the young man would make a betterrnaccountant than a lawyer, arranged tornhave him enrolled in the accountingrnrather than in the law school, whererneventually he became a CPA instead ofrnthe lawyer he had always wanted to be.rnOne of his chief ambitions, Mike said,rnwas still to earn the LL.D.rnAt Pisinemo the air was rank withrnsmoke from mesquite fires. The housesrnwere all the uniform government-builtrnones, set into dirt vards and surroundedrnby the brush fences of the Papagos.rnThere was the usual trash around, andrnthe familiar cattle chewing the cudrnunder dry bushes. Mike’s adoptive sonrnAlbert, whom we had driven 100 milesrnfrom Tucson to bring back to San Xavierrnfor the weekend, came from the housernleaving the door open behind him as werndrove up. Albert wore his hair long andrnan Army fatigue jacket over blue jeans.rnHe had a speech impairment owing tornfetal alcohol syndrome, dyslexia, and hernwas 17 years old. Mike had explained onrnthe way out that he had quit living withrnhis mother, who played around all therntime besides getting drunk. He and hisrnfriends had spent the evening watchingrnvideo movies, Albert said. The previousrnweekend Mike had left a petition relatingrnto the water fight with Albert, whornknew a giri who had access to a photocopyingrnmachine. Albert thought shernhadn’t had the petition copied yet, butrnMike wanted to be certain of this so hernhad Albert get into the Land Cruiserrnwith us and we drove to the next housernon the street. “Stop here,” Mike instructedrnme at the edge of the lot. Albertrngot out and walked up to the door tornspeak to the girl, while we kept thernpolite distance required by Papago etiquette.rnAs we waited a white van with officialrnplates moved up behind to observernus, Pisinemo being located on that portionrnof the reservation restricted to tribalrnmembers and their attended guests.rnWhen Albert returned from the housernhe confirmed that the photocopies hadrnnot yet been made. “Do you like to drinkrnbeer?” he asked me. “Of course I like torndrink beer.” “Let’s go buy some.” “Onrnthe reservation?” “The bootlegger inrnSells is my gidfriend’s dad.” We drovernback to Sells, where Albert directed mernalong the dirt streets past the shacks andrnsmall brick houses to the bootlegger’srnJUNE 1995/49rnrnrn