Black Mesa Resistance In Hopi Partitioned Lands

As the sun rises over Black Mesa, Diné elder Salina Begay opens the gate to release her bleating herd of Churro sheep, who immediately run towards the golden warmth of the East. They are pursued by two 20-something supporters who herd the sheep all day as they graze throughout Black Mesa’s undulating hills of sandstone washes dotted with sage and juniper. Another handful of supporters greet a car that rolls in, loading its trunk with bags of grain, salt blocks, and boxes of food. 

Herding sheep, hauling firewood, distributing animal feed, and planting corn may not be the first images that come to mind when picturing a resistance movement, but for Begay, these daily activities are at the core of Black Mesa Resistance Camp’s activities that help maintain Navajo (Nah-vah-ho), or Diné (Di-Nay), ancestral ways of living in resistance on Hopi (Ho-Pee) Partitioned Land. 

Begay founded Black Mesa Resistance Camp in 2018 in response to Hopi BIA Rangers harassing her elderly mother Glenna and threatening to impound all of their livestock. The Hopi BIA would visit Diné residents to ensure they did not have herds larger than 50 sheep. But why would Hopi police impound the sheep of Diné residents? 

Corporate Meddling On Native Lands

The root of this problem begins in 1868, when the Long Walk and the creation of Navajo Reservation through treaties prevented the Diné from living a previously nomadic lifestyle. They are the largest indigenous population in the United States, and their land overlapped with that of the Hopi, who requested the US government to form their own official reservation in 1882. This also designated a specific area as Joint Use Land. Apart from a few disputes, the Diné and Hopi mostly peacefully co-stewarded the lands of Black Mesa to maintain their new agricultural ways of life. 

“There used to be trade between Hopi and Diné. I was 8 years old the first time I saw a Hopi man. My mom gave him sheep meat and they gave us pumpkin, watermelon, and ground corn.Before the mining started it was really beautiful,” Begay said. “It would rain for days, and we had so much crops and vegetation. We had squash, pumpkin, cantaloupe, and we had wild carrots, spinach, onions, and pinion nuts. There’s a lot of vegetation the animals would eat and a lot of herbal medicine. We made seasoning from local herbs. The sheep, horses, and cows were always fat.” 

Hopi and Navajo Tribal Councils were formed in the early 1920s, so that oil companies could speak to some representatives of the lands to “legally” acquire mineral rights. After decades of land disputes and big business interference, in 1966 Peabody Energy obtained rights to coal mine 64,000 acres of land in Black Mesa, 40,000 of which lay within the Joint Use Area and the rest on Navajo land. Peabody opened two coal mines: The Kayenta Coal Mine shipped coal by train to Page, Arizona, while slurry line pumped coal and water from the Black Mesa Mine to the Mohave Generating Station.

“When Peabody came in and used tons of water to create slurry water to the Mohave Generating Station, our lands dried up,” Salina said. "In about 2000, it was really dry, and we didn’t get any rain or snow. When we get snow, it is like a light foam, and the ground gets wet and slick with ice, and the elders fall. We lost a lot elders that way. When we get rain, it just flows off and it doesn’t soak into the ground and the plants are drying up and dying and we’ve lost a lot of vegetation and we’ve lost medicine.”

The joint ownership of the land complicated negotiations on surface rights with mining companies; many more acres of coal and oil-filled land lay untouched. American Mormon lawyer John Boyden, who began representing the Hopi Tribal Council in 1950 after previously representing the Navajo, asked for a formal division of land. However in a blatant ethical violation, he simultaneously worked for Peabody while representing the Hopi in coal lease negotiations. In response to Boyden’s request, Congress passed the Navajo-Hopi Land Settlement Act, or Public Law 93-531, which partitioned the Joint Use Area in 1974. 

Solidarity Is Power

After the Land Settlement Act was passed, non-affiliated supporters of Diné resistors began arriving at HPL in the 1980’s to engage in sheep herding for a week up to six months. At the height of support in the 90’s, most supporters would stay for two or three months. 

However, physical support began dropping in the 2000’s once the Black Mesa and Kayenta Mines were dismantled in 2005 and 2019. Begay believes the land is slowly healing without the mine’s presence, but drought remains a problem. When Hopi Police threatened to impound all of the Begay livestock in 2018, Salina went to the Red Nation conference in Albuquerque to request support. A few supporters came, documented the harassment, and created Black Mesa Resistance Camp to posted the videos on social media. The posts received a lot of attention, and Salina has noted since then, the BIA visits have almost stopped completely. Through alliances built in solidarity, Begay remains hopeful that BMRC can continue supporting residents with basic needs.

“Someone came up from Phoenix in 2018 and said they would help me. They’re with Black Lives Matter and we have our own bank account through them, so that’s how they help us with money,” Begay said. “Up to this day they still help me with food runs we started. We’ve been passing out food to 30 to 40 people every other month, and during the pandemic it went up to 60-70 people each month, giving food, supplies, hand sanitizer, farm, tools, cleaning supplies, canned and fresh food, winter clothing, and blankets in the wintertime.” 

BMRC, in conjunction with the Black Mesa Solidarity Network, hosts open seasonal food and supply runs, annual sheep shearing in the spring, and two weeks of Wood Camp in the fall, in which supporters chop and distribute firewood to homes. Supporters are always welcome to herd sheep and support elders' needs year-round. Now Gonzales, who has lived in Las Vegas most of her life, will return to her ancestral land in Black Mesa during Wood Camp in November and begin mapping the lands and constructing small rock structures that can recharge springs that are part of the N-Aquifer. 

“If we can do some of these things that restore the ability for the Earth to filtrate the water, then springs usually come back within two to three years,” Gonzales said. “That is the restoration of our power. If we could provide our own water, we could pretty much do everything. The seed bank is still in the soil. If we bring the microbiology back to the soil, then the preferred plants will come back.”