Arizona Daily Star from Tucson, Arizona • Page 38

Page Six Section hf Arizona Hailn Star Tucson, Sunday, May 29, 1988 he livin' is pleasurably slow in secluded Supai i Photos by life is too fast "on top." (.." "I lt" elder Mabel Hanna the school and village. The town also has a clinic and a jail. There are no newspaper racks, though there are a few subscriptions to outside publications. "Newspapers and magazines are not relevant" Uqualla says. "We are very laid back down here.

We don't have the automation down here that you have on the top. "We are an Indian nation traditionally, raised with traditional values, which don't include having those outside things," he says. "What's happening out there has nothing to do with down here. We are a happy people. We can survive without knowing the daily trauma of the world." Eljean Hanna, who rents out VCR tapes from his home, has another philosophy.

"I keep up with news, especially the business side, dollar trends," says the 25-year-old, who operates Videogram with his mother. They offer 200 movie titles. Villagers in this remote spot say ''a James Uqualla and traditional She also smiles at the thought of the visiting teen-ager who wanted to know if Express Mail came to Supai. The teen wanted her mother to send a bikini to the village. Quick.

The bathing suit got there the next day, the postmistress says proudly. It is not unusual for a dog to wander into the small post office. Or through the open door of the three-aisle grocery store next door. Dogs take siestas in the middle of the dusty plaza. They chase each other playfully through green yards.

They wander down Main Street No one seems to mind. Except in the tribal offices. On the front door of the administration building is a note requesting that people keep animals out After ail, "This is not a barn," the note says. The administration building is behind Havasupai School. The lodge, the only two-story structure In Supai, sits beyond the town center, up against sheer red canyon walls.

A small library serves both IK Halfway down the trail to Supai. of the CANYON we get to know someone, we are warm and friendly." Uqualla is far from shy. He constantly circulates through his village, talking to locals and visitors. One minute he's helping a guest make horse reservations. The next, he's swapping stories with a mother and child in the plaza.

It seems natural that the 33-year-old has the tribal role of dealing with tourists, their questions and problems. This stems both from his work at the lodge and his membership on the tribal council, a seven-member elected body. He is also the creator of Uqualla Designs, his own fashion line, which he has shown in New York, London and Southwestern cities. He considers himself an ambassador for the tribe, one who enjoys introducing people to the community. First stop on his informal tour down Main Street is the Tribal Arts Museum.

Inside are black-and-white photos of villagers in the days before electricity, back when they lived in wickiups. Photos of women with cradle boards, men with leathery, deeply creased faces. Also on display are modern cradle boards, paintings, beadwork and baskets, along with T-shirts designed and silk-screened by locals. A few steps from the museum is the headquarters for Havasupai Tourist Enterprises. Across the way is a pasture containing a volleyball court The pasture ends at the village plaza, a wide sandy area encircled by the U.S.

Post Office, a small grocery store known as the Havasupai Trading Company, the Havasupai Cafe and the Havasupai School. Tourists gather at the cafe, sitting either inside or in the covered picnic area outdoors, watching villagers and volleyball games. A bench along the front of the grocery store is a gathering spot for locals who sit and talk, watch tourists and talk some more. Like any small town, everything is known about everyone, their parents and grandparents, what happened before and what's happening now. The benches are full when the mule train appears each afternoon with the mail.

Handing out letters and packages in the office next door is Postmistress Rose Marie Manakaja. Each morning she readies the mail for its two-hour journey up the trail. Most of it fits neatly on the back of a mule. But not the 9-foot, gift-filled Christmas stocking that was brought down by mule train last winter. Manakaja smiles, recalling the image of that stocking coming down the trail.

Life has flowed for centuries in Canyon village By Pat Conner The Arizona Dally Star The sun casts its late afternoon rays over Supai. In minutes, golden sunlight will disappear beyond sheer red walls surrounding the village. Daylight will linger, then dim. But for the moment, the village's rich hues are intensified: The rose-tinted, powdery dirt of the footpath known as Main Street The deep green cottonwoods shading the village's dusty trails. The red canyon walls that seem to cuddle the village, surrounding its lush green and deep brown plots of land, its houses, horses and people, with a protective shield.

It's a mellow time of day when sounds are intensified: A horse neighing. A bird singing. Children on squeaky swings in the school playground. Teens playing basketball a few yards away. The Havasupais have lived in the Grand Canyon for centuries.

Their ancestors once occupied lands throughout the canyon, migrating from the high plateau where they hunted and gathered in the winter to the canyon floor where they farmed in the summer. In 1882 the reservation's boundaries were restricted to Havasu Canyon. Life is slower in this village, considered one of the least accessible communities in the world. That's the way most of the 566 villagers like it. They say that the pace is too fast "on top." They tire of traffic lights, timetables and a troubled world.

Supai has no cars, no street lights, no movie theatres or bars. Phones exist, but they are unreliable. The slightest wind can shut down the system, cutting off communication to the outside world, sometimes for days or even weeks. A few homes contain VCRs. A wringer washing machine may sit a few yards from a satellite dish outside a house.

People walk to work on Main Street, the trail that curves through the village. Footprints mingle with the imprints of paws and hooves. Most of the hoof prints belong to the pack trains that transport food, mail and people up and down the eight-mile trail that rises 2,500 feet to the rim at Hualapai Hilltop. Everyone owns horses, and many rely on them for wages, either packing full time or on weekends. A few own cars, which they keep at the hilltop.

But motors hum occasionally in the village. A four-wheeler transports elderly residents to the town center for lunch and socializing. Another serves as the clinic's ambulance, replacing a golf cart. A big yellow tractor plows through Main Street on its way to the fields, i Helicopters bring in visitors from Grand Canyon Village. Or carry out people needing emergency medical care.

Or transport equipment too large to pack in by mule. Ice cream cannot be packed down. Certain medical tests cannot be packed up because they cannot be kept frozen. For villagers, it's a way of life. For visitors, it's a retreat from a hectic, mechanized world.

The majority of the people who pass through Supai on their way to the scenic falls nearby do not linger. Though tourists are the backbone of the village's economy, they are not always greeted with enthusiastic smiles and friendly chitchat "Indian people are traditionally shy," explains James Uqualla director of Havasupai Lodge. "We will be very shy if you are a stranger. But if we get honest, sincere vibrations, then we will respond. Once Elizabeth Mangelsdorf, The Arizona Dally Star "On weekends when I go home, I lie In the shade, look at the sky and canyon walls, and swell up with pride.

You're actually here to live In this beautiful place, with no hassles. It's quiet. You just go day to day with what needs to be done." Rose Marie Manakaja postmistress The enterprising youth knows his market. Forty-four homes have VCRs and 13 have satellite dishes. Hanna, who plans to return to school for computer and business training, graduated from high school in 1981 at Southwest Indian School, a private school in Peoria, a Phoenix suburb.

Like other young people in Supai, he attended Havasupai School through eighth grade, then transferred to a boarding school. Most teens go to Sherman Indian School in Riverside, Calif. About 100 "villagers" live outside Supai, either working or attending school. The majority come back. Tribal Chairman Delmer Uqualla, James's cousin, returned to the village after working in forestry eight years in San Diego.

He and his wife decided that they wanted their children to grow up in Supai. Uqualla, who served five years on the school board, supports the school's bilingual program, which includes teaching Havasupai culture and traditions. He encourages young tribal children "to continue their education, to go as high as they can." One of the people helping tribal members accomplish this is Cheryl 4 Class-Erickson. 4 She and her husband, jRodaey, a tribal planner, have a 3-year-old daughter, Lydia. 5 They moved to Supai a year ago.

i Cheryl teaches a college English course to villagers, works with Head Start'' children and leads a La Leche discussion group, which meets in her home. She considers Supai paradise. The canyon walls, the waterfalls, the lifestyle make her smile. Postmistress Manakaja also smiles when she surveys her surroundings. "On weekends when I go home, I lie In the shade, look at the sky and canyon walls, and swell up with pride.

You're actually here to live in this beautiful place, with no hassles. It's quiet You Just go day to day with what needs to be done," she says. "On weekends, I go to the falls. When I hear the sound of the waters, I stop. I hear my laughter in those falls.

"When you walk down to the falls, listen for me. You will hear Rose Marie laughing In those falls.".