And now:Ish <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> writes:

At a time when pro basketball has failed its
                 fans, young men in a small gym on an Indian
                 reservation in far northern Minnesota engage
                 in battle. For the game. For their future. For
                 their culture. 

http://www.usaweekend.com/99_issues/990214/990214warriors.html
                   By Frank Clancy 

B asketball is the great  American vernacular. Visit any high school gym
and you will encounter the same symbolic language - the same baggy shorts,
the same  assortment of high-priced basketball shoes, the same buzz cuts
and flat tops and fades.
   Players perform the same drills, the same rituals. They run similar plays. 

   But for Delwyn Holthusen,  Gerald Kingbird and their
                 teammates at Red Lake High School in the far reaches
                 of northern Minnesota, basketball also is different. The
                 school is on the Red Lake Indian Reservation, 250
                 miles north and west of Minneapolis; every one of the
                 team's players is Native American. Or, as Red Lakers
                 say, "Indian." 

                 The team's nickname is, not surprisingly, the Warriors.
                 As if to distinguish these Warriors from the cartoon
                 mascots of so many other teams, a magnificent painting
                 of a regal warrior in battle dress hangs in the team's
                 gym. On their jerseys, these descendants of true
                 warriors wear the team nickname in the tribe's native
                 language, Ojibwe: "Ogichidag." 

                 These Ogichidag have a mission. In mid-January, Red
                 Lake had a record of 11-1 and was ranked first among
                 small Minnesota high schools (those with fewer than
                 226 students). The Warriors hope to become the first
                 all-Indian team ever to win a Minnesota state basketball
                 title. 

                      But that's only part of the equation. Across the
                    sprawling, flat reservation, adults express hope that
                 Kingbird and Holthusen, the team's senior co-captains,
                 will use their success in basketball, and the lessons they
                 learned on the court, as a springboard to college,
                 inspiring younger children to continue their education.
                 Those adults hope, in effect, that basketball will help
                 uplift the tribe. 

                 "They have to be able to go to school and be
                 somebody, then bring it home," says Victoria Irons
                 Graves, the mother of junior forward Byron Graves,
                 the team's third captain. "That would complete the
                 circle." Head coach Doug Desjarlait - everyone calls
                 him Jack - agrees. "That would really lead the way" for
                 younger kids, he says. "That would give them the hope
                 that they could do it, too." 

                 It's not a well-traveled road; last year, fewer than 20
                 percent of Red Lake eighth-graders passed a

                 state-mandated standard test. Of the 35 or so students
                 who graduate each year, only a handful continue their
                 education, fewer still at a four-year college. In
                 Desjarlait's 712 seasons as coach, apparently only one
                 player has gone to college; he left without playing a
                 single basketball game. Last fall, he enrolled at a
                 two-year junior college - and began playing basketball
                 again. 

                 "I really want to go to college and be a teacher at Red
                 Lake," Gerald Kingbird says. "I want to be a role model
                 for kids coming up. Red Lake needs more male Indian
                 teachers." 

                 Whether he, Holthusen or any of the other players
                 succeed is, of course, uncertain. What's clear is that the
                 emotional and intellectual leap from reservation to
                 college is difficult for many Indians. Not only must they
                 become full-fledged adults while confronting greater
                 academic challenges, but they also must leave lifelong
                 friends and a large extended family, must move from
                 an extraordinarily close-knit community to a faceless
                 one, from a rural life to, at the very least, a larger town.

                 There's also an inherent tension between white and
                 Indian culture: One values the individual above all else;
                 the other, the tribe. To go away to college means
                 largely to forgo what is good about reservation life: the
                 land, the hunting and fishing, the ceremony, the ties to
                 family, community and history. It means forgoing, at
                 least temporarily, much of what you have learned is the
                 very essence of Indian life. Indian students must, in
                 short, find a way to remain Indian in a place and a
                 culture that emphatically are not. 
<<END EXCERPT

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          Tsonkwadiyonrat (We are ONE Spirit)
                     Unenh onhwa' Awayaton
                  http://www.tdi.net/ishgooda/       
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