ABSTRACT
The Havasupais live on an isolated reservation in a tributary of the Grand Canyon. Theirs is the only American Indian reservation in the country where the center of population and administration cannot be reached by car. A 65-mile dead-end road leads to a trailhead, and the reservation town of Supai can be reached from there by foot or horseback. The little town is nestled in a lovely canyon, with a blue river threading through a forest of deep-green cotton woods, a wealth of fruit trees, and well-tended cornfields, all dominated by 1000-foot high cliffs. No roads are in the canyon, and no motorized vehicles, except for a tractor and an emergency jeep. People travel on foot
A good-looking woman, A good-looking girl, She won’t just sit around Inside her home Until she gets so old That she uses a cane to get around. A lovely bird I want to be. The rock slopes, Those places, I go from point to point. At Hasogyavo, I land there. I look down, A fancy man, A good-looking man, He is sitting there Outside his home. There I settle down, My soul settles down there. So it is.
