A day for freedom

During two days of festivities that ended Saturday, the Mescalero Apache tribe marked the 100-year anniversary of the arrival of those freed Chiricahuas, who were released after enduring 27 years as prisoners of war of the United States.

“I thank God that we are still alive,” said tribal vice-president Sandra Platero, a descendant of both Chiricahua and Mescalero Apaches. Those bands, along with Lipan Apaches, today make up the reservation’s roughly 4,800 members. Noting “all the trials and tribulations our ancestors went through,” Platero added, “I want to thank the Mescalero Apaches for taking us in.”

On April 4, 1913, 187 Chiricahua arrived in Mescalero. About 80 remained behind in Oklahoma.

While the Chiricahuas, whose most famous war captain Geronimo has become a world-famous icon of freedom and resistance in the face of overwhelming odds, were split apart, a new community blending Mescalero, Lipan and Chiricahua Apaches was formed in the reservation in the Sacramento Mountains.

“We no longer have full bloods. We’re all mixed,” said Mescalero Apache tribal administrator Frederick Kaydahzinne. “Either way, we come from a great, great people.”

The freeing of the Chiricahuas marked the end of a turbulent chapter in the tribe’s and the nation’s history.

Coloradas Mangas, 18, front right, of Mescalero, walks with his sister, Kiana Mangas, 20, front left, and other relatives who are descendants of Chiricahua Apache leaders Mangas Coloradas and Victorio in Friday’s parade in Mescalero. Festivities commemorated the 100-year anniversary of the release of Chiricahua Apaches from prisoner of war status and their arrival in Mescalero. (Marla Brose/Journal)

The Chiricahua Apache were the last native tribe to succumb to the U.S. government. While historians say that the last hold-out, Geronimo, finally surrendered on Sept. 4, 1886, 78-year-old Silas Cochise, like several other Apaches, said the Chiricahua warriors negotiated peace, based on promises that would later be broken. According to those promises, the Chiricahua were to be allowed to return to their homelands after spending two years in exile.

“They did not surrender. They negotiated,” Cochise said. “That’s how the military tricked them.”

Geronimo and a few dozen hold-outs, including children, had managed to elude capture by about 5,000 American troops. The Army managed to track Geronimo down with the aid of Apache scouts, who were subsequently arrested as prisoners of war themselves.

In 1886, the U.S. government shipped 498 Chiricahua POWs, including Geronimo’s hold-outs and nearly 390 others who had been living peacefully on an Arizona reservation, across the country. First, they were sent to forts in Florida, then, to the Mount Vernon barracks in Alabama.

Within 3 1/2 years, more than 100 died, many from respiratory illness. The Chiricahua medicine men were not permitted to say prayers for the victims in their native language, Kaydahzinne said.

After being exiled from their homeland, suffering many casualties and having children removed to government-run schools where they were forced to shed traditional ways, the Chiricahua were moved to Fort Sill, Okla., where they remained for the last 19 years as POWs.

“It was a terrible time,” said Jeff Haozous, chairman of the Fort Sill Apache tribe, which was formally recognized in 1976.

Haozous said the Chiricahua were not so much granted their freedom as offered it, on the condition that they leave Fort Sill land, which the military wanted to reclaim. They were not permitted to return to their homelands.

On April 2, 1913, about two-thirds of the Chiricahua left Oklahoma, accepting an invitation to relocate to Mescalero. They arrived in Mescalero by train on April 4, and settled in an area on the reservation’s east side called Whitetail.

“I’m glad they’re being recognized,” said Norma Geronimo, whose ancestors were among Geronimo’s followers. “There’s no other Chiricahua in the world but us, or what’s left of us.”

About 80 Chiricahua, including Haozous’ grandparents, chose to remain in Oklahoma, to pressure the U.S. government to honor a promise to give the Chiricahuas land.

Haozous said the Chiricahua people were not “completely free” until March 7, 1914, when those who stayed were provided land near Fort Sill and released.

Haozous said the Chiricahua people who stayed behind in Oklahoma called the day when their relatives left for New Mexico “the parting.”

“I can only tell you that it was considered one of the worst days in the history of the tribe, because they were not together anymore,” Haozous said. “I would imagine there was some joy for the people who went to Mescalero. But it was at best a bittersweet day.”

Friday’s events focused on how the different Apache bands came together in one community. The commemoration included prayers at dawn, followed by singing, a parade, speeches, a lunchtime feast of frybread tacos prepared by tribal members, and ceremonial dancing in the evening.

On Saturday morning, a group of Apaches completed a six-day relay run of roughly 500 miles from Fort Sill to Mescalero. The runners took turns carrying a medicine bag filled with cattail pollen used in sacred rituals, and prayed as they ran.

Given the tumultuous and traumatic history of the Chiricahua Apaches, the festivities were a complex mix of joy, pride and sorrow, several attendants said.

Clarissa Rice, the granddaughter of a Chiricahua POW, said that Mescalero “was like home, but it wasn’t home,” for her ancestors, who roamed the Chiricahua Mountains in Arizona, the Sierra Madres in Mexico, and the mountains that now make up the Gila National Forest. “I think they were happy, because they got away from the Oklahoma climate, and it was so much closer to where they came from.”

The Oklahoma-based Chiricahuas were granted a 30-acre reservation off of Interstate 10 east of Deming in late 2011, and they are seeking federal approval for a casino there. Haozous has said the enterprise is an attempt to finance a permanent reconnection with ancestral lands.

Mescalero resident Sharon Taza said her grandfather, who was born a POW, would sit her and her siblings down every morning to tell them stories about Chiricahua ways and traditions. “He would tell us, be proud of who we are. You are a Chiricahua. We are a great people. Nobody defeated us,” Taza said. “And he told us, take care of one another.”

Oliver Enjady, whose son has produced a documentary about the POWs, said the band’s epic story is part of Chiricahua identity. “I’m proud to say to my grandfather and grandmother who were there and endured, this hardship makes us who we are today,” Enjady said. “We are still here with the mountains, and we will continue to be here.”

— This article appeared on page B1 of the Albuquerque Journal