George Ignacio

Undocumented member, subject to arrest, prosecution and deportation

Jeffry Scott / Staff George Ignacio holds a portrait of his father, the first O'odham tribal chairman, who, like Ignacio, was born in Mexico.

You remember what your father tells you. He is talking to you. Word of mouth, that is our O'odham way, our tradition.

My father told me that in 1937 the United States recognized my nation, the Tohono O'odham Nation, as a sovereign government. My dad was the first chairman elected after this new relationship was formed. My father, my mother, myself and five of my brothers and sisters were born south of the U.S.-Mexico boundary. Although my father was chairman of the Tohono O'odham Nation, in your words, he was an "illegal alien."

My family has always been involved in our nation, both north and south of the boundary. My grandfather, Vicente Bustamante, was the governor of Pozo Verde to the south.

In the mid-1920s, when I was a couple of years old, my father brought our family to Sells on my nation's lands. There were no schools where we were living, so we came north. My father wanted us to have a good education.

My father was a welder and he worked in the construction of dams all over Arizona. When the Depression happened, the companies would hire men and then lay them off. When my dad would get laid off we would head south. We would go live in Pozo Verde and Bajio. We had no problem going back and forth, north to south and south to north. These are our lands. O'odham have always traveled north to south to north to visit the sacred mountains, to care for the graves of our ancestors, to gather our traditional medicines and the bear grass for our baskets.

One day, my father, my grandfather and I went out looking for wood. We went in my dad's little Chevy. My grandfather carried a .22 rifle. The Mexican army started to chase us. They were on horseback. I was riding on top of the wood and I remember my grandfather waving that rifle around. Finally, my dad stopped and he and Grandfather talked to the Mexicans, "We are O'odham, we are on our land." Then the Mexicans rode away. My father and grandfather felt that way then. I feel the same way today.

After the Depression, I went to school at the Haskell Indian Institute in Lawrence, Kan., and graduated with a vocational arts degree in 1943. I was a good welder just like my dad. My first welding job was working for the U.S. government on my nation's lands and then later on the Navajo Nation.

In 1953, I married my childhood sweetheart, Minnie Katherine Ruiz. Minnie was born in Hermosillo and I had my eye on her for a long time, since we were kids. Minnie's family lived some of the time in Hermosillo (where she was born) and some of the time in Buenos Aires, north of the boundary. Minnie's brothers worked on WPA (Works Projects Administration) projects.

Soon after we married, we moved to Ajo. I worked in the mine for 27 years as a journeyman welder. Both Minnie and I had family working in the mine. Those were good years. Minnie and I have seven children, 13 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, all born north of the boundary. My oldest son was an ordnance expert behind the Iron Curtain. One of my nephews won the Purple Heart in Vietnam. One of my granddaughters served in the Marines in Germany.

After I retired, Minnie and I moved to Sells, the capital of our nation. So much has changed. Right now, there is so much confusion with Mexico and the United States. We are not Americans, we are not Mexicans, we are O'odham. They do not want to recognize that we have been here for millions of years. We are a nation. It makes me feel bad when we are called "illegal aliens." It is degrading. I mean, it makes us out to be subhuman. I feel for everyone who goes through this. I know, I am going through this, too.

When I was a little boy in school, we were taught to see through little windows. We were taught about George Washington and all of the presidents of the United States. I admired all these men. At that time, I did not know that this was not the whole story. Now I know.

I am not an illegal alien. I have a right to be here on my O'odham land. I am O'odham.

I hear my father and my grandfather. They are talking to me. They say to me, just like they told the Mexican army that day so long ago, "We are O'odham, we are on our land."

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