Two Days in The Jungle: Part V

“That's not very smart,” said the man. It was a soft voice but filled with authority. I opened my eyes and looked up to see a very fit looking man dressed all in black. Black Jeans, Black Jacket (leather, I think) black boots, black bandanna over his head. In his hand a machete was pointed at the two or three crumpled dollar bills next to my head on my tarp.

I perched myself up on one elbow.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“It's not a good idea to leave money laying around like that,” he said.

“It's just a couple of bucks,” I said. “I'm not worried about it. What's your name?”

“You're Christian, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “I'm Indio.”

He he reached in under the shrubbery where I lay and offered his hand, which I took.

“I heard you're responsible for getting this place cleaned up,” I said.

Indio didn't flinch. “We help each other,” he said simply.

“Have this gentleman bring you to my camp site,” Indio said, nodding toward Dee's camp site. “I'd like to talk to you.”

Looking back, I know that he had been aware of my presence within minutes of my arrival. And looking back, Indio was as a wolf circling me, keeping tabs, never a threat, but never welcoming either till this very moment, when he decided that, if I were some kind of threat, I was a manageable one. I was in his territory, after all.

Okay... it took fifty years of living, but that was my first ever Clint Eastwood moment... I'll have to ask God why I haven't had one of those before. Oh, and by the way, I swear I've taken no dramatic licence here. It happened exactly as I've told it.

I checked my phone. It was just 7AM. Good time to get up. I packed my gear into my satchel and walked around to the front of Dee's camp site, and my eyes grew wide.

Dee had worked all day yesterday in what had appeared to me to be a fruitless effort to get his camp site secure. It had been messy and disorganized. Now, it was clean, raked, the tarp was over the top of the double tents and the tarp-grocery cart barrier was established. Had it not been for the torn tent, and quality of the tarps, you'd have sworn it was the kind of camp site you'd find out at any recreational area. To say I was impressed would have been a terrible understatement. It was more like awe.

He'd secured Connie's tent, and tidied that up as well in her absence in spite of the volatile drama between them the night before.

“Dee,” I called. “You awake, man?”

He did not answer, so I figured he was probably asleep. I have no idea how he managed to get this done before I woke up. There certainly wasn't much daylight to work with... maybe an hour and a half from about 5:30...

I traipsed off and shuffled down to Walmart, hit McDonalds in the front of the store and had a cup of coffee. I carried everything with me, so I dug out my notebook and wrote furiously through two cups of the stuff.

By the time I returned, Dee was outside having his breakfast. I had tried to see Troy on my way in, but his gate was locked again. I'd heard him moving about last night, but I was already about half asleep by that time.

I looked over Dee's camp site again and told him how impressed I was he'd cleaned it up and finished the job. He was beaming proudly on that note, not saying anything, just nodding. But he had a couple more things he wanted to do, mainly making the perimeter tarps more secure. I helped with that.

“Hey,” I finally said. “I need to go see Indio.”

And this is when it dawned on me how much respect Indio commanded. The look on Dee's face was one of shock mixed with a little fear mixed with suspicion. This prison hardened man who could probably have broken me in half with hardly an effort looked like that when I mentioned talking to Indio.

“Say what?”

And I told him how Indio had woke me, and explained that Indio wanted Dee to bring me to his camp site.

At that point, Dee agreed to do it, but still, with a little hesitancy. It was on me, Dee made clear, if I wasn't welcome at Indio's place.

Remember I said I thought it easy to get lost in The Jungle? Dee got lost not once, but twice taking me to find Indio's camp site! He's been here two or more weeks and he got lost!

When we arrived, Dee called out from beyond Indio's fence. Like Troy's, it was well constructed with Shade Cloth and some other materials marking the perimeter.

“Yeah,” Indio called back. “Come in.”

“Gotta go meet my parole officer,” Dee informed, waved to Indio and disappeared.

As I came in, I met the man face to face for the first time.

Indio is, as one might imagine, Indio. Full blooded Lakota. He keeps what tattoos he has covered. You can't make out what they might be. Intentional? Maybe. The man took my offered hand firmly gripped but friendly, warm. His face is speaks to the romantic notion many have of those of Native American extraction. His nose and steady eyes are reminiscent of a hawks. I'm guessing he's in his mid 40s, but he might be older or younger. White people age... darker skinned people don't. It's the law.

We sat in what amounted to an outdoor living room area each on his own couch, and Indio asked me why I was here. I count myself an honest man. I like to be straight up and straight forward, but even if I were not, I think I would have been compelled to be so sitting with Indio. I told him about the blog. I told him what I expected to find. And I told him I hadn't found what I expected.

I mentioned the clean up, asked him how that worked. He told me what I'd heard sporadically: the cleaner the place is, the less likely there'd be complaints. But that was not the whole of it. He spoke of unity, protection. Of knowing when strangers were here.

“You knew within five minutes I was here Saturday, didn't you,” I said. It wasn't a question. But he nodded silently.

Indio spoke to me about the previous “authority” who had been something of a bully. Inconsistent and self serving rather than consistent and loyal. As much respect as Indio commands, it began to dawn upon me that Loyalty is something Indio understands intimately.

What he said to me causes me to believe this. Indio spoke of how people serve the whole by taking care of their own business, keeping themselves up, and helping out neighbours when necessary. Since LiPo Ching's first visits, and I know this from LiPo, The Jungle has improved significantly. I can only imagine that the quality of life here has likewise improved inspite of challenges like having to cart in water.

I sat with Indio for perhaps forty minutes. I knew we'd said what needed to be said, and I believe he'd trust me so far as what my stated intentions were. He told me to come back before I left, and I promised I would.

I spent much of the rest of the morning saying goodbye to people I'd met and I took an excursion to explore the length and width of The Jungle. I went back up to the clearing/car park at street level, and crossed the abandoned Train Trestle. Walking across the railroad ties, between which there was nothing except a 40 foot drop, tickled my vertigo.

North toward I280 I walked along the edge of Coyote Creek and the open field which appears to have been burned off recently. The charred ground and tracks marring that tell me it was probably a controlled burn.

The raparian area gets narrower the further north one goes. But there is still enough wooded cover to conceal the camp sites that get more sporratic the further on. I passed I280 and found that they continued as far as I could see.

Back at the Jungle's core I tried Troy's place again. Still shut up tight. I'm not sure if it was because he was busy or because I had hung with Dee the day previous. Dee and Troy weren't getting along since Dee's arrival, I learned from Indio later. I left Troy a note thanking him for his hospitality.

I said goodbye to Candy. Mama Red was asleep, having spent the night recycling. I visited Giggles and Patty, and promised them to try and come back to visit some day.

Then I returned to Indio's camp at about 1:30, as I'd promised.

Indio introduced me to his partner, Salinda. I recognized her as the same woman who'd been with Robert two days before when LiPo and I'd been looking for Giggles and Patty. Even so, I don't doubt that Indio probably was aware of us even before Salinda saw us. She proved to be as gracious and regal a woman as I've met. The three of us sat with Indio's brother and a few of his friends as we chatted about the differences between The Jungle and Livermore's homeless. The differences in the way one must live.

Indio sent me off with a traditional Lakota Prayer Song, beating the side of a box for a drum. It's effect was something special and very spiritual. I say this as a Christian that I felt the presence of God in that moment.

When it was time for me to leave, I promised Indio I'd come back. This time I truly meant it, and I am resolved to return at some point.

I walked out of the Jungle at 2:10 in the afternoon of Monday, August 26th feeling a little lighter even with the heavy satchel over my shoulder. It seemed no time at all till I arrived at Diridon station, even though I had been walking for nearly an hour. It 3:05 when I arrived and I only had a 30 minute wait for the ACE Train to leave.

Between the two visits with Indio, I called LiPo. He answered, even though he was with his family in Monterey still. I told him about the conversation with Indio and I told him: Man, Indio is the story here.

Indio had taking a chaotic situation and applied standards of behaviour, and wouldn't take no for an answer. How he did this is the story. That's the part of the story I don't have. I wasn't there long enough to learn it and I don't think Indio trusts me enough to tell me... yet. I'm hoping LiPo and the guys at the Merc will get it from him.

And I thought about this on the way home... the difference between what I expected and what I found. I expected a squalid, drug and alcohol riddled disaster. I expected to be writing about the most horrible third world conditions one could imagine. Conditions that might rival what folks saw in Haiti after the quake there.

What did I find? I found a community of people who watch one another's back for all the right reasons. I found a leader who is pointing people in the right direction and who inspires rather than forces those loyal to him.

Are they completely unified? Not even close to that. What they have for each other, in large part, is respect that is deserved and trust that is earned.

There's still work to do. There's still trash to clean up, and problems to solve and quarrels to manage. There's also the constant threat that a sweep will wipe it all away at any given moment.

But something special has happened in The Jungle.

I was very, very impressed...

ADDED Saturday, August 31

A Friend showed me a piece from Business Insider. They were there about a month before I was but there are several photographs including the one of LiPo's favourite Tree House... I remember the place being quite a bit cleaner even only a month later.

http://www.businessinsider.com/the-jungle-largest-homeless-camp-in-us-2013-8?op=1