by Sawyer Martin
Any so-called Indian fantasy must just be that, of a bottomless gulf or void beneath the very basin of the muddy Minnesota, above Old Mankato rotting in its downstream postmodern stupor. And, furthermore, the claim that from time-to-time horrors burst forth from there, hideous but vague monstrosities of night and fog, are clearly nothing but an outdone tribal race’s long-ago anxiety-myth, engendered by the supercessionary diseased arrival of the European. Just as the lovingly crafted reports of shades of gigantic Indian skeleton warriors astride similarly outsized, skeletal, flame-hissing hell-bending salamanders is but a pitiable instance of wishful thinking, by a misused and nearly exterminated people….
No, the “curse” on Mankato is very real, but much more it is the consequence of our own race’s lunging stupidity taken together with the regional farmerly knack hereabouts, for throwing dead animals into the drainage ditches and waterways. All of this culminates grimly today in Old Mankato City itself, drawing its municipal waters from this selfsame river, and ridden right into the aching poisoned ground by its demoralized city managers’ multi-tiered capacity, or topheavy indecent taste, for grotesque hypercredentialism and apotropaic professionalistic and incorporationary greed. Far more are these the sires of our “ancestral” megrims and present-day tainted families, than anything whatsoever to do with the extinguished hopes of mercifully long-dead Indians.
In short, in the middle of the universal stupidity of today, to further credit anything like notions of a racist “curse” and the “supernatural” as a meaningful factor in our objective woes of today is just, well, ridiculous.
[Sawyer Martin all rights reserved 18 March 2009]