SURVIVING COVID ON THE NAVAJO RESERVATION TAKES A TEAM EFFORT: Life was Difficult Enough for the Navajo People. Then COVID-19 Hit
Franklin Martin and his daughter Alicia Martin fill water tanks for a family without running water on the Bodaway-Gap chapter of the Navajo Reservation. The Franklins started delivering water to families at no cost after Alicia lost her job due to shutdowns from the coronavirus.
Photos and Story by Giles Clasen
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Hauling Water
Every day, Franklin Martin walks to the Chevy truck he inherited from his cousin, who died too young in an alcohol-related driving accident.
Martin’s life has been marked by the loss of loved ones long before COVID-19 came to the Navajo Reservation.
Today, however, that loss feels closer than years past because the spread of the coronavirus has hit his people uniquely hard. Martin could replace the truck; it is well over 20 years old and has the miles to match. Still, Martin likes the connection to his past, even the tragedy. He doesn’t want to forget the people he has lost.
These days Martin uses the truck to transport water and other supplies to individuals in need on the Bodaway-Gap chapter of the Navajo Reservation.
He and his daughter, Alicia Martin, started hauling water and other supplies to individuals living on the Navajo Reservation in March of this year.
To live in the Arizona desert without running water requires each family to haul water to their home. Often, Navajo families live on less than 100 gallons of water a week to cook, clean, and drink.
The average individual in the United States uses close to 100 gallons of water in a day, but the Navajo Nation has had a precarious relationship with water for years. The Arizona desert is very dry, and the bedrock is difficult to break through. Even if you could dig deep enough to reach water, the uranium mining of past decades has made much of the ground water unsafe for human consumption.
Linda Kent rests after loading water into her 60-year-old truck. The water is from a windmill on the Navajo Reservation and is designated to only be used for livestock because it is not purified. Kent, who only speaks Navajo, drives to the windmill twice a day to bring back 200 gallons of water to her 36 sheep, her only source of income.
THE VIRUS STRIKES
Day to day life was difficult enough, then COVID-19 hit. In the early days of COVID, the Navajo Nation had some of the highest case rates for the virus in the United States. The Federal Government did little to help. The situation got so bad that Doctors Without Borders stepped in to help control the spread.
The guidelines to stay safe were simple. Wash your hands, wear a mask, and social distance.
When water is scarce, it is difficult to follow the guidelines. It is difficult to clean and wash your hands with such little water. It is difficult to social distance when you need to drive into a city center frequently to get more water.
Arizona does not have a statewide mask mandate, and outside the reservation, mask usage is somewhat scarce in the smaller cities.
As of October 14, there have been 10,780 confirmed cases on the Reservation. That is nearly one case per 30 people. Simply put, the Navajo Nation is not in a strong position to fight COVID-19 without help.
Kendrick Weeks carries his son Aries while putting donated supplies into his truck. Weeks and his children live in a shed on the Navajo Reservation. Weeks moved back onto the reservation after the coronavirus outbreak because the reservation had stricter guidelines for addressing the outbreak thann other aras of Arizona.
THINKING BIGGER
At a local level, individuals like Alicia and Franklin also sought to help.
“We started collecting supplies and delivering them as soon as we could,” Alicia said. “It’s not right to say, ‘No’ when someone needs help, and people are dying right now. Our people need help.”
The work started slowly, as the two learned how to organize a relief team. With permission from the restaurant where she was working, Alicia took water to give to families. Her restaurant had been shuttered due to the virus, and she had been furloughed.
She began thinking bigger. In April, Alicia started a GoFundMe campaign and raised $10,000. She brought in help to manage the money and ensure the donations went to supplies for her people.
Things were moving rapidly. Then, Franklin was diagnosed with the virus. He spent two weeks in the hospital recovering. By the time the two got back to delivering water and supplies, three family members, Franklin’s aunt, uncle, and cousin, had died from COVID-19.
Cheryl Osorio tells her son Jesus to turn the lights off to her home. Osorio and her family live in a house with no running water and not connected to the power grid. Osorio uses a generator to power her house and a wood stove to cook.
DELIVERING SUPPLIES
As the battle with the virus took a personal toll on the Martins, they continued delivering supplies.
Cheryl Osorio and her family live in a house that is not connected to the power grid and has no running water. Osorio uses a generator to power her house when needed. She uses her wood stove to cook and purify her water.
Osorio and her family hadn’t been willing to drive into Page, Ariz. The city didn’t enact a mask mandate until June 24, and the trip to the tourist town seemed too risky.
Osorio is grateful to the Martins for the supply runs, but living conditions on the Reservation remain difficult. “I want to move out of here,” Osorio said. “I feel like we’re forgotten with everybody else getting help. This has been going on a long time. Just with COVID, it’s different now. It is scarier.”
The Martins eventually started receiving help from other sources. Compassionate Colorado delivered four trailers of food, water, and cleaning supplies to the Martins in June.
(See “Compassionate Colorado Lives up to Its Name” in the Denver VOICE July 2020 issue.)
The Martins insisted every can of food, diaper, and water bottle be cleaned with bleach before going into storage. They couldn’t risk carrying the coronavirus onto the Reservation.
The items in highest demand have been hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes. “They are like gold,’ Alicia said.
Joyce Dale sits in the kitchen of her 50-year-old house. Dale had a stroke six years ago and has been in a wheelchair since. Her home has been in disrepair for decades because of the Bennet Freeze. The Bennet Freeze was a ban on development on the Navajo Reservation by the Federal Government due to a land dispute between the Navajo and Hopi.
FROM BAD TO WORSE
The problems for the Navajo people started long before COVID. A land dispute between the Navajo and Hopi tribes led to a freeze of all development and construction on the Navajo Reservation.
The Bennet Freeze, as it was known, was intended to encourage negotiations between the two tribes. Instead, it prevented individuals from legally repairing or replacing their homes.
The Freeze lasted over 40 years, until the Obama administration removed it in 2009. But the ramifications continue to impact individuals.
Joyce Dale lives in a home that has no working plumbing. The foundation became damaged during the freeze and went unrepaired for years. Dale qualified for a subsidy to help with her housing, but her home was deemed damaged beyond repair, so she is not permitted to use the subsidy to repair the home.
“I’m fighting to keep mice and other wild things out,” Dale said. “I’m so ashamed of my house, how it looks. I wish I lived in a better home in a place with water. I wish we could repair what we have.”
The house has been re-sided with plywood over the years, and she has a bathroom that stores boxes because the plumbing doesn’t work.
She and her husband repeatedly apply hand sanitizer and are isolating themselves to avoid COVID. She fears that if she were to get COVID-19 she would not make it through. She is medically vulnerable due to having had a stroke.
Judy Sands syphons water from a 55-gallon drum of water. Sands lives alone without a phone on remote land accessible only over a road best traversed in a 4x4 vehicle. She counts on family or volunteers to bring her the 100 gallons of water she needs to survive 2 weeks. She hopes her isolation will protect her from the COVID-19 outbreak
DOING WHAT THEY CAN
“People don’t understand what we are going through on the Reservation,” Alicia said. “We were forgotten long before COVID, and now we are struggling more because of years of being abandoned.”
The Martins are doing what they can to help people during COVID but are already thinking about what they can do for their people once COVID-19 is no longer a threat. They have set up a nonprofit — Families to Families Ajooba’ Hasin — and are close to raising another $100,000 on GoFundMe.
Franklin is running for president of his Navajo Chapter. He and Alicia have been talking weekly with their nonprofit board to organize deliveries and seek needed supplies. They work six days a week, often 12 or more hours a day. The Martins are hopeful that their work can help their people today and create more opportunity for their people in the future.
They have no plans to stop. ■
To donate to, or learn more about the Families to Families Ajooba’ Hasin
COVID Relief Fund, visit Paypal.me/ajoobahasin
