Trouble

Many times I have run into trouble. Trouble used to stop by the restaurant I owned in Seattle, a knife and piece of wood always at hand.

John "Trouble" Williams was a Native carver in Seattle. He had told me he was from a family of Northwest carvers and if you ever saw his delicate work, you would not disagree. What Trouble could do with any piece of wood was amazing. When I first met him he had about a foot long piece of wood that he was carving with an old knife. He would whittle and cut chunks of wood out, and then gently create the faces of the totem. His voice was both weathered and unmistakable. He had stories of how his father and grandfather had carved large totem poles all over the Canadian west coast.

Many years ago I was ailing, weak, sick and incoherent for long periods of time. I had a totem that Trouble had carved for me and I kept it by my side. When I had purchased it I had asked him, is this some form of Native magic? He just smiled and said that if there is any power in my new totem it is the power I give to it.

With or without the totem I got healthy again. When a friend was diagnosed with cancer, I sent the totem around the world to be with her, with the same words that Trouble had shared with me, it has no power except that which we give it.

Maybe that is the faith religious people speak of. You can not believe in god if you do not in fact BELIEVE in god. The power of belief is only for those who take the time to believe, to trust in something strong, something bigger, something different than us.

When I got healthy I did not think the totem did it, but I did like the idea that having this lovely totem did something, brought peace to a terrible situation, gave me something to focus on when I woke at 3 AM to throw up, something for me to hold tight when I would lay on the floor, passed out from medication and pain. The totem had all the power I could afford to lend it.

I could not tell you where my totem is today. I sent it out into the world with only the suggestion that it would be perfectly fine if it went about its path, finding people who needed it and then being handed to the next person. I do not track it, I don't ask questions about where it is and even in times when I miss it and think it might be nice to have around, I would not even know where it is to begin the repatriation process. It is free, like a small piece of wood being carried by the currents of love and faith.

In the years since I met Trouble, life has continued to be both beautiful and dangerous, as life often is. I did see Trouble a few other times as I prepared to leave Seattle for good. Because Trouble spent a great deal of time on the streets, his face became craggy and weathered and the last time I saw him, he looked a little bit more like a figure in one of his elaborate totems than the man from a long line of Native carvers.

On Monday of this week a Seattle police officer shot and killed John T Williams while he was holding in his hand his carving knife.

News from last nights vigil in Seattle:

Roughly 200 people spilled into Second Avenue in front of the Chief Seattle Club Thursday night, holding candles, praying, and singing for over two hours to commemorate the life of John T. Williams, a carver from the Nitinaht tribe who was fatally shot on Monday by a Seattle police officer while holding a carving knife.

"I'm proud to see this large gathering of nations here to celebrate [Williams'] life," said Jenine Grey, executive director of the Chief Seattle Club. Members of tribes in Alaska, Canada, many parts of Washington, and all plains nations were represented. City officials, most notably Mayor Mike McGinn and City Attorney Pete Holmes, stood in solidarity with the crowd. Elk stew and fry bread was served, as one-by-one people stood to eulogize Williams between songs and prayer. One woman spoke of the LOVE tattoo displayed on Williams's hand, and how it reminded him daily to "be a good person and to love everyone." Grey spoke of Williams's carving work—"he was a man who stayed true to his traditions"—which was sold in local stores in the area, such as the Raven's Nest Treasure in Pike Place Market and at Ye Olde Curiosity Shop.


But the peacefulness of the candlelight vigil couldn't mask the growing anger at the Seattle Police Department over Williams' death.

"The police have dehumanized [Williams]," said Real Change Director Tim Harris. "They mention his criminal record but don't mention his name. They paint the situation like we need to reserve judgment. What I see is self-justification and the closing of ranks."

"We have to stop police brutality—this is 2010," said Leona, Williams' cousin. "He wasn't homeless, he had a home and a family and he shouldn't have been taken from us."

"To see a Native with a piece of wood and a knife and not put that together—that’s culturally ignorant," said Storme Webber, a local writer and performance artist with Aleut heritage.

"Hearing about our club members dying on the streets is a reality," admitted Grey. "But as more details emerged, I got angry, outraged. I have a ton of questions, just like everyone else who's here. Why did this have to happen? Why didn't the officer subdue him? Why take his life?"

At this point, there are few answers to these questions. Grey says SPD has been in contact with the Native American community, that they've been assured the police are running a full investigation, and that "Chief Diaz is interested in meeting with us." However, outbursts of anger throughout the evening showed a lack of faith in the police—specifically, in police accountability—among the Native Americans and homeless people present.

"This is a night of peace, love, and prayer—not demonstration," Grey reiterated to the crowd. "But the demonstration is coming. We can't let something like this happen and not demand to see changes."