Abstract
The Gila River Valley in central Arizona has always belonged to the Akimel O'othom. The blood of the Akimel (the river) enabled my ancestors to live and thrive along its banks. To the south, amontg the giant sahuaros, creosote and mesquite for as far as anyone can see, under the watchful eye of elder brother I'itoi, is the domain of the Tohono O'othom. TheAkimela and Tohono O'othom are my people. My father was a Tohono O'othom from a village called Green Wells, over the international border. My mother was from theAkimel o 'othom village ofCasaBlanca. Life was good in my childhood, andIhave many happy memories which I cherish. My neighborPeter was always myfriend, and we grew up together. Along the road where we lived were huge stands of tamarisk trees. This was our playground. The trees were our horses, airplanes, rockets, forts, and just shade to sit under, talking about our future, wondering what life ahead was to be like. These stories are a reflection of transition from the old to the new, from the new, from the ancient world of the prehistoric Huhukam to the realities of life
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