Pubdate: Wed, 18 Jan 2006
Source: News & Observer (Raleigh, NC)
Copyright: 2006 The News and Observer Publishing Company
Contact: https://miva.nando.com/contact_us/letter_editor.html
Website: http://www.news-observer.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/304
Author: Don Bartletti, Los Angeles Times
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/pot.htm (Cannabis)

DRUG TRADE PERMEATES ARIZ. TRIBE

But It Fails To Iift Veil Of Poverty

The door to the warehouse near the Tucson airport swings open and a
musty-mint odor is instantly recognizable: It's pot. Lots and lots of pot.
Inside, neatly stacked bales of marijuana stand like faceless chess
pieces -- the evidence from a game of extremes played every day along the
nearby Arizona-Mexico border. Anthony Coulson, the U.S. Drug Enforcement
Agency official in charge there, says that as much as 20 percent of the
marijuana brought into Arizona last year was discovered in one location: the
Tohono O'odham reservation, where abject poverty and the opportunity for a
fast buck torment the American Indian nation.

In 2000, according to the DEA, about 50,000 pounds of marijuana were
seized on Tohono land. By last year, the figure had soared to 192,225
pounds. Other authorities put the number higher. More and more Tohono
themselves, meanwhile, have been caught up in the drug trade.

"Young Indians," says Coulson, "carry it over to drop houses," from
which the pot eventually finds its way to the streets.

While Indian tribes in other places have hit the jackpot with a
lucrative gaming trade, the Tohonos' casino in Tucson has generated
little revenue for the reservation residents, and 50 percent live in
poverty, more than 40 percent are unemployed and misery abounds. Young
people see little in their futures. Not long ago, 17-year-old Jared
Antone was discovered hanging by a rope from a horse trailer, an
apparent suicide. In Jared's bedroom, a candle burned on the floor.
"We took the bed out to let the spirits escape," says his aunt, Verna
Enos.

One man's border On a map, the Tohono O'odham Nation sits like a
clenched fist between Tucson and the Mexican border. The U.S.-Mexico
boundary is a thin, 70-odd-mile bracelet across the wrist. Near the
southeast corner of the reservation are the twin gulches of Sasabe,
United States, and Sasabe, Mexico. A gas station and a stylish port of
entry are the main attractions on the Arizona side. On the Sonora
side, a crucifix towers over a migrant's tiny chapel. Lighted at
night, it's a beacon in the desert for another unstoppable diaspora
that ebbs and flows. The border here is so flimsy and porous that it
defies belief. One spot, called San Miguel Gate, is a 20-foot-wide
cattle grate. No door, no lock, no guard, except, that is, for
66-year-old Olivario Listo Enos. He patrols by himself in his dirty
Dodge pickup.

"At night when my hounds bark, or in the day when dust rises in the
south, I grab my guns, jump in my truck and outsmart 'em," Olivario
says. "A blast or two over the hood and they stop. When they freeze, I
give 'em a choice: 'Your women, your drugs or your keys.' "

Smugglers, he says, always leave the keys. Olivario keeps them in a
plastic bag. He shows off 11 vehicles left on his property.

"When the Border Patrol comes, they knife the tires so the smugglers
won't come steal the cars back," he explains. "When the vehicle
department in Tucson declares my cars 'abandoned,' I sell 'em for hay
to feed my cattle and working horses."

No one is immune Every family, it seems, has been touched by drugs,
including some of the reservation's elite.

In September, Tohono O'odham police stopped a vehicle for speeding and
discovered six bales of marijuana under a blanket in the trunk. The
driver, 39-year-old Nicholas C. Juan, was arrested and now awaits
trial. He is the brother of Vivian Juan-Saunders, the Tohono
chairwoman. He isn't the first member of the chairwoman's family to be
caught drug-running. Her sister, Mary Juan, was arrested in May 1999
by U.S. Customs officials after they discovered 15 bales of marijuana
stashed in her car and in a shed on her property. Mary once had been a
tribal judge. She was convicted in federal court and spent a year and
a day in jail. She's out now, raising her three grandkids -- her
daughter-in-law, arrested with her six years ago, moved off the property.

Mary lives on a parcel that has been in the family for four
generations. Standing outside her small, brown stucco house, she
withholds her reasons for marijuana smuggling behind a nearly
expressionless face. "It's better not to bring up the past," she says,
wiping a tear from her eye. "It makes me think it's happening all over
again." Coulson, the DEA agent, says he isn't surprised that Mary's
place doesn't look like that of a drug dealer.

"There's little collective wealth from drugs in evidence on the
reservation," Coulson says. "Drug-running is not enough to get the
Tohono out of poverty -- but just enough to kill them."
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MAP posted-by: Larry Seguin