https://voicesofignacio.cvlcollections.org/files/original/aabae97023dd0d087a464de99a4c692f.pdf 7661f6ebed4876be2c5ea861e26f5893 PDF Text Text Annie Bettini (Southern Ute Tribal Elder) Somewhere around here: I don't really know where I was born. I wasn't born in a hospital. I was born in somebody's home. No one ever told me where I was born, and I never '- -a'ske"d. ''At thanime, ybu didn't ask qirestiofis. -'Septemo1sr 1,cl:1~22 fAnnte·s'bfrtn'da)'j. My dad's name was Hickey William. My mother's name was Isabelle, but I can't remember her last name. She was Spanish, and my dad was full-blooded Ute. I have one sister, Arabella, who lives next door to me here. I have another sister, Mary-Anne, who lives in the mobile home right over here. I had a brother, but he died. I guess there was a girl before I was born, but she died. My mother and father separated when I was five, or something like that (I can't remember), and I was raised by my grandmother: Dorkis William. She raised all ofus, all three us. So, we grew up with her. I had a half-brother, who passed away about six years ago, I think. And, I had a sister who passed away before he did. Then, I have two sisters left. I didn't get to know them until I was way up in my thirties, I think. So, I finally got to know them. We've basically lived around here. The Weasel Skin Bridge is named after our family. Our family name was 'Weasel Skin' until they changed it to 'William.' I grew up speaking Ute totally. Then, when I went to school I began to speak English language. I started off school down below here, there was a one-room schoolhouse down by a place called La Posta. I started off school there until I don't know how old I was. They had the boarding school in Ignacio and they transferred us over there; which was very hard on us. I don't remember, it must have been around ... See, in those days we didn't start school until we were six. In those days they didn't require children to go to school at five. We basically started at six. But, we were kind of devastated to be taken away from home. But, in the course of time I got used to it. We graduated from there; they called it the Ute Vocational School. But, you know, school wasn't half as hard as it was in those days. We just learned the basics, and I don't remember all that I learned. I don't remember having trigonometry. We had fractions, but we didn't get into all that other stuff I guess it was just the basics. After I got used to it [boarding school life] I just took it as it was. It did something to me that bothers me today. It made me become insensitive to me grandmother and to my dad. I wanted to get away from this life that we had. We were poor, we were very poor. We didn't own any furniture. We slept on the floor, we ate on the floor. We only had one chair and one little folding bed. When I went to boarding school it showed me all of those things. I guess it kind of made me go away from all of that, and made me forget about my grandmother and my dad. Then, from there I went on th work in Denver. As a young person I Didn't realize that was the wrong thing. To me, now, it was wrong: I became insensitive. That's the way I looked at it. From that point on I went into the Army, and I found out that that wasn't what I really should have done. There was a lot of discrimination there. That kind of shocked me, too. I wrote letters back, and in those letters I wrote my dad things I didn't like about it. He started to work things out and talked to some of his neighbors to help him get me out of there. I came home for a little while, and then I found out I wasn't happy anymore. I needed to work and I needed to support myself My grandmother and my dad couldn't do it. I realized that there were things there that I could have that would make life easy for me. In a way it was good and in a way I regret those days. Ifl had stayed around home, I don't know what I would have done. Basically, go out there taught me a lot, taught me how to take care of myself; how to look after �Page 2 of6 my own needs. Yet, at the same time, I forgot my grandmother and my dad. I'd come home and visit, then I'd go back to my work or wherever. I worked in Nevada for a little while. To this day I have a regret ... It's in the past; I can't go back and re-do anything. But, then, I began to realize that I would have to support myself and do other things for myself So, that was part of growing up I guess. I worked in a laundry. I worked in the school in Ignacio for a while. After I got out of the service I went to Nevada and worked in the boarding school there as a matron (looking after the kids there). Then I came back over here and worked at the boarding school (the boarding school was still there) in the 40s, I think. After that I got married, and then we went off to California. We came back and lived a little ways from here. We built a little house over there, but my husband couldn't find a job. He was not a tribal member; he was Italian. He worked in the mines with his dad for a while, but the wages just weren't very good. So, one of his sisters lived in California, and she said, 'Come here. You can find good work here.' So, we moved over there. Lived over there for quite awhile until he passed away. I came back here after he passed away. I didn't have any ofmy own [children]; I had miscarriages. I adopted a little boy. My sister-in-law had a boy when we were living here. She had a baby boy out of wed-lock. She gave him to me to take care of (she was working and she really didn't have a way to take care of him). Finally, she gave him up to me. 'Here, you can have him.' She even said, 'We'll even go through adoption with you.' At the time it cost too much, and we didn't have the money. We just raised on our own until my husband passed away, and then I adopted him. I raised foster children, too. I raised about twelve. I don't know where they all are. Some of them have passed away. There are few out there that I don't know where they are. The daughter I have is my adopted daughter. She belongs to one of the Ute ladies in Ignacio. She lives not too far from here with her husband and her children. We lived in Buena Park, CA My husband found work there. He became a foreman for a mobile home construction place. Then, he passed away in California. After he passed away, we moved over here. Then my son passed away in 1972; he had cancer of the bone. We had sheep ... sheep and goats. We herded sheep all over the hills here. At that time, there were no restrictions anywhere. We could go anywhere, except we couldn't go over into that fence that is privately owned. Sometimes the goats and sheep would get in there, and we'd have to go over there and chase them out. There was alfalfa there and alfalfa bloats the animals. We just roamed all over. Went fishing. Played. We didn't have any toys that I remember. We played with rocks, and mud, and sticks; whatever we could find to play with. We had pets. We had animals like a goat or a lamb for a pet, kitties and doggies; those were our enjoyment. I only remember my grandmother got me a little doll for Christmas one time. My dad got me a little teddy bear. I don't think the other kids ever got anything for Christmas. We didn't know what Christmas was all about. We didn't know what the holidays were all about. We didn't get to the Sun Dances or the Bear Dances often; once in a great while, maybe. We had to travel over there by horse and buggy or wagon. My dad didn't have a car until a little later on. He bought a Model T Ford. He had to go to work far away, too. Sometimes he had to go to work in Towaoc and sometimes he worked around here on the farms. Sometimes they'd have to clean ditches; now they don't do that anymore. He found odd jobs here and there that didn't pay very well. �Page 3 of6 We would go to Ignacio once a month for commodities. That would last us. We had to use it very sparingly. Then we had our goats and sheep that we could kill: not in the summer time. My grandmother was very hard about that, because the meat spoiled (we didn't have a refrigerator). Not what I have here today: nothing ... nothing. Sometimes we were ragged. They had the C.C. camps [Conservation Corps]. They worked up in the hills. One day this man (I remember his last name, it was Aspen; like the trees) came and he said, 'Come here, girls.' We were kind of afraid to go. My grandmother was there. He said, 'I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to measure your feet.' I said, 'Measure my feet? For what?' So, he measured our feet and he measured my grandmother's feet. The next day or so he came and he brought us tennis shoes, because our shoes were all wore out. From that point on he kept an eye on us. When we needed something, he even would bring groceries at times. He was a very kind man. I remember his kindness very well. I guess he just felt sorry for us or something. I basically grew up around Spanish people and Anglo people. Most of our neighbors are Anglos. They helped out. Sometimes they would take my dad to town if he needed to get groceries. They would pick him up and take him to town. They were very helpful. Dad grew wheat, at times, and they'd come and thrash his wheat for him. Then my dad would take the wheat to, I don't know if it was Cortez, but they had a milling place. He'd take it and have it turned into flour. Then he would come back with sacks of flour; which we stored in a big, upstanding box. So, that kind of kept us with flour through the winter months. Our diet was basically meat, beans, and potatoes (meat when we could get it, depending on when it was not winter time). When we went to Ignacio they'd give us cans of meat, and that helped during the summer. We'd pick berries (chokecherries) and grandma dried it. Sometimes there was a vendor that came from New Mexico with chili, with fruit or something. He was a tall Anglo man. He would stop by, then he would leave (grandma always had a little money from the sale of goats). He always had watermelon and cataloupe ... stuff like that. She would buy one or two, then he would give extra. He did that for about three times. He didn't come every week, but each time he would leave extra. The last time he came he wanted one ofus girls, and Grandmother got so upset at him. She started talking in Spanish (she knew some Spanish). She just chased him: 'I don't give my girls to nobody! Here, take you stuff!' He took it, and she was so upset. He wanted one ofus. I don't remember, I think he was after Arabella. He said, 'If she won't go ... ' Then he grabbed me like this, and Grandmother said, 'No, no, no.' She got a stick and she was going to hit him. I don't remember all that he said (our English wasn't all that well yet). He wanted to take one ofus with him [laughs]. All in all, we didn't complain. We took life as it was and we were happy. I don't know how Grandmother ever felt, because whe was a quiet person. My dad was quiet. He wasn't home much; he was out trying to earn a little biut of money. He had to buy hay for the sheep and goats. We sheered the sheep and got a little money off of that. We sold some young goats for people from Durango, especially the Spanish people. They would buy goats off ofus. Then the wool from the sheep kind of helped out at times, too. Of course we had horses. In the winter time, Dad had to feed them and buy hay. That's why he worked for some of the farmers around here: maybe they'd give him a bale of hay with money besides. Then, he raised a little bit of hay down on this side of the river [Animas River]; there's a piece ofland there that's kind of flat. He raised hay, cut it, and we'd pile it. In those days you had to pile it, and we'd help him as big as you please. We had horses to ride ... we enjoyed that. My dad used to dance the Sun Dance; up to a point. We'd go over there ... I had two of my aunts living with us at the time. My grandmother would go over there (the family took turns �Page 4 of6 going over there). The family had to be there. Once in a while we got to go. I never wanted to stay home. I always wanted to be with Grandma. I didn't really want to stay with my aunts, except one aunt was good to me. The other one was kind of mean to me, so when she stayed home forget it: I didn't want to stay home. But, I could stay with my aunt Margaret. We used to do a lot of things: we used to make candy or whatever. She had a talent, but she passed away rather young. She had a talent of making things out of whatever we had: like mixing together sugar and peanut butter and making it into candy. She just had a talent that was amazing, but she passed away. That I enjoyed: I enjoyed staying with her, because she could just put things together. My other aunt was different; she was kind of grumpy at times. My grandkids are a quarter Ute. Their father is Anglo; he works for the Finance Department in Ignacio, for the Tribe. His name is Brian Ross. They live right over here. The boys love spending the weekend with me, especially the little one. They call me, 'Nanni.' The girl is the oldest (she's eleven), and she's as tall as I am. She comes home from school to me, and the boys go to the Academy. Their mom teaches at the Academy. They're real good kids. I had them for a whole summer, when my daughter was going to school in Boulder. They were good. We'd go to the grocery store and people would just come and say, 'Oh, your grandkids are so well behaved.' Or, we'd go out to a restaurant, and they were just so good. Of course, we've taught them about the Lord, that there's a Creator. We tell them that He expects us to behave; expects us to respect and to love others, and to care about others. I didn't come to know the Lord until I was in my late thirties. But, I have to say that knowing God has been a great help to me. He has sustained me through life: kept me going, kept me strong. I don't have any major health problems, just my feet. All in all, I have to give God credit for just being in our lives. We just feel that the Lord was there for our little, little boy. Their house is in area that has lots of rocks and sagebrush, and there're rattlesnakes over there. One Saturday, the kids were out playing around and dad was working out in the yard. The little boy goes to his father and said, 'Dad. Look. Baby snake.' Guess what it was ... a baby rattler. We feel it was a miracle that that little rattler didn't bite him. His dad flicked it off his hand and, he happened to have a shovel, killed it. We tell them to watch themselves. But, that was just a miracle in itself I was coming from town and I stopped at their house. My daughter came running out, crying. I thought something terrible had happened. She said, 'Cody had a baby rattler in his hand, and I'm just thanking God for not biting him.' So, we believe that God is very present if you connect with him. There has to be a relationship there. I give God for my strength and for just sustaining me, because it's kind of lonely living by yourself You get up by yourself, eat by yourself, go to bed by yourself The kids come, but they have their own home. And, He provides you with other people, other believers that you connect with. That helps. That's a big help in my life. I say to myself, 'I want my grandkids to keep on going to church, to keep on building their relationship with the Lord.' So that they, too, will know that there's someone who will protect them and help them along life's way. I think my belief in God, and knowing that there is a Creator there, has really helped me. It made me overcome the regrets that I had. Sometimes I get to where I feel as though someone is telling me, 'It's in the past. There's nothing you can do about it now.' It's now that counts. It's now, what you do, that counts. I've been involved in translating the Bible into Ute language; mostly it's on videos. I'm becoming a songwriter, too. A Native American tune will be coming to me and I don't have words for it, so pretty soon words will be coming out of the Bible, the Scriptures. We have some that we've recorded on CDs. Some are in Ute and some are in �Page 5 of6 English, because I have to do it in both. That's something good that I'm doing. I feel like the Lord is blessing me. He's blessing my family, too. I just have to give God credit. Truly, we have a Creator. Truly, there's somebody out there that takes care ofus. So, I'm happy about that, because I know one day I'll be going over there. Ifl can just do what the Lord wants me to do here, then He'll accept me. Last year I involved myself quite a bit with the Academy. I went into the classroom and showed the children how to make generic cradle boards. I made it out of cardboard and material, and talked about it (the history of the cradleboard and how women used it; how it was helpful to them). But, this year I haven't gone over there at all. *** Basically, I'm thankful I have a home. I'm thankful that I have a warm place live; thankful that I have enough to eat; thankful that I have my health. I don't have to cimplain about anything. I really don't need the money. I've always had to live on as little as possible. Money comes and I save it ... I don't spend it. I don't have nothing to spend it on. I spend most of my money on my grandchildren. When they need something, I'm here to help them. But, as far as needing anything more: I don't need anything. I have a nice car to drive. What more does a person want? I don't go gambling, because I feel like that's just throwing your money away. The best thing to do is to just spend it on your grandchildren and have a little enjoyment yourself. I don't go to the General Meetings anymore, because all they do is argue and complain. We shouldn't. I think most of the Ute people were poor, and now we're 'prosperous'. Sometimes I hear people say, 'that money is ours.' It isn't ours until it's in my hand, it's in my name, and it's in my bank. As long as it's there, I don't claim it; it's not my money. Ifl have to go chop my wood in the hills, I will. You know, we did it when we were kids. My sister and I even used to hitch up our dad's wagon when we ran out of wood, and go up in the hills to gather wood. We'd bring those big, long logs, and we'd chop them. I'm old but I can still chop wood. I may get tired faster, but I can still do it. There's no use complaining. There are too many things in this world that are happening, that are terrible. We're not even secure in this country anymore. We just have to pray to the Lord that He'll keep His hands upon us. But as far as complaining, what's to comlplain about? *** One thing my dad taught me about money: don't ever borrow money, or anything from anybody, unless you have a way to replace it. And, if you borrow money from anybody, you have to pay it back. I've kept to that. My grandmother always told me, 'Some day you are going to have things. Some day you are going to live the white man's ways. But, I want you to remember this: take care of what you have. Always take care of what you have.' And, I have. Those two things have been a big blessing to me, and I try to teach my grandchildren that: take care of what you have, and respect your family, respect all the people around you; no matter who they are. So, those things I've always held on to, and that was a good lesson. They stick out right in front of you, as big as your face. �Page 6 of6 So, you could say we are pretty close. I've taken Cecilia [her daughter] as my very own. She feels the same way, too. One time I mentioned something about her being adopted. Oh, she got so upset. She said, 'Mom, you are the only mom I've ever known. I don't want you going around telling people I'm adopted.' And I said, 'Well, I'm sorry.' I thank God for her. She came into my life. Otherwise, I feel old; I wouldn't have any little ones hanging around. *** Interviewed by Michael G. Miller (VISTA) on March 15th, 2004 in her home. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Michael Miller Interviews Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/CNE/1.0/ Date Created Date of creation of the resource. 2003-2004 Subject The topic of the resource Ignacio, Colorado; Southwest Colorado Description An account of the resource Collection of twelve biographies written by VISTA worker Michael G. Miller of prominent people in the Ignacio community. Based on interviews conducted by Miller between December 9, 2003 and March 15, 2004. Some contain the additional attribution "for the Ignacio Historical Society." Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Ignacio, Colorado; Southwest Colorado Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Miller, Michael G. Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Annie Bettini Biography Date Created Date of creation of the resource. 2004-03-15 Subject The topic of the resource Bettini, Annie; Ignacio, Colorado; Southwest Colorado Description An account of the resource Biography of Annie Bettini written by VISTA worker Michael Miller and based on an interview conducted by Miller on March, 15, 2004. Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Ignacio, Colorado; Southwest Colorado Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Bettini, Annie Extent The size or duration of the resource. 6 pages