How One Woman's Dedication and Determination Has Made Hundreds of Death Records Available to Families.
![]() | By FELICIA FONSECA - A P — Aug. 28, 2014 9:24 PM EDT WINSLOW, Ariz. (AP) — A dusty, barren field in the shadow of a busy Arizona interstate was for decades a place where children played freely, teenagers spooked themselves on Halloween and locals dumped trash, seemingly unaware of the history beneath them. Inside cotton sacks, burlap bags and blankets buried in the ground are the remains dating back to the 1930s of stillborn babies, tuberculosis patients, and sick and malnourished Native Americans from Winslow and the nearby Navajo and Hopi reservations. It's hard, if not impossible, to know where each grave, some just 18 inches deep, is located... |

"If you talk about death, you're in a sense luring death to come to you," said Paul Begay, whose knowledge of Navajo culture and history was passed down through his father and grandfather, both medicine men. Burials of Hopi generally are private and occur within a day of a person's death to allow the physical and spiritual journey of a person to begin simultaneously. Once a person is buried, Hopis don't revisit the burial site. "We allow nature to take its course, and the spirit has journeyed already," said Leigh Kuwanwisiwma, director of the tribe's cultural preservation office, but talking about a deceased person isn't frowned upon. When you remember your people, you recognize that spiritually they are still with us," he said.
In April, Sadler accomplished one of her goals: A simple black iron fence replaced the barbed wire fence at the cemetery, paid for by donations and the city. She still is seeking funds to build a monument to those who were buried there. Her index, however, continues to inspire discussions among Native American families, unearthing lost history.
Sylvia John, 63, found out five years ago that she had a brother who died after a fall as a toddler. She asked her mother about him after seeing him in old family photos but didn't push for more details in deference to her traditional Navajo beliefs. On a recent day, they took a break from a quilting class and flipped through photos of the chubby-cheeked toddler wearing a western shirt, sitting on his mother's lap and standing next to his father. Only then did John, who is Mormon, ask her 89-year-old mother where her brother was buried. "At the Winslow Indian Cemetery," she said. "His name is on the first page of Sadler's index."
"I'm just wanting to go there to the cemetery and look for him," Sylvia John said.
We thank Dick Eastman for notifying us about the heartfelt efforts of Gail Sadler of Winslow, Arizona and this article by the Associated Press.
http://bigstory.ap.org/article/woman-ids-dead-learns-about-native-beliefs
In April, Sadler accomplished one of her goals: A simple black iron fence replaced the barbed wire fence at the cemetery, paid for by donations and the city. She still is seeking funds to build a monument to those who were buried there. Her index, however, continues to inspire discussions among Native American families, unearthing lost history.
Sylvia John, 63, found out five years ago that she had a brother who died after a fall as a toddler. She asked her mother about him after seeing him in old family photos but didn't push for more details in deference to her traditional Navajo beliefs. On a recent day, they took a break from a quilting class and flipped through photos of the chubby-cheeked toddler wearing a western shirt, sitting on his mother's lap and standing next to his father. Only then did John, who is Mormon, ask her 89-year-old mother where her brother was buried. "At the Winslow Indian Cemetery," she said. "His name is on the first page of Sadler's index."
"I'm just wanting to go there to the cemetery and look for him," Sylvia John said.
We thank Dick Eastman for notifying us about the heartfelt efforts of Gail Sadler of Winslow, Arizona and this article by the Associated Press.
http://bigstory.ap.org/article/woman-ids-dead-learns-about-native-beliefs