Navajo Nation, a COVID-19 hotbed, is facing extreme isolation, loss of tradition

A mural on the Navajo reservation. Photo courtesy of Tweedy Navarrete.

Tweedy Navarrete, pastor of the First United Methodist Church in her native Navajo Nation, leads a ministry bringing lunches to medical teams working 12-hour shifts to respond to the coronavirus pandemic in the worst American hotbed of the virus.

Much of the Navajo Nation, an American Indian reservation covering 17.5 million acres across Arizona, Utah and New Mexico, is classified as a food desert, including Shiprock, where Four Corners Native American Ministry is operating. 

“Without us, there is no way they can go get food to eat,” said Navarrete, director of the ministry.

The COVID-19 crisis is affecting every realm of Navajo life, deeper than the average American would imagine. Food insecurity is growing. Handwashing without running water at home in some areas is near impossible. All gatherings are prohibited. Burial rituals are changing. Traditional ceremonies and religious services are cancelled, and without Internet (and without electricity in some homes), no virtual experiences can even attempt to break the isolation.

“Let me tell you, the federal government cannot see us. We are invisible,” said Herbert Toledo, a Navajo Nation member and educator.

The Navajo Nation surpassed New York for the highest COVID-19 infection rate per population in the U.S. on May 18. There are about 157,000 Navajos living on the reservation, according to the 2010 U.S. Census. A total of 8,536 Navajos living on the reservation have tested positive for COVID-19 and 412 have died of the virus as of July 17 according to the Navajo Department of Health.

“The impact of the COVID on the Navajo people has been very hard because Navajo people are very family oriented, so they believe in being together,” said Navarrete. “With the COVID coming and social distancing, that has definitely made an impact on the Navajo people culturally.”

Unlike many faith groups that have created virtual experiences for their traditions, the sacred nature of some Navajo rituals cannot be filmed or shown virtually. Certain prayers, songs and ceremonies cannot be done without a “medicine man,” a traditional healer that many would like to call upon during the worst outbreak of their lifetime, but several medicine men have already died with COVID-19. Many churches on the reservation are unable to stream live worship and sermons because the Internet connection is unstable.

Sixty percent of Navajo identify as Christian and 25 percent follow their ethnic religions, according to the Joshua Project. Many Christians in the Navajo Nation combine Christianity with traditional Navajo practices. The influence of Christianity across the Navajo Nation is similar to the religious makeup of Native Americans as a whole.

In Navajo culture, medicine men are believed to have the power to cure illnesses, using Navajo knowledge passed down for centuries. Following social distancing guidelines, the medicine men cannot perform their ceremonies, leaving the Navajo to rely solely on the hospitals in the area. And despite the guidelines, at least five medicine men have died with the virus, with only about 300 healers left with the cultural knowledge, according to NPR.

“We just do very simple things without the medicine man, just to keep going every day, but we can’t do what the medicine man does, all the prayers and everything,” said Yazzie. 

The reality that very little can be done to uphold Navajo spiritual practices in this time weighs heavy on many throughout the reservation who are feeling a bit hopeless.

“You have to have a Medicine Man to sing, to do any practices because they have power. We don’t,” said Toledo.

The loss is compounded because summer is normally filled with Yiebichai dances, Blessing Way ceremonies, Fire dances and Squaw dances. Thousands of people usually gather for the ceremonies.

A poster created by the Indian Health Service.

More cremations a break in tradition

COVID-19 guidelines written by the Navajo Department of Health recommend traditional practices for funerals be shortened, communal medicine cups be cleaned after each use or limited to one person per cup, and no more than five people to gather at any time. 

Navajos normally consult in a large group to decide on funeral arrangements, then gather for fundraisers to cover the costs. Without these donation meetings, many Navajo are struggling to pay for their relatives’ funerals.

Many Navajos bury their dead with Christian ceremonies, and some following traditional rituals, will throw away the clothes of the deceased person and rub their cheeks with chi, a red colored sand meant to make sure they will pass from Earth to the next life.

Now, many are choosing to break tradition and cremate bodies, partly due to the danger of handling a body that was infected with COVID-19.

“We do a lot more cremations now than say 17 years ago when I started. It’s definitely more prevalent now amongst Navajos than it ever was,” said Jeff (who did not want to be identified by his last name), a manager of a memorial chapel in Gallup. “I think part of it is because of what’s going on with COVID and the larger part of it is probably the loss of those older beliefs and the growth of Christianity. You have a younger generation now that doesn’t hold onto those same beliefs as the older generation did.”

There is great stigma around talking about death in the Navajo Nation. 

“You can’t live in a house if somebody died in it,” said Navarrete. “If the person died in the hospital it’s fine, and you can get the blessing so that the person’s spirit cannot bother you, but if the person died in the house, you move out and get another place to live.” 

Viewing the body is also taboo in traditional Navajo culture, but for many Navajos, especially those who are Christian, viewing the body is a part of the funeral. At viewings, long lines form because the funeral home will only let in a few people at a time. At burials, people attending practice social distancing, according to Navarrete.

Normally, funeral services include a large reception, with cooking and eating. Immediate family members “blacken up,” a grieving process over four days when relatives smear mutton fat and coal on their faces to show their mourning.

“When you’re blackened up, you can’t do anything or go anywhere for the four days, so the family members would come and help take care of you,” said Navarrete. 

Since the pandemic, some families are cooking only with the people they live with and family members stop by to pick up a plate. That means, there is no one at home to care for those in mourning.

A mural by @Skindian_Art is dedicated to the artist’s grandma and grandpa. Photo courtesy of Tweedy Navarrete.

Grieving in isolation 

Navajos debate the importance of some of their traditions, especially those involving religion. How to respond to the coronavirus pandemic has also divided the community.

“There are some Navajos who feel that Navajo way of life is wrong and so they go and they chastise family members who do practice Navajo ways,” said Navarrete. “I’ve seen and I’ve heard Christian Navajos saying to other Navajos, ‘We know where we’re going if we die,’ and ‘We’re covered with the blood of Jesus so we might not have to wear that mask.’” 

Pastors in the Gallup area, which is not as far out as Shiprock, are trying to live stream when they can, but the deeper you go into the reservation, the harder it is to reach people online.

Navarrete’s church is not able to offer live sermons because WiFi is not reliable for the church or the people it serves. So, she has mobilized Four Corners Native American Ministry and the First United Methodist Church of Shiprock to provide an outlet for Navajos to cope with their spiritual struggles and help with their physical needs.

“If people come to me and say, ‘I need prayer’ I definitely will pray with them, and I even made a call to the hospital because I know a lot of the workers who work there are probably having a lot of spiritual issues,” said Navarrete. 

She talked to the head counselor of the hospital in Shiprock and told them she’s available if people need spiritual guidance or help and gave them her name and number. She says there have been a few people call and ask for prayer.

Food insecurity a growing concern

Spiritual isolation during the pandemic is compounded by the geographical isolation of the reservation. There are only 13 full service grocery stores  throughout the 27,143 square mile reservation.

Some people, even the elderly, end up walking 30 miles in the heat to a town to shop for groceries and basic necessities.

Before COVID-19, 76% of households faced food insecurity in the Navajo Nation, according to a study by John Hopkins University. Now, many Navajos are unable to work, meaning the percentage of those who face food insecurity has likely grown.

Navarrete sees this need firsthand and is passionate about providing food for whoever needs it. Her ministry has received support from United Methodist churches and local organizations have donated masks, hand sanitizer, water, toys and games for kids and animal food.

They plan to distribute these supplies throughout the small communities around Shiprock, an area that is particularly subject to struggling with access to running water and electricity.

The loss of so many lives, so quickly, has highlighted the importance of passing down Navajo tradition from the elders to the younger generation. Navarrete recognizes this importance and says she plans on implementing Navajo tradition into the church once they can gather again.

“People don’t have to be separated from that, that’s who they are,” said Navarrete.

Haeven Gibbons is an intern at The Media Project and a journalism student at Texas Christian University. She works as a producer for the TCU "News Now" newscast, as a photojournalist for TCU360 and as a writer for IMAGE magazine.