During Winter Break, I went on a road trip with my extended family. We drove
from Phoenix to Las Vegas, regularly making stopovers at small towns and renowned
sites such as Monument Valley, Antelope Canyon, Sedona and Grand Canyon.
We camped in Monument Valley for two days, accompanied by two Navajo
Native Americans. The camping site was a small plateau, which offered a breathtaking
view on Monument Valley and its famous sandstone buttes. There was not a single
trace of human activity around apart from the two Suburbans that had taken us there.
Because of our exposition to the wind and altitude, it was freezing. My legs were stiff
and my face was burning because of the icy wind blowing from all directions. Every gust
of wind felt like blades piercing my body. Once the sun had set, the guides started
cooking dinner on the campfire while sharing stories about Navajo traditions and
accomplishments.

I was impressed by the passion with which the Navajos embraced their culture.
They recounted their history with such fervor and enthusiasm that I got carried away
with it. I forgot about the cold, about my numb fingers and frozen nose. I was
mesmerized by their ballads. I had never faced a demonstration of such power. Not
physical power but cultural power. The blazing ashes shimmered at the center of the
fire. Heat waves emanated from it. Curls of smoke and particles of ashes rose from the
fire before slowly dying in the sky and mingling with the stars. With pride and love, they
narrated every aspect of the Navajo heritage.

Eventually, the evening came to an end. As we started to head towards the tents,
animated discussions rose among my family. It was clear that this indigenous people
was like a little diamond, small and strong. It resonated with cultural heritage and
precious traditions. However I was convinced that the merit of this community did not lie
in their past. Something else played a role in the value of this people. More than its
history. The next day, we broke camp and drove back to civilization. After a short
farewell to our Navajo guides, we got ready to drive to our next destination. Just before
getting into my car, I ran to shake hands with the guides one last time. I looked at them
in the eyes and I perceived behind their gaze all the pride and love they had for their
history. At this moment, I realized that the value of these people did not just lie in their
heritage, but rather in their ability to relay this heritage.