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Animals and plants are taught by Wakan Tanka what they are to do. Wakan Tanka teaches the birds to make nests, yet the nests of all birds are not alike. Wakan Tanka gives them merely the outline .... All birds, even those of the same species, are not alike, and it is the same with animals and with human beings. The reason Wakan Tanka does not make two birds, or animals, or human beings exactly alike is because each is placed here by Wakan Tanka to be . an independent individuality and to rely on itself.

Anthropologists and historians usually stop talking about human sacrifice the moment they shift their gaze from non-Western to Euro-Western civilizations. Human sacrifice is seen as a thing of the past and usually as an aspect of non-white societies (such as the Aztecs). In the 1991 Gulf War, however, George Bush and Saddam Hussein have taught us about human sacrifice in some of its modern forms. They both called for sacrifice. Bush, for example, stated that the Iraqis would be forced out of Kuwait "no matter what the sacrifice," or words to that effect. Who are the people who are being asked to make the ultimate sacrifice in the modern wars? First, of course, are the warriors themselves, men and women who, voluntarily or otherwise, have been committed to combat or to being in battle zones by virtue of their military status. Second are the civilians whose work or circumstances have placed them where they are likely to be targets of bombing or of other military or "terrorist" assults. Third are the indirect victims of the rite of war, those who will die of malnourishment or sickness, not only in the Middle East but in other regions because the billions being spent on the war must mean less funding for humanitarian and food distribution work in the poorer parts of the world. The Gulf War and its continuing aftermath may ultimately consume many tens of thousands of human lives, most of whom will be civilians. The latter tend to be killed and maimed by our modern methods of murder at a much greater rate than armed combatants. Their deaths are not "accidental" of course, since modern bombing and shelling techniques require their liquidation in order to destroy property and "military" targets. There can be no doubt that President Bush chose to sacrifice human lives in order to demonstrate personal power and to achieve policy objectives. These objectives, according to a speech to the troops delivered at Fort Stewart, Georgia,included eaching the lesson "that what we say goes"

The continent of America, also known as the Middle Continent or the Western Hemisphere is subdivided into North America, Central America and South America. Indigenous peoples have a bit of a problem, however, in that: (1) the United States and its dominant Europeanorigin citizens have attempted to pre-empt the terms America and American; and (2) there has been a strong tendency, especially since the 1780s, to deny to Indigenous Americans the right to use the name of their own land. As a matter of fact, there is a strong tendency to also deny Native People the use of the name of any land within America, such as being Brazilian, Mexican, Canadian, and so on, unless the term "Indian" is also attached, as in "Brazilian Indian" (as "American Indian" is used instead of "American"). Some people believe that America as a name stems from the mountain range known as Amerique located in Nicaragua. Others believe that it stems from a word common to several American languages of the Caribbean and South America, namely Maraca (pronounced maraca, maraca, and mbaraca). This word, meaning rattle or gourd, is found as a place name in Venezuela (Maracapana, Maracay, Maracaibo), Trinidad (Maracas), Puerto Rico (Maracayu, etc.), Brazil (Maraca, Itamaraca) and elsewhere. Many very early maps of the Caribbean region show an island located to the northwest of Venezuela (where Nicaragua is actually located) called "tamaraque" which has been interpreted as t. amaraque standing for tierra or terra (land) of Amaraque. All of this is before America first appeared as a name on the mainland roughly in the area of Venezuela. Most of us have probably been taught that America as a name is derived from that of Amerigo Vespucci, a notorious liar and enslaver of Native people. Strangely enough, Vespucci's first name is more often recorded as Alberico rather than Amerigo. It may well be that the name America is not derived from his name, but we know for sure that it was first applied to South America or Central America and not to the area of the United States. From the early 1500s until the mid-1700s, the only people called Americans were American First Nations People. Similarly the people called Mexicans, Canadians, Brazilians, Peruvians, etc., were all our own Native People. In 1578, for example, George Best of Britain wrote about "those Americans and Indians" by which he referred to our Native American ancestors as Americans and the people of India and Indonesia as Indians. In 1650 a Dutch work referred to the Algonkians of the Manhattan area as "the Americans or Natives". In 1771 a Dutch dictionary noted that "the Americans are red in their skins" and so on. As late as 1845 another Dutch dictionary defined mestizos (metis) as being children of a "European" and an "American" parent. English usage is very little different. John WVesley, in 1747, referred to First Nations People of Georgia as "the Americans." The Quaker traveler, William Bartram, after a lengthy tour among the Creeks, Cherokees, and Choctaws in the 1770s, refers to them as "the Americans." Samuel Johnson's Dictionary (1827 edition) has: "American [from America]. An aboriginal native of America; an inhabitant of America." The dictionary then quotes Milton ("Such of late/Columbus found the American/so girt/with feather'd cincture...."), and Addison from the Spectator ("The Americans believe that all creatures have souls, not only men and women, but brutes, vegetables, ... stones"). In 1875 Charles Maclaren in a British encyclopedia wrote of "the American race," "the color of the Americans," "the American natives" and "the Americans" by which he meant "the Americans of indigenous races." More recent

I felt the cold sweat on my forehead and tore off a piece of toilet paper, wiping it away with short, hard strokes. Most of all, though, I felt relief-shivering, beautiful, all-encompassing-the relief that comes from the sudden cessation of pain. It didn't last long but gave me time to read some of the grafitti on the door. Then the nausea began building up again. It reminded me of why I was there and fear returned, seeping into my cavities, slowly filling them with its substance. Finally I was able to relax in the safety of that little stall, shut off from the outside world. I lit up a cigarette and, after being sure that I'd gotten rid of everything, worked up the confidence to leave the men's room. I still had an hour or so. Looking around for something to do, I saw a sign indicating that there was a cafeteria downstairs. Deciding nervously that I needed to check my notes still once again, I went downstairs, around a bend, and joined the cafeteria line. It was mostly patronized by secretaries and working-class people. I got my coffee and found a seat off to one side, but there weren't many people there. My notes soon bored me. I knew it all anyway, so I let my mind wander into passageways whose door had been jarred open by tension. I stood there, at the top of the Washington Monument. On one side was the White House, on another the Pentagon. I was overwhelmed by the immensity of my task. Who would be so bold, so foolish, as to attack the white society right here in their capital city? What was there that was Indian out there? Maybe they were right! I should just go home. Transfixed, I waited until everyone else had left the viewing platform. Then, just as the elevator was about to disgorge a new group of tourists, I picked up my notes and raced down the stairs. Suddenly, I was in the Bureau of Indian Affairs building. Then quickly I moved into a large conference room where I stood in front of an irate mob of white professors and academicians, their faces distorted by ugly grimaces, their fists held in the air menacingly, and their throats giving rise to obscene and hateful declarations. Just then someone started shooting at me. I ducked behind the solid oak podium, my notes flying everywhere. Lips tightened, eyes narrowed, hardened, I began firing back with a pistol. The noise was terrible, screams, and sounds of bullets hitting nearby. Then, in the general turmoil, a woman of color I had seen before somewhere came up to me and said, "C'mon brother, it's time to go. You gotta get outa here!" As she led me through a morass of rooms, hallways, doors, and alleys that we passed through in quick

The sun set twice on that day, first slipping behind a cloud. Then it was briefly alive again between the bottom of the cloud and a mountain rim. But the Sun-of-that-day was doomed. It struggled to light up the sky still, using the clouds and vapors for mirrors to magnify its weakening rays, but in spite of a magnificent display of pinks, and reds, and yellows all across the sky, it finally plummeted to the other side, leaving a sense of void, a sense of sadness, a sense of losing a companion, a familiar friend gone at last. High above the rim of Canyon de Chelly Jesse Rainwater leaned against a wind-sculptured boulder and watched silently as Gishux, the day-Sun, left the world of the surface. An intense feeling had taken possession of him, a feeling which eddied about in the air, around the rocks, the yucca, and swirled up from the now-darkening canyon just below. He felt the tingling magic of expectancy in his body and all around. Was something special about to occur? Or did this kind of magic always accompany the twilight on this rim above this Canyon of the Navajos, this Canyon of the Ancient Ones Who Came Before. A fox moved slowly across the rim a few yards away. It didn't hurry. It seemed to know that Jesse was harmless. It almost seemed to want him to watch. He felt hunger-pangs grow in his stomach but it was impossible to leave. In the daylight the deep, broad canyon had hypnotized him and hours upon hours had passed as every detail of the scene etched itself in his mind. The ancient cliff dwellings looking like little dollhouses erected in tiny little openings along the canyon walls. The ribbons of water way down on the sandy bottom, with clumps of trees and, here and there, a hogan or a horse. The ribbons divided, came back together, divided again in a pattern of effortless intricacy but one which challenged the mind to dare to try to absorb it, to understand it. And the sheer, smooth cliffs with pinks, and browns, and yellows, and tans, cliffs that beckoned across the chasm. Could one fly across to one of those small holes on the opposite wall? What if one were tempted to float on the air like a bird, seeking out places ordinary humans could never reach except in dreams? Jesse caught himself becoming mesmerized by the immensity of the canyon, the sky, the heat. He almost felt himself disappearing to become a part of that place, but he grew cautious, he stayed back from the edge, he prayed to Grandfather and to the Spirits of that huge Tsegi. And thus he had spent the day, since the rising of the Sun, Wapank, to now, Lawkwik, evening. He had not eaten at all, nor drank anything, but until now he had not felt any need. The Canyon was all that one needed--it nourished, filled to the brim, left no room for anything else.

1. Defining the Consumer Interest 2. Consumerism and Consumerists 3. Business and Consumerism 4. Exchange and the Consumer Interest 5. Industrial Organization 6. Consumers and the Law 7. Consumers and the Political Process 8. A Consumer Policy Framework 9. Perspectives and Prospects.

THE CURRENT TREND among leading school authorities is to regard the separate uni-ethnic schools as disadvantaged schools no matter how excellent their programs, and to regard ethnic integration as a major step forward in the education of minority-group children. Evidence has been compiled by several major studies which indicates, for example, that Negro children, on the average, achieve better in integrated schools than in segregated schools. There is, however, nothing inherently bad about uni-ethnic schools in a homogeneous country as regards formal academic achievement. The majority of schools the world over are homogeneous schools, in the sense of drawing their students from a single language group, nationality, or ethnic population; many such schools quite obviously have not been disadvantaged in a formal academic sense. Indeed, an argument could be made that uni-ethnic schools fail to acquaint pupils with youths of other backgrounds and, therefore, contribute to narrow nationalism, ethnocentrism and chauvinism (and ultimately to international hostility, misunderstanding, and warfare). This argument, in no way, renders uni-ethnic schools per se academically unsound. While it is true that we live in an age of global interaction and on the threshold, perhaps, of international unity, our major socio-ethnic units, or nationalities, are still very much in the grip of ancient anticosmopolitan ideals. Nationalities almost always have sought to indoctrinate their youth in patriotism, i.e., loyalty to the ethnic unit, or nation-state, and part of this process of enculturation has consisted in an attempt to draw a rather sharp line between "one's own people," and "foreigners" or "outsiders." It is likely, then, that uni-ethnic schools will continue to be highly esteemed, not so much for their educational value as for their ability to maintain youth within a system of national and group loyalties. This whole matter becomes more complex, of course, when schools within the boundaries of a heterogeneous political unit (such as the United States) are discussed. The United States is a state (a sovereign political unit), but it is not yet a nation (a single nationality or ethnic unit). It has always been a multi-ethnic state dominated by one group, the English-speaking white

New England vessels from trade with the British West Indies, their most valued pre-revolutionary customers. A limited trade, to be sure, was very soon permitted, at the insistence of the British colonists, between the United States and the British West Indies, but only in British bottoms and by British subjects.' This was no act of generosity to the new republic but a continuation of the old colonial system necessitated by the dependence of the island planters on American markets and produce. By this provision American foodstuffs, tobacco, livestock, and timber were admitted to the islands in exchange for West India rum and molasses. Boston shared the resentment of American shipping communities over the restrictions imposed, and in 1 785 the General Court of Massachusetts was induced to pass a discriminatory tariff against British imports;2 but this measure was ineffective to recover the lost trade. Occasional relief was offered at intervals when the number of British ships trading with the West Indian Islands became insufficient to supply and victual the colonists, so that a state of emergency would be declared by a provincial governor and

Looming large upon the American historical horizon has always been the subject of frontiers. Ever since the first Spanish, Nahuan and Incan chroniclers began to record the events resulting from Hispano-Indian contacts, historians and governments have been concerned with the problem of interethnic conflicts and relations in the Americas. And in the last century the field of frontier history has been given great impetus by the writing and teaching of Frederick Jackson Turner, Herbert Eugene Bolton, Walter Prescott Webb, and Ray Allen Billington, among others, in the United States. It is unfortunate but nonetheless true that the concept "frontier' has remained a rather ambiguous tool for the social scientist. Turner used the term rather loosely (almost intuitively) and even went so far as to assert that the concept "for our purposes does not need sharp definition" (1910:2,3,41). On the other hand, Turner and his successors did proceed to assign a meaning to the term which has exercised considerable influence. In general, most Turnerians visualized the frontier as being composed of those areas of Anglo-American penetration which had not yet been fully transformed