Place du Molard in the Geneva Shopping district has fountains and flowers. Saturday the beat of American Indian music echoed. Five men with long black hair and dark skins dressed in fringed buckskins, war bonnets and with painted faces danced traditional American Indian steps, maybe with a bit of disco thrown in.
I love American Indian (Also Indian-Indian) music. It bring back memories of a vacation in Colorado Springs when Llara was five and Bill and I took her to the Garden of the Gods. Among the huge red pillars Indians from many tribes met to dance and sing. I already have a CDROM of Sacred Spirit Indian music which is wonderful to write to. This was bought in Lake Placid when I was visiting my former boss in jail.
The backdrop behind the musicians was a tepee and a painting of a wolf. They had a CDROM for sale called Mohicans, a Northeastern American Indian tribe. As one of the musicians passed by to sell the CD, I asked in English where he was from. “Peru,” he said. The tribe migrated further than I thought.
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