Practicing patience and meeting the President in the process

I came across a grant opportunity a while back that seemed to be a good fit for our organization and a match with the agency's funding priorities. One of their stipulations, however, was, because we are a non-profit on an Indian reservation, we had to receive a letter of support from our Tribal Council. I didn't think this would be a big deal since we had to approach the Mission City Council in a similar manner as part of a loan application package several months ago.

The Rosebud Tribal Council consists of 20 members from throughout the reservation. Until this year, apportionment was determined by the size of the community; this year though, that changes, as each of the 20 communities will be represented by one member apiece. Kind of like moving to a Senate- from a House of Representatives-style of legislative body.

To obtain a letter of support from the full Council, we first had to get on the agenda. Sandy's idea was to contact a member who was also on the housing board, since they'd likely be aware of our work on the reservation. He made the phone call, and then I drafted the official letter asking him to present our request to the full Council. Things were moving along swimmingly.

Then, it seemed as if Mr. Council Member dropped off the face of the Earth. I had most of the grant's narrative and attachments done; all I needed was that letter. Sandy tried to reach him repeatedly, but to no avail. I moved on to other projects.

Typical of the reservation and small-town America in general, it took a chance encounter for the ball to get rolling again. During my usual lunchtime visit to the post office, I had a brief conversation with a man I had seen around town but to whom I had never been introduced. The chit chat ended quickly, and we went our separate ways.

The next stop was the grocery store, where I ran into the same man in the checkout line. He noted my presence, saying he couldn't quite place my face (besides the post office, of course). I introduced myself, as did he. The name didn't click at first. It was only after he mentioned my grant application that I realized it was the Tribal Council member Sandy and I had been trying to contact for weeks!

He asked me to draft and e-mail him a letter requesting Council support. (Yes, I did ask if he'd received the letter I had sent weeks prior. He hadn't.) He then invited me to Tribal Council the following day. Now we're talkin'! I returned to work extremely excited, not only about the grant but the opportunity to attend and possibly present at Tribal Council.

Sandy and I drove down to the Administration building in Rosebud the following morning. I wouldn't necessarily say I felt out of place there; however, there was definitely a different social protocol evident. It was one of those experiences where I had to stay back at first in order to avoid drawing attention to myself as an outsider and a wasicu. My plan was to watch Sandy and learn.

The Council meeting was supposed to start at 10. It didn't. No big surprise there since nothing starts on time here. Indian Time is alive and well on the rez. As it turned out, the Council had trouble reaching its quorum. Sandy knew practically everyone who walked by as we waited, and at one point left me while he mingled.

A while later, I saw him in chambers speaking with none other than President Rodney Bordeaux. I certainly wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to speak with the President, so I sidled up next to Sandy, prompting an introduction. We talked about Habitat and why we were there. No big deal, I'll sign a letter for you, he said. Great!

A quorum was never reached, but an informal session of Council ensued. I had brought along a copy of the letter I had written, which I provided to Bordeaux. I also introduced myself to the Vice President while at the table at which the officers were seated. (I was much more comfortable with my surroundings at this point.)

On our way out, we ran into the Council member we had originally approached. He had just arrived, but promised his own letter of support for our grant. He also passed along his opinion about Tribal Council attendance: When there are important issues that need to be addressed by the Council, some members choose not to appear to avoid having to make a decision that will be a part of the public record. That's certainly only one man's opinion, but it is an election year after all.

Now, I just needed my letter. After a week of hearing nothing from the Tribe and wanting to get my application out the door, I needed a plan to gently remind the President about the promised letter. I chose to send him an e-mail thanking him for his support and stating his letter was sure to strengthen our application. I did not come right out and ask, "Where's my letter man?" I do have tact after all.

A couple days letter, I received an e-mail from a woman from the President's office asking what she needed to include in Bordeaux's letter. He had forwarded her my e-mail. Jackpot! So, I sent her the same letter everyone else had received. Later that week, I made a follow-up phone call asking if there was any additional information I could provide. (Once again, a subtle reminder. Plus, I was more comfortable pressing office staff than the President.) Oh no, she said, I have everything I need.

A couple more days passed, and still no letter. I needed a new approach. Sandy's brilliant idea was to call her saying I was going to be in the area and wouldn't mind picking up the letter in person. The letter would be ready the next day. Great!

I drove back down to Rosebud the following day and found my new best friend. However, the letter not only wasn't finished, but was hardly started. Sigh. I asked again if there was anything I could do to help, but was told the letter would be signed and ready Monday.

Monday afternoon, I called her and said I'd be there within the hour. I was there as promised, but she had left for "an errand." She'll be back in 10 minutes, I was told. I waited patiently until she arrived back in the office, and then looked around for the letter. Finally I had it in my hands. Okay, it was signed by the Vice President for the President and there was a grammatical error, but I wasn't going to press my luck.

The grant application was in the mail soon afterward. The lesson I learned from this experience is the next time I need a letter of support to just draft the damn thing myself and ask for a simple signature.

I'm optimistic about this grant, but it's hard to say if we'll be funded. The organization is another Tribe that has provided funds to many other Sioux Tribes, including Rosebud. Plus, they've partnered with a Habitat for Humanity affiliate in the past. But who knows? We should hear back sometime in June. Cross your fingers.