They say we are the obstacle to economic development," said 70 year-old Chinle, Arizona, resident and grazing permit holder Sam Davis, as he sat on a couch inside his home with his three other siblings - all between 55 to 80 years old.

In both Navajo and English, the Davis siblings said they and other grazing permit holders have herded their flock of sheep on the main corridor of land in this small Reservation town since the early 1900s. "Our family use to have over 200 head of sheep grazing all over this area," said younger brother, Joe, 55, motioning with his arm. "The grass use to be this high."

Chinle is one of the five largest communities on the Navajo Rez, deep on the Rez, with a population of 5,366, according to the 2000 Census, and unemployment level near 45 percent.

But many wonder why it has to be so bleak. After all, over 850,000 tourist visit nearby Canyon De Chelly each year along with an estimated draw of 30,000 from around the area. "[We] could be getting several million dollars a year," said Leo R. Begay, a three- term representative to the Navajo Nation Council, about the loss opportunity. "But we're losing all that, along with hundreds of jobs."

Just days earlier, at a regular Chinle Chapter meet-ing, younger sister Zonnie, said local leaders told them that grazing permit holders, hold the town hostage to economic development.

"Yea, I said that," Chinle Chapter President Billsie said. "I said from here on out the days of saying 'no' need to stop. We need to start planning. There's always someone that says 'no' [to grazing use consent]. Those days need to stop. And we all need to support each other . . . and I made it clear to them."

In 2002, the Davis siblings and other grazing permit holders killed a plan by Navajo Nation economic development officials to develop a 100 to 200 acre site, just west of the high school, because tribal officials were unwilling to pay them.

"At the time, we were working with Grace Develop-ment, out of Phoenix. They had strong ties to prominent anchors like Home Depot," said Tony Skreulenus, who then headed the Navajo Division of Economic Development. "We had done a lot of work on the project. But the biggest barrier was the land. We never got beyond that."

The family said they've stayed out of politics until recently. "We never use to be involved in things," said Joe, now retired. "We try to stay out of politics. Until four years ago we started being pressured by economic development people [for the Home Depot]. And we said we're not going to give anymore land to the tribe."

In nearly every community across the Reservation, someone is holding up development. An August 2004 report, commissioned by the Federal government, "Overcoming Challenges to Business and Economic Development in Indian Country," pointed out that on Navajo. "One of the biggest problems is that tribal members have grazing permits for much of the reservation land, including land surrounding towns like Window Rock, Chinle, and Tuba City," the report by a research and policy firm reads.

"When a business selects a potential construction site, it must secure permission from the grazing permit holder. Tribal officials said that construction couldn't proceed if the permit holders do not agree to give up their grazing rights to the proposed site."

In the small community of Dilkon, chapter officials want to expand the present rodeo grounds, but a permitee refused to give consent, said a former chapter official. But on

the flip side, another permitee consented to a sewage system recently because they knew one was needed.

Jon Colvin, CEO of Chinle-based Dineh Coopera-tives, Inc. (DCI) said land is stifling development across Navajo. "Typically, it takes an act of God to get land," said Colvin.   He knows because DCI masterfully worked around the land situation over 25 years ago and built the first shopping plaza on Navajo which brought Bashas to Chinle.

"The recent changes to the business site lease process really didn't change anything," he said about the recent news. "It just took that responsibility away from the BIA and gave it to the tribe. But the land issue is still there."

DCI has since started other businesses and has become a model for community development, especially their introduction of a master lease concept.

DCI secured grazing consent from the Davis family and others, then a master lease from the BIA on 10 acres within Chinle, for a 50-year period, or two 25-year leases.

"The three families that lived in that area were interested," said Colvin. "A price was agreed upon where they would relinquish their grazing rights . . . and they could have said 'no' and maybe all this would have never happened."

Northern Arizona University's Al Henderson, who in the mid-80s served as economic development director for the Navajo Nation, said DCI took "the route of political appeasement" and knew that what they were doing, was risky and untested. "[It was] something that had never been tried before, the master lease concept," Henderson said. "I thought it was the wisest move that community leaders took. It has never been replicated anywhere else."

Almost 25 years later, Colvin said he didn't think they could do it again today. "It was easier back then to get land, but it gets more and more complicated as time goes by," he said. "Most landowners have gotten to savvy."

Chinle's development held up

"A few years back, the high school couldn't get land.   So when people ask why the new gym is crammed into that space, it's because the gym had to be built on existing school land," Colvin said.

But for the new hospital, in the planning since the 1970s, permit holders didn't put up much of a struggle. "Initially, they all said no," Colvin said. "But the hospital was a different situation. We couldn't pay the permitees."   Somehow, he said, they realized they needed a hospital, and eventually signed off.

"With the hospital, we realized that we needed one. It was getting expensive driving hours to go to a hospital, so we said okay," remarked Joe.

"Instead of people saying 'thank you,' they say we're stingy with the land," said Sam.

"We've saved so many lives over here at the PHS," said Joe.

And one of the reasons DCI has operations outside of Chinle, in communities like Leupp, is because they'd gotten Federal funding for projects, and they needed quick access to land. "Leupp was the only place where there was something available," Colvin said.  

Why they say no

"We're not saying 'no'," said Sam Davis. "We know the [economic] situation. Eventually this whole thing, about herding sheep will go away. But, we want compensation like how the sheep use to be." The sheepherding way of life is nearly over, they said, and that a new era is upon the people.

"We're probably one of the last day-to-day sheepherders. Young people today don't herd sheep," said Joe.

"All these chapter officials, council delegates, the president, all these economic development people, they want . . . the land," said Sam. "But they don't want to share the profits or anything or pay anything to the permitee," he said.

Billsie said there is a compensation built into the process - $1 an acre. An amount scoffed at by grazing permit holders.

According to the BIA and Navajo officials, grazing permits give permitees a false sense of ownership. "Over the years, the grazing permits were used and treated as land use permits, which was not the original intent," explains the Navajo strategy report. "The situation has given the grazing permit holders a sense of ownership."

Citing the federal codes, Bilsie said, "Based on the BIA Realty (Office) there's no need to stop a project if one person says 'no.'"

Sam said, "If they decided to work with grazing permitees, there would be lots of land. More land than they can make available . . . but they say 'No only us, only the Navajo tribe. Not you people, you guys stay poor all through your life, just give us the land.'"

They said everyone is so use to turning the land over to the tribe. "And you know how the tribe operates. They ask for land . . . they plan something else," said Joe, pointing to buildings out front.   "That is why we are very cautious now in giving up land. It always gets used for the wrong purposes."

"It's either economic development or leave us alone. Go find your land somewhere else," said Joe.

If land is ceded, it is usually small, and from one family, like the Gormans who recently gave up 35 acres for a casino in Chinle. And the late Mary Bitsuie's granddaughter, who gave up 50 acres in 1998 for development, said Billsie.

Solutions

One obvious answer to overcoming the land barrier would be to pay the land users. DCI did just that when they got consent from the Davis family and other permitees, in 1980. "It wasn't like a million dollars, but it was something. But, it would be harder to do that today," said Colvin.

Sam said it wasn't a lot, and that DCI broke their promises by not hiring their children for the available jobs.

Two solutions offered by Navajo economic development officials, in a 2000 comprehensive economic development strategy report, said: "Buy off the grazing permits in major communities . . . and wherever economic development seems highly possible" and "levy a tax on the grazing permits, which will force many of the grazing permit holders to willingly relinquish their hold on the land."   But these plans have never been implemented.

Skreleunus believes that their project would have gone through, if the land users were paid. "You can't just take 100 acres from a family," he said. "It is easy to write a family into a lease. But the tribe did not want to do that. I was opposed to not paying them . . . even though the BIA and tribe was saying this is Trust land." He said other tribes have done likewise.

The Navajo Nation does have the right to use eminent domain as a last resort, "But tribal officials are reluctant to use it for fear of alienating voters," concluded the August 2004 Federal-commissioned report. "Many of the grazing permit holders are tribal elders respected by tribal members, and sheep herding is a traditional Navajo activity of deep cultural significance."

But in 2000, eminent domain was used after tribal officials exhausted negotiations with local permit holders in Chinle to build a new airport. Colvin said in that situation, millions of dollars were at stake. "The tribe was going to lose a couple million dollars to build a new airport. The community really needed the land for a number of reasons . . . for instance health care. But permitees said no." He said the use of force didn't play to well with community members.

"If the tribe didn't do that, we'd never get anything done on the Rez. I personally don't like it . . . but I hope there is some system developed that isn't quite as confrontational."

At some point, it will all come to push and shove, acknowledge the Davis family. "Eventually, they'll start using eminent domain to get the land," said Sam. "Which is the reason why we decided to develop our own business proposal."   (See related story.)

"Something needs to be done in the long range on the Reservation," said Colvin. "Because, one major problem we're having is a brain drain. The young kids don't want to come back because there are no jobs and very little opportunities.

"All the bright ones are leaving the Reservation and ending up in Phoenix, Albuquerque, and elsewhere. And we have to deal with that aspect too."

DCI links
www.ruralisc.org/dineh.htm

www.prattcenter.net/cdc-dci.php

Additional links
From the report; 2000-2001; Comprehensive Economic Development Strategy; Grazing Permit

Federal Report: Overcoming Challenges to Business and Economic Development in Indian Country