Growing up on Black Mesa in northeast Arizona on the Navajo Nation, we often lived like nomads, following our sheep. As a child, I wasn’t aware that other people in America stayed put, living in one place. Whenever I returned home from boarding school during a break, I’d often find my family living somewhere new on the mesa. I have distinct memories of one particular camp, Tsenitaahotsoh, which in Navajo means “the green grass at the base of the rock.” I would get up before sunrise and take our sheep to a seep there to drink, because right around 4 a.m., pools of water would miraculously appear on the dry arroyo bed. Then when the sun came up a few hours later, the seeps would disappear. Our livelihoods depended on those springs, and I remember moving with our herds to follow the water all the way through my high