On The Sacred Road

He also helped to distribute “Thank You” bags of groceries to Veterans and families of Veterans at the Native American Veterans Association Pow Wow in South Gate, CA.

A Word From Michael

My name is Michael Paul Littlevoice. I’m originally from Ponca City, Oklahoma. I’m Ponca and Omaha. I was born in Pawnee Indian Hospital in 1956 just outside Ponca City. My grandpa was full-blooded Ponca. He died in 1956 before I was born, so I did not really get to know him. My grandma was full-blooded Omaha. When I was young, I remember my parents would leave me and my sister with my grandma for periods of time. I remember seeing the car driving away and my sister and I running after it. They were leaving to go find jobs. My grandmother would take me to pow wows. They were not called pow wows back then; they were called war dances. In 1964, we moved because my Dad got a job in Cleveland, OH. I remember I started going to a public school there in second or third grade. My mom took me on my first day and I remember crying when she left because I did not want to stay there. I was the only Native American in the class. I remember the kids laughing at my name, Littlevoice, when the teacher introduced me. I remember one time at recess, the boys all gathered around me and wanted to fight me because I was a different color. They all called me names and tripped me. My sister saw it and she came over and pushed all the boys away from me. I remember looking up and seeing the teachers were out there, just looking at all that was going on but not doing anything to help me. This became a daily thing. Some days, I just would not go to school. I would leave home pretending to go to school, but I would go someplace else instead. I was embarrassed by my name because they all laughed when they heard it at roll call. I hated the other kids; I hated white people. I was young. They were young too and just did not understand.

When I was ten or eleven, my parents got divorced. I didn’t want them to. My dad left and I stayed with my mom. She eventually began seeing another man, but I hated that. Then my mom told me my dad was also seeing another woman. At that point, I hated them both for leaving each other and finding someone else. I wanted them to be together. I did not express it outwardly or in words, but in my heart I was sick. You see, we were a dancing family. We danced with others in stadiums, public halls, and pow wows; my dad made the bustles and everything for our regalia. He was a singer and drummed. Once they got divorced, though, there was no more dancing. It all stopped. I carried the emotional pain of this for 40 years. By the time I entered junior high school, I got into many fights. The other kids continued to call me names, but I began fighting back. In the early 70’s, my mom sent me to an Indian school. I liked this school. I was around other Native Americans. I started learning more; but then in a few years I got in trouble there, so I left and went back to Cleveland where I graduated.

During my senior high years, though, I began using alcohol and drugs and dealing to hide the emotional pain I still carried with me. I thought if I left the area, I could get away from it. I went to Minnesota but was in and out of jail for drugs and alcohol. I tried to leave the area again, hoping the problem would remain behind me. I tried to hitchhike on the highway when I was hit by a car. It threw me 6 feet up in the air. It should have killed me, but I was still alive.  I went to Mississippi when I was 18 or 19 to be with an uncle. He said I could get a job welding with him at the shipyards. I got into drugs and alcohol again. One night, I got into a fight at a bar with a guy who lost to me at pool but wouldn’t pay up. I didn’t see his friends behind him. They cut me in two places. I passed out and woke up in a hospital. They told me I should not be alive because I lost 6 pints of blood. I wasn’t Christian or anything at that time, but I knew that Creator had preserved my life again.

I left that area and went to Los Angeles, California. I found the Indian Center and stayed at Long Beach. The Indian Center sent me to welding school. I was able to get a good job making good money, but I started drinking again. I became a functional drinker. I met and married a woman for 11 years. We dealt drugs and partied together. I overdosed several times, went in and out of hospitals and jail, and could not hold a job. I went into rehab and when I got out, we separated. The next time I relapsed, I went to the lowest point in my life. I could not eat; I had no place to live and was living in the same clothes for a month. I was tired of panhandling. It was cold and rainy, and I was sitting on the curb. I began speaking to the Creator, telling him that I did not want to die, but I knew I was. I said over and over “help me – help me, Lord.” A car pulled up and a guy said “hey brother, do you need a place to stay? Let us take you out of the rainy weather and help you. We are from Victory Outreach Church – we have a place to stay.” I went with them. They knew I was sick. They took me to a home, put me in bed, and fed me. I learned the home was a rehab and these men were former heroine addicts and former prisoners; they were hardcore people. I heard one guy praying and then speaking in tongues. I did not know what that was, so I thought they were a cult and were going to kill me. I was determined to leave. I was physically unable, though, because I was going through withdrawals. I was shaking and weak. They fed me, gave me tea, and let me sleep. I slept the whole next day. When I woke up, I again wanted to leave. I walked downstairs and one guy stopped me and asked me to stay for breakfast. I went back up and slept for another 3 days. I tried to leave again, but they said I should stay for supper. I stayed for a year. They taught me how to read the bible and pray. I learned a lot. They were all disciplined. They saved my life.

When I thought I was ready to leave for good, I got a job, but relapsed again when I was on my own. I went through the same thing all over again. This time I was picked up and taken to a facility. They said it was a detox place. I woke up not knowing how I got there. I had been in line for food and the next time I woke up I was in the hospital. They told me I had a seizure. I had never had one in my life. I went back to detox and got better. They sent me to another rehab from there. This was the Salvation Army. I stayed there and learned more about church, His words of life, and praying. I was there about 6 months when I got a job as a truck driver. I thought I was finally healed and ready to be on my own again and left. The Salvation Army got me an apartment, furniture, everything I need. Then I relapsed again. This time I did not go to a rehab. I started straightening up and went to church. Charles Stanley was one of my main teachers who really helped me. By this time in my life, I had nearly died 4 or 5 times. Now I was saved and went back to welding school and got certified.

While in school, I got many offers to work in refineries. I thought they were unsafe, so I kept saying no, but one day I finally agreed. On the fourth week at this refinery, we were working on repairing a jet fuel tank. Four or five of us went inside to begin repairs when suddenly we heard this noise. The roof wasn’t holding. Tons of weight began coming down on us. I went into shock, putting my hands up as if I could hold the roof up and keep it from coming down on us. I prayed, “God, I do not want to die.” It came down and stopped at 2 feet above the floor. It was dark and dusty inside. There was a small hole in the center of the tank letting in light. As I was trying to crawl out, I heard moans and cries from the others. I called to see if anyone else was in here. I said, “let’s get out of here before it collapses more.” When the roof came down, the safety man tried to run out but the tank top clipped him. There was so much blood. He died. The incident was on the news and in the newspaper. The news reported that on April 10, 2006, 3 men were injured and one man died when the 120-foot diameter roof of a 90,000 barrel tank collapsed and fell to just 2 feet above the tank floor. The newspaper reported that a team crawled under the roof to rescue the men, but we climbed out ourselves.

I was injured physically and spiritually. I could not sleep. When I was able to sleep, I had nightmares. One day, I was trying to read the Word but could not find peace. I saw the medications I had been given and thought about taking all of them just to end it. Suddenly, I saw a hotline number. I called the hotline number and said I just needed to talk to someone. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by police and helicopters. I was taken and put on a 72-hour watch. I tried to explain that I just wanted to talk to someone. I was finally released after only 4 hours. I decided at that moment not to take any more medication. I began going to sweat lodges. After a time, I heard my grandpa’s voice say “it’s time for you to get back in the circle.” Then I had a vision of the same. When I finally was able to get back to work, I went to a different company but remained a welder.  I had another accident that nearly killed me and left my leg severely injured. I had to stop dancing for a while; but just as before, God rescued me and released me back to the pow wows to dance, share our family history and pow wow history, and share the love of Jesus. He saved me many times in my life and saved me for a reason, for His purposes. He will do the same for you.

Ponca History