Harassment

It was 2:30 in the morning. I got out of my car and walked over to the dragline. It was a monster machine, weighing in at over 3,000 tons, and capable of lifting 150 tons of rock with a single bite of its bucket.

I had been manager of the mine for just six months. I knew that my predecessor had been nicknamed “The Ghost” because he was so seldom seen around the operations. It was a reputation that I wished to avoid. Also, early in my career, one of my bosses had said “its not what you expect that happens – its what you inspect”. I took that to heart and made sure that everyone knew I could turn up at any time – even on the back shifts.

I called the operator on the radio and told him I was coming on board. Up in the air-conditioned cab was Larry Yazzie. “Yáʼátʼééh” I said. “Yáʼátʼééh” Larry replied with a smile. I had been studying Navajo ever since I got the job, but my pronunciation was terrible and I had never mastered the glottal stops, just as I had never mastered the glottal clicks of the Xhosa language in South Africa.

Larry was a good operator and was smoothly operating the big machine with the two hand levers and the two foot pedals. It was removing the 120 feet or so of rock overlying the coal seam. “I’m almost finished this cut” he said, “and will need to move back soon.” The dragline moved by lifting itself on two large hydraulic feet and dragging the base back about ten feet with each step. Our machine needed to have the ground surface greased with water to reduce friction.

Larry reached for the microphone and spoke in Navajo. The response coming back was from a woman, and she sounded angry. The conversation went back and forth for a few minutes before Larry put the microphone back in its holder.

“What was that about?” I asked. Larry grunted. “Awena Hosteen doesn’t know her job” he said.

The water truck came up – sprayed the ground and Larry moved the machine. I got off the machine and went home to sleep.

Late that afternoon I was in my office, packing up to go home when the phone rang. It was Henry Longacre – the Union president. “How’s it going, Mike”, he said. “Well, I think its calmed down” I replied, “the integration policy is working”.

The mine had a real ethnic mix of employees. There were Navajos and Ute tribal members. There were Hispanics and African Americans. And about 30 % were so called “Anglos”. The company had been sued for not employing enough women, and we were trying to correct that situation.

My contention was that the biggest problems were in work groups composed entirely of single groups. It was the all-male groups who would say women had no place in a mine. The all-Anglo groups would refer to “drunken Indians”, and the Hispanics would refer to the African Americas as monos. The native Americans would refer to Anglos as chąąʼ, which my Navajo teacher refused to translate. My solution was to try to mix the groups. Its much harder to be nasty to someone right beside you. In my opinion familiarity breeds respect.

We had made progress in mixing the groups. The problem was that most of the operators were Native American, most of the mechanics were Hispanic and all the electricians were Anglo. Due to past prejudices Anglos were overrepresented in the foremen. Company scholarships had ensured that many of the engineers and office staff were Native American, but the Department of Justice had come after us because we had no female engineers.

One group that had been hard to break up was a truck shift that was 100% Ute. I had had a phone call from the tribal chairman protesting the breakup, but I had persisted.

Henry broke into my thoughts and burst my bubble. “We have a sexual harassment complaint”, he said. “And you were a witness”. “Really”, I said, “when did this happen”. “This morning, on the night shift” was the response. “Who’s the complainant?” “Awena Hosteen” Henry replied. I knew most of the 500 employees by name, and Awena rang a faint bell. Then I got it. She had been the water truck driver at the dragline that morning. I had never even seen her that morning, just heard her talking in Navajo on the Mine radio.

“Well,”, I said “you will have to make the complaint through the State HR manager. That’s the agreed procedure. And since I am apparently a witness, we will need to keep to it”. “No”, said Henry, “Awena wants you to hear it”. “But what about the other party” I said, “surely he will want someone independent”. “No” was the response “Larry Yazzie wants you to hear it too. Eugene Luna agrees and will represent him”. I was incredulous. Eugene Luna was the mine union representative, Very Navajo, he and I had a difficult relationship. “You are telling me this is internal union versus union” I said. “Why don’t you just sort it out yourselves?”. “You are the responsible manager” was Henry’s response. “And don’t forget the DOJ is still watching you closely.”

“Great”, I replied “so if I don’t take action against Yazzie, you will take me to the DOJ, and if I do Eugene will call everyone out on strike”. “Why don’t you just hear the evidence” said Henry. Henry had been the union state president for more than thirty years and was wise to union and company politics. I had a lot of respect for him. We agreed on a hearing date the following week and I hung up.

I sat and thought for a few minutes and then called. Don Stevens, a lawyer friend I knew in head office. I told him about the call from Henry. Don was sympathetic but had his own problems. One of the female lawyers working for him had threatened to sue a senior vice president. “You’ll have to be careful with Rawlings” he commented. “That man could make things ten times worse”. Peter Rawlings was my boss, and regional vice president. He was very old school and it was mostly his attitude that had got us into trouble with the DOJ.

I waited a few minutes and called Rawlings. He was dismissive. “Just let the union fight it out among themselves” he said. “But what about our policy” I said. “Phooey – just let the union handle it”. I knew from bitter experience that if I followed his advice, and it turned out bad, he would never support me.

The week passed and the afternoon of the hearing came around. Henry Longacre showed up with Aweena and a nasty little creep called Ben Lewis. Lewis was the Chair of Native American studies at our local college. He was hostile to the mine. “Good to see you” I lied. “Good to see you” he lied back. “I see OSM gave you three violations last week”. One of our runoff control ponds had failed because prairie dogs had burrowed into it. The dam had been fine the week before, but the pesky creatures had decided to work on it just before the environmental inspector arrived. All three violations arose from the same event – not maintaining structures, allowing runoff and not reporting runoff. I knew it would be pointless to raise the excuses with Ben.

Eugene Luna arrived with Larry Yazzie. They engaged in a long conversation in Navajo.

My deputy manager Philip Jones arrived with David Begay, who had been the shift foreman on the night in question.

I called the meeting to order and asked Henry to explain the complaint. Henry turned to Aweena. “Tell them what happened” he said.

Aweena spoke slowly and haltingly. She said she had been watering the haul road to lay the dust when she had been called on the two-way radio. It was Larry Yazzie from the dragline.

“What did he say” asked Henry.

“He said Hágo tkoh shá” was the response.

“What does that mean” I asked.

“Its very offensive” interrupted Ben Lewis. “It’s asking the woman to get into a certain sexual position. It is reserved for a man talking to his wife”.

“No, it doesn’t” responded Eugene Luna. “We object to this white man telling us what the Navajo language means. The straightforward translation is ‘come and water for me’. He was simply asking Aweena to spray water so that he could move the dragline. She should have known that.”

It was Ben Lewis’ turn to get excited. “I have done extensive research on Navajo sexual customs” he claimed. “It’s been published”.

Eugene laughed. It did seem a ridiculous claim.

“Then what happened” I asked.

“I told Larry he was out of line and he needed to apologize” said Aweena. “He wouldn’t accept it and we argued for a while. He said the manager was right there in the cabin with him and would come and fire me on the spot if I didn’t get on with the job. So, I did as I was told.”

Ben Lewis was getting ready to interrupt again. I needed to move on.

“OK,” I said” this seems to be a worker versus worker dispute. What do you want me to do about it” I turned to Henry?

“We want you to discipline the foreman” said Henry. “He must have heard the dispute on the mine radio and he did nothing about it. Its not the first time Larry Yazzie has been in trouble on this sort of issue, and he has ignored it every time. Other than that, we want Larry to apologize for his insulting behavior.”

“And you, Eugene,” I asked, “what do you want”.

“We agree with disciplining the foreman” said Eugene “in fact we want him fired. He has always been hostile to Larry. And we want Aweena to apologize for raising this ridiculous complaint”.

“And what do you have to say to this” I asked the foreman David Begay. I was interested to hear his answer. I hadn’t seen any sign of him on the night and I had tried calling him before I left.

“I heard nothing of the dispute” said David. “I was in Patrick pit trying to free a bogged haul truck. It took us a while, and then the dozer broke down”.

“Who was the truck driver” I asked. “Trevor James” David responded with no hesitation. I had been a little suspicious of his story, but it seemed to check out. He knew I would check with the truck driver. “Radio reception is bad in that corner of the pit” he added “and I heard nothing of the dispute. I have counseled Larry before about his conduct with female employees and I have given him two verbal warnings”. At this my deputy Philip nodded as if he knew about the warnings.

“Alright” I said “this is what we are going to do. Unless anyone else has something more to say, I want you all to wait out in reception while Philip and I discuss the case. They all trooped out into the hall. There was knock on my door and Janice my secretary came in. “There is a Navajo lady here to see you” she said. “What does she want” I asked. “She won’t say, but she says it’s very urgent.” “Well, she will just have to wait” I said, “please make her some tea and put her in Simon’s office so she doesn’t have to listen to all the carrying on. I will be as quick as I can”.

I turned to Philip. “It’s a tough one boss,” he said. “we are in the wrong whatever we do. But I don’t think David is to blame for any of this. He is a conscientious supervisor and he has documented earlier complaints against Yazzie”. “OK” I said “I think we must issue a written warning to Yazzie and tell him one more incident and he is history. Eugene won’t like it and will cause trouble, but what else can we do, with the DOJ on our case? I could forgive him if he just apologized and accepted his fault, but that won’t happen. Anyway, lets do it. Go and get them back in”.

They all came back, and I was starting to render my judgement. Larry interrupted “I want to say something” he said. “Aweena, I am truly sorry for my behavior and I assure you, it won’t happen again. And David, I apologize to you too, you have advised me and I didn’t take your advice. I am sorry, I beg your forgiveness.”

We all sat there stunned at this turn in events. Then Larry spoke in Navajo. All the Navajo’s laughed, while Ben, Philip, Henry and I looked on bemused. I turned to Henry. “Does that satisfy the complaint” I asked, “and is Aweena happy with the apology”. Aweena nodded and Henry smiled. Eugene nodded too, although he didn’t look quite so happy.

Henry stayed for a few minutes to discuss other issues, while the others left. I escorted Henry out to reception, and asked Janice to bring in the Navajo lady. “She left” she said. “Who was she?” I asked. “His mother” said Henry. From the twinkle in his eyes, I knew who had called her.