Building dreams on neglected land

A view of Tuba City in Arizona. A pandemic relief bill set aside long-term funds for tribal lands that have lacked the tax revenue, and infrastructure, to spur businesses and wealth. — ©2024 The New York Times Company

IN the small town of Cortez, Colorado, near the scenic San Juan Mountains, life reflects a modest but thriving economy: single-family homes, grassy parks and bustling businesses.

Around two hours southwest lies Tuba City, Arizona, the largest community on the Navajo Nation.

Despite a similar population and breathtaking mesa-filled landscapes, Tuba City grapples with poverty, limited public services and scarce development – an all-too-familiar story on Native American reservations.

While many tribal areas boast a history of trade and are close to major tourist sites like the Grand Canyon, their reality contrasts sharply.

Poverty, limited housing and thin commercial strips define much of the landscape.

In Tuba City, fast-food chains and dollar stores dominate, and RVs and trailers provide much of the housing.

Around one in three Navajo households live below the poverty line, and the desert winds whip up more dust than construction sites ever would.

Yet change is starting to ripple through the Navajo Nation, embodied in the construction of a new 511sq m senior centre in Tuba City.

Funded by the American Rescue Plan Act (Arpa), this US$5mil project marks a step forward.

Passed in 2021, Arpa delivered an unprecedented US$32bil in aid for tribes, targeting household support, healthcare, infrastructure and economic development.

Navajo Nation even gained access to the State Small Business Credit Initiative (SSBCI) programme, previously inaccessible to tribal lands.

These funds could address historic underinvestment, helping develop roads, water systems, healthcare and high-speed Internet across the Navajo Nation – a stark reversal from past policies that stifled growth.

The 1966 Bennett Freeze – a federal order that prohibited development in key areas of the Navajo Nation – was only repealed in 2009. The freeze stopped infrastructure projects and essential repairs, leaving tribal communities to struggle without basic utilities for decades.

“There’s no question,” says Gene Sperling, a former White House adviser who coordinated Arpa’s rollout, “the American Rescue Plan is the most well-resourced and comprehensive economic plan ever for tribal governments.”

Still, Sperling notes that the funding “is coming after so many decades of shameful neglect”.

For tribal entrepreneurs, however, there are still hurdles.

Heather Fleming, a Navajo Nation member and executive director of Change Labs, a non-profit that funds and trains Navajo startups, says infrastructure remains a daily challenge.

“We live on our land, but we don’t own it,” she explains.

Unlike most American homeowners, who can leverage their property for capital, tribal members cannot use land as collateral, and tribal governments face major restrictions on taxing or selling land.

With federal ownership of tribal lands, almost every transaction must be approved by the Department of the Interior, slowing the development of local businesses.

Municipal bonds – crucial funding tools for most cities – are unavailable to tribal governments except for essential services, further stunting public development.

“We have a huge economic leakage problem,” says Fleming.

As one example, she herself lives in Denver, where she moved for its schooling and professional advantages. Like many educated Native Americans, she wanted to stay on the reservation, but the lack of infrastructure and opportunities drew her away.

Fleming returns to the reservation regularly, meeting with aspiring entrepreneurs in Change Labs’ Tuba City offices, a colourful workspace that contrasts with the area’s sandy landscape.

Here, young business owners, some supported by Fleming’s “kinship loans” of up to US$10,000, gather to brainstorm ideas.

They discuss sustainable revenue streams, small grants and how to stretch limited resources.

For many, it’s an uphill battle: Kelsey Lee, a media producer from the Navajo Nation, says they couldn’t get a traditional loan because they had no collateral, only equipment. With kinship loans from Change Labs, however, Lee and her husband were able to start their business and support their family.

The absence of traditional home mortgages is a persistent issue.

For most Americans, homeownership builds generational wealth, but on the reservation, it remains largely out of reach.

Lee notes the community challenges of seeing younger generations leave, while elders, often wary of outside capitalism, can inadvertently curb local opportunities.

Homeownership could provide a foundation for small-business loans, but without it, aspiring entrepreneurs like Lee must rely on support from organisations like Change Labs.

Beyond monetary barriers, community loyalty keeps many from leaving.

Lee and her husband, who have a seven-year-old daughter and newborn son, stay partly to care for their ageing relatives.

“We want to be able to spend time with them regularly,” Lee explains.

But her commitment goes deeper; leaving would mean abandoning efforts to build a future for her community.

“If we don’t do it, no one’s going to do it,” she says.

The challenge of keeping capital within the community is daunting.

Chief Lynn Malerba, the first Native American treasurer of the United States, calls the Arpa funding “a down payment” on centuries of economic loss and neglect.

Still, structural change will take time. 95% of the funds allocated to tribal governments under Arpa are designated for specific purposes, but only a fraction has reached the communities due to bureaucratic delays.

Tribes have until the end of 2026 to spend these funds.

Laris Manuelito, a military veteran and aspiring entrepreneur from the New Mexico side of Navajo Nation, dreams of creating a solar-powered grocery store with a café and open-air market.

She sees it as a “third place” in a region lacking community spaces, envisioning it as an oasis in a food desert.

The SSBCI programme and Arpa support offer her a glimmer of hope, but she knows the road ahead is steep.

“I am not daunted whatsoever,” she says. “For me, it’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when and how.” — ©2024 The New York Times Company