Ways and Means

"Well, then," said Russell Means, "are we ready?"

The first embassy of the day was East Timor, which is actually not on Embassy Row but rather in a nondescript office building near the Van Ness-UDC Metro station. Means and Collette took the elevator to the fifth floor. The Timorese suite was dimly lit and sparsely appointed, new-smelling. East Timor is a fledgling Southeast Asian nation that is still adjusting to independence after having been occupied, from 1975 to 1999, by neighboring Indonesia, whose military caused the death of more than 100,000 Timorese people, or roughly 10 percent of the population. The ambassador, Constancio Pinto, 45, spent much of his adolescence running from bombs, sleeping in caves and subsisting on leaves. A small, dapper man in a black business suit, he greeted the Lakotans genially. "Welcome," he said. "You are our first visitors." From Lakotah, he meant.

They went into the conference room, and then Means spoke dryly, without referring to notes, telling Pinto that the United States is now occupying Lakota country illegally, in violation of the 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie, which granted the Lakota control of the Black Hills in western South Dakota. The treaty was repealed by Congress in 1877, and the Lakota have struggled ever since. "We are the poorest people in America," Means said, "and we have the shortest life span in America, too. The life expectancy for Lakota women is 47; for a man, it's 44. After 155 years of genocide, our way of life is on the brink of extinction. We have finally decided to withdraw from the United States and save our people and our lands. Here is our petition."

Means handed Pinto a slim portfolio that consisted of a two-sentence cover letter followed by many pages of excerpts from the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, among other documents. For a moment, Pinto read silently. Means sat with his legs crossed, his chin canted back. His air was not disrespectful, but it was vaguely proprietary. On the wall behind him was a framed photo of U.S. soldiers happily drinking beer in East Timor. This was surprising because, as Means had reminded me earlier, the United States had generously supported the Indonesians during the war.

"I know that the U.S. facilitated the genocide of East Timor," Means said now. "I do understand the complexities of the world, and I understand the imperialist monster that is the United States of America." He paused; there was an awkward silence. "But they can't bomb Lakotah," Means said. "We have too many white people living among us."

Pinto looked up. "Um, as you know," he began, "we are trying to put the war behind us. It was a very painful process. So many people died. Eighty-nine percent of our infrastructure was destroyed. Our whole country was leveled, and now we are trying to rebuild. The U.S. has been very supportive. Over the past five years, they have been our biggest donors of aid."

"Really?" said Means. He was shocked.

"Yes, they have given us up to $25 million a year. I will give this petition to the capitol, in Dili, but" -- Pinto laughed, a bit nervously -- "I can assure you that my government will not take a position."

There was a minute or two of closing niceties. Outside on the sidewalk, Means said, "I loved his straightforwardness."

I said it was shocking how many people East Timor lost in the war.

Means sneered at me. "On the continental United States in 1492," he said, "there was 12 to 14 million people -- Indians. And according to the 2000 census, there were just 250,000 full bloods left. We've lost 99.6 percent of our population."

His math was a little shaky. For one thing, Census statistics indicate that in 2000 there were 2.5 million U.S. citizens who claimed no ancestry other than "American Indian" or "Alaskan Native." But I said nothing.