Clara Caufield. Photo from Native News Project / University of Montana School of Journalism
With one arm, Jesse Jahre outworks men with three arms
By Clara Caufield Usually columnists write about people with big names, however, often I am more impressed with ordinary people who often live extraordinary lives in a much understated way. My good friend Jesse Jahre, an Arapaho who has lived among the Northern Cheyenne for decades is that kind of person. Jesse is married to Amy Whitedirt who comes from one of the most traditional Cheyenne families. They met years ago while both sowing some wild oats. Earlier in life, like many young men, Jesse was a drinker (no longer though) and while trying to hop a freight train had his right arm cut off above the elbow. But Amy “tamed” him down and brought him back to Northern Cheyenne. Yet, they maintain close ties with their Arapaho relatives, especially since Jesse travels back to Wind River Country every year to participate in the Arapaho Sun Dance and other ceremonies. He modestly says he “can’t remember” how many times he has Sun Danced, but it is “enough to know a little bit about it.” And, you will see Jesse and Amy at all the Northern Cheyenne traditional gatherings as well. I’ll never forget the gift of a blessed eagle plume he brought to be placed with my oldest son for the journey to the next camp. To say that Jesse is a devoted husband is a serious understatement. For several years, he has ferried Amy back and forth from Busby to Billings, a 150 mile round trip, three times per week for dialysis treatments due to diabetes. Once they get home, Amy is understandably very weak and tired. So then Jesse cooks for her and helps clean house. He is also a devoted father to his children and grandchildren, some of whom he and Amy raise. If not staying with the grandparents on a full-time basis a horde of grandchildren visit. In order to feed that vast brood, Jesse is a prodigious deer hunter, always putting meat on the table, much of it dried in the traditional way by Amy or their famous dry-meat maker cousin, Imogene Whitedirt. (See Imogene, faithful reader, you got your small note in the spotlight too). Some people might say he’s too good of a hunter, but since hunting and fishing is not regulated on the reservation, he doesn’t break any laws. In spite of having one arm, Jesse has a local reputation as “outworking men with three arms.” Years ago, when I had a fencing business, Jesse helped me and was unmatched with a forty-pound post hole pounder. He only needed an assistant (that was me) to hold the steel post up to get it started before quickly and efficiently driving it into at least two feet of shale covered mountain side. He even operates a chain saw; splits wood with a heavy maul, wields shovels, jackhammers, picks and crowbars. And he is an expert horseback rider, even broncs, frequently called upon by area ranchers. Faced with a new challenge Jesse will say “Give me a minute to figure that out.” And he does. Jesse is about 5’4” inches tall and maybe weighs 150 pounds. Ever clad in a battered black Stetson with eagle feather, he is a small package of dynamite not acquainted with the word “can’t.” And he lends a whole new dimension to the cowboy word “try”, defined this way: “Try is the part of you that just won’t quit, even when every person in your life and every bone in your body begs you to.” He thinks of himself as a cowboy and a “hand”. By golly he is. Maybe that’s why he is still alive. About two years ago, Jesse was diagnosed with cancer, primarily affecting his leg. Following extensive treatment, including chemo in Billings about a year and a half ago, the doctors sent Jesse back to the reservation advising “there is nothing more we can do.” They gave him six months, at the outside, to live. Yet, Jesse is still going. Though he may look a tad tired some days, he is never without a large grin such as during the annual Christmas concert at the Northern Cheyenne Tribal Schools which he and Amy attended to cheer on numerous grandchildren. I was there to cover the event. “Don’t take our picture,” Amy quipped. Of course, that translated to “Please take our picture,” from locals who like to see their mugs in A Cheyenne Voice. Rough teasing being a true expression of Cheyenne affection I jibed “Smile big so we can see your “no-teeth”. That got a big chuckle from them. Just the other day I saw Jesse at the Busby Post Office. “How are you doing?” I asked my good old friend. With a grin he responded “Still standing up. “ “Are you still doctoring?” “Indian way,” he explained. “They help me more. But, that is because I believe in it. Next spring, I’ll help you fix that rest of the barbwire fence at your place.” “Hope I can afford you,” I joked. Known to barter for groceries, cigarettes or gas, Jesse replied. “We’ll work something out.” And I wish I could afford to pay him what he’s worth. Recently, NPR aired a segment about the effect of attitude on healing, the subject of several different investigations by leading medical researchers. Maybe those researchers should travel to Busby, Montana, in the heart of Northern Cheyenne Country and study Jesse Jahre. I can just hear what his advice to them would be. “Gotta believe man.” (Clara Caufield can be reached at acheyennevoice@gmail.com) Copyright permission Native Sun News
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