True" living in a place like Los Angeles is so different from the place where I grew up, that place that I call home. Music, where my people are, my family, my clan, and that's probably the reason why I return home as much as I can. Uh, played among these hills, played with most of the children here, brings back a lot of memories. I remember going to school and being taught that Columbus discovered America, a land populated by brutal savages who had to be conquered, converted, and civilized. In the official version of history, it always seemed better to be white than to be Indian. But at night, when I came home to my family, my grandparents especially, my great-grandfather would tell us stories and legends, myths about our past, about our history that began long before Christopher Columbus set sail, before Spain was a nation, and even before Christ was born. We're human beings just like anybody else around. We don't expect to be treated as a king here, but we expect to be treated right. Music, the futility of the situation they're in and the need for food and medical attention, and the different care that the inmates are realizing. That by far the best solution is to come and work with us, and he had his gun, you know, just pointed at me while I was laying on the ground. I would advise them that the first time that they were ever hit, to leave with it. He had big steel-toed boots on and he kicked me hard. I mean, even an open-handed slap because it only leads to more. And my three kids were at home sleeping, and all I could think was God, give me home to my babies. And I jumped...
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