By Ruben Leyva

Apache generational surnames hold deep historical significance, especially within the four main bands of the Chiricahua. This editorial reflects my family's resilience and adaptability despite profound challenges in retaining our identity. My people are the Bedokohe, pronounced Bee-don-ko-hay [In Front of the End People], known historically as the Gila Apache or sometimes the Mogollon Apache. In the 1992 book Apache Mothers and Daughters, we are called "Bronze Apaches." This essay also reflects the continued interrelationship of the four bands.

During the period when the Chiricahua were forced into captivity and relocated to the East, many of their children were given American names as part of a broader strategy of assimilation, which encompassed religion, military service, and attendance at boarding schools. Ish-kay-znn was one such person; he was renamed "Jim Miller." In contrast, his brother, who remained behind, "Francisco Leyva," retained his Spanish name. However, he was commonly called "Apache Frank" when he visited his family on reservations. This complex blending of names and identities highlights the impact of colonization, as well as the Apache cultural taboo concerning not speaking the names of the deceased, which has made it difficult for some families to preserve the memory of their ancestors.

The Bedonkohe have our traditional mountain homelands on the eastern central border of Arizona and New Mexico. The San Francisco Mountains sit between the Blue and San Francisco Rivers, and the Mogollon and Tularosa Mountains are in Catron and Grant Counties. Our traditional songs reflect a deep connection to this land, as well as to the cardinal direction of the north and the color white. This connection parallels the Chihene band's ties to the Black Range in New Mexico (their color is black), the Nedhni band's southern ties to the Blue Mountains in Mexico, and the Chokonen band's yellowish Chiricahua Mountains to the west in Arizona.

We did not have a clan system. Historically, the ancestral Bedonkohe comprised different local groups of several extended families under a leader [Nant'an]. A local group is called a 'gotah.' Gotah names like the Biszaha [from the Riverbank People], Iya'haiye' [from the Mesquite People], and Nodisga'i [from the Soaptree Yucca People] are rooted in the landscapes, stories, histories, and lessons that reflect the relationship between the people and the environment. Apache Frank and Jim's older brother José Mariscal Leyva's campsite was near Tsé'gotal [the Huge Flat Rock] on Apache Creek in Reserve, New Mexico. There were more recent gotahs like the Ne-be-ke-yen-de [from the Country of People], also known as Mangas Coloradas' People, a mix of people from the Bedonkohe and Chihene bands. The Bedonkohe-Nde-nda-he, pronounced N'day-N'dah-hay [Standing in Front of the Enemy People], was a gotah of Bedonkohe who allied with relatives of the Nednhi band. The principal leader of the Nednhi-Nde-nda-the contingent was 'Tan-din-bil-no-jui' [He Who Brings Many Things with Him], known as Juh AKA 'Lino Leyva.'

Bedonkohe leader Esquiné pronounced Es-kee-nay, also known as Andrés Silva, was the son of leader Matúran and closely connected with leader 'José Chato, the Elder' documented by William B. Griffen in his 1988 book Utmost Good Faith. Leader José Chato, also known as José Mangas, was Magdalena's husband and brother of Mangas Coloradas. He was the father of Chatto [Pedes-klinje], who remained at San Carlos with the famous Apache warrior and medicine man Geronimo, who refused to flee with Esquiné and Francisco. In Esquiné's later years, some of his people joined Chatto, who aspired to be a leader like his father. Esquiné, known by 'Has-ke-na-dil-tla' [Angry, He Is Agitated], lived as a leader of the Bedonkohe-Ndendahe contingent along with Geronimo, Chatto, Elías, and Francisco, his son-in-law.

Throughout his life, Esquiné made temporary peace. He joined his brother Nahilzay and an unidentified sister at the Chiricahua Apache Indian Agency. These siblings had married into Cochise's Chokonen band. He remained there until Cochise's passing in 1876. On December 2, 1876, Esquiné's local group executed a horse theft near Camp Crittenden on Sonita Creek in southern Arizona. A prompt report was sent to Fort Bowie, the established base of operations for a company of Apache scouts under the command of 2nd Lt. John Anthony "Tony" Rucker. The trail Esquiné's group left behind led to the Arizona-New Mexico border, heading south into New Mexico's Animas Mountains.

On January 9, 1877, U.S. troops, led by Rucker, launched a surprise attack on the camp of Apache leader Esquiné just after a nighttime dance. Among those present was Esquiné's cousin, Geronimo. The attack caused chaos, forcing many Apache to flee and leaving behind their possessions as they sought safety. Rucker's men seized weapons, horses, and captives in the skirmish. Reflecting on these tragic events in his autobiography, Geronimo lamented the loss of life and the harsh winter conditions that followed, leading Esquiné and Geronimo to seek refuge with Francisco's people at the Ojo Caliente Reservation.

By late April of the same year, at the Ojo Caliente Reservation, Indian Agent John Clum, alongside the San Carlos Apache Police, arrested Geronimo, along with several others, including Francisco. They were then taken to San Carlos, where they were temporarily jailed.

On August 1, 1878, Geronimo escaped from San Carlos. He joined Esquiné and Esquiné's son-in-law Francisco, who escaped San Carlos in September of 1877. Like his siblings, Francisco was a Leyva-Chihene by birth but had married into Esquiné's local group of Bedonkohe as was the custom, and Esquiné depended on him a great deal. Thus, Francisco and his offspring were Bedonkohe. Still, Francisco was Juh's blood relative. Thus, it is unsurprising that Leyva Bedonkohe and Leyva Nednhi reunited to form the Nde-nda-he gotah.

The late anthropologist Keith H. Basso effectively edited a volume by Grenville Goodwin based on 1930's interviews with the White Mountain Apache. In Chapter Four, "John Rope," of his book Western Apache Raiding & Warfare, Goodwin captures the compelling account shared by the revered White Mountain Apache elder, Tlol-dil-xil (Black Rope), whose name was Americanized, 'John Rope.' This remarkable tale recounts the arduous journey of Apache scouts during the 1879-1880 tour of duty in their quest for Chiricahua Apache.

According to Goodwin, the commanding officer at Fort Bowie received news of Geronimo and the chief Juh leading their "Ni-n-da-hi" [Nde-nda-he] towards the fort. There was peace when the Nde-nda-he arrived in the area. My Leyva, Silva, Elías, and Gardea extended families were present. The leader, Juh, who sought a reservation at Fort Bowie, was offered a meal by the scouts. The old Esquiné tied up a water drum and led singing and dancing by the ceremonial fire, making jokes to embarrass the scouts and Nde-nda-he women. Another direct ancestor, José María Elías, AKA 'Natculbaye,' and John Rope engaged in a bet. They both won two games apiece before calling the game due to a misunderstanding. The groups feasted and, the following day, played the traditional 'hoop and pole' game.

As reflected in our ancestral names and histories, Apache resilience, survival, and sovereignty are enduring testaments to our adaptability, demonstrating connectivity between Chiricahua bands over time. By reclaiming these narratives, we honor those who came before us and pave the way for future generations. These echoes of legacy remind us that our names, lands, and stories are not just historical artifacts. The politics of colonization and assimilation have forced groups who were interrelated in myriads of ways to draw boundaries, thus losing pre-colonial connectivity. This detracts from our shared purpose of maintaining our culture and identity.