Blindfolded to possibilities

Aug. 23, 2007

A recent news story in USA Today ("Who moved my cheese? And my soup?" July 13, 2007) described the growing popularity of "dark dining," which offers guests the experience of eating at a restaurant while blindfolded or in the dark.

The idea, an import from the experimental European cuisine movement, is that removing the visual stimulus heightens other senses. In other words, when you can't see your food, your enjoyment of the taste increases.

Guests are led blindfolded or into a darkened dining room for their dinner. The waiters and waitresses are sometimes blind or visually impaired. (One business finds workers from the Braille Institute of America and other government rehabilitation agencies for the vision impaired.) Restaurant owners in New York and California say the experience opens a universe that is often neglected. Others say it is an art form.

This raises possibilities for our part of the U.S. What if certain people were subjected to a sensory deprivation experiment in order to increase their appreciation of something often neglected? The possibilities are limitless.

One might be to blindfold all tribal and federal employees to whoever walks into their office seeking help or a service.

Ever notice how some folks can have an easy conversation on the telephone with someone they have never met - and can't see? Then, ever notice how employees immediately make an assumption when they see someone walk in the door? A pretty girl, or Anglo in a business suit, or a guy who looks like he just got off the NCI ride from Gallup? A blindfold would limit first impressions to the voice. Thus, employees would be forced to limit their perception to what they hear. Instead of thinking that this person is a jerk or this person is important, they would be forced to have a conversation.

For example, would a blindfolded President Shirley react any different if he could not see or know the identity of someone talking to him about Desert Rock or Onsat? Another example is eating. Considering the effort to prevent diabetes among Native Americans, would a blindfold help or hurt? How would Spam, fried potatoes and fry bread taste if you could not see them? Does the sizzle of lard press a goofy button that makes us eat greasy food? Personally, the sight of a sizzling sheep head prompts the taste of charred eye muscles in my mind. If I could not see it, would the experience be as sublime? Conversely, we might create a market for Navajo foods if all non- Navajos ate achéé and blood sausage while wearing blindfolds.

Queasy types could wear blindfolds while helping to butcher or make achéé so they do not have to see what they are doing or holding.

How would blindfolds, or blacking out the council chambers, affect discussions and decision-making? In a metaphorical sense, would a blindfold that blocks out business as usual change anything? Delegates would have to feel their way along the walls to get their coffee or go to the men's room to fight, swinging fruitlessly at the air.

Perhaps not seeing how others are voting might allow delegates to vote honestly, rather than waiting and watching the voting board to see where the majority is leaning.

Or, blinded to the petty needs of friends and relatives or the need to repair their corral or well, would delegates stop the per capita allocation of money to each chapter? Throughout the year, the council gives in to "emergency" spending, doling out funds to each chapter for whatever the cause may be, such as drought, snow or the desire to help buddies in need.

This spending is at best a temporary solution, a Band Aid approach that can easily be distorted or corrupted.

By the way, how has all the money expended over the years for chapter emergencies been used? One of our past reporters, Annie Greenberg, tried to obtain this information but met a silent stone wall.

Annie even tried the bureaucratic approach and wrote letters to the speaker, president's office and controller, since they all want requests in writing, asking for this information, which should be public information anyway.

To this day, no official has responded with even a peep, phone call or memo.

With our government system, it is too much to hope that a blindfold or turning out the lights would change anything.

Like the secret of the council delegates' coffee, we are left to speculate.

But who knows? There are many examples of people who supposedly can't see but who became geniuses in their field, like Helen Keller, Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder and Jose Feliciano.

This is not to say we want to see a blindfolded band called Keeswood and the Country Delegates or to hear a duet from The Executives, Joe and Bennie, but altering our leaders' perceptions may shed new light on important issues.

In another example, if our leaders were blinded to the dollars signs, would the words "trust fund" take on a new meaning? Of the many responsibilities for stewardship facing our current leaders, none is as important as the Permanent Trust Fund. Approaching $1 billion, the question is what to do with it.

The fact that it even exists is a testament to the wisdom of saving revenue each year. The fact that our current leaders, who are not exactly skilled at money management, may take some sort of action is scary.

The best course may be to buy 88 blindfolds, plus two for the executive branch, and to guide our leaders to their lunch, safely away from the steering wheel.

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