I used to be a Riffian. They’re a Berber-speaking people inhabiting parts of northern Morocco known as the Riff. As you may suspect, the Riff is not a garden spot.
A fierce tribe of desert nomads, Riffians are best known for being tough and kicking the hell out of the French and Spanish in a struggle against colonialism in the 1920s. In short, they are a mighty force.
Where do I come in? Well, I was technically a Riffian from 1967 to 1968, when I attended Barstow High School in California. The Riffians were our high school mascot.
Why? Best guess is because the Riff, like Barstow, is a desert and known to be inhabited by a hardy bunch.
I suppose the school could have chosen something more politically sensitive and particular to the area. Perhaps the Mojave Desert tortoise. But this was a less-sensitive time, and nobody considered the possibility that actual Riffians might be offended by being celebrated.
Besides, everyone knows how fearsome tortoises are. Hell, the mere mention of one inspires alarm.
Announcer • “And it’s fourth down with 8 to go on the Tortoise 18-yard line!”
Crowd • “Go, Turtles!”
I never gave it much thought back then, especially since the following year we moved across town, and I became a Spartan (John F. Kennedy High School). While Barstow had no similarities to ancient Greece, the Spartan mascot was picked because it was considered formidable.
Before being a Riffian, I was — well, I can’t remember what the mascot was there, but the school was located on Pork Chop Hill Street in Fort Irwin, Calif.
The surrounding streets were/are politically insensitive, named after Civil War battles like Antietam, Fort Sumter, Appomattox and Shiloh. There are also Fort Irwin streets named after the Iroquois, Apache, Choctaw, etc.
My last year of high school was spent as a Skyline Eagle in Millcreek. Today, I am a Herrimanite, which, depending on whom you ask, is either a vaguely mentioned group of Book of Mormon people, or because I live in Herriman.
Now that we’ve entered into a deeply introspective time in America — when Washington’s pro football team and the D----e Chicks are changing their names — there are many things we need to consider.
Pressed to rename military installations honoring Civil War generals, I have no idea what Fort Irwin will do with some of its street names. Change them, I suppose. Maybe something that has nothing to do with race but pertains to the military.
South Carolina’s Fort Jackson could become Fort Pushup, and Georgia’s Fort Benning, where the airborne trains and I broke my shoulder, could be Fort Acrophobia.
And my personal favorite, Oklahoma’s Fort Sill, named for Civil War Gen. Joshua W. Sill, might serve the country better as Fort Blow Sh-- Up.
I’m still trying to figure out what vegans may have to say about Pork Chop Hill.
Robert Kirby is The Salt Lake Tribune’s humor columnist. Follow Kirby on Facebook.
