My people have always had a great fear of new diseases and illnesses.
On a whim, I built a snowman on my front lawn the other day. I was shovelling the driveway during a warm spell when the temperature rose to zero degrees here in northern Ontario. At that temperature, snow turns from a crystalline sandy consistency to a more sticky substance like bread dough. It is cold enough to stay a white mass but damp enough to form into solid shapes that can stick to itself. It was perfect snowman making material and the kid in me moved into snow creative action.
I am happy to report that during this pandemic I am spending a lot of time meditating in my kitchen. I just wrapped up a big breakfast that I made with fried eggs, bacon, toast and a generous helping of air fried home fries. While cooking, I cleaned the pans, soaked some dishes and kept wiping down the counter. All this choreographed dancing in the kitchen was something I learned from my mom Susan who had taught me years ago in a fast food kitchen. At one time my parents ran a fast food restaurant in Attawapiskat.
Christmas has never been a normal affair for me my entire life. This year it seems that no one will be able to call this a normal Christmas.
The opioid crisis in Canada has resulted in many thousands of deaths over the past decade. Personally, this crisis has affected me from the people I’ve known who have fallen into this dark well of addiction. We all know people in all of our communities across Canada that have either been severely damaged or killed by the use of opioids.
I have never really been that political and I don’t think most Indigenous people are. We come from a very natural history in terms of living, communicating and working with others. Our introduction to the European way of doing things, commercialism, capitalism, ownership of land and resources, religion and how the foreigners saw reality was very different from what we knew and practised.
Remembrance Day went by and once again I found myself in sadness for those who lost their lives in war. In the Cree language we have no word for ‘war’, the idea of conflict that involves hundreds or millions of people. Instead we call it ‘Mah-shi-keh-win’ which translates to ‘fighting’. We use the same word to describe two people fighting or to talk about either of the world wars. The Great War and the Second World War took the lives of millions of people as did subsequent conflicts and wars throughout the 20th century.
I am sitting here listening to the birds outside and I can hear a squirrel or chipmunk scrambling around a few feet away on a tree. The wind is sweeping up the fallen leaves outside and I can hear the scream of a chainsaw off in the distance.
Tah-gwah-gun, or the fall season has always been a time of foreboding and worry for every culture in the northern hemisphere. It means that winter is on the way and for my people, it meant that we must prepare if we are to survive and endure another freezing season. In many ways this particular fall demands that we need to prepare for dealing with historic developments. With the turning of this season there are other changes on the horizon that are somewhat threatening.
As much as I would like to follow the recommendations for the pandemic, it is getting difficult after several months. At first I was comfortable with following the suggestions of staying away from public places and having to avoid visiting my favourite restaurants, fast food joints or places for a quick coffee. I knew that with the dangers of a new virus lurking around, mixing with the public more than essential meant I was putting myself at risk of exposure at every turn.
There is a great deal of worry, fear and anxiety to Maachestan, the Cree word for “spring break up” on the James Bay coast. There are so many variables and...
It is that time of the year when the Niska – the Canada Goose, are flying north and the traditional hunt of we Cree happens out on the land. This is...