Little Drummer Boy – an Anishinabe Christmas tale

I have often been asked by non-Aboriginal friends how Aboriginal people long ago used to spend Christmas or what Christmas meant to them.
Most Indian reservations were located way up north in remote wilderness and often cut off from the rest of the world. What we knew about Christmas came through a Sony transistor radio powered by an Eveready battery.
The most popular radio station at the time was CKRC out of Winnipeg and the most famous radio announcer was a man by the name of Porky Sharp. He played all the Christmas carols you could ever want to hear.
My first introduction to Christmas was when my grandparents took me to the Hudson Bay store which was located on an island. I was fascinated to see a cardboard cut out Coca Cola advertisement, which pictured Santa helping himself to a pop from a refrigerator and being caught in the act by a little boy.
That was one of the old familiar paintings by Norman Rockwell, admired by everyone. Coke or any soda was only 10 cents then.
I would go through the Eaton’s Christmas catalogue for hours and long for the toys pictured there. We never did order anything from the catalogue. I guess, because we had very little use for money back then as we had all we needed living off the land.
We only bought certain provisions from the Hudson Bay store, like flour, tea and sugar. Toys of any kind were not stocked by the Hudson Bay at the time and mostly we carved up our own toys from wood. Bows and arrows were popular and little boats in the summer.
I had this thought – perhaps if I made a Christmas tree ... Santa would bring all these things for me. That’s when I started collecting all the candy wrappers I could find to decorate my Christmas tree with. I started sizing up our wood stove pipes and I couldn’t convince myself Santa would fit coming down through those little pipes. I figured he was a little too fat for them.
That’s when I decided to put my tree outside in the snow... just to make sure he would not miss it when he went by.
That Christmas Eve, I went to bed early assuming Santa would come soon and feeling really assured he would see my tree ... and leave all those presents for me!
Early the next morning, even before I had breakfast, I headed outside to see what Santa put under my tree. Much to my disappointment, there was nothing there. I dug around the tree almost to the ground, figuring it may have been covered up by the snow. But no, there was nothing there. I was very disappointed and sat there crying, secretly hoping my grandmother would come out to the rescue.
But she didn’t and I think the cold got me before I finally, reluctantly, went inside. I was offered food to eat by my grandmother but I was too frustrated to swallow a bite.
My grandmother never said anything, not even to comfort my sadness or anger. I remember pestering her while she was sitting on the floor sewing. My grandfather was also working on something across from her and he paid no attention either. My grandmother just made one comment, something in the order of, “What is wrong with this one?”
I cried and I cried and in the end I began to accept my tears were of no use. I began to simmer down and just sat watching what my grandmother was doing.
It was at that point my grandfather set aside his project (it was a snowshoe he was working on). “Are you finished,” he asked? “Come here. Come on.”
Reluctantly, I went over to him. He told me to sit down. “Let me tell a story,” he said.
A long time ago, there was this orphan boy who had no mother or father. He had no grandparents, nor any brothers and sisters. He lived in this certain village with people who looked after him. Orphans then were treasured by our people because they had favour with the Creator.
One day this little boy had a vision. There was a child to be born who would be the chief of all chiefs somewhere out there and he didn’t know exactly where, but all he knew was he was to go.
He told his chief and the Elders about his vision and that he had somehow been chosen by a spirit and powerful force to set in search of a baby who was to be great for all.
The Elders had already been foretold before the boy approached and they all knew he had to go.
So the boy went, not really knowing where he was going except that he would be guided by a certain star and a spirit.
He traveled for many days, through hills, bushes, crossing rivers, mountains and valleys. It was not easy. There was this certain time he was faced with terrible weather. It was raining and turned to a freezing rain. He was very cold and he just couldn’t go on anymore. Finally he had to stop, very weak, hungry and frozen.
He started crying out to his mother and grandparents. He finally fell to his knees saying, “I give up.”
But after a few thoughts, he said, “No. I’m not going to die here, where I will be eaten.”
With the last of his energy, he crawled over to what he could make out up ahead was a stump, where a tree had fallen.
He could see a dry place underneath and he crawled in as far as he could.
He did not know how long he was in there when, all of sudden, he could feel someone touching him and heard a voice saying, “My grandchild, I found you.”
He could see a very beautiful woman, more beautiful than anyone can look like in this life.
He was so weak and half-asleep, but he knew he had been rescued and was now safe. He could also sense there were two other young women standing outside.
Before he went to sleep he felt taken in the arms of these women, cuddling him and nursing him and singing him to sleep.
He didn’t know how long he slept. Coming awake, he could still feel someone touch his face. He opened his eyes and there was a big bear licking him! He crawled so fast out of there, yelling and panicking! He ran off as fast as he could. Then, at a safe distance, he looked back.
A mother bear and her two cubs were standing by the tree as if they were waving at him. Apparently, he had crawled into a bear den. What amazed him was that he was not tired anymore, or hungry and he continued his journey, his quest.
On his journey, he came to many nations and at times he thought this is where the search for the chief of chiefs or king of kings would end.
But no, his search always took him further on until he came to this certain village, a much bigger nation by a big lake, a lake so large he could see no land beyond. The chiefs and Elders came out to meet him as soon as they saw him.
“We were expecting you,” they told him. “Come sit with us by the fire.”
He noticed there were two other boys like him. The chiefs and elders said that one of the boys is to be chosen to cross this great lake and represent our nation to this newborn great leader.
‘You are chosen’
They were told that they would have to sing and drum before the people.
The boy thought to himself, “I can’t even sing, nor drum. How ... how am I supposed to do that?”
He began to worry until he heard a voice saying, not to worry, that he is here to help him sing. He looked all around for where this voice was coming from until finally, he looked down and saw a turtle. “Who are you?” the boy asked. “I am your guidance and the spirit is within me,’’ the turtle said. “Trust me.”
They were all taken to this powwow circle and all the dancers were gathering.
One of the other boys sang first. He sang a very good song and everyone danced to his song without missing a beat. Then the next boy sang, and he was even better. Eagle whistles blew and people danced to his song until they could dance no more.
Wow, the boy thought, I can’t do that. However, his turn had come. He started singing and not really knowing how his song came. All the people just got up gathered around him because they were amazed by his song. His singing and drumming echoed throughout the forest and the animals stopped what they were doing, and they all came to him too. Many eagles were flying above.
After he finished, all the orcas, dolphins and whales in the big lake could be seen jumping out of the water. Then the Elder spoke.
“You are the chosen one to represent our nation. Tomorrow you will journey out there,” pointing out into the ocean.
The next day he was given a canoe. He started paddling until, in every direction, all he could see was water.
He paddled until he could do no more. He was too tired and sleepy to go on and he just collapsed inside the canoe.
The last thing he heard was the voice of the turtles telling him they would take over for him. And the sound of the whales and the orcas, they too were guarding him.
He slept until he was awakened by his canoe pounding on land. He got up and all he could see was sand.
The voice of the turtle came again, telling him he would have to travel at night and follow the brightest star.
He traveled many nights and met very strange tribes he had never met before. He was able to communicate with sign language which is universal for us all.
Then finally he came to this town. Something was very different about it. The light of the stars seem to shine to a certain place.
When he came there, he found it was a small place with people lined up holding all kinds of gifts.
He knew then he had found this child he had been sent to seek.
He wondered, “I have nothing to give?” Then when he got up to the door, the keeper asked him. “What nation do you represent?”
“The Turtle Island,” the boy said. “And what gifts do you bring for the newborn child? You must have a gift for him to enter.”
Near to tears, the boy pleaded, saying that he had travelled the furthest to be here, and was sent by his nation to represent them.
Then the voice of a woman came from inside, saying to let the boy come in.
Nervously, he entered and saw a baby laying on a cushion of grass in a cradle. 
Softly he spoke and said, “I have no gift that is fit for you, I’m just a poor boy too. All I have is my drum. Shall I play my drum for you?”
The baby looked intently at him and nodded.  The boy played his best for him. Even the ox and lambs kept time with the beat of his drum. His drum could be heard throughout the land. When he finished, the baby smiled.
Then the boy picked a clump of grass that lined the cradle where the baby lay and said, “I will take this back to my people as proof I was here to honour you.”
The grass smelled sweet. To this day we burn sweetgrass for purification.
It seemed as if he could hear voices coming from the baby child.
“You are Anishnabe, children of Creation. You are blessed with a great land, to share forever. Your drums will speak and bring all nations together. Drum and sing always.”
“You see,” my grandfather said, “it is not about receiving, it is all about giving. Not just one day out of a year, but four seasons and 365 days a year.
“He who gives, brings about the greatest for all creation. Many have lost sight of that reality. Look at the birds and animals, the lakes and rivers and streams. He is here all the time, he talks to us through the sound of winds and he is the breath of all things.”
“Grandfather,” I asked, “where is this baby now who was born to be king of all kings?” He touched my chest and said, “Here.”
“Yes,” he continues. “He became a man. You see, he never owned a home. He never had anything or luxury of any kind, he never held any high position, yet he healed the sick, he made the blind see and the crippled walked again.
“You can take all the kingdoms from every corner of the world and stack them all together, all the famous people that ever walked on earth. No one ... no one will ever equal the impact that this one little baby child had on us all. When he became a man, he died for all, they say, and he was buried in a borrowed grave through a pity of a friend.”
“What for, grandfather?”
“Because he spoke the truth, the truth was in him. So there could be a new beginning. That is the thrill of hope and the world to know he lives in everyone. That’s the spirit.” 
I don’t know when my grandmother got up, but all of sudden I heard a noise and I turned to look.
My grandmother was walking towards me and in her arms was a little puppy.
“Here,” she said.
“Where did he come from?” I questioned.
“He was tied to your tree outside and we brought him in because he was cold.”
In a flash, I understood.
“He came, didn’t he?” I asked. “Santa Claus?”
My grandfather grinned, nodding his head.
I was the happiest kid on earth that day. The radio played on. I played my best for him, bah rom ba bom ra ba bom.
Then he smiled at me… On my drum… me and my drum...
To this day, I can hear the song that played at that moment. It was called The Little Drummer Boy.
Yes, this was one version that I know from a Christmas ... long ago ... my time.
Awsa. Merry Christmas to all!