“First present you ever got from them two was the land, my boy. See, us we were always fightin’ over who was gonna take care of you when you were still a carryin’-around baby. Us women, we wanted to be around you all the time, breastfeedin’ an all that. Me’n your granny’n your aunties we wanted you close. But them two wanted you around ’em too. So we’d all the time be fightin’ over who got to take care of you for the day. Lotta the time they won out.
“Your grampa or your dad’d strap you to their chest an’ head off into the bush to work the line. You’d be all wrapped up warm’n safe in that cradleboard an’ they’d walk around all day with you on their chest. All that time they were walkin’ through that bush they’d be talkin’ to you even though you were so small and couldn’t understand nothin’. Still they talked to you.
“When they seen a bear in the bush they’d tell you his name. Mukwa. Then they’d tell you all about that mukwa. Where he went, what he done all day, what he liked to eat’n where you should look for him. Everythin’. An’ they’d call your name out to that bear too before he disappeared. They’d say, this is my son. His name’s Garnet Raven an’ he’s Anishanabe. Then they’d tell you that the bear was your brother and you didn’t have to be afraid of him. Same thing with fox, raccoon, weasel. Introduced you to each other. Same thing with water, tree, rock, fish, everythin’ out there. Plants, insects, all of it. Told you all of it was your relative an’ the land was always gonna be your home.
“Introduced you to the world that way, my boy. Told you everythin’ an’ introduced you to all of it. So that whenever you went there anytime in your life, you’d never feel like a stranger. Days’n days they carried you around till you met everythin’. They introduced you to the world. Gave it to you as a gift.
“But even though you were too young to understand, somewhere inside you it stuck. Never went away all this time. Reason you could see all that’n know all about it. Same with all you kids. That’s the way we did things back then. It’s our tradition. Introduce you to the world. It’s our way.”
No one said a word for the longest time. Right then and right there I chose to believe it and believe that it took an awful lotta love for someone to take the time to offer the world as a gift. To take you around and introduce you to it all. Explain it, give it size, give it direction. And my heart swelled knowing I was loved that much. Still was too, judging by the way everyone was looking at me.
“Wow,” said Jane. “I didn’t know that, Ma. That’s really cool.”
“Cool ain’t the word, sister,” Stanley said. “Strong maybe.”
“Dad told me about it one time,” Jackie said, looking up at the sky. “Told me it was what I should do one day if I ever had any kids of my own. Told me it was my responsibility.”
“That’s right,” Keeper said really quietly, “that’s right. It’s your responsibility. First, though, it’s your responsibility to get to know that world yourself. Reach out, touch it, feel it, get to know it, be a part of it. Find yourself in it. Find it in you. The only time you can give it away’s when it’s part of you. That’s what our way’s all about. Feelin’ that universe inside and givin’ it to someone else sometime.”
“That’s very beautiful,” Doc Tacknyk said, “and very, very true. Makes me wish I was an Indian.”
“Hmmpfh,” Keeper said. “Some Indyun you’d make. First time we had you out to smoke fish you had to ask me which end you were supposed to light!”
We all laughed. As I sat there on that log with my brothers and sister, looking across at the fire throwing big shadows on the face of our mother, I thought of how something that started way back in that bush a long time ago had been rekindled like a fire inside me and I knew suddenly that in our own ways, in our own time, we all of us are firekeepers like Keeper talks about, lighting the fires of love and home and family for each other. Firekeepers. A responsibility and an honor.
“Ever hear what happened the first time Keeper cleaned a fish?” Doc was saying.
“No,” Jackie said. “What happened the first time Keeper cleaned a fish?”
“He started crying because he couldn’t find the ears and he wanted to make sure he scrubbed behind them too!”
Would have made a good Indian after all, that Doc.
“It’s a gift,” Keeper was saying the next morning after we’d prayed and sung and I told him about the eagle feather. “Big gift. Bird wants to honor you for what you done there. Left that for you to remind you all the time what you done. Help you remember the teachin’s that come from it.”
I was busy getting breakfast ready and he was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the stove, smoking his pipe and watching me. When I caught his eye he winked at me and smiled real big.
“So … see anythin’ special out there?” he said, sly-like and slow.
“Kaween. Nothin’ special.” I handed him his dish full of bacon and eggs.
“Hmmpfh. Thought maybe you seen somethin’.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t know. Somethin’.”
“You mean, like a vision?”
“Maybe. Vision. Dream. Strange animal. Somethin’.”
“Well, I did have a kind of strange dream one night. Night before I did the ceremony.”
“Hmmpfh,” he said with a mouthful of bannock. “Kinda dream?”
While he ate I told him about the dream of the eagles. He watched me all through the telling and his eyes moved between surprise and understanding. When he finished he relit his pipe and rocked slowly in his chair while I finished my breakfast. It was quiet for a long time.
“So what do you think it means?”
“Hmmpfh. Hard sometimes to tell with dreams. Sometimes you gotta live with ’em for a long time, goin’ back over ’em and over ’em. More gets shown that way. Deeper meanin’s, bigger teachin’s, more messages. Still, there’s somethin’ big there. Somethin’ big.”
“Like what?”
“Well, eagle’s a strong symbol. Water’s a strong symbol. Paddlin’ alone’s a strong sign too. Lots there. Gonna take you long time to sort it all out for yourself, but dreams work that way. Always gonna be more there the longer you look. But here’s what I think one big part is.
“See, you went out there lookin’ to link up with yourself. Go home, find somethin’ there maybe. Somethin’ you been missin’ you don’t even know the name of. Somethin’ you figure you lost might never get back. So you find that old cabin. Sit there. Thoughts go way back. Kinda start feelin’ part of that old cabin even though it’s only a pile of logs now. Kinda feelin’ like home inside. Fall asleep, start dreamin’. When you were runnin’ at the start was like your life before you come home. Always runnin’ lookin’ for shelter. Someplace safe. That canoe’s kinda like your shelter. Our way. The Indyun way. Anishanabe. What you always were. You found it here an’ you’re workin’ hard at lookin’ for more. Feelin’ kinda safe but wantin’ more. The calm water means you’re trustin’ your surroundings. Me, us, this place. That’s how you are when the eagles let you find them.”
“Let me find ’em?”
“Hey-yuh. Let you find ’em. See, us we’re always thinkin’ we’re discoverin’ something out there. Truth is nature’s allowin’ us to see her secrets. Them birds were waitin’ till you found ’em. Wanted to give you a message.”
“I didn’t hear no message.”
“Two eagles turnin’ into an old man and old woman means the grandfathers’n grandmothers are lookin’ out for you. Long as you stay in that canoe they’re always gonna show you which direction to take. That’s why they flew off one way together. You gotta live with that dream for a while, try’n remember which direction they flew. Go talk to a teacher then. They’ll tell you all about that direction. What it means. What kinda work you gotta do. What kinda journey you gotta take.”
“Grandfathers’n grandmothers?”
“Hey-yuh. See, that old cabin gave you back big sense of where you come from. Never had th
at before. Got a little bit from bein’ around here but not so much as you got there. Grandfathers’n grandmothers mean them that went before. Ancestors. Spirit world ancestors. Always lookin’ out for you now on accounta you were brave enough to go look for them’n yourself too. Also means tradition. The old way. Indyun way. Follow tradition where it leads and you’ll never be lost again. That’s what it means.”
“And the dance?”
“Don’t know. Not my dream. Maybe means ceremony sometime you gotta do. Maybe means you’re gonna be a dancer yourself. Dance that dance sometime. Don’t know.
“But you’n me got a lotta the same things in our paths. Need to learn same things too. That’s why we’re together. To teach each other. You gotta learn to live the same way as me. See, we got two sets of gifts inside, an’ us we gotta learn to use ’em both. Man gifts and woman gifts. You wanna be Anishanabe, live the Indyun way, you gotta learn to be whole that way. You’n me. Both of us the same. Hmmpfh. Who’da figured?”
“Figured what?”
“Two guys so diff’rent bein’ able to teach each other. Goes that way, I guess.”
“So what I do now?”
“Keep on goin’ back to that dream. Write down stuff that comes to you. Live with it. Try’n see what it’s tellin’ you. Try’n live it all the time. Got lotta responsibility havin’ a dream like that.”
“Responsibility?”
“Hey-yuh. Big gift. Same as that feather. Tellin’ you to always look an’ remember the teachin’s in it all. Do that you get more dreams. More lessons. But always gotta remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Always gotta remember … dream and vision without action ain’t nothin’.”
“Hmmpfh. You mean always keep lookin’ for more. Don’t take them lightly.”
“Hey-yuh. Teachin’s always gonna come to you different ways. Dreams sometimes. People sometimes. Animals. Different ways. Quit lookin’ for teachin’s you quit growin’. No such thing in the Indyun way as gettin’ wise. Gettin’ wisdom. Wisdom’s a path you decide to take’n follow, not someplace you get to.”
“Hmmpfh. You mean I’ll never get to be full of wisdom? That there’s always gonna be more? Stay on the path there’s always gonna be more to learn?”
“Hey-yuh. That’s what the Indyun way’s all about. Stayin’ on that good red road.”
“Red road?”
“Yeah, red road. Path of the heart. Stay on that path you learn to be three things.”
“What three?”
“Stay on the path of the heart, the red road, you learn to be a good human bein’ first. Then you learn to be a good man, or good woman dependin’ on who you’re born to be. Then because you learned to be those things sometime you find out you learned how, to be a good Anishanabe, a good Indyun. That’s the way it works. Learn to be good human bein’ everythin’ else follows. Learn to be complete. Your life’s a prayer. That’s our way. Way it’s always been.”
“So what I do with that feather?”
“Same as me. Put it up someplace where you’re always gonna see it. Someplace close to you. More you see it, the more you remember what you’re supposed to be doin’. One of these days you’ll find someone comes your way you wanna give it to maybe. Someone tryin’ to follow the same path. Someone showin’ same kinda courage.”
“Lot to it, eh?”
“Lot to what?’
“The Indyun way. Our way.”
“Hey-yuh. Lot to it. More all the time too.”
“Are we ever gonna be able to learn everything?”
“Nah. World changes all the time. More teachin’s all the time. Always gonna be more. Rules always the same, though. Rules always the same.”
“Rules of tradition?”
“Hey-yuh. Rules of life. Follow ’em you get through anythin’.”
“Funny. Remember how scared I was coming here the first time? Scared about not being able to be an Indyun, scared I’d never be able to be one, scared that I was always gonna be on the outside?”
“Yeah. Scareda that still?”
“Nah. More scared of not being enough of one now. Not living up to what I learned, y’know?”
“Hey-yuh. I know. But don’t worry. You’re doin’ good. But there’s somethin’ you’re gonna need.”
“What?”
“Gonna need those two feathers the old man gave me long long time ago. Me I wanna give ’em to you on accounta you done somethin’ took real bravery. An’ on accounta they’re a big part of who you are. Big part of that old man. Big part of me. Big part of our way. That’s who you are now. Goin’ to that cabin, doin’ that ceremony hooked you up to our way. Put it inside you. Made it into a heartsong. You listen to that song. It’s yours. It’s made up from your life. Everythin’ you went through to get here right now. This place. This moment. So me I wanna give ’em to you to help you always remember who you are.”
He got up slowly and made his way across the cabin to where those feathers hung on the east wall. The drum hung beside them. As he turned back to me I could see big tears rolling down his face and he was smiling at the same time. He walked towards me really slowly looking at those feathers in his hands. Touching them, running his hands down the edges and moving his fingers through the soft plumage at the bottom where they were joined by the moose-hide thong. I stood to meet him.
It felt like forever. An old man’n me. Keeper’n me. Two friends joined by the spirit of another old man who’d moved through our lives in different ways but left his footprints on our hearts anyway. My grampa. When he handed me those feathers we never spoke. Just looked long and deep into each other’s eyes, nodding our heads slowly.
“They’re yours now, Garnet. Always were I guess. Me I was just the keeper of these feathers too. Take ’em. You earned ’em. Honor ’em. Honor ’em by tryin’ to live a good way. Our way.”
“Meegwetch, Keeper. Meegwetch. I will. I’ll try.”
“Hey-yuh. I know you will. I know you will. You’re a good boy. It’s only right you should have these.”
“Why’s that?”
“Might look like eagle feathers right now but me I always believed they were always … Raven feathers.”
We laughed. Laughed good and deep and then we collapsed together in a great big hug. We stood there rocking back and forth with our arms wrapped around each other for the longest time. Feeling that feeling that’s got no name in our language or any other. The feeling that happens when two spirits collide and soar. Kinda like those two eagles in my dream. Two hearts and two lives joined together by that common magic born of the land. A common magic we carry within us always, bringing us together with the ones who’ll be our guides in this life, the ones we travel that good red road with.
The path of the heart. The path of the Anishanabe. The path of the human beings.
“That’s the thing with hugs,” Ma was saying later that day when we were hanging all three feathers on the east wall of her cabin. “Make you feel real good all the time. But there’s a reason. When we hug someone an’ really mean it, we get given a gift by the Creator who sent that person our way. That’s the gift of another heartbeat. We feel it on the empty side of our chests when we really squeeze that person close. The old people say when we’re really happy that extra heartbeat we feel when we’re huggin’s helpin’ us celebrate. An’ when we’re full of hurt or sore that extra heartbeat’s givin’ us the strength we need to get through whatever it is. That’s the old way of seein’ it. Makes sense to me.”
“Yeah,” I said real slowly, “yeah. Makes sense to me too. Thanks, Ma.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, my boy. Now c’mere. Your old ma wants to feel another heartbeat … help me celebrate these feathers.”
She was right. There is another heartbeat when you stop to try and feel it.
Thing with us Ojibways is, we can’t stand holding onto good news for very long without sharing it with somebody. Strange how word gets out so far and so fast sometimes. Around
here it’s called the moccasin telegraph. Word is that the moccasin telegraph’s a faster means of communication than any scientist will ever discover. All it takes is one whisper and pretty soon everyone’s in on the news. Sometimes I think us Indians got what you could call satellite ears. We can pick up the frequency of whispering a mile or more away and that’s why the moccasin telegraph’s such an amazing thing to watch. Ma’n me weren’t the least surprised when Chief Isaac and old Doc Tacknyk knocked on the door just after noon.
“Heard the good news, Garnet,” Chief Isaac said, stretching out his hand in congratulations. “Long time since anyone earned an eagle feather around here. Especially two. Prouda ya.’
“That goes for me too, Garnet,” Doc said, patting me on the back with them icy fingers. I could feel their chill right through my wool sweater and was kinda grateful I didn’t need a check-up in the near future. “Isaac and I figure this calls for something special. Don’t we, Chief.”
“Hey-yuh. We do. Fact, we were talking down at the store about it an’ we figure it’s time we had a big feast. Get everyone down to it. Get the drummers to sing you an honor song. Get everyone nice’n fat. Party it up, y’know?”
“You were talking about this down at the store?” I said. “Didn’t happen but this morning.”
“Yeah, an’ we’re all real happy for ya,” Isaac said, sitting down in a chair with a hot mug of tea he’d grabbed off the stove. “Everybody is.”
“Everybody?”
“Hey-yuh. It’s the talk of the reserve today.”
Ma giggled in the background and I saw her’n Doc trade a big wink. They both settled into chairs to hear the rest of Isaac’s plan. I just stood there leaning against the door frame, shaking my head. Even when you’re kinda used to it, the moccasin telegraph’ll amaze you sometimes.
“So what I figger is this,” Isaac said, setting his mug on the floor and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands wide open in front of him. That’s his favorite political stance. Figures it gives him that honest, just-your-neighbor politician look. “Huntin’s been good, lotta fish being smoked, everyone’s in pretty good shape foodwise, so we can all pitch in. Band office’ll throw outta buncha money for extras. Maybe we can get the drummers’n singers from Shoal Lake to come’n do us a big old round dance, party right into the morning. Sound good to you?”
Keeper'n Me Page 22
