“‘That’s very kind of you, Nanabush,’ said the tallest goose. He was the leader. ‘We would be honoured if you joined our celebration. Please feel free to offer us your dance.’
“‘Okay,’ said Nanabush. ‘It goes like this. You have to close your eyes and spin around in a circle. You have to keep your wings by your side. It’s like you’re imagining yourself in your warm new home for the winter.’” Dan stood up and demonstrated the move for the children. They giggled as he spun around with his eyes closed and a silly grin on his face.
“So the geese said okay, and they started to dance like Nanabush showed them. He looked around, and they all were spinning in circles with their eyes closed. He walked up to the big one closest to him that he’d been talking to. He kept real quiet and slowly moved his hands down to the goose’s neck.”
He mimicked the motion, leaning forward and peering into the kids’ eyes. They sat totally still.
“Then he wrung his neck!” He thrust his hands forward in threatening grips and startled them. “Then he sneaked over to the next closest one and did the same thing. And then the next one, and the next one, and the next one. They were all dancing with their eyes closed and singing, so they didn’t hear him. At the end of his evil trick, there were thirty geese lying there dead. ‘Now I won’t go hungry this winter!’ Nanabush said to himself.”
Despite their grandfather’s jovial tone, Nangohns’s and Maiingan’s eyes slid over to their parents, who continued to sip their tea, unconcerned.
“So Nanabush took all the dead geese out of the bush and piled them up by the shoreline,” Dan went on. “He stacked them neatly. It was a long day, and he was really hungry, so he started a fire to cook one of the geese. ‘I am so hungry and I am so tired,’ he said. ‘But I’m happy with my new bounty for the winter. I have all this food to myself!’
“But he was so tired, and he knew it would take some time to cook the first fat goose that he just stuck in the fire. So he decided he would take a little nap. To make sure he woke up in time before the goose got burnt, he asked his diiyosh — his bum — to wake him up.”
“His bum!?” squealed Nangohns.
“Yes, his bum!”
Both children kicked back in laughter.
“Nanabush turned and looked at his diiyosh and he said, ‘Okay, diiyosh, you better wake me up. I don’t want to burn that goose. I’m just going to have a quick sleep. You make sure it turns out okay. Keep an eye out too. Make sure no one takes all our food.’ So then Nanabush went to sleep. He slept for a really long time. Longer than he wanted to. Then all of a sudden he woke up. He was startled because the sun was starting to set and his diiyosh hadn’t woken him up.
“Nanabush looked right at the fire. It had become really big! He saw the goose’s long legs sticking out of the fire on the rocks at the edge of the firepit. He went to grab them to pull out the goose, but the legs were all that was left! The goose was in there for so long that it totally burned up. He looked at the legs in each of his hands and got really mad. Then he remembered the rest of the geese! He turned around quickly and saw that the whole pile was gone! Something came and took them all while he was asleep.
“‘Diiyosh!’ he yelled. ‘You were supposed to keep an eye out! Now our supper is burnt and our food for the whole winter is gone!’ Nanabush was so mad that he wanted to punish his diiyosh for not doing the job he asked it to do. ‘I know!’ he said. ‘I’m going to put you in the fire as punishment for not following my orders. You’ll know from now on to listen to me!’ So Nanabush sat down on the edge of the firepit and put his diiyosh in the fire.”
“He put his bum in the fire?!” said Maiingan. “Why would he want to hurt himself?”
Dan tilted his head sideways and continued. “It did start to hurt! It only took a few seconds, and Nanabush’s diiyosh was totally on fire. ‘Owwwwww!’ he screamed. He jumped up really fast and started running around in circles.” He sprung from his chair and shuffled quickly around the kids’ spot on the floor, circling them while holding his butt. High-pitched laughter soared through the room.
“He was panicking!” Dan raised his voice, standing in front of them. “His diiyosh was on fire, and he needed to put it out! But he was too far from the water just to jump in, so he ran and jumped bum-first onto the rocks and slid down. He kept sliding down the rocks on his diiyosh until the fire was out. He kept going until all the burnt skin came off his diiyosh.”
He paused and sat back down. “So you know all those green things you see on rocks in the summertime? Some are like little plants. Some just look like skin on the rock.”
The children both nodded.
“That’s from Nanabush’s burnt bum. When he slid down the rocks, it left all that behind. Some people call that green stuff ‘moss’ and ‘lichen.’”
Evan spoke up behind them. “Neat, eh? Can you think of any other important lessons in that story?”
“I know! I know!” said Maiingan, shooting up his hand.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t be greedy!”
“Don’t be greedy!” Nangohns echoed.
“That’s right,” Evan said. “And always be ready for winter.”
Twenty-Six
The volunteers gathered again at the shop to prepare for another food handout. The morning was again crisp and frigid, exacerbating the gnawing hunger in the guts of the people who woke up at sunrise to beat the rush before the usual long line formed.
“We gotta keep an eye on a few of them,” said Tyler, alluding to some people who had become unruly the week before and some who were suspected of hoarding supplies from others, especially the elderly. They’d speculated whether Scott was intimidating people into handing over food or trading it for the few drops of contraband booze that remained.
“So what are we eating this week?” asked Evan.
Terry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stringy beard. He tilted his chair forward to look at a sheet of scrawled notes, the makeshift inventory of the food supplies. “Uhhh . . . chilli.”
“Chilli it is,” said Tyler. He turned to Evan and gave him a friendly slap in the gut. “Let’s go.”
They marched into the back of the machine shop. Except for Isaiah tending the fire in the furnace, the room was dark. Their breath still plumed in the cold, and the air was heavy with the smell of machine grease. They shone small plastic flashlights onto the stacks of boxes piled to the right and the beams danced across the scattered stacks of supplies that had dwindled considerably. Evan’s flashlight located the boxes at the far end of the wall labelled Chilli, and they began the task of hauling them back to the front room and stacking them in front of Terry, who was still peering at the inventory sheet in the faint morning light.
The place gradually warmed up with Isaiah’s tending. After next week’s ration day, they’d have to get more wood. They estimated they’d have about eight more ration days before the snow melted and people could turn their attention to planting gardens and foraging the wild spring plants. The cache would not last forever, and they had to produce the next season’s food.
“There’s only one box left,” said Tyler.
“Just one?” asked Evan, a couple of steps behind him.
“Yeah, I can’t see any more lying around.”
“Shit, me neither,” he said. “Let’s go tell Terry.”
Terry leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair before he let out a slow “Goddamn.” There were only a little over two hundred cans of chilli left and this didn’t match his inventory. He was sure there should be more but he didn’t know where they could have gone.
“There’s not gonna be enough,” Terry conceded. “Go back and get some boxes of that canned ham.”
“They’re gonna be upset,” said Isaiah, coming in from the back. “They just got that last week. No one likes leftovers
.”
Terry failed to notice the sarcasm. “I don’t give a shit. It’s a free fuckin’ handout!”
“Whoa whoa whoa, chill! I was just kidding.”
“Funny guy. Go get the corn and beans then.”
Terry arranged the tables in a row in front of the supplies, facing the door. It opened, letting in a burst of cold air ahead of Jeff Whitesky and Walter and Dave Meegis.
People would be arriving soon. They had been coming earlier every week, as worry over depleting supplies simmered through many homes. For many of the families that didn’t hunt or fish, months of eating canned food was wearing on them. Their diet was a rotation of cans of ham, tuna, sausages, corn, peas, beans, various soups, and other non-perishables. They complained bitterly but they still felt entitled to the food, and took the band’s preparedness for granted. Who knew how they would cope when the stores ran out.
Amanda Jones and Debbie McCloud walked through the door. “Morning, boys,” Amanda said. “What’s on the menu today?”
Holding up his scribbled list, Walter peered over his glasses at them. “Chilli, ham, beans, and corn.”
“Yum!” said Debbie, sarcastically. She rubbed her belly. She was thinner now like most others.
“Thanks for coming,” said Terry, from the corner. He was still nominally the chief, but the strongest members of the council — especially Walter — had taken over a lot of the decision-making. Terry couldn’t bear to make the tough choices that might alienate some of the townspeople. And these days, all their choices were tough ones.
They organized the dole line mostly in silence. Occasionally, someone would crack a cheap joke or tease another. The people in that room had accepted that life as they had become accustomed to in the last two decades would not return.
The building finally warmed up. Debbie untied her heavy black boots so she could take off her snow pants. Amanda removed her red parka and draped it over one of the chairs. The door cracked open and a sharp ray of sunshine shot across the floor. A hooded head and scarfed face poked through the small opening. “Is it food day?” Evan recognized Katie Birch, who had moved into her mother Vera’s place with her three kids.
“Ehn biindigen,” Walter said from his seat, waving her in.
Katie walked in and closed the door behind her. She pulled down her scarf and pushed back the hood of her jacket. She pulled three canvas bags out of her pockets. She smiled as she approached the table, revealing stained teeth. Toothpaste was another of the household items gone from people’s lives.
“What you need today, sweetie?” asked Debbie. “You still at your mom’s place?”
“Yep,” Katie replied. “Me and the kids are still there. Just the five of us still. My brother’s still at my place, but I haven’t seen him in a few days. I have a feeling he might come to my mom’s too, though. It’s cold there, and Scott’s cheap with the firewood. Keeps it all to himself.”
Terry looked down at his sheet. “Youse guys got any of that moose meat left?”
“Yep, we still got some. It probably won’t last much longer though.”
“Hmmmmm.”
“Okay, let’s see your bags then,” said Amanda. “We’re running out of chilli. Hope you don’t mind ham in a can.”
“Whatever you got,” Katie replied. “I’m just happy youse guys are doing this. We’d be pretty hungry by now if you didn’t.”
Tyler and Evan filled her bags with four cans of chilli, ten cans of the ham, ten cans of beans, and eight cans of corn. Homes with small children got priority with the protein-rich food, and the staff and council decided who needed what at their own discretion. They were growing suspicious of some people they believed were abusing the handouts.
Isaiah and Evan brought the bags back to Katie, who offered a simple miigwech and a smile before going back out the door and loading them on her plastic sled to pull home.
The morning proceeded mostly in quiet routine. Twenty cans of canned ham went to some. Fifteen went to others. They tried to spread out the chilli sparingly and fairly. Brandon Jones said he needed more cans of meat because his brother Matt’s family had just moved in with them. Jeff reminded him that they’d eventually have to get out and hunt. Brandon didn’t appreciate what he felt was scolding and told him to fuck off as he left.
By midday, a lineup had formed that snaked out the door and around the building. People held large backpacks, empty hockey bags, and plastic sleds at their sides, anticipating heavy hauls. Many faces had lost colour and some bore even the yellow stain of malnutrition.
Inside, the crew worked as quickly as possible to fill bags and answer questions. None had expected this sudden rush to the handout. There were lineups in previous weeks, but they hadn’t formed this quickly. It made them all uneasy. What’s behind this? thought Evan. What kind of rumours were going around that they hadn’t heard?
People in the line grew restless. With the door propped open as people tried to squeeze in, the team could hear shouting outside. Walter told Evan, Isaiah, and Tyler to go out and investigate.
Outside the shouts were crisp, cutting accusations and threats. “Fuck you, you’re the one who butted in front of me!” yelled one man. Evan recognized his cousin Jason. “Fuck that, asshole, step back!” said another man. He saw the tussle brewing about halfway down the line. As they approached, they could see that it was Tyler’s brother fighting with Jason.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Tyler shouted. “Break it up!” He stepped between their punches, taking a couple errant blows to the face in the process. Their heavy jackets and sweaters slowed their swings, but the men were bloody, with split lips and crunched noses. Others stepped in to pull them apart but soon got caught up in the violence and began scrapping with each other. Pent-up tension exploded along the line and it quickly descended into an all-out brawl.
Men and women swore and yelled. Adrenaline surged through Evan as he saw blood dripping from his cousin’s ashen face. They didn’t get along, but Jason was still family. He ploughed in, pulling at arms, punching at any face he could see until he found himself toe-to-toe with Tyler.
He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Tyler’s torso and driving him into the side of the shop. His cap came off and his long brown hair flew about. The slam knocked the wind out of Tyler. “What the fuck, Ev?” he grunted out as he tried to get his breath back. “Calm down! What are you doing?” He pushed at Evan’s arms to free himself from the grip.
Four sharp cracks of gunfire pierced the havoc, bringing silence to the melee. Justin Scott stood at the bottom of the road leading up to the shop, holding a handgun in the air. Despite the freezing temperatures, his bald head was bare, bouncing the sunlight back up to the sky. To his right stood Brad Connor, another of the newcomers.
Scott lowered the gun to his side and walked forward, the other man a step behind him. “Settle down.”
Evan and Tyler stood side by side, with dishevelled jackets and tussled hair. Scott looked at them. “Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into you two? I thought you were supposed to be the reasonable ones around here?”
Evan looked down at his boots. His damn temper had gotten out of control again, which hardly ever happened before all this. “They ran out of the fruit cocktail in there,” Tyler quipped. Evan snorted and wiped his warm snot on his sweater sleeve. He looked back at Scott, who just shook his head.
“Is the whole gang inside?” Scott asked Evan, who nodded. “Alright then.” He looked to Connor and gestured with his head in the direction of the building. “Let’s go.”
Both men strolled past the queue of hungry people, who stared at them in resentment. Scott towered over everyone else in the community, even Tyler, and Connor was only a few inches shorter. Their pale faces shimmered in the daylight. Scott ignored everyone, but Connor surveyed the line cautiously. Scott threw the door open and walked inside.
Debbie, Walter, and Terry l
ooked up to see the men stroll in ahead of the line. Walter sighed, and Terry guided his expression to neutrality. Debbie handed a bag to a young father at the front of the line and asked, “What’s up, boys?”
“Oh, we just came by to see how the handouts were going today,” Scott answered. He sauntered towards the table and sat down in one of the open chairs at the side. Connor stayed at the wall by the door. He scratched his thick red beard before putting his hands in the pockets of his snowmobile jacket.
“Steady as she goes,” Debbie replied.
“Really?” Scott cocked his head. “Because it looked like you had a brawl outside just a couple minutes ago.”
“People are hungry,” Debbie shrugged. “It’s cold out today too.”
The people standing in the inside food line watched Scott uneasily. He looked at the line of brown faces with hollowing cheeks. The heads without toques or ball caps were shaggy and greasy. The growing desperation was palpable and none of the leadership in the room could deny it.
“If you guys want some, you’re gonna have to go to the back of the line,” Debbie said as she handed another full canvas bag back to a young woman. “We gotta keep this going.”
Scott cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on Terry and Walter, who were trying to focus on the lists of people and supplies in front of them. “I think we’re good for today, thanks,” he declared, as if to make some kind of point. “We snared a few pretty big rabbits the other day. That’s probably more than you can say for anyone else here.”
Terry’s eyes cut sharply to Scott. Scott stood up and stepped closer to them. The young woman waiting for her food shuffled backwards. He put both hands on the table and leaned in. His deep-set blue eyes moved from Terry to Walter to Debbie and back.
“I know you’re running out,” he whispered. “And if you think you can just brush off shit like what just happened outside, you’re delusional.” He leaned in closer. “They’re gonna go crazy. They’re gonna get violent. And when the last can goes from that room in the back there, they’re gonna come for you. Unless they get their shit together, you’re gonna have a serious crisis on your hands.”
Moon of the Crusted Snow Page 15
