Then, whoops, it happens again. So the Nishnaabeg invite them over one more time for a serious discussion with no pie. Just tea this time.
This time those neighbours say, “Whoa, whoa. What you people getting all in a knot for? What you people doing being so uptight all the time? We are just living our lives. Doing our thing. We can’t stop trampling all your medicines or our economy fall apart and we’ll have no health care and we’ll get sick. You don’t want us to get sick, do you, Nishnaabeg?”
Nishnaabeg don’t want anyone to get sick. Sick is no fun.
“Everything is going to be okay, Nishnaabeg,” those neighbours say.
“We do better. See? Your plants, they’re not so trampled. They’re already coming back. You’re making a big deal about nothing. We’ll be more careful. It won’t happen again.”
Then, whoops, it happens again. And those neighbours go and plant a lawn and geraniums right on top of where Nishnaabe medicines are supposed to be.
Nishnaabeg start to get mad. They start to think that those neighbours are not honourable. Maybe those neighbours are doing a bit of lying. Maybe those neighbours are trying to pull the wool over those Nishnaabeg eyes.
So they have a big meeting, and they don’t invite the neighbours this time. Nimkiig Binesiwag watches from above. Everybody has ideas about what to do. But which idea is going to work? That’s always the problem.
Somebody says, “This idea going to work, this is the way to go, I’m sure of it.”
Then a woman says, “What about this? You forgot about this. This is going to be a problem.”
It goes around like that for a long time.
Every time they get close to deciding, a particular Niimkii Binesi, Echo-maker, flies over the meeting, booming and crashing, saying, “No, no, no. Don’t decide when you’re all mad. Don’t decide too quick. Take your time on this one. Sleep on it. Go get massages first. Then decide. Everybody acts nice after massages. Clears the head and heart.”
So those Nishnaabeg go and get massages. The real nice kind with dim lights and new-age music and flannel sheets.
In the meantime, though, those Nimkiig Binesiwag have their own meeting. They know that big pot of really-bad-medicine-soup is leaking and they know who they need to talk with. Except she is kinda snippy sometimes, that one. She does good work, but sometimes Nimkiig Binesiwag maybe get a little jealous or offended, or maybe that one that lives in the water maybe gets a little snippy and then next thing you know someone throws a rock or someone gets called a monster and then maybe a fight gets on.
So Nimkiig Binesiwag have to be careful. They have to go carefully down to that beach and give her name a call, all sweet like, “Mishibizhiw,”—or maybe her nickname, “Bizhiw.” Maybe put out an offering. Maybe sing that song she likes, about the time First Striker didn’t duck fast enough and lost a tail feather. Maybe she’ll sing that one just to get her in a cushy mood.
But, while the Nimkiig Binesiwag are talking and deciding and taking their time, and, while Echo-maker is flying around trying to get those Nishnaabeg to their massages before they make a bad decision, Overseer goes down to the beach, puts an offering down, and sings that song. Overseer is an old and wise Nimkii Binesi, I’ll tell you that. She’s been around the block a few times and knows what she’s doing.
Then she waits.
SHE WAITS AND WAITS.
SHE WAITS AND WAITS AND WAITS.
SHE WAITS SOME MORE.
Then she starts to get impatient. Like maybe Bizhiw is there and just not coming up so she can see her. Maybe she’s even making her wait on purpose.
Overseer flies over the water to see what she can see. See if she can see any signs.
The water gets all choppy, and the wind gets all excited like maybe something is going to happen. Then, the sky gets all dark and grey-coloured.
“HOLA, what happened to my sunny day? NIMKIIG BINESIWAG, gimme my sunny day back! I’m working on my tan because I have a hot date tonight. Got a new fancy party dress, going to that new place to eat, and I WANT MY SUNNY DAY BACK!” yells Bizhiw.
“Oh, why, Aaniin, Bizhiw, so nice to see you. I bet you gonna look some kinda fine in that new party dress. I’ll give you your sunny day back, don’t you worry. You’ll get your sunny day back in time for your tan and your date. But first, I need you to do something for me.”
Overseer gets out some candy and gives it to Bizhiw. Everybody wants to be a helper after candy.
Then Overseer butters Bizhiw up: “This job is really, really important. The survival of the lake depends upon it. The survival of the Nishnaabeg depends upon it. The survival of Bizhiwag and Binesiwag depend upon it. And you, Bizhiw, are the only one smart enough, fast enough, and with enough sucking power to do it.”
Bizhiw eats up the candy. “Hey, Overseer, how about licorice next time. Red, not the black.”
“Okay, Bizhiw, next time licorice.”
Bizhiw thinks about Overseer’s request. “I am really fast. And I am very smart, and nobody—I mean NOOOOOBODY—can suck like me. It’s true.”
“Yep, it is. Now pay attention. I need you to swim down the river. They just dredged it out, and there is lots of deep. Swim down that river until you get to the bridge. Then take a hard left.”
“But there is no hard left.”
“True, you are going to have to dig.”
“Dig? I just got my nails done. I am not digging. Like the colour?”
“Oh, yes. The colour is perfect. Blueberry, na?”
“Ehn, it’s blueberries all right.”
“I’ll fix your nails after the dig, okay? My auntie does nails; I’ll get you a special deal. No problem. She does feet too. Okay?”
“Okay. So you take a hard left and dig horizontal, like, for maybe 500 metres. Then you going to be right at the big pot of really-bad-medicine-soup.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Then you suck and suck and suck. Suck all that really bad medicine out of the big pot. Till it’s gone.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Overseer?”
“Yep?”
“Do I got time for a little fun on the way home after all that sucking?”
“Like what?”
“Maybe knock down that machine that makes all the birchbark?”
“I dunno. That’s going to make the neighbours really mad.”
“The neighbours are already really mad because that soup they were making is all gone.”
“Okay. Maybe hit it by mistake with your tail on the way back out. Then call me; I’ll set that appointment up with my auntie for your nails and feet. I’ll get you a real bargain.”
The next day, those Nishnaabeg are coming out of Echo-maker’s Massage Therapy Clinic, when they see some kind of strange blue light off in the distance. It’s at the base of the mountain, sort of imploding and maybe getting sucked into the ground, like a big vacuum just under the surface. Their eyes are a little blurry from all that dim light and that padded toilet seat you put your face in at the massage place. They think they not seeing right.
But when they get home, the neighbours all gone. No house, no lawn, no geraniums, no fence even. Like they were never there. Like they are under a large invisibility cloak or something. Erased. Gone. Kaput. Maybe it was all just a bad dream. The Nishnaabeg sit down in their house all relaxed, have some tea, maybe a snack. Try to remember what they were doing before those neighbours showed up.
Nishnaabemowin: Nimkiig Binesiwag are thunderbirds, in some areas people just say “Binesiwag,” in others they just say “Nimkiig,” and sometimes it is a combination of the two; nahow means okay; semaa (asemaa) is tobacco; biindigen washk is rhubarb; Bizhiw is lynx and is a reference to Mishibizhiw, the underwater lynx; bizhiwag are lynxes.
10
WANT
Sometimes our Elders and storytellers talk about Wiindigoog. Wiindigoo is a kind of monster who is always hungry, and, no matter what Wiindigoo eats, she never feels full. No matt
er how many toys Wiindigoo has, he always wants more. No matter how many trees Wiindigoo cuts down to make into paper, Wiindigoo always wants to cut down more. No matter how many lego sets Wiindigoo has, he always needs one more. Wiindigoo always wants more.
This can be kind of a problem for Wiindigoog; Wiindigoog are so hungry that they are always trying to snack on things that would rather not be snacked on. Some people say that the problem is that they have a lot of want inside them, and their want is always growing bigger and bigger.
One day, along time ago, in dagwaagin, the Wiindigoog were planning on making a snack out of Nanabush and Nokomis. Zhagashkaandawe, the flying squirrel, overheard the Wiindigoog plans, and she went directly to Nanabush to warn her.
But Nanabush was sleeping.
“Wake up, Nanabush! Wake up!” shouted Zhagashkaandawe.
Nanabush kept on snoring.
Zhagashkaandawe tried again in her loudest, most yelly, outside voice.
“WAKE UP NANABUSH!”
But Nanabush just kept on snoring.
Zhagashkaandawe was getting worried, so she got tricky. She went outside and collected some pine cones. Then she crawled to the top of the lodge and dropped them on old Nanabush’s face.
“YEEEOOWWWW!” screamed Nanabush. “What is going on here?”
Zhagashkaandawe spoke quickly and clearly and told Nanabush of the Wiindigoog plan.
Nanabush was immediately concerned because she knew Nokomis was getting old, and quick travel was hard for her. But Zhagashkaandawe had an idea. “I know a place where Nokomis can hide. On the other side of the big waterfall is a beautiful maple forest. It can only be reached by crossing over the river on a log. The Ninaatigoog will take care of Nokomis.”
“Miigwech, Zhagashkaandawe! That is a good idea,” Nanabush said, leaving a pile of hazelnuts for that squirrel. She set off for Nokomis’s camp to tell her about the Wiindigoog snack plan.
When Nokomis heard the news, she immediately began to roll the birchbark up to her lodge. She packed up her things, put her pack on, and they set off towards the waterfall. When they got to the Ninaatigoog, Nanabush built a new lodge, and Nokomis put her sheets of birchbark around it.
The Wiindigoog were not too far behind Nanabush and Nokomis, but, when they got to the waterfall, they stopped dead in their tracks. The Ninaatigoog appeared to be engulfed in a raging fire. The Wiindigoog talked amongst themselves. They decided on something different for their snack, leaving Nanabush and Nokomis alone.
You see, the Ninaatigoog were in their fall colours, so, when the Wiindigoog looked across the river, what they thought was fire was really the crimson-red colour of the trees. What they thought was smoke was really mist from the waterfall. They had been fooled by the maple trees. The Ninaatigoog had been a nest of safety for Nanabush and Nokomis.
Nanabush was very thankful to the Ninaatigoog, so she made their sap very sweet. Even today, the Nishnaabeg feel very safe and happy when we are in the sugar bush, just like Nokomis and Nanabush so long ago felt. Even today—no, especially today—the Nishnaabeg think about how unbalanced things can get when the want inside us gets out of control.
Nishnaabemowin: Wiindigoog is the plural of Wiinidigo and refers to a kind of monster; dawaagin is the fall; zhagashkaandawe is a flying squirrel; and ninaatigoog (ininatigoog) are maple trees.
11
ZHIGAAG’S POWERFUL MEDICINE
“Nbakade! Nbakade! Nbakade!” Nanabush yelled. “I’m hungry!”
Hunting seemed like too much work. Fishing seemed like too much work. Snaring rabbits seemed like too much work. Ricing had seemed like too much work last fall, so Nanabush didn’t put any in his cache. The maple sugar from last spring was too good to save; Nanabush had already gobbled his up. There were no berries or roots or plants to be seen.
“Nbakade!”
“That Zhigaag never seems to do much work,” thought Nanabush. “I never see her working too hard, but she always has food to eat. Hmmmmm.”
“Zhigaag! Zhigaag!” Nanabush hollered as he went off to find Skunk.
Finding her sleeping in her den, Nanabush called, “Zhigaag, I need some of your skunk medicine. I’m hungry and lazy, and I think you have all this skunk medicine, and you should share.”
“Hmmm,” thought Zhigaag. “It is a very good thing to share, and I can see that you are very hungry. But my skunk medicine is powerful, and it takes a long time to learn how to use it. You have to be careful.”
“I am very, very good at being careful,” replied Nanabush. “Exceptionally good, really.”
“Nahow. I’ll share, but you have to agree to follow my instructions. No tricks,” said Zhigaag.
Nanabush passed Zhigaag his semaa. “Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “I am also very good at following instructions. I follow them right down to the letter. I never make mistakes. You can count on me.”
Zhigaag wasn’t so sure. “Are you sure, Nanabush? Are you sure you can follow my instructions?”
“Ehn! Ehn! Ehn! No worries, Zhigaag.”
So Zhigaag lifted her tail and transferred the skunk medicine into Nanabush’s butt. Oh, that Nanabush thought he was something now, with all that skunk power. Zhigaag told him to go to his lodge and play his drum until Mooz showed up. She said that he could use his new skunk medicine on the Mooz and have a big feast. Nanabush thanked Zhigaag and started to walk to his lodge, all proud with his new skunk power.
Pretty soon, he thought he should at least test it out and see if it was working. He decided to boogidi some skunk medicine out at a tree, just as a test, and CABOOM! The tree exploded.
“SHTAA SHTAA TAA HAA!” shouted Nanabush. “This is AWESOME!”
Pretty soon, he thought that the last test might have been a fluke, at least scientifically. So, he did another boogidi, and skunk medicine flew out at a lake, and CABOOM! A beautiful fountain of water appeared.
“SHTAA SHTAA TAA HAA!” shouted Nanabush. “This is AMAZING!”
Pretty soon, he thought, “Let’s try best two out of three.” CABOOM! A rock exploded into dust.
“SHTAA TAA HAA!” shouted Nanabush. “This is WICKED!”
Pretty soon, he thought, “Really, it is four that is the sacred number. I can’t really just stop at three because that would be so unbalanced. Things come in fours for the Nishnaabeg.”
So, he did a boogidi, and skunk medicine flew out at Beaver’s lodge, and CABOOM! The logs were up in the air, scattered everywhere. They even fell to the ground in a perfectly stacked woodpile.
“SHTAA SHTAA TAA HAA!” shouted Nanabush. “This is SO ROCK AND ROLL!”
Then Nanabush continued on to his lodge. He sat and played his drum, just as Zhigaag had instructed, and pretty soon Mooz showed up, just as Zhigaag had said he would.
Nanabush turned around and farted out his skunk medicine, but nothing happened. He tried again and again and again. They were just regular old farts, no Zhigaag.
Mooz waited around to see if Nanabush could get his act together, but after a while Mooz got bored and left, and Nanabush had to go back to hunting the hard way. But he remembered this event for a long, long time. He carried it in his bones, and the next time someone gave him instructions, he tried his very best to be responsible.
Nishnaabemowin: Zhigaag is skunk; nahow is okay; semaa (asemaa) is tobacco; ehn means yes; boogijizh is to fart, literally spray, or do as the skunk does; boogidi is a fart; shtaa taa haa! means awesome; mooz is moose.
12
THE PLACE OF MUDDY WATER
In the fall, dagwaagin, the Nishnaabeg, are busy getting ready for bboon. They are out on the lake ricing, smoking fish, drying berries, harvesting their vegetables and medicines—getting all the food they will need for the winter cached.
This dagwaagin, however, Nanabush is gitimi, he is feeling kind of lazy.
“Oh, the winter is so hard,” he complained. “It is so hard to hunt. Ice fishing is so boring. The wind is so cold. The nights are so long. Winter is so much work.”
/> Just then, a flock of Nikag flew overhead in a V, heading to Zhaawanong for the winter.
“Hmmmmm,” thought Nanabush. “It would be kind of nice to spend the winter in Zhaawanong. Fishing would be easy with the ocean right there. I could spend most of my time just lying on the beach!”
So Nanabush headed down to the minomiin beds to wait for the Nikag to land.
“Aaniin, Gimaa Nika,” Nanabush said to the leader of the geese.
“Aaniin, Nanabush,” she said back.
“I see you are flying to Zhaawanong. Oh, yes, very good for you. I’m sure it will be very warm and sunny in Florida. I’m sure you’ll have a great time on the beach with all the sun and the sand and the sea. You see, I was wondering if I might come along with you this year. I am old and tired, and I can’t possibly go through another winter here.”
Gimaa Nika felt suspicious. She remembered what happened to the Zhiishiibag when Nanabush tricked them into being dinner with a blindfold and a dance.
“Ehn, Zhaawanong is beautiful. But, Nanabush, you can’t even fly,” replied Gimaa Nika.
Nanabush needed to butter Nikag up a little bit. “But, Gimaa, your nation is so strong and powerful. Your wings and navigation are top-notch. I am sure all together you could fly me to Zhawnong.”
“I’ll speak to my people,” said Gimaa, wondering what Nanabush had planned.
The Nikag had a big meeting. Everyone showed up—moms, dads, children, aunties, uncles, grandparents, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. They all spoke what was in their hearts and minds. Then they sent Gimaa Nika back to tell Nanabush their decision.
“Nanabush, my people have decided that you may come with us to Zhaawanong, as long as you follow our three rules.”
“That’s perfect!” shouted Nanabush. “I LOVE rules, and I am very, very good at following them right down to the letter! I’ve recently learned from Zhigaag what can happen if you stretch the rules a bit, so I’m all back to following them. I’ve turned over a new leaf, really.”
The Gift is in the Making Page 4
