by Ken Busato
Chapter 26
We are not the only people to be transported here from across the ocean. Though we were the first to come to this land, we have not been the last. Now there are more people to share our suffering with.
Life has been fairly comfortable in Pembina since we first arrived here in the middle of September. It took a while to adjust to different faces and different customs, but the people of this settlement have been eager to help us learn their ways. The main source of food is buffalo, and both my mother and I have been taught how to cook rubaboo, a stew made using corn, grease, pemmican, and maple sugar. It has a fairly odd taste, but it’s not the worst thing I have had in this land. I hope we are not forced once again to drink that awful spruce bark tea to keep the scurvy away.
The people we see come and go from this settlement are quite varied. Most at Pembina are Saulteaux natives, but this settlement will sometimes house Metis and Nor’westers who follow the buffalo along their migration paths. All people look at us with curiosity and bewilderment, since we are the foreigners in this land. We want to build settlements, while most of the people in the area move as the buffalo move.
No sooner did we arrive that MacDonell had the men build a storehouse on the south side of the Pembina River where it meets the Red River. With further directions to construct several other buildings, MacDonell left almost immediately to see how construction at Fort Douglas was proceeding.
On the 27th of October, we were all surprised to see a second group of colonists arrive. Led by a man named Owen Keveny, most of these people were Irish with many women and children. This second group of colonists left Stornoway at the end of June, and they were lucky enough to cross the ocean fast. This group only had to spend a week at York Factory before making the trek of endless portages through the wild.
It took some time for our group to welcome and accept the recent arrivals. Although our stories are similar, there is still a sense of distrust because we did not share the same experiences. Only the boys, as children so easily do, were able to look beyond the differences and find new friends to play with.
“Mama,” I asked, “Should we not spend more time with some of the new people here, to help them adjust? Surely we know things they don’t.”
“That’s kind of you Molly, and I know if we were back home, new neighbours would be welcomed with gifts of food, advice, and friendship. I have nothing against these settlers. They are just like us. They have been sold the vision of a new life because of what was taken away back home. But until we can truly call this place ours, I think it wise to not be too friendly with those who do not have the ability to both give and receive.”
“That’s not too neighbourly Mama?”
“I guess it isn’t too neighbourly. But being a neighbour means you live in your house, and they live in theirs, and you share the land and its stories together, as a community should. I don’t think we’re at the point where we can do that.”
“I see your point Mama, and I’ll be a bit careful, but it’s not going to stop me from trying to find some company my own age.”
“For goodness sake Molly, you can’t always be tied to your mother and family. Meet some of the new folk and get to know them. Remember we all depend on the good grace of these native folk for our survival before we can finally put down roots and fend for ourselves. You don’t know what a desperate person might do given the chance. These new settlers, although they have weathered the difficult journey to get here like we have, have not yet faced the Canadian winter. Enjoy their company to a point, for when times are difficult, and we are not fools enough to think it won’t be difficult, remember it’s the family that comes first, not new settlers from Ireland.”