Once we have brought our paw full of dirt to the surface, it is then our responsibility to also ensure that our action is collectivized. We need to ensure that the other members of the community act on our actions and carry the vision forward. Resurgence cannot occur in isolation. As the animals danced the new world into existence on the turtle’s back, the land grew into a large island. It also demonstrates that we need to ask the implicate order for assistance to re-create. If we are doing our work to the best of our abilities, doorways and opportunities will open to us that previously did not exist. After Mikinaag came forward and volunteered to carry the weight of the world on her back, the implicate order acted such that the earth and the Turtle’s back grew into the great expanse of North America, because individual and collective responsibilities had been met. In order to dance a new world into existence, we need the support of our communities in a collective action. This story tells us everything we need to know about resurgence. Together, we have all of the pieces. In Nishnaabeg thought, resurgence is dancing on our turtle’s back; it is visioning and dancing new realities and worlds into existence.
Resurgence, Wiindigo, and Gezhizhwazh[12]
Another series of stories that teaches us about resistance and resurgence are the Wiindigo stories. Wiindigo—a large monster-like creature that is cannibalistic—is one of the characters in Nishnaabeg worldview that embodies imbalance and unhealthy relationships. According to Elder Basil Johnston, Wiindigo craved human flesh, and the more it ate, the more it wanted. Wiindigo had an insatiable hunger for human flesh and was created in times of great hunger, when the temptation to eat human flesh was the greatest. Metaphorically, according to Johnston, Wiindigo stories were designed to prevent cannibalism, but also symbolizes the potentially addictive part of the human condition—when certain desires are indulged, this stimulates more indulgence until all reason and control are lost.[13]
For our ancestors, Wiindigo represented a serious and specific danger in the winter months. More generally, the Wiindigo concept also warns against greed, excesses, and engaging in relationships in which indulgence leads to even more indulgence (various forms of addiction), creating realities based on imbalance. Being greedy and doing greedy things is counter to the promotion of life. Greed creates imbalances as the needs and desires of an individual are put ahead of the well-being of the collective.[14]
In contemporary times, Wiindigo is often used to refer to colonialism and its capitalist manifestations, particularly around natural resources. The state is seen as having an insatiable hunger for natural resources, to the point where it will eventually destroy itself through over-exploitation. This resonates with Indigenous Peoples who read this as cannibalistic. When one harms the earth, one harms oneself because we are part of that whole. Wiindigo is also used to refer to the physiological effects of colonialism on individuals and communities in terms of creating the need for indulgence in order to mask trauma, cope with one’s life, or fill a hole created from a past trauma.
I became interested in Wiindigo stories because I thought that since many Nishnaabeg people readily identify Wiindigo with the greed of the colonizer, that resistance to the Wiindigo might reveal something about resistance in terms of colonialism. While there are many stories about Nishnaabeg resistance to the Wiindigo, there is a group of stories that are particularly interesting to me because the hero of these stories is a young woman known as Gezhizhwazh, “to try to cut.”[15] Caroline Anderson, from Pimaymootang (Fairford) First Nation in Manitoba, retells this story about Gezhizhwazh:
Mii iwe aaniish aadizookewin weweni ngii-zazegaajimotaagoomin naanigoding. Daabishkoo ingi Wiindigoog mewinzha gaagii-wiindigoowiwaad ‘owe. Ogii-amwaawaan wiiji-anishnaabewiwaan ingi Wiindigoog gaa-inind. Mii-, Gajina na ndaa-dibaajimaag?
Ngoji iidog gii-bi-onji-bagamigoziwag ongo wiindigoog. Mii omaa gii-ayaawag. Gii-ayaagaansiinowag iidog aaniish nishtam ishkoniganensan ono gii-ayaagaansiinowag Anishinaabeg. Mii gaa-izhi-bagamigoziitaagowaad ini aya’aa wiindigoo’. Bezhig ikwezensan gii-nawapowag. E-bimi-gojigaamoonaawaad ogii-gaagiishkizhwaawaan. Mii Gojizhwaazh ogii-izhinikaanaawaan.
Mii ‘awe Gojizhwaazh, mii aazha ozhigewag imaa ini Anishinaabe’ odoodisaawaa’ ongo Wiindigoog. Mii ezhi-anoonaawaad mii ‘awe Gojizhwaazh. Gegoo odanoonaawaan ji-naajibatwaadaminind ji-awi-gagwedwenid. Ah, ikido iinzan mii a’aw Gojizhwaazh, Wiindigoog ongo gaa-odisinekwaa. Ozhiitaag! Giwii-amwagoowag noo’om gaa-dibikag ikido iinzan. Aazha iinzan ezhi-ozhiitaawaad. Gichi-bagwaanegamig iidog ogii-ayaanaawaa.’ Iidog ezhi-ozhitoowaad wedi zhoonzhaakowaabaawajigewag. Bi-biindigaawaad ini Wiindigoog ji-biindigeyaaboononid. Zhigwa omaa ogii-nepiiminaanaawaan waagaakwadoon ji-onji-niiwana’waawaad.
Mii aazha geget. Mii goda wiin a’a Gojizhwaazh, Gojizhwaazh bi-giiwen. Gegoo miinawaa giga-inaajim odinaawaan iinzan. Mii aazha Gojizhwaazh gii-ishkwaa-dibaajimod o’o. Miisa eni-izhi-giiwebatood. Na, mii zhigo gaa-izhi-ozhiitaakanda’waawaad, mii gaa-izhi-maaji-biindigeyaaboonowaad iidog. Apane iidog akawe bakite’aawaad waagaakwadoon ono Wiindigoo.’
Mii ‘iwe gaawn aapiji nimaaminonendanzii aaniin gaa-ani-inaadizookaagoowaang. Mii dash wiin igo “iwe eko-maamikawiyaan i.”[16]
Roger Roulette, an Anishinaabeg language expert from Manitoba, translates the story as follows:
The story goes … she [Gezhizhwazh] sacrificed herself to be taken by the Wiindigoo because they were going toward where the Ojibwe people were living. And there was a band of them. So she thought, if she sacrificed herself to be taken by the Wiindigoo, in that way, she’d have an eye on them, of what they were going to do, what their plans were, even though during the time she was with them, they would cut pieces of her and eat parts of her. But in order to save her own people, the Anishinaabe, she would be taken as lunch. And then she knew their plan. So, when she had the chance to go to the Anishinaabe village, she told them what the Wiindigoo’s plans were. She wanted to be the first one to strike, and she also showed the Anishinaabe how to kill the Wiindigoo. And she’s seen as a hero because she was the main killer of Wiindigoo. And that’s the story.[17]
The Gezhizhwazh stories provide a theoretical foundation for resistance that places strategy and intelligence at the core of the model. Gezhizhwazh was not physically stronger than the Wiindigo, but she was smarter, more cunning, strategic and committed to achieving her goal, and this was done within the ever-changing conditions of the Nishnaabeg cosmology. Meaning for me at least, that it is not impossible to have plans and strategy in the face of injustice. One still must be open to the emergent properties of the flux of the implicate order, aligned with transmotion, and open in all channels to help from other realms of Creation, but strategy and planning are still present. Something our present-day resistance and resurgence movements often lack.
Gezhizhwazh presents us with a powerful, straightforward resistance force that tell us, when the stakes are high, we need to be strategic, have a plan, think in the long term and be ready to sacrifice individually for the greater collective good. Gezhizhwazh stories teach us that in order to resist, one has to first diagnosis and reveal the problem and then prepare a strategic response.
Nanabush Stories[18]
Nanabush or Nanabozho is a prominent being in the Nishnaabeg worldview—teaching us lessons by never learning and representing the ordinary human struggle to live a good life. S/he is cast as a being that is constantly succumbing to his or her own weaknesses, the consequences of which are demonstrated to the Nishnaabeg through countless stories.[19] Nanabozho is also a powerful teacher, our first teacher, the first researcher, the offspring of powerful spirits, who was raised and influenced by his Nokomis. He has given a vast number of gifts to the Nishnaabeg and done a large amount of balancing.[20] He is often called “the Elder Brother” in English when Nishnaabeg people want to refer to him—demonstrating our kinship with being and also the affection that exists between us.[21] Neal McLeod takes on Vizenor’s conceptualization of Nanabush as “trickster,” a discussion I have heard orally several times from different academics
and Elders. I agree with McLeod’s critique of the inaccuracies of the word “trickster” when describing Nanabush:
The proper term is kistêsinaw, which denotes the notion of the elder brother. This instantly assumes a state of kinship and relationship between humans and the rest of creation. It also moves beyond the intersubjective limitations of human-based discourse which has dominated the West. It moves beyond the conceptual straitjacket that the term “trickster” puts wisahkêcâhk [Nanabush] in: the term suggests that this sacred being is little more than a buffoon.[22]
Basil Johnston describes Nana’b’oozoo as:
…the youngest son of Ae-pung-ishimook and Winonah. Nana’b’ozoo is the archuman; he means well, but more often than not, he fails because his appetites get the better of him and overcome his higher nature. When he succeeds it is by chance rather than skill or design; it is akin to a miracle. Nana’b’oozoo represents the ordinary human being in his or her daily struggle to discharge his or her duties toward the manitous neighbors, kin, family and Mother Earth. Like many human beings, Nana’b’oozoo blunders and bumbles along.[23]
My own understanding of this is that Nanabush assumes a role of “buffoon” in some instances in order to be an effective teacher. There are a series of stories of Nanabush bumbling along. But there are also stories where Nanibozho exudes vision, brilliance, strategy and power (the re-creation story, the birth of Nanabozho, Nanabozho steals fire, etc.); or Nanabush behaves as our most loving companion, teacher and mentor; as well, Nanabush helps the Nishnaabeg promote life and more life.
While there is a large, living body of Nanabozho stories in the oral tradition, there is a large body of Nanabozho stories textualized and recorded in both English and Nishnaabemowin. Unfortunately, the cultural context within which these stories were told, and the Nishnaabeg values they were designed to communicate, are often lost in recorded versions. Too often, Nanabozho is cast as an authoritarian character who punishes the Nishnaabeg. Too often, the stories reflect Christian values rather than Nishnaabeg ones. Rather than critique and reveal this by engaging in those texts, I’ve chosen to engage in a Biskaabiiyang context to retell a traditional Nanabush story, one related to the Sugar Bush that embodies the values of gentleness, re-balancing and love.[24]
Ninaatigoog
In the old days, it was important to take care. It was important to nurture, and to love with all of your heart. Our Elder Brother taught us that one. Oowah. He used to walk all over visiting with us, making sure we had enough food, water, medicine. Making sure our kids weren’t sick. Making sure we were all getting along. Visiting. Why did we stop visiting?
One ziigwan, long time ago, this story takes place, long time ago. One ziigwan, that Elder Brother is out visiting, walking all around Nishnaabe Aki, comes to the part in the east where the Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg live, where that gdigaa bzhiw clan lives, in the south. That part. And he comes to their place in the bush, where those ones live. He comes to visit. Oowah. It’s a good thing to visit, to take care. It’s a good thing to love. He comes to that place where the gdigaa bzhiwag live and he can’t find none of them there. No bzhiwoonsag. No fish smoking. No shkode. No wood piles even. Empty dens. So that Elder Brother, he knows something is wrong, something is not right. It’s ziigwan. The gdigaa bzhiwag should be mending nets, setting nets, smoking fish. The ice is off the lake. The winter is in retreat. There should be wood piles, fires, but instead, there is nothing.
So that Elder Brother, he goes walking, looking for those gdigaa bzhiwag. He looks by the river. He looks by the lake. He looks in the bush by the rabbit trails. Nothing. He starts to feel scared. He starts to feel real worried. Something’s not right. Gdigaa bzhiwag are missing. Elder Brother’s heart starts to rip open a bit. His heart starts to beat too fast.
“Calm down,” he tells himself, “breath.”
Elder Brother sits down and he thinks. He thinks about how much he loves those gdigaa bzhiwag. How he doesn’t see them enough. How maybe if he had just come earlier instead of spending so much time hunting with ma’iingan, that this might not have happened. He feels really, really bad. He feels really, really bad in his heart; and his eyes make tears that run down his face onto the snowy ground. Elder Brother sits with that sadness, and then he makes it into something else.
“GDIGGA BZHIWAG! GDIGGA BZHIWAG!”
No answer.
“GDIGGA BZHIWAG! GDIGGA BZHIWAG!”
Still no answer.
Elder Brother gets up onto his feet now, and he starts to do some thinking, and he starts to do some walking, and he starts to do some more looking. And he looks for a long time. Sometimes in a story like this, he looks and right away he finds what he is looking for, but not this time. This time, Elder Brother looks for a long time. Maybe a few days, maybe more than a few days. Not longer than a week though. Not that long.
Because after a few days he see something funny off in the distance, amongst a stand of ninaatigoog. He sees something and first he thinks he is seeing things from all the looking, but as he get closer, he starts to understand. He sees furry feet and furry legs sticking straight up in the air. He gets closer. He sees furry back lying flat on the snowy ground, in fact snowy ground kinda melty now, but furry back don’t care. He gets closer. He sees big cat mouth wide open. Like that big cat at the cat dentist.
But that big cat, she’s not at the dentist, she’s got that ziiwaagmide dripping right into her mouth. That’s right. This story takes place so long ago, that those Ancestors do not have to make ziiwaagmide out of sap. Nope. Them ninaatigoog, they give that syrup right out of there bodies, right over to whoever wants to drink it. And those gdigaa bzhiwag, they want to drink it.
Elder Brother looks around the forest. Every tree’s the same. Every tree’s got its own gdigaa bzhiw lying on its back, feet in the air, mouth really, really wide open, with that maple syrup dripping right in.
“Bozhoo gdigaa bzhiwag!” yells Elder Brother.
Nobody looks up. Nobody answers.
“Bozhoo gdigaa bzhiwag!” yells Elder Brother.
Again, nobody looks up. Nobody answers.
This is worse than I thought, thinks Elder Brother. And he sings, and dances and stomps and yells and nobody even notices. Everybody’s still flat on their backs, with their mouths really, really wide open with that ziiwaagmide dripping right in. Oowah, that ziiwaagmide tastes good. That sweet brown syrup. That’s good stuff. Oowah. But enough of that, this here is a big problem and Elder Brother’s got to think up a big solution.
And sometimes even Elder Brother’s got no ideas. But he knows who does. And he decides to go see Nokomis. That old lady will know what to do. That old lady will know what to do to solve this big problem. Gdigaa bzhiwag are going to get sick. Gdigaa bzhiwag are not eating good food, not taking care of each other. Gdigaa bzhiwag are getting weak just lying on their backs with their furry feet up in the air all day. Gdigaa bzhiwag are getting soft in the mind, not thinking ahead, not looking ahead. Everybody’s going to get sick if gdigaa bzhiwag gets sick. Everything’s going to go in the wrong way. Elder Brother knows this.
So he walks. He walks and walks and walks and walks. And finally he reaches Nokomis’s wigwamin.
“Nokomis,” Elder Brother yells, “Nokomis.”
“Holy Jeez,” that old lady says, “Why you yelling like that? Why you yelling like I’m not here?”
“Sorry,” says Elder Brother, giving her his semaa. He’s not used to things being where they’re suppose to be. But this one, she’s where she’s supposed to be. He feels a bit better, and he sits by her fire in her lodge and he explains his problem.
Nokomis just listens. And then she says, “Nahow. Aambe.”
Elder Brother does not quite know what is going on. He was hoping for some medicine. He was hoping for a snack. Nokomis always got good snacks. Maybe a good story. Maybe a sleep on that nice warm sleeping mat. Oowah. That is what he needs. Maybe some soup and that warm blanket wrapped around him. Sit by that fire. Get warm. Fe
el good. Oowah. But here we go. “Aambe,” that old lady says and out the door she goes. Elder Brother’s not happy. His mkizinan are wet. His feet are sore. He’s been out walking for days. But out the door Nokomis goes, so out the door Elder Brother goes.
Nokomis is an old lady, but she’s fast, and she’s strong and she’s all the way down the path by the time Elder Brother gets out of the wigwamin. “Bekaa,” yells Elder Brother, “Wait.” He thinks he hears her laughing under her breath and she don’t slow down. Elder Brother gotta pick up the pace a bit. His feet hurt. “Bekaa,” he yells again. But Nokomis pays no attention. She’s all the way down the path and around the corner. Elder Brother’s not happy; maybe he starts crying a bit. Maybe he’s feeling sorry for himself a bit. All this work. No one paying attention. No one taking care of Elder Brother. But Elder Brother don’t got no time for feeling sorry. “Aambe,” yells Nokomis, and he keeps walking.
He goes around the corner and Nokomis is standing at the bottom of ninaatig. Elder Brother looks back and realizes he’s only fifty metres from her wigwamin. Nokomis is already busy though. She tells him to go to the south side of the tree and to make a notch with the axe. Elder Brother does. She makes a shunt out of cedar, and attaches her akik. They hear the heart beat of the liquid dripping into the bucket. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.
Elder Brother feels better. Next Nokomis tells Elder Brother to taste that liquid, and Elder Brother gets excited for that sweet, sweet taste of ziiwaagmide. Maybe he did not get a fire, maybe he did not get any soup and that blanket, but Oowah, he’s going to get ziiwaagmide.
Dancing on Our Turtle's Back Page 8