Dancing on Our Turtle's Back
Page 9
Except when he dips his finger into that liquid, it isn’t ziiwaagmide.
“GAA GAAWIIN!” yells Elder Brother. He can’t take it anymore. “This tastes like nbiish.”
Nokomis smiles a tricky smile. “Get a hold of your self,” she tells him. “Hang onto your shirt, young one. We’re not done yet.”
She dips her cup into the akik and tells him to drink the sweet water, and then comes that big important part. That part is so important, that those Nishnaabeg still do it today, even though everything nearly got all ruined. Nokomis tells Elder Brother that the sap, the ziisbaakdwaaboo, is medicine. That it cleans us out, cleans our bodies out for spring.
“It’s spring cleaning,” she says, laughing under her breath.
“Zhagnash thinks that means wash the curtains. Oowah. Washing your curtains don’t clean out nothing. Drink ziisbaakdwaaboo every day of Ziisbaakdoke Giizis. Then you’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?” asks Elder Brother.
“Ready for what happens next,” says Nokomis.
Then she says, “Back to work,” and she gets Elder Brother to tap all the trees in her bush. Then she gets him to collect up all the dead wood and chop it into firewood. Then she gets him to make a big fire. Elder Brother’s working so hard, he doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. And makoog, mikoog, waawaashkeshoog, all those wesiinyag help out. Soon everybody’s busy, and that Nokomis is smiling a big smile.
And then she shows them how to concentrate that ziisbaakdwaaboo to save all its good for the niibin, and the dagwagin and next bboon. And they work hard with the fire, and the stones, and finally they get their nsimdana buckets of ziisbaakdwaaboo down to one bucket of ziiwaagmide.
And Elder Brother’s happy, because he’s ready for a big party and after all that work, he knows Nokomis must have a big party up her old lady sleeve.
But them old lady sleeves are tricky and Nokomis don’t say anything about no party. She says, “Nahow Elder Brother. Back to gdigaa bzhiwag.”
Elder Brother’s party face falls right off. He forgot all about gdigaa bzhiwag. And he don’t have any solution to his problem, and they’re far away. And he needs a party.
“No party,” says Nokomis.
He needs a party.
“No party,” says Nokomis.
He was kind of looking forward to a party.
“Life’s a party,” say Nokomis. “Party down the trail and go make things right with gdigaa bzhiwag.”
Elder Brother knows when he’s been beat. So he parties down the trail to go make things right with gdigaa bzhiwag. And he walks and walks and walks and walks and he figures maybe them gdigaa bzhiwag have already got things all worked out. After all, how long could you lie on your back with your feet in the air?”
Long time, if you’re gdigaa bzhiwag. Long time.
Elder Brother knows this because by the time he gets back, gdigaa bzhiwag are still lying on their backs, feet in the air, mouths wide open.
“Bozhoo gdigaa bzhiwag!” Elder brother yells.
Nobody pays any attention.
Elder Brother figures he got to get tricky at this point. Otherwise, he’s going to have to do a whole bunch more walking and he’s never going to get any soup or blanket and his feet are still wet. So he gets tricky. And he needs a bucket to get tricky. And he goes out to ziibi and he fills up that bucket and climbs all the way to the top of ninaatig and he pours that bucket down the tree and he goes back and forth and he does this thirty times. One time for every day in Ziisbaakdoke Giizis.
And maybe that’s how this story happens. Maybe. Maybe it was nsimdana akikag and maybe it happens this way.
Maybe Elder Brother was way too tired to lug that heavy bucket up that tall ninaatig. And maybe he was way, way too tired to do that thirty times. And maybe he gotta go pee anyway. And maybe he decide to just whip it out when nobody’s looking and do a big long thirty-bucket pee down the top of that tree. And maybe he saved himself thirty trips to the river and thirty trips up the tree, and he was a little closer to that soup and that blanket. Maybe it happened that way.
Whatever way it happened, by the time that water got filtered all the way through ninaatig, and by the time Elder Brother did every tree in that sugar bush, the ziiwaagmide dripping into the mouths of gdigaa bzhiwag wasn’t ziiwaagmide anymore. It was more like nbiish. It was more like tree pee.
And those gdigaa bzhiwag noticed. And their mouths went shut, and their paws went back onto the ground and they walked over to that Elder Brother to find out what was going on. And now it was Elder Brother’s turn to be Nokomis. He told them he needed a big fire. And they all got busy. He told them he needed a big stack of firewood. And they all got busy. He told them he needed soup and a blanket and a foot rub. And they looked a little suspicious, but they all got busy.
Then Elder Brother told them how much he loved them, and how sad he felt when they forgot about the four sacred foods, and their responsibilities to each other, and to the other clans, and to mino bimaadiziwin. Elder Brother drew them in close by the fire, and he told them how important they were. He told them how Gzhwe Mnidoo had made them the most beautiful, caring creatures that ever walked the earth. He told them he wanted them to walk the earth a long, long time with him. He told them he needed them. He told them his heart knowledge and they felt their hearts getting much, much bigger. They felt filled up.
Gdigaa bzhiwag listened with their whole bodies. Then Elder Brother took them to the south side of the tree, put his tobacco down and he showed them how to tap the trees and collect the sap. He showed them how to cleanse themselves every day of Ziisbaakdoke Giizis. He showed them that once the other animals found out what they were doing, everyone would come and help. He showed them how to boil that sweet water down into sweet ziiwaagmide so they could keep that gift all year long.
Gdigaa bzhiwag accepted that gift from Elder Brother. And every year, no matter how hard it is, they make sure their lips taste the sweetness of ziisbaakdwaaboo, even if it is just once. Even if there isn’t enough to make ziiwaagmide. They take their kids. They tell the story of Elder Brother. They listen for the heart beat of their mother as that ziisbaakdwaaboo falls into their pails. They cherish the gift given to their Ancestors so long ago; and in their heart knowledge, hidden away in the most precious parts of their beings, they know that ziiwaagmide wasn’t the real gift. They know that the real gift was in the making, and that without love, making just wasn’t possible.
* * *
The telling and retelling of this story, to me, represents a resurgence narrative. Nanabozho diagnoses the problem, seeks out knowledge from his Nokomis, his Elder, works with all aspects of his being to collectivize the problem and its solution and he builds a clan-based, community-based restoration plan, which results in a local resurgence to realign the people with Creation and mino bimaadiziwin.
What it reveals to me is that destruction (although not genocidal destruction) is part of the cycle of life, and that we as theorists and intellectuals cannot just get stuck in the diagnosis or the revelation of the problem. Nishnaabeg thought propels us to be responsible within our individual selves, to vision and dream our way out of the cognitive box of imperialism.
Glossary of Nishnaabemowin for Ninaatigoog
aambe—come
akik(ag)—pail(s)
bboon—winter
bekaa—wait
bzhiwoonsag—baby bobcats
dagwagin—autumn
gdigaa bizhiw(ag)—bobcat(s)
ma’iingan—wolf
makoog—bears
mikoog—beavers
mkizinan—moccasins
mino bimaadiziwin—good life
nbiish—water
niibin—summer
ninaatig(oog)—maple tree(s)
Nishnaabeg Aki—Nishnaabe territory
Nokomis—grandmother
nsimdana—thirty
semaa—tobacco
shkode—fire
waawaashkeshoog—deer (plu
ral)
wesiinyag—animals
wigwamin—wigwam
zhaagnash—white person
ziibi—river
ziigwan—early spring
ziiwaagmide—maple syrup
Ziisbaakdoke Giizis—March, Sap Moon
ziisbaakdwaaboo—sap
* * *
Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 102. ←
Old-time Nishnaabeg. ←
Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 90. ←
Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 91. ←
Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 94. ←
Shirley Williams, Peterborough, ON, January 24, 2007. Edward Benton-Banai defines chi-bi-moo-day-win as migration. Differences in their understandings are likely a result of regional dialects, or the diversity inherent in Nishnaabemowin. Fluent speakers often carry different understandings, teachings, and knowledge of word-origins and this diversity is an important part of the language. ←
According to Shirley Williams, “Dancing on the Turtle’s Back” or “Dancing on Our Turtle’s Back” would be Niimtoowaad Mshiiken Bakonaang in Manitoulin Island or Niimtoowaad Mikinaag Gijiying Bakonaang in a Mississauga dialect. In John Borrows’ comments on an early draft of this book, he used the phrase Mikinaak Agij’ayii Niimi, which Shirley identified as a northwestern dialect. Peterborough, ON, December 7, 2010. ←
Sákéj Youngblood Henderson, First Nations Jurisprudence and Aboriginal Rights: Defining the Just Society, Saskatchewan Native Law Centre, Saskatoon, SK, 2006, 123; Treaty Elders of Saskatchewan, 33. ←
Doug Williams learned these teachings as Kokum Dibajimowanan, literally “Grandmother Teachings,” Peterborough, ON, October 26, 2010. They are often referred to as the “Seven Grandfather Teachings” or the Seven Sacred Gifts; see Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 67. Vanessa Watts refers to them as Anishnaabe Gchi-Twaawendamowinan, the teachings of the Gifts or Principles of the Seven Grandfathers or the Seven Sacred Gifts in Towards Anishnaabe Governance and Accountability: Reawakening our Relationships and Sacred Bimaadiziwin, unpublished thesis, Indigenous Governance Programs, University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, 2004, web.uvic.ca/igov/research/pdfs/Vanessa%20Watts%20-%20Thesis.pdf, accessed September 19, 2010. Vanessa indicated she learned the name of these teachings from Shirley Williams, October 28, 2010. I have also seen them called “Niizhwaaswi Kchitwaa Kinomaadiwinan,” www.anishinaabemdaa.com/grandfathers.htm, accessed October 26, 2010, and the “Seven Ancestor Teachings” in numerous oral contexts. ←
A number of different versions of this story exists, including “The Great Flood” in Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 30–36; Basil Johnston, Ojibway Heritage: The Ceremonies, Rituals, Songs, Dances, Payers and Legends of the Ojibway, McClelland and Stewart, Toronto, ON, 1967, 13–16; and Thomas Peacock and Marlene Wisuri, The Good Path: Ojibwe Learning and Activity Book for Kids, Afton Historical Society Press, Afton, MN, 16–22. Waynaboozhoo is also known as Nanabozho, Nana’b’oozoo and Nanabush. This is an example of an oral story that is only told in the winter. ←
Edward Benton-Banai, “The Great Flood” in The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988, 30–36. ←
Some Nishnaabeg are very careful to avoid saying “Wiindigo”, while in other regions the name is used in conversation ←
Basil Johnston, The Anishinaubae Thesaurus, Michigan State University Press, East Lansing, MI, 2007, 18. ←
Neal McLeod, Songs to Kill a Wîhtikow, Hagios Press, Regina, SK, 2005, 8–9. ←
Roger Roulette, interviewed by Maureen Matthews, cbc Ideas Transcript, “Mother Earth,” Toronto, ON, June 5, 2003, 6. ←
Caroline Anderson, cbc Ideas Transcript, “Mother Earth,” Toronto, ON, June 5, 2003, 6–7. ←
Roger Roulette, cbc Ideas Transcript, “Mother Earth,” Toronto, ON, June 5, 2003, 7. This is also available online at
Nanabush stories are only told orally in the winter. ←
Nanabush has the power to transform and appears in many different forms in our stories. ←
Basil Johnston, The Manitous: The Spiritual World of the Ojibway, Key Porter Books, Toronto, ON, 1995; Basil Johnston, The Anishinaubae Thesaurus, Michigan State University Press, East Lansing, MI, 2007, 17; and Edward Benton-Banai, The Mishomis Book, Indian Country Communications, Hayward, WI, 1988. ←
“Elder Brother” is also used to avoid saying “Nanabush” or “Nanibozho” in spring, summer and fall by some Nishnaabeg. Others believe that it is fine to speak Nanabush’s name in all seasons, but they still avoid telling the stories in the winter. ←
Neal McLeod, Cree Narrative Memory: From Treaties to Contemporary Times, Purich Press, Saskatoon, SK, 2007, 97. ←
Basil Johnston, Anishinaubae Thesaurus, Michigan State University Press, East Lansing, MI, 2006, 17. ←
I began telling this version of the story to my children every spring when we went to the sugar bush to help our friends make maple syrup. I originally learned the story from a written source, “How the Indians Got Maple Sugar,” Ritzenthaler, Robert E., and Pat Ritzenthaler, The Woodland Indians of the Western Great Lakes, Milwaukee Public Museum, Milwaukee, WI, 1983. However, I’ve always retold it in the context of Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg cultural values, including benevolence, kindness, compassion, humour and non-punitive restoration. Over the years, I began telling this story in the context of my own clan and as a way of teaching children certain words associated with the Sugar Bush. What is presented here then, is my own re-telling of this story. I have attempted to re-tell it in the context of my clan affiliation, my contemporary life and my interpretation of Nishnaabeg thought. This re-telling bears little resemblance to published versions. ←
Bubbling Like a Beating Heart: A Society of Presence
Social mobilization, in its most fundamental form, is at the core of Nishnaabeg governance. In the past, scholars have mistakenly characterized Nishnaabeg governance as less complex and less developed than western forms, primarily because it was localized instead of centralized. By this I mean that governance was localized within an individual’s self-determination, the self-determination of families, clans and communities, as well as being localized within a given geographical region. Being enmeshed in the cyclical flux of the earth lodge, Nishnaabeg people traveled throughout their localized territories in a seasonal fashion. In dagwagin,[1] people moved to the shores of certain rivers and lakes to harvest mnomiin[2] by conducting ceremonies, dancing, singing, drumming and picking the rice. After ricing and fall fishing were completed, families moved to hunting or trapping grounds where they would work to cache food and supplies for the coming winter months. In the early parts of spring, families moved to Sugar Bushes to collect the sweet water and make it into maple sugar. Next they moved to spring fishing areas, and finally for niibin,[3] they gathered in larger clan and inter-clan assemblies in their summer areas to berry pick, collect medicinal plants, conduct larger ceremonial gatherings and finally, to engage in inter-clan and inter-regional governance. Our lifeway required cyclical and rhythmical movements. Our governance required annual social and political mobilizations in a way that is unknown to centralized state governing systems, to such a degree that mobilization was normative within our political culture. Our system was built upon mobilization, adaptation and the dynamic nature of a fluctuating environment such that individuals, clans and societies within the nation held certain responsibilities to ensure mobilization could occur.
Dissent was also a normal and a critical part of decision-making processes in all levels of social organi
zation. A plurality of individual truths within a common context provided people with the ability to express themselves and their opinions in a way that simultaneously protected the experience of the individual within the consciousness of the collective. In this way, individual dissent could easily and respectfully be encoded within Indigenous political and intellectual traditions. The oral traditions of Indigenous nations are rich with stories of a single dissenting being, influencing and mobilizing the masses. Recall the Re-creation Stories from the previous chapter. After a great flood, Nanabush and all the animals were stuck on a log in the midst of a vast, never ending body of water. After successive animals tried to dive deep to reach some earth, the inhabitants of the log gave up. That is, until one dissenting individual, Zhaashkoonh, begged to try one more time. She was successful, and thus set off a chain of events that led to the creation of this world and a new Nishnaabeg reality. This story is used to teach our people that hearing and considering the opinions of others, even when they differ from those of the collective, is important because often important interventions come from people close to the spiritual world—women, the elderly and children—coming to us through dreams, visions, and ceremony. These are both people and processes regularly discounted in western society.
I worry that framing contestation or contention along with dissent and mobilization serves to further entrench a polarization between “winner” and “looser,” which is not only an artificial imposition on Indigenous theories of mobilization, but in turn it also reinforces the colonial order. Dissent is also problematic in the context of colonialism because it frames Indigenous Peoples as a minority in relation to normative colonial “truth.”[4] From an Indigenous perspective, we are not dissenting, mobilizing, resisting or creating controversy to “win” superiority or to dominate settler society. We are advocating and building a resurgence in order to provide the best political and cultural context for the lives of our people to flourish. In fact, if you look closely at our traditions around dispute resolution, restorative justice or even international diplomacy through treaty making, our goals have been consistent throughout history: to restore balance, justice and good health to our lands and our peoples and to have good relations with settler governments and peoples based on respect for our sovereignty, independence and jurisdiction over our territories. This requires a disruption of the capitalist industrial complex and the colonial gender system (and a multitude of other institutions and systems) within settler nations by challenging the very foundation of the nation-state and its relationships to the land and Indigenous nations. However, Indigenous thought tempers a nuanced diplomatic approach to disagreements, built upon a gradual emergence of carefully mediated consensus that considers and addresses difference of opinion from within our communities. This approach in no way dilutes Indigenous aspirations for freedom and self-determination, but has always provided a just process for continued reconciliation of our Constitutional orders with that of Canada’s. It is a principled and radically different way of being—one that compels us to act against the forces that attempt to assimilate us into the fabric of Canadian society. It also compels us to regenerate processes within our communities to hear a diversity of perspectives, while also building a united front against colonialism.