6
Arriving Home
WE WERE WITHIN A day of our families after being away for a total of fifteen sunrises and everyone was anxious to see their loved ones again. Two days ago we had stopped and picked up the deer that we had left in a tree. It had been a long and arduous trip marked with the deaths of many creatures: moose, deer, wolves, and men. Ours was a hard life, and we always had to be on the ready to kill or be killed. This was what it meant to survive in the harsh surroundings of Turtle Island.
Our muscles were aching from the walk and the loads on the toboggans. The twins were even starting to slow down and talk less. However, with the knowledge that we would soon be home, our spirits lifted. We would eat and prepare ourselves to meet our families after the long trek. There would be stories to tell of battles and death.
Because our group would have to spend one more night on the trail, we needed to build one last cedar shelter. The fire tonight would have to be bright, as we would be shaving the parts of our scalp locks that had grown out on the days we were on the hunt.
We found a good place to camp for our last night. Before long the twins had a big fire going and Wàgosh had a piece of meat on a spit cooking. Kàg was melting snow for water and Mònz was sharpening the clamshells and knives for the job ahead. It was important that our scalps were shaven when we entered the village. Being warriors, our shaved heads were part of this inheritance and also identified us with our band.
We shaved our heads on both sides with a scalp lock in the middle. To make our hair stand up, we layered animal grease on it. All of us had hair that was long at the back and reached down below our shoulders. Into the hair we placed our feathers and animal hair. The twins, not yet being warriors, each had a full head of hair.
It was decided that we would be shaved in order of age, oldest to youngest, so Kàg would go first. With all that they had been through, we decided that the twins could also help in the ritual.
When the water was hot enough, we laid the knives and clamshells into the bark container to warm them. The twins then used some soft hide to wash the part of our heads that were to be shaved. This would soften the bristled hair and make it easier to cut. I then took a knife and started to cut the hair as far down toward the scalp as I could. We used the knives to do the main cutting and the clamshells to finish the close cut. We could sharpen clamshells to a finer edge, thus enabling us to shave close to the scalp. I did most of the cutting and shaving. Usually the women did this, as they had a very steady hand and rarely drew blood. Tonight I was able to shave Kàg, Mònz, and Wàgosh without incident. Kàg returned the favour for me.
After we finished shaving our heads we sang songs to our ancestors and in honour of Makwa. That night we gave the twins another honour. They would take the first watch and tend the fire.
In the morning we had a quick meal and headed on our way. Our absence from the village had been sixteen days. The last few days we had noticed the snow was disappearing and a lot of bare spots were appearing in the open meadows. That was not a good sign for our people that we had left behind. They needed the deep snow to hunt. Unless the hunters that had stayed with our small winter band had any luck at all in securing food, there would be problems. Our small winter band of Kitcisìpiriniwak numbered fifteen men, twenty-one women, and twenty-eight children. With the death of Makwa, we were down to fourteen men. Of the men who were left in the village, four of them had just taken the Wysoccan Journey this past summer and were inexperienced in all aspects of warriorhood. Three of the remaining six were elders, leaving only three men with the stamina and experience to hunt and guard the encampment. Our village consisted of fourteen shelters beside a small stream, sheltered by a large forest of pines and cedars.
After walking for most of the day, we soon came upon the clearing that we knew led to our families and lodges. As we walked into the forest that sheltered our family unit, we were taken aback.
7
Happiness
and Sorrow
OUR SHELTERS WERE OVAL wàginogàns (lodges) made out of birch bark and held together by saplings intertwined on the inside. On the outside we used slabs of cedar to hold the birch bark down, tying them to the frame. The birch bark was overlapped so as not to leak. The saplings on the inside were not tied end to end but were joined side to side to avoid poking holes in the birch bark. The young trees were bent in a curve and fastened together with spruce roots.
What caught us by surprise was that no one was on guard and that we could only see smoke coming out of seven of the wàginogàns.
“Wàgosh, announce our homecoming.”
“E-ya-ya-ya-ya,” Wàgosh sang. “The hunters have arrived with food and tales of adventure.”
Then Wàgosh sang a death song announcing the death of Makwa. With that his wife and our sister See-Bee-Pee-Nay-Sheese (River Bird) came out of her home, wailing and crying. I took my sister in my arms and told her that Makwa died a warrior’s death, and he would enter the afterlife with great honour.
See-Bee-Pee-Nay-Sheese would enter her home and douse her fire. She would mourn face-down on her mat for six days covered by her robes and receive only cold food for nourishment. The families would give her gifts to comfort her. She would not be allowed to marry again until our mother gave her permission.
When an Algonquin warrior marries, he always lived with the wife’s family and helped hunt and protect the family unit.
Nìjamik (Two Beaver), one of our elders, followed my sister out to the centre of the village leading the rest of the people.
“Mahingan,” he said, “we are happy to see you. This food will keep us from starving. We have lost one of the older women and a small child since you have left. Wajashk (Muskrat) took two of the young warriors three days ago to see if they could spear any fish through the open ice of the big river. Hunger has stalked us like an enemy on the warpath. We have huddled together in seven shelters to save wood. The people were getting too weak to forage for wood to burn. Thus the decision was made to come together. Now, though, we see that the Chief and his warriors have returned successfully with meat. Tonight we will feast and hear your stories and how Makwa died. The older women will take turns sitting with See-Bee-Pee-Nay-Sheesh and help her with her mourning. The rest of us will visit her in the days to come and help ease her grief with gifts. The moose and deer will get us through the winter until the bear wakes from his sleep and the elk come to the south from the deep woods. You have saved us, Mahingan. This will be a story for the ages.”
When Nijamik finished talking to me, I could feel a hand on mine. I looked around and saw a beautiful smiling face — my wife, Wàbananang. Tonight I would celebrate in many ways.
I followed Wàbananang to our shelter; she had been staying with my mother and her sisters-in-law while I was absent. The lodge was cold from the lack of heat but in a short time we had a fire going. The light from the fire enhanced her striking looks. As we sat and ate she told me what the last days were like with very little food and the people starting to lose heart that our hunt would be successful.
“Mahingan, five nights ago my father came to me in a dream and told me that you and your men had not failed and would be bringing the meat to the village soon. Upon waking, I told everyone my dream, and it raised their hopes. Then you arrived as my father had told me you would. You are a good husband and leader.”
“Thank you, my love. Your belief in me strengthens my heart.”
With that
