I Am Algonquin Read online

  Mitigomij and the Shaman had been with the boys for fourteen days. The time was ending. Would they be successful with their endeavour? Alternatively, would they have to repeat this with any of the young men? The next six days would tell the tale. Would the Pact be sealed between the Wysoccan Journey and Warriorhood?

  During one of the visits by the village women bringing food and water, he was told that the Nippissing had arrived to the land of the Omàmiwinini. Trading and warrior games were taking place. Mitigomij was disappointed that he was missing all this, but what he was doing held much more importance for the future of his people than a few trade items and games.

  As the runners all stood around the starting point, there was a lot of bravado taking place. One tall Nippissing warrior approached me and said, “I am Ojàwashkwà Animosh (Blue Dog).”

  “I am very honoured to meet you,” I replied.

  “They tell me, Mahingan, that you are the swiftest warrior of the Omàmiwinini.”

  “Well, Ojàwashkwà Animosh, if I have to tell you how good I am then I am not that good. You’ll have to find out today if what they say is true.”

  “Spoken like a true warrior, my friend. You will let your actions speak to your reputation. I will take that into consideration. Until we meet at the end, good luck and I know that if I can beat you I will have won a great victory!”

  No sooner had our conversation ended than the elders gave the signal for the drummers to begin. With one large whoop that left the surrounding forest in a continuous echo, the runners lunged toward the trail with everyone jostling for their spot in the mass. You could hear the snapping of the sticks on nearby bodies and the yelling of the warriors. It sounded like a pitch battle, but without the bloodshed.

  I led my co-runners to the left side of this howling pack and tried to gain an open spot to run unhindered, but we were fast approaching the forest and here the trail narrowed with a collision of bodies. With me in the lead, my group and I weaved around a few runners to gain an advantage to the trail. On my left ran Wàgosh and on my right was Kàg. Directly behind me were the two women. I had strained to reach the trail ahead of a group of about fifteen runners who were clumped together and having a grand time hitting each other with their switches. Ahead of my group about seven or eight paces were about ten runners. They were not the leaders, but they were keeping pace with the groups that were setting the pace.

  We hit the opening of the pine forest just ahead of the two groups that were going at each other with their switches. I could hear the two women behind me screaming and using their sticks on a few men who had approached too closely. Just as we arrived, off to my right rear, I could see a crash of bodies that were colliding in one huge ball of humanity. They fell, taking with them a few other participants in the tangle of legs and arms.

  Now that we were into the deep woods, the morning sun had not dried out the dew and our footing was very precarious. Twice, a group had tried to gain on us but the lead runner had slipped on a wet rock or a downed tree limb and tumbled, taking with him a few of the runners who were following.

  My group was having no problem for the time being keeping up with the runners ahead of us. We were slowly increasing the distance on the rivals following us. No one was foolish enough to try to pass in the narrow confines of the woods. Everyone was waiting for their chance that they knew would come on the route ahead.

  The people that were standing along the trail to prevent the runners from straying cheered everyone on. Once the field passed, they would work their way to another vantage point that they knew of or they would go back to the village and wait for the finish. The forest run was a flat terrain, but I figured that in the next little while things would change. My accompanying friends were showing no sign of strain from the pace that had been set. They were continually singing and talking to keep their morale up.

  When we left the canopy of the forest, we entered an area of waist-high grass. This part of the trail led us to a huge rock climb that took us along a rocky ridge. Here our stamina received a test as we ran and climbed up the rock. Because of the width of the face of the rocky incline, there was lots of room to pass anyone ahead of you. Again the sound of the small switches was heard striking runners ahead and behind.

  Wàgosh and the women were preoccupied with several runners who were making a move on my left, while Kàg and I were hastily trying to catch a group ahead of us. They were bent over, scaling the rock and running on all fours. This gave us a chance to whip their legs with our switches. After hitting them numerous times, the stinging of their legs slowed them down and Kàg and I were able to hurry past. They had not been able to strike back at us because of the positions they were in while scaling this escarpment. As we passed, they tried to take a couple of swings at us, but it did not hinder either one of us in the least.

  I reached the top, my lungs burning and my legs aching from the climb. However, upon looking down, I saw all the remaining warriors in various positions of scaling this obstacle and I knew there was no time to waste. Gulping as much air as I could into my lungs I continued. After about five or six running lengths all of my guardians joined me and I gained a sense of relief knowing we were still all together.

  Running along the ridge, we were able see what the terrain ahead looked like and how many competitors there were. We were able to see about five separate groups ahead and they were all keeping a torrid pace.

  As we started the incline down the escarpment, it enabled us to see the leader. With a smile, I recognized the warrior that we were chasing. Ojàwashkwà Animosh! Now the race was really on!

  As we left the ridge, we came upon a small stream. Because of the thickness of the surrounding forest, we had to run in the stream with water that came up to around our ankles. This slowed everyone down and enabled us to catch up to the group ahead. In the ensuing melee of splashing water, whooping, and sticks whacked against bare skin, my group passed the runners ahead when their leader slipped in the riverbed and fell with some of his followers tumbling onto him. It was also not without the loss of one of our people; Agwanìwon Ikwe also went down with a splash. Part of being a running guardian is that if you fall the others do not go back for you. The object is to always protect the lead runner and put all other feelings aside, not unlike battle where if you have to rescue one person at the risk of putting the rest of your fellow warriors in peril it is not worth the risk.

  Leaving the embankment of the stream, we were able to pass one other group who were caught up in the mud and water. Now there were only three groups left ahead of us and we had them in sight. The race had now taken up over half the morning. Time and distance was running out and we would have to start to make our final moves and quickly.

  When we vacated the embankment, we had to cross a small meadow before we reached the forest again for the return trip. The grass was waist-high and this gave us a tremendous opportunity. I looked at my companions and gave a nod. With that, we ran as fast as we could, skirting to the right of the group ahead of us. We were past them before they knew it. They had been content to take their time through the open field. We ran, jumped, and leaped through the entanglement of grass and small bushes, catching them completely unaware. Not one person was struck with a switch in this encounter, and as we entered the forest the last two groups were in sight.

  If we were going to win this race, it would have to be here in the forest before we hit the last clearing that would take us to the village and finish line. As we ran, we laid out our plan to take over the lead. Ojàwashkwà Animosh and his remaining two guardians were just behind a group of young Algonquin warriors from our deceased brother-in-law, Makwa’s Omàmiwinini tribe, the Sàginitaouigama. These young warriors were setting a torrid pace and it would take a lot of skill to catch them. Our plan was to stay on the heels of Ojàwashkwà Animosh and his group until they made their move. At that time, we would set our plan in place.

  I looked around at my companions. Everyone was covered in sweat and mud. All
of us had large welts on our bodies from where the switches had hit us. We were also bleeding from encounters with tree limbs and rocks, but we all had smiles on our faces.

  We were close to where we thought Ojàwashkwà Animosh would make his move, when to our surprise the group that we had passed in the long grass caught up to all of us and made their attempt to pass the group. Then in the next few minutes, all that we could hear was yelling and the sound of switches hitting bare skin. After being struck several times with switches, my skin started to feel like it was on fire. Then, at that precise moment, Kàg’s experience shone through. On the narrow trail where barely two people could run side by side he made a decision that would spring us free from the trailing group. Kàg turned and dropped his shoulder into the lead runner, knocking him down. He then stuck his leg out and tripped the next runner and in the melee that followed everyone behind us was yelling, shouting, and falling in a large mass of bodies. This enabled me, Wàgosh, and Kìnà Odenan to pull away from the trailing group and concentrate on what was ahead of us.

  Ojàwashkwà Animosh now took advantage of the distraction that was happening behind him and the leaders. The young warriors in the lead broke stride just a bit to see what all the noise was about to their rear. This was all the opening that the Nippissing warrior and his group needed. They lunged forward into the leaders, knocking the two trailing warriors off the trail and laid their switches onto the remainder of the group. Before the leaders knew it, the Nippissing warriors were past them, and we were right on their heels. The young warriors who had been leading were dumbfounded that two groups had passed them in such a flurry of activity. Even more surprised was Ojàwashkwà Animosh when he realized that we were hot on his trail.

  As we left the forest, we could now hear the drummers. All that remained was crossing a small stream and scaling an embankment about the height of two men. This was where we would make our move.

  The Nippissing were now equal in numbers to us: three warriors. The six of us splashed through the water and arrived simultaneously at the embankment. Wàgosh and Kìnà Odenan arrived just ahead of me and they joined their hands together. I jumped onto their clasped hands and all in one movement they tossed me as hard as they could upwards. They threw me so hard that I felt like I was flying like a kiniw. Rolling as I hit the ground above the embankment, I came to an upright position and immediately started running.

  I could see the village and hear the cheering of the people as well as the drummers and their chants. My legs and lungs felt like they were going to burn from the inside out. I took a quick glance behind and caught a glimpse of a rapidly approaching Ojàwashkwà Animosh. Seeing him gave me a huge burst of final energy. The only noise that I could hear was the pounding of my odey (heart) and my feet. Everything else was blocked out. My body felt like it was a feather floating in the air, no longer feeling any pain, only a sense of oneness with the earth. Sweat was pouring off my forehead and I had to keep wiping it away as it was stinging my eyes and obscuring my vision. Then it was all over. The dreamlike world vanished and I could hear the whooping of the people in the village and the sudden halt of the drums. Did I win or is this all a dream? Then people started singing my name and patting me on the back.

  I was exhausted. I felt someone grab me in a bear hug and say, “Mahingan you are a great adversary.” It was Ojàwashkwà Animosh.

  When he released me, I collapsed into an exhausted heap. I then felt a soft hand on my cheek. It was my dear wife; she had put a vessel of water to my lips and simultaneously kissed me gently on the forehead.

  “I love you, Mahingan, my wonderful husband,” she said.

  With those words, I felt my whole body overcome with a tingling sensation and sudden warmth. I have never cared for someone as much as I cared for my loving Wàbananang. I would be lost emotionally without her.

  That night as we feasted, I told the story of my victory and then all the competitors in turn told in detail how I had defeated them. For two more days, the celebrations went on. Then at the end of the second day, Mìgàdinàn-àndeg rose and spoke.

  “For many years our people have battled each other and a common foe, the Haudenosaunee. My people and I have now decided that we will accept your offer of the mìkisesimik, signifying peace between us. Mahingan, now I in return present you with our mìkisesimik to seal the pact.”

  Rising, I took the belt from the Nippissing chief to the thundering yells and whoops of all in attendance.

  “Mìgàdinàn-àndeg, we are now allies and will remain as such until the end of time. We will defend each other in times of war and provide the other aid in times of famine. The Omàmiwinini and Nippissing are now brothers!”

  With that, our drummers and singers started to play and chant and the people from our two Nations began to dance and celebrate. It was the ending of a great day.

  The next morning as the Nippissing started to break camp to leave, our attentions diverted to the sound of the Shaman announcing his return. All eyes turned in his direction and to those that were following him. We could see Mitigomij and the young men who had taken the Wysoccan Journey. The boys stood at the edge of the village with a stunned expression on their faces. They did not recognize anyone or their surroundings. Their childhood journey was finished. Now they were ready to begin the warrior path and to all that it led.

  22

  Preparing

  for the Winter

  THAT FALL OUR FAMILY group left the summer village and travelled just north of the big island in the Kitcisìpi Sìbì. With the buffalo meat that we had preserved from the hunt, our bellies would not shrink like the previous winter. The women and children had been able to forage and find a good supply of roots and berries to store for the winter season. Mitigomij had taken upon himself the responsibility of teaching the twins their warrior skills. The three of them were very proficient and had been able to supply the camp with a good supply of game, and with the success of the other hunters in our village, we were able to set aside a good supply of venison and fish.

  The two warrior women had decided that they would spend the winter with us, definitely a welcome addition as warriors and hunters. Agwanìwon Ikwe and Kìnà Odenan built their own lodge for the winter months and set about helping the elders gather their food for the winter. These women were two of the most ruthless warriors there was when it came to a battle, but they had an immense soft spot for elders and children. They could always be depended on to aid the villagers who could not keep up their supply of food because of age or sickness. Whenever people saw them walking in the vicinity they were always feted and could not pass a family’s home without someone inviting them in for a meal or just to share cedar tea with them. All the people loved and admired these women.

  Both women were born to families that had no sons, and so at an early age they became attached to each other like siblings. They showed an immense sense of charity to all the people around them and were never afraid to help friends and family in times of need. As they grew older a man called Kànikwe (No Hair) took it upon himself to teach them how to hunt and fish. Kànikwe had realized that because these girls came from families of no brothers, there would be problems when their parents grew older and could not hunt and gather for themselves. Furthermore, Kànikwe owed his life to these two young girls at the time.

  Kànikwe had gotten his name when he was a young warrior. In a battle with the Haudenosaunee who had raided his village, two of the enemy had overpowered him. As one of them held him, the other took his scalp. Kànikwe, though in immense pain and bloodied, was able to take his knife and bury it in the groin of the man taking his scalp. As the enemy screamed in pain, the other man who was holding him loosened his grip for a moment. This was all the opportunity that Kànikwe needed. With an upward motion, he drove his knife into the man’s lower jaw. Bathed in blood and sweat and grasping his war club, he finished killing both of the men. Kànikwe grabbed his scalp from the bloody hands of the dead man, who had only minutes before held his
life in the balance.

  Kànikwe was quick to realize that without doing anything with his wound he would die within days. Leaving the battle between the two antagonistic foes, he rushed into the pine forest where he knew there was a beehive. Wiping the blood from his eyes, he climbed the tree where the bees had made their home. Impervious to the stings of the bees he reached into the tree trunk where the bees had their hive. Grabbing gobs of honey, he smeared it on his hairless and bloodied head and swollen, bee-stung face. Covered in the gooey mess of honey and blood he slid down the tree and ran from the furious bees to a marsh. There he passed out in the mud from the pain of the bee stings and his head wound. There the young girls Agwanìwon Ikwe and Kìnà Odenan found him hours after the battle. They then took him back to their village where they fed him and helped with his healing.

  Kànikwe became devoted to these young women from that moment on and grew to be their protector and teacher. His scalp healed, but it never grew hair again and he always painted his head black with a red line down the middle. He then took the scalp he had wrestled out of the Haudenosaunee warrior’s dying hands and tied it to the handle of his own war club.

  Through the years after the two women’s parents died, they wandered among the Omàmiwinini tribes offering their warrior and hunting skills. They were always welcome and were inseparable. Their friend and protector Kànikwe became a recluse among his people. In later years he enjoyed being alone. Every once in a while he would wander into one of the Omàmiwinini camps and would stay until he decided to move on, but wherever he stayed he always helped supply game for the village and provided any other skills that were needed. No one had seen him for the last couple of winters and thought he either had taken up with the Huron or had passed away to the Creator.

  The fall soon stretched on with warm days, cool nights, and heavy frosts in the morning. The animals that slept for the winter had started to disappear from the forest. On one of these sunny days Kàg, Mitigomij, and I were hunting along the river. We had not been out very long before we caught the scent of a shigàg and the sound of a person singing a song of thanks to Kitchi Manitou. Not knowing what lay ahead, we entered the heavy underbrush to the side of the game trail we had been on, to see who would appear. As the voice grew nearer so did the smell of the skunk. The three of us looked at each other in bewilderment. Were the spirits playing tricks on us? We could smell a skunk and hear a song of praise. Then to our amazement, we saw what was causing all the noise and smell. Out of the cover of the birch forest that enclosed our trail walked a very large and smelly man.