I Am Algonquin Page 5

  One early morning the mother was hunting and brought down a deer. The young male was lying in the woods watching and Mitigomij was at a distance. As the mother started to drag the kill to her cub’s hiding place, a pack of several wolves came upon the panther and attacked her for the fresh kill. She had no chance and died defending her prey and her cub’s hiding place.

  Mitigomij knew that the cub now was defenseless and needed his help to survive. He got to the cub while the wolves were preoccupied with his mother. Then he grabbed him and took him back to the den.

  For the next six or eight months Mitigomij brought meat for the young male. He never once brought him to the village. His thinking was that this was one of Kitchi Manitou’s special creatures, and that he must leave him wild. With the help of Mitigomij supplying him with game, the cat became big and strong and totally devoted to my brother.

  The cat would never show itself unless Mitigomij called him out of hiding. Makadewà Wàban was never far from my brother, always lurking in the shadows.

  Mitigomij gained his warriorhood long before he ever took the Wysoccan Journey.

  He was now twenty-two winters old, but when he was sixteen he proved beyond a doubt that he and Makadewà Wàban were not ever to be underestimated.

  It was during the spring running of the suckers. Mitigomij was about an hour from the village along a small stream spearing the fish to bring home. My brother never strayed too far from the confines of the band because of his struggle to walk, but this day he went beyond his own boundaries. Where it would take us an hour to get somewhere, it took him two or three times as long.

  Mitigomij was spearing and bringing in the suckers and every once in a while would throw one to the edge of the forest for Makadewà Wàban. Mitigomij was so engrossed in his task that he never noticed the four Haudenosaunee on the opposite bank, until Makadewà Wàban screamed a warning. They were young and probably out on a trek to find village locations or to capture lone people off by themselves in the forest. They travelled lightly for speed and effectiveness, living off of the land.

  The four warriors charged across the small stream. Mitigomij threw his fishing spear at the lead warrior, catching the young man by surprise at the speed and accuracy of the throw. The spear entered his throat and exited halfway out the other side. He died in the stream, reddening the waters where he fell. When the next warrior reached the bank he was met head on by Makadewà Wàban, who knocked him down and started tearing at his face. My brother grabbed his war club from his belt and with the third Haudenosaunee upon him, broke the man’s kneecap with one mighty swing. He then hit him in the face as the man dropped to his hands and knees. The last foe had only gotten three-quarters of the way across the stream. He was younger than the others, and he was terrified. He had just watched his three brethren killed before his eyes in less time than it had taken him to traverse the small waterway. Before Mitigomij had a chance to call him off, the panther splashed into the stream and ran toward the young warrior to make the last kill. Then with a mighty swipe of his paw, he shredded the right side of the foe’s face. With a command from my brother, Makadewà Wàban stood in the stream screaming and snarling at the last Haudenosaunee.

  Mitigomij then said, “My cat and I will let you live on this day. You go back to your people and tell them what happened here. I will leave your friends for the animals to enjoy. If I ever see you again I will kill you on sight. I will know you by the scar the black one has given you. Go!”

  With that, the young warrior ran off downstream, leaving a trail of blood following him in the swift flowing water.

  In the coming years, the story of the Omàmiwinini warrior with only one good leg and his Panther of Death spread among the Haudenosaunee. The Iroquois, we were told, skirted these woods since then because they said it smelled of death.

  They told the story that it was Michabo (the Great Hare Trickster God), inventor of fishing, who was disguised as an Algonquin warrior, but had one leg that wouldn’t change to a human appendage.

  The Algonquin believe that they were made by Michabo. He also made the earth, fishing nets, water, fish, and deer. He lives where the sun rises and the souls of good Algonquins go to live with Michabo.

  The Haudenosaunee also said that at that same battle Michabo was aided by Gichi-Anam’e-bizhow (The Fabulous Night Panther).

  Gichi-Anam’e-bizhow was an underwater creature. To the Algonquins the underwater panther was the most powerful of the underwater beings. They believed him to be helpful and protective, but many times he was viewed as malevolent and brought death and misfortune.

  The Haudenosaunee also feared that their men may have been killed by shape changers. This was an enemy who was to be feared beyond all else. Their powers were immense.

  Mitigomij then awakened me from my thoughts.

  “Wàgosh and Mahingan, I have not come to sneak up on you or to play games. There is something on the sìbì (river) that you must see!”

  12

  Danger

  from the River

  BECAUSE OF HIS PHYSICAL limitations, Mitigomij had been given complete control as the village protector. He was responsible for all guard duties and overseeing the warriors for their sentinel duties. Most of the time, he did all the guard duty and only relinquished it when he was eating or sleeping. Between him and Makadewà Wàban the encampment was always well looked after. Thus, when anything out of the ordinary occurred, Mitigomij was always first on the scene to identify the danger and to make the appropriate decisions.

  Mitigomij led Wàgosh and I with Ishkodewan following on a rope to the river. We had to be careful in our haste, so Mitigomij could keep up.

  As we neared the river, we could smell the water. Mitigomij took us to a well-concealed vantage point. Off on the far shore and toward the shàwanong (south) we could see five or six canoes making their way through the sparse ice. Immediately I could see the danger that was approaching our lodges.

  “Wàgosh, hurry to the village and have the women smother the fires with cedar boughs to keep the smoke down. Then send Kàg and Wajashk back to us. Send two young warriors to the epangishimodj (west) of the village. Have Asinwàbidì (Stone Elk) and the other two young warriors go to the wàbanong (east). You and Mònz go to the shàwanong, that way all the directions will have lookouts in case they have set warriors on the shore. Nìjamik and the other two elders will guard the village with the young boys.”

  No sooner than I had finished telling him, Wàgosh was off like a wisp of smoke on a windy day.

  “Mitigomij, what do you think is going on?”

  “Brother, it is too early in the spring for the Haudenosaunee to be raiding. If it is them, they do not have enough warriors in those canoes to come this far to raid the Nippissing. Because of the distance, I can’t make out any markings on the canoes or see the warriors clearly enough to identify them.”

  “Mitigomij, if they were our friends they would not be on the other side of the river. It must be raiders of some sort, and they are on that section of the river to spot smoke from campfires. There’s no other explanation. I really don’t think there are any on our bank, but if there are, the village is on alert and well defended with lookouts on all sides, protected the best we can with the resources we have.”

  Kàg and Wajashk arrived well armed and wondering what they should do.

  “As of now, we do not know what the threat is, but we will soon know who the object of our concern is.”

  In a short while the canoes were even with our position, and then we were able to identify them in the distance. There were six boats with twenty or so warriors. No women or dogs. They were definitely a war party, but why so few and why so early in the spring? But the biggest surprise was who they were. Hochelagans! They were from the island near the rapids of the big river. Hochelagans never usually wandered far from their fortified village. Their numbers were around twelve hundred but not strong enough to invade Haudenosaunee lands and they were always in fear of them. They ha
d an ally in the Stadacona who lived upriver from them, but together they were no match for the Omàmiwinini or the Haudenosaunee in an all-out war.

  “Warriors, let’s go. I know what they are up to. Asinwàbidì, you’ll have to go back to the village and tell the young boys to call in the sentries. Kàg and I will walk back with Mitigomij. When we get back, I will be sending runners out. There is a battle coming, and we will need more warriors than we have in our family unit.”

  By the time we had reached the village, all the people were assembled. They all listened intently as I spoke. “We have seen twenty of our enemy, the Hochelagan, going upriver. There is only one thing they are doing; they are looking for smoke from our scattered family units. I do not think they are here to raid as there are so few of them. I think they have come upriver to gather information of where our villages are and then to report back. This means only one thing — the Hochelagans are planning a huge attack in the very near future, possibly before the next moon. What we have to do is call in as many family units as we can and kill these men before they get back to their main encampment.

  “My thoughts are that we have at the most two suns to gather. I am sending three runners out. Miskoz-i Kekek (Red Hawk) you will go to the west to the Matàwackariniwak (People of the Bulrush shore along the Madawaski River). Kinòz-i Ininì (Tall Man) go south to the Kinònjepìriniwak (People of the Pickerel Waters below Allumette Island). Makòns you go to the Nibachi (near Muskrat Lake).

  “My three runners, you have to leave now and travel with what daylight you have. You must reach our family allies by the high sun tomorrow, and they must join us by late dawn on the day after.

  “Mònz, take Miskwì and Asiniwàbidì to the north and climb the high bald rock. There you will be able to watch the river for a great distance. You’ll also be able to see for a distance along the shore where the forest fire went through along the river years ago. It’s a very good vantage point. If you see anything, send someone back with information and stay out of sight and observe as long as it is safe to do so.

  “Nìjamik, I cannot spare any warriors to go with you. You and the other two elders, Pijakì (Buffalo) and Andeg (Crow), will have to take the women, children, and young boys inland to the small waterfall that we go to in times of peril. It is well hidden and easily defended. Stay there until we send for you.”

  “Yes, Mahingan, I will look after everyone until your return,” said Nìjamik. “May Kitchi Manitou watch over you and your warriors.”

  “Esiban and Agwingos, you must take Ishkodewan and look after him for me. Make sure you feed him and start his training to be a good hunting and guard dog. I’m depending on the two of you to take on this great responsibility in my stead until I can take over.”

  Within the hour the village was packed and gone. We kept three dogs for sentries, and they took the rest to help carry all their belongings. It would take them a full day of travel, but they will be in a safe place there. Our people had used this place many times when we felt threatened. There were caves, fresh water, fish, and game nearby.

  With only Mitigomij, Wàgosh, Wajashk, and me left in camp, we settled back and waited for our Omàmiwinini brethren to come. It was time to paint our faces and pray to Kitchi Manitou.

  13

  The Island People

  I WOKE THE NEXT morning to the sound of rain on our lodge roofs with the accompanying thunder and lightning. This weather would help us in many ways. It would bring the Hochelagan canoes to shore, and they would be so anxious to make shelter from the rain that they may let their guard down.

  We were constantly struggling to have enough to eat and always battling the elements to stay warm or dry. Add the constant threat of our enemies and it was a life of never-ending vigilance. Our whole survival as a nation depended on the health of our women. They cooked, looked after the children, maintained our lodges, prepared skins for clothing, and foraged for berries, fruit, and other food. When we brought game home, they smoked and dried it. They gave birth to our children with sometimes deathly consequences. Our future existence depended on the survival of our children. Kitchi Manitou had given the men the power to hunt and fish and make war. Nations waged war for two main reasons: to weaken their enemies and to capture women and children. With the capture of the women and children, the tribe could remain strong. Children grew up to be warriors and wives. Without either, the tribe would wither up and die like a fall flower. A community of men would die out eventually, but a village of women and children would survive and prosper because the children could grow and reproduce. While Nokomis fed all of us, the women were made in her likeness to carry on her work. When a man married, he always went to the matriarchal home. This was another reason woman wielded so much power. They brought warriors to the family unit, strengthening the village. The wife’s mother was treated with great reverence and was never talked to directly by her daughter’s husband. He and the mother-in-law had to talk to each other through his wife or another family member, never person to person.

  Until then, I had not lost any of my brothers to another family unit. Mitigomij and Wàgosh were unmarried. Kàg’s wife was captured in a raid on a Haudenosaunee camp many years ago when she was young. My wife, Wàbananang, was the daughter of Nìjamik. Mònz, our brother-in-law, was the son of Pijakì and married to our sister Mànabìsì (Swan). Kàg’s first wife was of the Nibachis. A year after they were married she and their newborn son both died at childbirth. Kàg left his wife’s family unit and came home to us. A couple of summers later, on a raid against the Haudenosaunee, he captured a young woman and brought her back to be his wife. Her name was Kinebigokesì (Cricket), the mother of the twins.

  While Kitchi Manitou only gave us this land to oversee, we had to defend our interests. If someone else tried to force us off or threaten our families, we had to stand and fight. If we didn’t and were submissive, we would be under their mìgàdinàn wàgàkwad (war axe) and have to suffer the consequences of any decisions our enemies made for us. That usually meant death or a completely different way of life than we had been used to, being their slave.

  My thoughts were now on what the next few days would hold for us. Would there be death? These battles were always brutal because of the weapons we used — arrows and lances that tore as they entered the body. Hand-to-hand combat with knives that ripped and cut. War axes that broke bones and caused tremendous head wounds. If you were wounded and managed to live through the battle, you could bleed to death or die from infection if the Shaman or your fellow warriors couldn’t get to you to administer the healing plants. If you were wounded and your tribe had retreated, you could expect no quarter from the enemy. All warriors were considered a threat. If captured alive, you were usually tortured or forced to run the gauntlet. And if you survived the gauntlet, sometimes you were adopted into the tribe or suffered painful retribution from your enemy. Surrender was almost always worse than death. The only time a battle was usually one-sided was when one of the opponents had been able to lay a successful ambush or if the numbers of one of the opposing forces totally outnumbered the other.

  The life of the Omàmiwinini was forever between life and death at any known time. Cluskap, the Creator Force, had fashioned this life for us, and we had to accept our fate.

  With the rain having let up a bit, we left Mitigomij to watch over the campfires. Wàgosh, Wajashk, and I went into the forest with our birch pails and collected the tree sap. We would store it in the village and when all this danger had passed, the women would boil the water down to the sweet contents.

  The forest was laden with the smells of spring and the life that the rain was giving it. For me this was the best part of the year. However, another month or so and the pikodjisi (blackfly) would hatch. After the blackfly come the sagime (mosquito). Both drove men and beast to distraction. The giant moose and wabidì (elk) would be driven out of the forest into the lakes and ponds to escape the menace. My people used the crushed root of the goldenseal plant mixed with bear fat to
keep these insects away.

  We spent most of the day gathering the sap and storing it. When we were finished, Mitigomij had a meal ready for us.

  Just as dusk approached, the rain and wind picked up with increasing velocity. With the weather starting to worsen, we headed for one of our lodges. At that moment the dogs started to growl, putting us on alert. Grabbing our weapons, we headed toward where they were facing.

  “Mahingan, it’s me, Asinwàbidì.”

  “Enter, brother. We have food and a warm lodge.”

  “Mahingan, because of the storm the Hochelagans have landed in the clearing. But there is another problem!”

  “Yes, Asiniwàbidì, what is it?”

  “There is more of the enemy than first thought. They have fooled us. The warriors in the canoes were a diversion. There was another force that had travelled through the forest on the distant river bank, and they have raided the Otaguttaouernin and taken captives. Wàgosh, they have Kwìngwìshì!”

  With that Wàgosh jumped to his feet and grabbed his weapons.

  “No, Wàgosh! We must wait for our people to come back. We are not strong enough in numbers to take on the Hochelagans until they arrive! If you go now they will leave with her and kill you in the process.”

  “Mahingan, my brother, you are right. I’ll wait.”

  “Asiniwàbidì, how many captives and warriors do they have?”

  “Mahingan, it was hard to tell, but at least ten or twelve captives, all women and children. Warriors, they have twenty from the boats and another twenty-five or thirty from the woods.”

  I then realized what had happened. “They must have left the other canoes down river on the eastern bank, then had those warriors continue on foot into the forest. That way when they were spotted on the river, their numbers didn’t cause any concern. When they were past all the village fires, they ferried the group travelling on foot to this side of the river and started their raid. Their plans must have been to raid all the way down the riverbank area until they reached their canoes.