I Am Algonquin Page 8

  I could see the Nippissing in the distance, and they still had the piwàkwad. With our people scattered over the field this turned out to be an easy score for the opposition.

  I ran back to our end and told our warriors that we needed to run in a staggered formation up the field. The older warriors would lead on the offence and supply interference with the younger men and the two women being the ball carriers. When a Nippissing approached them, they were to hold on to the ball until the last moment and then pass it to the nearest open carrier. We needed to use our speed and cunning to combat the brute force of the Nippissing. If the Nippissing took the piwàkwad away from us, it was critical we attack them immediately so they could not form and charge as they did the last time.

  With this plan, we advanced the ball up the field for most of the day, but were never able to get close enough to hit the rock. The enemy was always able to knock our ball carriers over and obtain the piwàkwad. We did score once and the Nippissing tried to run with all their warriors down the field as they had previously. However, we changed our tactics and instead of meeting them head on, we let the main body of players rush by us and then attacked the ball carrier from both sides. This worked extremely well, helping us to recover the piwàkwad and start our own rush.

  The day advanced with both teams sustaining injuries. With darkness setting in, each side was probably down to about one hundred and twenty warriors and the Nippissing were leading us by two scores. With very little time left in the day, a group of Pangì Shìshìb’s young warriors made a mad run down the field. With lightning speed and wild recklessness, they hit the scoring rock. With that final count, the keepers decided the first day was over.

  I went to midfield and Mìgàdinàn-àndeg and I touched sticks to end the day. We retired to our respective sides of the fields to eat, sleep, and wait tomorrow’s sunrise.

  As I left the field, Wàbananang and my wolf pup, Ishkodewan, met me. My wife had a glow about her now that she was carrying our child. Kissing her on the cheek, she handed me a bowl of food and I sat on a robe she had put inside the lean-to that was set up near the field. She then left and went back to the village, leaving Ishkodewan and me. The wolf pup had grown a lot this summer and my two nephews, with my direction, had trained him well. Ishkodewan never left my side when I was around. Because the pup was too young to take on a hunt as of yet, I often left him with Esiban and Agwingos. The small dog, which had taken a liking to Ishkodewan, protected him from the other dogs.

  With the wolf pup at my side, I was soon asleep.

  I awoke in the morning to the sound of heavy rain. This would make the pàgàdowewin game more of a trial now. The field would be muddy and warriors would not have the footing they needed. I looked out into the field and observed large puddles of water. This made me smile. Today would be very interesting.

  Our women had come back in the morning to prepare us food. My wife entered the lean to and handed me a bowl. The food was hot and I hoped that it would sustain me through the day. Once we were on the field, we could not leave for food or drink until the day was over.

  Mìgàdinàn-àndeg and I met again at midfield to start the day. This time I won the piwàkwad and rushed down the field. With ten of our warriors leading me, I looked for one of the young warriors to pass off to. However, they were busy trying to knock down Nippissing warriors. I neared the rock and at least seven of the enemy were running toward me with one intention: to get the piwàkwad. Looking to my left, I saw a young warrior in the open. I hurled the piwàkwad to him and as soon as he received it, he sent it hurtling to the scoring rock. I was so intent on watching the pass and shot, I did not notice a huge water hole. I stepped into it, slipped, and then slid the length of it on my face. The water hole was not deep, but it was quite long and I skidded for an extended distance. This brought howls of laughter from both sides and all who were watching off the field. This embarrassing moment led to a change of play now for both sides. Whenever anyone was near water, players were trying to hit, shove, or trip the opposition into the muddy mess.

  Halfway through the day, the field was a quagmire, with warriors from both sides either covered in mud or drenched from the rain. The teams were scoring at will now, because all the warriors were concerned about was whether they could dump someone into a puddle of water. It did not matter if they had the piwàkwad or not.

  Luckily, no one had drowned yet. There seemed to be fewer injuries now because instead of each of the teams trying to whack each other with their sticks they were trying to push one another into mud or water.

  This carried on for the rest of the day, and when Mìgàdinàn-àndeg and I met at midfield with the other chiefs, the elders told us the game had ended tied.

  Mìgàdinàn-àndeg then looked at me and said, “Mahingan even though nothing has been decided, your warriors have proven themselves worthy opponents on the field of pàgàdowewin.”

  “So have yours, Mìgàdinàn-àndeg, I agree nothing has been decided. Kitchi Manitou has spoken and led us on another path. I put this to you before you leave; I will give you a mìkisesimik (wampum belt) to take to your people. This belt will tell what happened in the past few days and will signify a peace between our Nations. As you said when you appeared on our shore, we have been enemies and fought but only small battles. Never have we ever raided each other’s villages. We have a common enemy in the Haudenosaunee. It is time to bury our differences and become allies. No more will we kill each other. We will respect your hunting grounds as you ours. If because of need one of us has to hunt in the other’s homeland, we will leave an offering and only take enough to survive. If there is a common enemy, we will come to each other’s aid. Tomorrow I will have a wampum belt for you to take back. If your people agree, send us a belt in return to seal the pact. When your answer comes back, we will smoke the sacred pipes.”

  “So be it, Mahingan. I will take this wampum belt back to my people, and we will send you an answer before the snows.”

  With that, the two Nations left the field and retired to their lean-tos to tell stories of the last two days. Our drummers and singers performed and our women made a great feast. Even though there had been no winner from the past two days, there had been an understanding that would help to ensure the future survival of the Omàmiwinini People.

  As I sat down to eat, Esiban and Agwingos came running up to me. “Uncle, we have news of many pijakì!”

  18

  The PijakÌ Journey

  THE PIJAKÌ ARE ANIMALS that the Omàmiwinini rarely get a chance to hunt. Only once did my father ever say that his people hunted this great beast, and he was a very young boy at the time it happened. These beasts were only able to come near our hunting grounds when the big lake completely froze over during the winter. This enabled the animals to walk across the ice from the south, looking for grass and salt licks. They then would be here until the next winter, disappearing from our hunting grounds when the lake froze over again. When the big animals appeared, it was a time of great happiness. Slaying these huge beasts would keep many stomachs full over the winter.

  The women dried the meat over fires and then mixed it with berries. We then stored the food in baskets for later use. The Omàmiwinini always considered the coming of the buffalo a reward from Kitchi Manitou.

  Esiban and Agwingos said that they had talked to a Wàbanaki (Abenaki) warrior who had come to tell us of a great herd that was near the big lake. He was now eating in our village and the man said that he would lead us to where the herd was. His people had sent him to ask for help in herding the great beasts into a wìbwàte (corridor) and then into an enclosure where they could be killed by the warriors. The corridor would be made of fallen trees and rocks built along two sides tapering into the enclosure, backing onto a large hill with stone on all sides. Once the animals were in the penned area, we would shut the entrance.

  Buffalo supplied many things for our people. The animal was bigger than a moose or a wabidì.

  Besides the meat an
d the hides, we used the sinew for thread, bowstrings, and sewing. The people used the bones for tools, knives, arrowheads, and pipes. Horns were used for eating utensils, the hair for rope, the brain for tanning hides, fat for hair grease, and the stomach and bladder for water containers and cooking. Nothing went to waste.

  With so many families encamped for the summer, there would be many hands to help in this hunt. Upon talking with our visitor, we decided that the main body of the village would leave in a week. It would take us that long to make the wìgwàs-chimàn (birch bark canoes) that we would need to transport the people there. Then after the hunt, we had to bring the meat back. It will take only four or five suns to reach where we had to go. As many warriors as possible would leave the next day. Then, once they arrived, they could help in the making of the corridor with our Wàbanaki allies. When the women and the rest of the men arrived, the hunt would be ready to commence. We would need the skills of the women to cut up the animals and prepare the meat and hides for the journey home.

  First we had to make the birch bark canoes that we needed to transport us. After the two-day game with the Nippissing, about thirty of our warriors had suffered enough injury to prevent them from taking the journey. They would stay with the elderly and the young in our summer encampment, while the rest of the village participated in the hunt. Among all the family units we had fifty-four canoes that were available to leave immediately. With a hundred and thirty warriors and another two hundred and twenty women and children to help with the slaughtering of the animals, we would need a hundred-and-twenty-five canoes. With what we had already, we still needed another seventy vessels.

  The next morning a hundred and sixty warriors, women and children left on the journey accompanied by the Wàbanaki warrior. The rest of us would follow as soon as we made the remainder of the boats.

  We started immediately to build them. All the other family heads except for Minowez-I and me had left with the first group. Wàgosh, Kàg, Mònz, and their families had also gone with them.

  Mitigomij had stayed with me and we would travel in the second group.

  The remaining men were gave the task of cutting cedar for the framing of the boats and large birches from which we would peel enough bark to cover each canoe. They would then build the vessels on a sand beach near the village. The women and children had the assigned job of digging up the spruce roots that we needed to bind the wooden parts of the canoes and the sewing of the bark skin.

  Once all the materials were collected over the course of a couple of days, the men started to make the gunnels, ribs, and plankings from the cedar using an axe and a crooked knife to shape the curves in the ribs. The bark and the spruce roots were then placed in the river to keep them fresh.

  The ribs that we had cut from cedar also had to be soaked for a couple of days and then boiling water poured over them to help with the bending. The people next rolled the bark out on the level beach, the frame weighted down with heavy rocks, and then the bark sides turned up. Afterward we set the assembly to the proper height and had everything lashed together with the spruce roots. To seal the canoes, we used spruce gum and animal fat.

  While the canoe building was going on, the young boys, under the direction of Mitigomij, cut trees down and took them to the elders and the injured warriors who then made paddles. Everyone worked from sunrise to sunset to get as much done as possible. On the days that it rained, we still worked on the boats.

  After nine days, we had sixty-eight boats finished and ready to float. We were ready to leave. Two-hundred-and-eight of us prepared for the journey.

  Because Wàbananang was with child, I decided that she should stay behind. Thirty-one warriors who had varying amounts of injuries but nothing life-threatening, forty-two elders, twenty-five pregnant women, and the young children would be staying behind. We would be gone for at least a moon on this trip. I hoped that all would be well with the people that we had left behind.

  I turned to Mitigomij and Minowez-I. “The time has come to leave. We must get everyone organized and the canoes loaded. Mitigomij, will that wild cat of yours be able to keep up on the shore?”

  “No problem brother. I hope that wolf cub of yours can swim if he has to!”

  We decided that we would take the Wajashk Sàgahigan and Sìbì (Muskrat Lake and River) system down to the Kitchi-Sìbì and miss the biggest onigams (portages). We would come out to the Kitchi-Sìbì before the big bend and have to portage there. We would have seven sets of rapids to go around and one set that we could ride through. This would take us four to five days to reach our destination.

  When we left, Mitigomij, Ishkodewan, Minowez-I, his son, and I were in the lead canoes. After we had been on the river for a while, I looked back at the boats; it was an amazing sight to see sixty-eight boats and all the people. If this hunt were successful, our winter would be one without hunger pangs and starvation for the old, the weak, and the young. The hunt would strengthen the Omàmiwinini for years to come.

  Travelling with this many people, we had to be concerned with feeding everyone. A decision was made that when we did an onigam, the women would prepare food as the men portaged. After all the canoes had cleared the portage, we created a pagidjiwanàn (resting place on a portage) and ate.

  Minowez-I and I had also decided that while we were travelling on the river, all of the women and children who were not paddling were to troll for fish. Anything that they caught would be filleted right in the boat. They then used the entrails for more bait. This gave us enough food to eat, along with any roots and berries they found when we stopped.

  At the end of our first day, we had made two portages. On the first one the women quickly got cooking fires going and the children who we had brought with us foraged for berries and roots. By the time the men had finished the portage, we could eat and rest. The women also made everyone lots of hot kìjik anìbìsh (cedar tea). This drink kept everyone healthy and strong. The second portage was a longer one. Minowez-I and I had decided ahead of time we would camp here for the night. With that in mind, we sent a couple of hunting parties out and had warriors make lean-tos for shelters. The women gathered wood, made fires, and started meals. The rest of us made two or three trips each carrying canoes and other supplies.

  The hunting parties that we had sent out came back with a couple of deer and a few rabbits. The women made a very good meal of all this. After all had eaten, I asked Mitigomij to meet with Minowez-I and me.

  “Mitigomij, we would like you to oversee the security of the camp when we stop each night. We know you cannot help to carry the canoes when we portage, so we will leave it up to you and any of the young warriors of your choosing to be camp guardians while the canoes and supplies are being moved overland. We respect the vigilance that you and your panther friend Makadewà Wàban have shown toward our safety at all times. Even though you have limitations, we never doubt your courage and warrior skills.”

  “Minowez-I and Mahingan, I will defend our people to my death. I am proud that you think enough of me to take control over the camp security. Makadewà Wàban and I will not let you down.”

  We had also brought twenty-three of our dogs to help with the hunt. It was the job of the children to care and feed for them. Each child had one dog to care for. It was the young person’s responsibility to ensure the dog stayed in the canoe with them on the trip.

  After two days, we had made it to the Kitchi-Sìbì and past two more portages. As we were paddling, I mentioned to my brother what I had in mind for him.

  “Mitigomij, you know that once we get to the hunt you will have to stay with the canoes and guard them. You wouldn’t be able to keep up with us as we travel inland to where the buffalo are.”

  “Mahingan, I know this and I accept my way in life. My tasks are always important for the survival of our people, and I do not perceive my disability as a detriment, but only as a sign from Kitchi Manitou that I am destined for other paths in life.”

  “I will leave with you some of the
younger boys who can help with the fire and keep watch. You have Makadewà Wàban who is equal to five warriors. I do not expect any trouble from the south, but we must be observant.”

  With the ending of the day, it was not long after everyone had eaten that all, except for the sentries, were asleep. Ishkodewan, who had grown a lot since I found him in the spring, always slept next to me. Still a young wolf, he was eager to learn when I took him on a hunt. Obedient at all times, the animal was developing superior hunting skills through the teachings of the small dog and me. The two of them were inseparable while hunting and or when in the camp.

  When we awoke the next morning, there was a misty rain. Today would bring us to the end of our journey, but there still was one more set of rapids to take.

  “Minowez-I, we will have to keep the canoes well spaced when we go through the last set of rapids. We do not want any of the boats bumping into each other causing them to capsize. Mitigomij and I will go first and you and your son can send the others at intervals. We will land on the west shore and when you send the next one they will land on the eastern shore. That way if anyone overturns, there will be someone on either shore to help them.”

  “Okay Mahingan. My son and I will control things from here. Don’t worry about us.”

  Mitigomij, Ishkodewan, and I started on our descent through the rapids. The misty rain moistened our faces and the roar of the fast moving water made my heart race. As we looked toward the white water, the movement made it look like the river was waving us on to make the journey. Taking this as a good omen, we started our descent down river. We could feel the power of the river beneath our boat. The only sound besides the river was my wolf cub growling and snapping at the water as it washed over the canoe, soaking all in the boat. With the helpful skills of my brother, we rode the rapids and arrived safely but wet on the shore.

  As the morning wore on, all the boats made it through the rapids. When we did have a couple of spills, no one suffered any injuries, as we pulled the overturned occupants to shore with the empty canoe. We had now split up on the two shores and both sides had fires going to dry our clothes and to make a meal.