[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (20 page)

"So you found some women who could speak English?"

"No. Not really."

"Then how-?"

"Oh, they said 'hello' and `berries' and `come."'

Wynn smiled.

"We sort of filled in the rest with gestures. Oh, Wynn, I wish I
could understand them! They had so much fun."

"Give yourself a little time. You'll soon be joining in. Who were
they?"

"That's part of the problem. I don't even know their names. I
couldn't ask them where they live or anything."

Wynn reached out and gently stroked my hair. "It's hard, isn't it?"
he said.

"I might have found some friends-and lost them-in the very
same day," I mourned.

I was working about my kitchen the next morning, wondering how
I was going to fill my long day, when a loud call-almost in my earspun me around. There stood the youngest member of the trio who
had shared the berry patch the day before. After my initial fright, I was
able to smile at her and indicate a chair for her. She shook her head
and held up her basket. She was going to pick berries again.

"Yes, I'll go," I nodded to her. "Thank you for stopping for me. It
will take me just a minute to get my things."

I thought as I bustled about finding my hat and my pail that she
probably hadn't understood one word of what I had just said.

We went out into the sunshiny day and there, waiting at the end
of our path, were four more women. Two of them had been with us
the day before and the other two were new to me. I smiled at all of
them, pointed to myself and said, "Beth," which they repeated with
many giggles and varying degrees of success, and we started off. This
time we went in a different direction when we came to the river. All
along the way, the women chattered and laughed. I could only smile.

We picked berries until noon again. As before, they filled their containers before me and helped me to finish.

We walked home single file, the women laughing and talking as
they went. How I wished I could join in. I wanted to at least ask them
their names and where they lived. I might as well be mute for all the
good my tongue did me.

When we got to our cabin, I again motioned for them to come in.
They showed me their brimming pails and pointed to the settlement.
I wouldn't let them go without some information. I would try it again.
So I pointed at myself and said, "Beth." Then I pointed at the youngest
woman who had been the one to walk right into our home. The
women looked at one another and smiled.

"Evening Star," the young woman said carefully, and then she went
around the little circle pointing her finger at each of the ladies and
saying their names. It was a strange mixture. The middle-aged woman
was Kinawaki, the older woman Mrs. Sam, and the two new ones who
had gone with us were Little Deer and Anna. I reviewed each of the
names one more time to make sure that I had them right. The ladies
nodded. I turned back to Evening Star, aching to communicate.

"Where do you live?" I tried.

She shook her head, not understanding. I looked at the other
women grouped around her. They all looked blank.

"Your house? Where is your house?" I pointed at my house.

Evening Star's face lit up. "Law," she said. She must have thought
that I was asking something about my own home.

I pointed toward the settlement. "Do you live over there?" I asked
again.

"McLain," said the woman. At least she knew the name of the
Hudson's Bay trader.

I knew I couldn't hold them any longer. I smiled and stepped back,
nodding them a good-day. They smiled in return and started one by
one down the path. Anna, the small, thin woman with the missing
tooth, was the last to turn and go. Just as she passed by me, she stopped
and leaned forward ever so slightly. "She doesn't understand English
talk," she whispered, and then followed the others down the path. I
stared after her with my mouth open.

We went for berries the following day, too. Anna was there, and I
directed my inquiries to her. I would not be cheated again out of conversation. I found out that the five women all lived in the settlement.
Two of them, Mrs. Sam and Anna, were married to white trappers.
Mrs. Sam had wished to be called as white women are called, by their
husband's names. She did not understand quite how the system
worked. Sam was her husband's first name; his last name was Lavoie.

Anna spoke English well because she had attended a mission school
in another area. Beaver River had had no school. Anna did not consider
herself superior, just different from the others. I found out later that
she had had more schooling than her trapper husband, even though it
was only the equivalent of about grade four. She was the one who did
the figuring when she and her husband went to the trading post.

I also asked Anna about the families of the women. Anna didn't
offer much on her own, but she did answer my direct questions. Evening Star was married to Tall One and had four children. She had had
two others who had been lost at a young age to dark blood. I wondered
what dark blood meant to the Indian. I tucked it away to ask Wynn.
Kinawaki had been married-twice. Both her husbands had died. I
decided that it would be improper and insensitive to probe for details.
Kinawaki had borne nine children, five of them still living. Mrs. Sam
had never had children. She had much time to do nothing, according
to Anna. Little Deer, the short, round woman, had two boy-children
who were always in the way; and she, Anna, had five-two in Indian
graves and three at home.

The mortality rate appalled me. The resigned way in which they
seemed to accept it bothered me even more. Was it expected that one
would raise only half of one's family?

I was learning how to fill my pail more quickly than I had previously, but the women still gave me a hand before we left for home. On
our way home, I walked along beside Anna. The path was not made
for walking two abreast-now and then we would come to thick
growth where I would have to step back, allowing her to go on without
me, and then hurry to catch up to her again. I wanted to be sure to let
her know that I would welcome any of the women into my home at
any time.

"Not today," said Anna. "Today we have much work. We must dry
berries for cold. Takes much work."

I agreed.

"Berries almost gone now," she went on. "Bears and birds get rest.
Not pick anymore."

"When the women are finished with their berries, then will they
have time to come?"

"I'll ask." She spoke rapidly to the other ladies, who were trudging
on single file down the trail. No one stopped and no one turned to
enter the conversation; they just called back and forth. After a few
minutes of exchanges, Anna turned to me.

"Why you want us come?" she asked forthrightly.

I was a bit taken aback. "Well, just to-to-to get to know you
better. To make friends-to maybe have some tea-"

She interrupted me then. "Tea," she said. "That's good."

She talked again to her companions. I heard the word "tea," which
seemed to be a drawing card. There was a general nodding of heads.

"We come-sometime," said Anna.

"Good!" I exclaimed. "How about tomorrow?"

Anna looked puzzled. "Why?" she said. "Why tomorrow?"

"Well, I-I'd like you to come as soon as possible."

"Come when ready," responded Anna, and I nodded my head.

"Come when ready," I agreed.

Two days later I looked up from my sewing to see Little Deer
standing in my doorway. I had not heard her knock. She came in smiling and took the seat I offered her. I got out the teapot and made the
tea. We couldn't talk, so we just sat smiling and nodding at one another. She had watched with great interest as I lifted china cups from
my cupboard. I didn't have any cake or cookies, so I cut slices of fresh
bread and spread it with the jam I had made with some of my berries.

We had just taken our first sip from the cups when Evening Star
walked in. She had not knocked either. I got another cup and we continued our tea party. When we finished I decided to show the two
ladies around our house. They carefiilly looked at everything, their
faces showing little emotion. I couldn't tell if they were pleased,
puzzled, or provoked at what they saw. Nothing seemed to move them
in the least.

I came to my kitchen and proudly demonstrated how I could
sweep aside my curtains and reveal the dishes and food stacked on the
shelves. Evening Star reached out a hand and tried it herself. She lifted
the curtain, peered in behind it, and let it fall back in place. Then she
did it again. She turned to Little Deer and spoke a word in her native
dialect. Not only did she say it once, but she repeated it, and Little
Deer said it after her. At last, I had found something that impressed
them! I said the word over and over to myself so I would remember it.
I wanted to ask Wynn about it when he got home.

It wasn't long after our tea party until Wynn was home for supper.
I still had the Indian word on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to be
sure to ask him before I lost it.

Almost as soon as he entered the door, I asked him. It was a difficult word for my tongue to twist around, and I wasn't sure I could say
it correctly.

"What is winniewishy?" I asked him.

Wynn puzzled for a moment and then corrected my pronunciation.

"That's it. What does it mean?"

"Where'd you hear that?" asked Wynn.

"Two of the ladies were here today for tea," I informed him excitedly. "What does it mean?"

"Well, in English, I guess we'd say nuisance. Why?"

Nuisance! They had viewed and touched my curtains and pronounced them a nuisance? For a moment I was puzzled and hurt, and
then it struck me as funny and I began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Wynn.

"Oh, nothing, really. That was just the opinion of the ladies about
the pretty, unpractical curtains over my cupboards."

It was Sunday again, though I had a hard time really convincing
myself of that fact. It seemed so strange not to be preparing for church.
I missed the worship. I missed the contact with friends. I missed being
with my own family. But, most of all, I missed the feeling of refreshing
that came from spending time with other believers in praise and prayer.

We set aside some time, just the two of us, in a manner that would
become our practice for the years ahead in the North; and, with Bible
in hand, we had our own brief Sunday worship service.

The next day, my washday, I was busy with ironing when a call
from within my doorway announced another visitor. It was Evening
Star. Right behind her came Mrs. Sam and Little Deer. I put aside my
ironing and fixed the tea. The women seemed to enjoy it, smacking
their lips appreciatively as they drank. We had just finished when Anna
appeared. I made another pot and we started all over again.

With the coming of Anna, I was able to talk to the women. "I
thought you might like to do some sewing," I said to them. "I have
things all ready."

I went to my bedroom trunk and brought out material that I had
already prepared to make pillows. I also brought needles and thread
and proceeded to show the ladies how to go about stitching up the
pillows. They started somewhat clumsily with the lightweight material,
but seemed to catch on quickly enough. When they had finished, they
handed the pillows back to me.

"Oh, no," I told them. "You may keep them. Take them home
with you." I pointed to the many pillows I had on the cot. "You can
use them in your own homes," I said, and Anna passed on the information. The women still looked a bit hesitant, but they all left with
their pillows.

The next day the women came again, all walking right in as they
arrived. I decided I would talk to Anna about it-explain that one did
not just walk into another's house without knocking first. She would be able to inform the other ladies. It was uncomfortable for me, not
knowing when someone might suddenly appear at my elbow.

Again we had our tea. I began to wonder just what I had started.
Did the ladies think they needed to come to my house every day of
the week for a tea party? I was glad they liked to come, but I wasn't
sure how to put a stop to this as a daily event.

After tea I was all prepared to go and get some more sewing. They
seemed to easily have mastered the simple cushion;. now perhaps they
would like to try something a little more difficult. I excused myself and
went to my bedroom. While I was gone, there was a shuffling in the
kitchen. Little Deer left the room and went to the outside step. I had
returned to the kitchen-living room when she came back with some
baskets on her arm. The ladies had each brought her own sewing. I
stood dumbstruck as I watched the deft fingers move rapidly in and
out of the material. Intricate designs in thread and bead-work were
quickly forming under skilled hands. I could feel embarrassment flooding my face with deep color. To think that I, Elizabeth Delaney, had
had the foolish notion that I could teach these women how to sew!
Why, their work would put mine to shame any day. I didn't even know
the right words to apologize