Keeper'n Me (29 page)

“And the dance?”

“Don't know. Not my dream. Maybe means ceremony sometime you gotta do. Maybe means you're gonna be a dancer yourself. Dance that dance sometime. Don't know.

“But you'n me got a lotta the same things in our paths. Need to learn same things too. That's why we're together. To teach each other. You gotta learn to live the same way as me. See, we got two sets of gifts inside, an' us we gotta learn to use 'em both. Man gifts and woman gifts. You wanna be Anishanabe, live the Indyun way, you gotta learn to be whole that way. You'n me. Both of us the same. Hmmpfh. Who'da figured?”

“Figured what?”

“Two guys so diff'rent bein' able to teach each other. Goes that way, I guess.”

“So what I do now?”

“Keep on goin' back to that dream. Write down stuff that comes to you. Live with it. Try'n see what it's tellin' you. Try'n live it all the time. Got lotta responsibility havin' a dream like that.”

“Responsibility?”

“Hey-yuh. Big gift. Same as that feather. Tellin' you to always look an' remember the teachin's in it all. Do that you get more dreams. More lessons. But always gotta remember one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Always gotta remember … dream and vision without action ain't nothin'.”

“Hmmpfh. You mean always keep lookin' for more. Don't take them lightly.”

“Hey-yuh. Teachin's always gonna come to you different ways. Dreams sometimes. People sometimes. Animals. Different ways. Quit lookin' for teachin's you quit growin'. No such thing in the Indyun way as gettin' wise. Gettin' wisdom. Wisdom's a path you decide to take'n follow, not someplace you get to.”

“Hmmpfh. You mean I'll never get to be full of wisdom? That there's always gonna be more? Stay on the path there's always gonna be more to learn?”

“Hey-yuh. That's what the Indyun way's all about. Stayin' on that good red road.”

“Red road?”

“Yeah, red road. Path of the heart. Stay on that path you learn to be three things.”

“What three?”

“Stay on the path of the heart, the red road, you learn to be a good human bein' first. Then you learn to be a good man, or good woman dependin' on who you're born to be. Then because you learned to be those things sometime you find out you learned how, to be a good Anishanabe, a good Indyun. That's the way it works. Learn to be good human bein' everythin' else follows. Learn to be complete. Your life's a prayer. That's our way. Way it's always been.”

“So what I do with that feather?”

“Same as me. Put it up someplace where you're always gonna see it. Someplace close to you. More you see it, the
more you remember what you're supposed to be doin'. One of these days you'll find someone comes your way you wanna give it to maybe. Someone tryin' to follow the same path. Someone showin' same kinda courage.”

“Lot to it, eh?”

“Lot to what?'

“The Indyun way. Our way.”

“Hey-yuh. Lot to it. More all the time too.”

“Are we ever gonna be able to learn everything?”

“Nah. World changes all the time. More teachin's all the time. Always gonna be more. Rules always the same, though. Rules always the same.”

“Rules of tradition?”

“Hey-yuh. Rules of life. Follow 'em you get through anythin'.”

“Funny. Remember how scared I was coming here the first time? Scared about not being able to be an Indyun, scared I'd never be able to be one, scared that I was always gonna be on the outside?”

“Yeah. Scareda that still?”

“Nah. More scared of not being enough of one now. Not living up to what I learned, y'know?”

“Hey-yuh. I know. But don't worry. You're doin' good. But there's somethin' you're gonna need.”

“What?”

“Gonna need those two feathers the old man gave me long long time ago. Me I wanna give 'em to you on accounta you done somethin' took real bravery. An' on accounta they're a big part of who you are. Big part of
that old man. Big part of me. Big part of our way. That's who you are now. Goin' to that cabin, doin' that ceremony hooked you up to our way. Put it inside you. Made it into a heartsong. You listen to that song. It's yours. It's made up from your life. Everythin' you went through to get here right now. This place. This moment. So me I wanna give 'em to you to help you always remember who you are.”

He got up slowly and made his way across the cabin to where those feathers hung on the east wall. The drum hung beside them. As he turned back to me I could see big tears rolling down his face and he was smiling at the same time. He walked towards me really slowly looking at those feathers in his hands. Touching them, running his hands down the edges and moving his fingers through the soft plumage at the bottom where they were joined by the moose-hide thong. I stood to meet him.

It felt like forever. An old man'n me. Keeper'n me. Two friends joined by the spirit of another old man who'd moved through our lives in different ways but left his footprints on our hearts anyway. My grampa. When he handed me those feathers we never spoke. Just looked long and deep into each other's eyes, nodding our heads slowly.

“They're yours now, Garnet. Always were I guess. Me I was just the keeper of these feathers too. Take 'em. You earned 'em. Honor 'em. Honor 'em by tryin' to live a good way. Our way.”

“Meegwetch, Keeper. Meegwetch. I will. I'll try.”

“Hey-yuh. I know you will. I know you will. You're a good boy. It's only right you should have these.”

“Why's that?”

“Might look like eagle feathers right now but me I always believed they were always … Raven feathers.”

We laughed. Laughed good and deep and then we collapsed together in a great big hug. We stood there rocking back and forth with our arms wrapped around each other for the longest time. Feeling that feeling that's got no name in our language or any other. The feeling that happens when two spirits collide and soar. Kinda like those two eagles in my dream. Two hearts and two lives joined together by that common magic born of the land. A common magic we carry within us always, bringing us together with the ones who'll be our guides in this life, the ones we travel that good red road with.

The path of the heart. The path of the Anishanabe. The path of the human beings.

“That's the thing with hugs,” Ma was saying later that day when we were hanging all three feathers on the east wall of her cabin. “Make you feel real good all the time. But there's a reason. When we hug someone an' really mean it, we get given a gift by the Creator who sent that person our way. That's the gift of another heartbeat. We feel it on the empty side of our chests when we really squeeze that person close. The old people say when we're really happy that extra heartbeat we feel when
we're huggin's helpin' us celebrate. An' when we're full of hurt or sore that extra heartbeat's givin' us the strength we need to get through whatever it is. That's the old way of seein' it. Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah,” I said real slowly, “yeah. Makes sense to me too. Thanks, Ma.”

“Oh, you're welcome, my boy. Now c'mere. Your old ma wants to feel another heartbeat … help me celebrate these feathers.”

She was right. There is another heartbeat when you stop to try and feel it.

Thing with us Ojibways is, we can't stand holding onto good news for very long without sharing it with somebody. Strange how word gets out so far and so fast sometimes. Around here it's called the moccasin telegraph. Word is that the moccasin telegraph's a faster means of communication than any scientist will ever discover. All it takes is one whisper and pretty soon everyone's in on the news. Sometimes I think us Indians got what you could call satellite ears. We can pick up the frequency of whispering a mile or more away and that's why the moccasin telegraph's such an amazing thing to watch. Ma'n me weren't the least surprised when Chief Isaac and old Doc Tacknyk knocked on the door just after noon.

“Heard the good news, Garnet,” Chief Isaac said, stretching out his hand in congratulations. “Long time since anyone earned an eagle feather around here. Especially two. Prouda ya.'

“That goes for me too, Garnet,” Doc said, patting me on the back with them icy fingers. I could feel their chill right through my wool sweater and was kinda grateful I didn't need a check-up in the near future. “Isaac and I figure this calls for something special. Don't we, Chief.”

“Hey-yuh. We do. Fact, we were talking down at the store about it an' we figure it's time we had a big feast. Get everyone down to it. Get the drummers to sing you an honor song. Get everyone nice'n fat. Party it up, y'know?”

“You were talking about this down at the store?” I said. “Didn't happen but this morning.”

“Yeah, an' we're all real happy for ya,” Isaac said, sitting down in a chair with a hot mug of tea he'd grabbed off the stove. “Everybody is.”

“Everybody?”

“Hey-yuh. It's the talk of the reserve today.”

Ma giggled in the background and I saw her'n Doc trade a big wink. They both settled into chairs to hear the rest of Isaac's plan. I just stood there leaning against the door frame, shaking my head. Even when you're kinda used to it, the moccasin telegraph'll amaze you sometimes.

“So what I figger is this,” Isaac said, setting his mug on the floor and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands wide open in front of him. That's his favorite political stance. Figures it gives him that honest, just-your-neighbor politician look. “Huntin's been good,
lotta fish being smoked, everyone's in pretty good shape foodwise, so we can all pitch in. Band office'll throw outta buncha money for extras. Maybe we can get the drummers'n singers from Shoal Lake to come'n do us a big old round dance, party right into the morning. Sound good to you?”

“Sure sounds like a dandy idea to me,” Doc said. “Been a while since this place had a good old-fashioned round dance. Even longer since we had a feast.”

“Hey-yuh,” said Ma, her eyes gleaming at the prospect. “An' I jus' know my brothers'll bring out their fiddles'n guitars. We can do us some jiggin' too.”

“Good. I'll make the arrangements. Figure three days to pull it all together. So Saturday night at the community hall startin' about seven. Be there or be square!” Isaac said. He swilled back the rest of his tea and stood up real official like.

“Be there and be round will be more like it, eh, Garnet!” Doc said, giving me another icy slap on the back.

“Oh good!” Ma said, dancing a little jig step or two beside the stove. “Best way to head into winter's to have a big feast'n round dance. Jiggin' too, you watch!”

“ 'Kay then,” Isaac said, and he and Doc headed out the door. “See you.”

“Hey-yuh,” I said, glad to squeeze a word in. “See you.”

We stood together in the doorway watching them make their way down the hill towards the road. Doc was walking in that straight-kneed stork walk he's got and
Isaac was leaning in with his hands all busy, gabbing on about something. Kinda looked like Stan and Ollie and when I pointed it out to Ma we both howled. Isaac and Doc looked over their shoulders and Ma'n me howled even louder. They disappeared down the hill and Ma'n me went back inside.

“What's this feast thing about anyway, Ma?”

“Well, goes back long way. People'd get together every once in a while to celebrate. Sometimes just the change of seasons. Sometimes like now when they wanna honor somebody for somethin'. Sometimes just on accounta they wanned to show their gratitude by gatherin' for prayers'n ceremony. Different reasons. But feast's a special thing. Brings people together.”

“Do I have to do anything?”

“Kaween. Nobody does. Just come. Be with the people. Party it up like Isaac says.”

“Well, I know how to do that!”

“Hmmpfh. Ain't gonna be none of that blues down there that night. Gonna hear some good Indyun playin' You save that crazy stuff for your room.”

“Crazy stuff? Thought you liked it?”

“Do. Some anyway. Got a good beat. Lot like Indyuns, them black people.”

“How you figure?”

“Got that music in their bum'n feet. Got the drum in their heart'n soul too. Like us.”

“There's another way we're alike too.”

“And how's that?”

“Well, I was in town one time and heard one of them rednecks call us a bunch of cotton pickin' Indians.”

I barely dodged the pillow she threw my way.

When word got out about the feast you could feel the energy level climb to an all-time high. For us Indians all you need to really do is say three little words to get people moving. Those words are usually “bingo,” “pow-wow” and “food.” There was more bannock being baked, rabbits skinned and stewed, deer meat roasted and berries cleaned than anytime before in recent White Dog history. It was a virtual cultural revival and all because somebody'd done what our people had done for centuries really. I was walking around feeling kinda proud and a bit unsettled at the same time. I brought it up the next day when Stanley'n Jackie'n me were heading out to hunt up a couple deer for the feast.

“Can't see it, really,” I was saying. “I don't feel like I done anything real special, y'know? Mostly I was out there for myself, my own reasons.”

“That's the way of it,” Jackie said, stopping to scan the area for a good spot to enter the bush. “Funny thing about followin' our way is you're always kinda out there for yourself. Don't matter what, really. Simple thing like tobacco offering or fastin' out there. You always go for yourself but it always touches other people what you do. Example kinda.”

“Maybe it's special on accounta it's you doing it this time,” Stanley said, checking the load in his rifle and
rubbing the barrel for luck like he always does.' Biggest talk around the fires this last summer'n fall's been how much you changed. Almost like a real Anishanabe now.”