Two little tears

Pow wow drummers

“These houses look perfectly normal”, Trish seems a bit surprised. “Here they have cars, they live just like we do. In the North it is a different story. There they live in sheds, alcohol and drugs are a huge problem, families are destroyed, parents don't look after their children because they are drunk.”

We are driving through an Ojibway Reservation which is virtually a part of the town Sault Ste Marie. The Ojibway, one of the biggest tribes of North America, always lived in small bands that roamed the area around the Great Lakes; today they don't have one big reservation but many small ones dispersed around the Lakes. Sault Ste Marie lies on that narrow strait between the Lakes, right in the centre of the Ojibway country. Batchewana First Nation is really a part of the town, houses as everywhere else, neatly mown lawns, cars on the driveways.

“It looks very tidy here. Reservations in the North are ghettoes, slums in the forest.”

I am going to Batchewana for the pow wow. It is a weekend-long event starting Friday afternoon and ending Sunday evening. Trish will drop me here and will pick me up on Sunday. We find the pow wow ground – a grassy area surrounded by woods, the dancing arena in the middle. The arena is surrounded by the stands for spectators and in the middle of it is a free standing roof for the drummers. A tipi stands at the entry to the grounds, smoke rises from the opening at the top. A group of Indians sit on plastic chairs next to the tipi. One of them, seeing our hesitation, says:

The chief with the new eagle staff

“Come in, come in. You want to camp? No problem, find a place anywhere, somewhere there. Then come to the tipi to say your prayers. We have the sacred fire here, I am the firekeeper. You can pray your own way, the language and religion don't matter. Giche Manito will hear any prayer. Just throw a pinch of tobacco into the fire, the smoke of tobacco will take the prayer to heaven.”

There is a flat area by the woods at the back of the grounds, perfect to put the tent up. Trish drives away, the drums start beating soon after. The dancers in their feathery regalia gather for the Grand Entry. The first dance is the veteran dance dedicated to those who have proven their courage by risking their lives in battles. In the past it might have been the warriors but these days it is those Indians who serve in an army. Any army, be it US, Canadian or any other. Those who took part in the famous Indian protests of the 20^th century are also considered veterans. They dance around the arena carrying their flags flanked by the male and female chief dancers. The male chief dancer, dressed in a traditional leather outfit, has two tears tattooed next to his right eye, which gives him a bit fierce look. Pity Marysia is not here, she would have certainly have liked to see it. The veterans circle the arena then fix the flags in the place of honour. Afterwards there are more dances, well into the night.

I wake up early in the morning. At 6 o'clock there is a sun greeting ceremony around the sacred fire; I make my way to the tipi. Part of the ceremony is conducted in the Ojibway language but few people can speak it nowadays so English is also used. The chief firekeeper, a man with a bear footprint tattooed on his left arm, opens the ceremony with a song sung in Ojibway and then in English explains the elements of the ritual. One of the women blesses water and strawberries. The firekeeper explains: women bless the water and strawberries because water symbolises the water of birth and strawberries are the symbol of the fruit of a woman's womb. The water to be blessed comes from a plastic bottle, everyone gets a tiny cup and some water is poured for him to drink. Everyone also gets a strawberry to eat. It is very important that both sexes take part in the ceremony – says the firekeeper – so the right balance is kept.

The firekeeper among the spectators

Afterwards the talking feather passes from hand to hand around the tent – only the person holding it has the right to speak. The firekeeper explains – everyone should introduce himself and say something that he has on his mind. Someone talks about the new eagle staff, how it was created and all the problems. The staff will be carried around the dancing arena but now it stands in the tipi, it is impressive indeed. Someone else tells how this “eagle way” cured his alcoholism. One woman says that the spirit of the lake appeared to her in the dream and she asked why he never shows his face, he answered that if she saw his face she'd drop dead. I get the feather as well at one point. What shall I say?I mention that Marysia passed away a few months ago and I know that she'd like to be here. As usual when I mention this I cannot stop two little tears rolling down my cheeks. But the people here are great. They say that little tears are allowed to roll down my cheeks but I can be sure that she is present with us anyway.

The pow wow dancers

Of course, all this ceremony is about making contact with the spirit world. The tobacco smoke is an intermediary. Some of those gathered around the sacred fire have their sacred bundles spread in front of them. Among the objects that make up each bundle is a long clay pipe. The firekeeper advises how to pray – formulate clearly what you want to ask for. If you ask for strength you will have difficulties in your life and by dealing with them you will gain strength. It is like with physical strength – if you want to be strong you have to go to the gym a lot. Some of those gathered talk aloud about what they would like to ask the Creator for. Somebody wants to pray for those who are in prison, especially drug users, so the prison experience could make them want to change their lives. Later somebody explains that at the pow wow alcohol and drugs are forbidden so I won't see drunks there but otherwise drugs and alcohol are a big problem on the reservation. After all the prayers are formulated there is the pipe smoking ceremony – the pipes go around and everybody smokes. The smoke carries the prayers to the spirit world.

The man sitting next to me puts a feather bonnet on his head every time he has something to say. I learn later that he is a chief of the reservation, his name is Dean. He is very talkative and after the ceremony explains everything that I don't understand. He says that the pow wow is rather for show. They try to connect it to the spiritual tradition but the dances themselves are for show. It is not a bad thing, young people learn the dances, create elaborate outfits, they are proud to be Indian, but the real spiritual ceremonies are conducted elsewhere. For example the four-day fast ceremony is conducted at Agawa rock on the shore of Lake Superior, exactly on the top of the rock where the famous paintings are. This is a vision-quest ceremony conducted twice a year, in October and in May. Everything is under the supervision of Rodney, who is the firekeeper today. The sacred fire is lit up and kept for four days. The participants don't eat or drink anything, even water, for four days. Those who fast stay in solitary places but Rodney checks every day how they are, others support them spiritually. For example by throwing food into the fire for the spirits to eat or pouring water so they have something to drink. The smoke from the sacred fire connects the world of men with the world of spirits.

Around noon the drums start again, dancers get ready for the Grand Entry. Rodney sits somewhere in the crowd, doesn't take part in the dances, it would be hard to guess that he plays any important role here. Dean in the feather bonnet, the new eagle staff in hand, leads the colourful train of dances. The Grand Entry is always impressive, veterans in the lead with their flags, dancers in their feathered regalia behind them. A very colourful affair.

After a few dances I go back to my tent. It appears I put it up on a car park. Cars are parked tight around it, the bumper of one of them is almost on it. The dancer with tears tattooed next to his eye stands there and talking to someone. I start a conversation. Interestingly his interlocutor also has two tears tattooed next to his eye. I ask what they mean.

“This is because when I was very little I cried a lot. My parents were alcoholics who didn't look after me and my grandmother adopted me. She also cried a lot over me. When I finally stopped crying she tattooed two tears – one because I cried and one because she cried.”

“And what about the tears of the other man?”

“Exactly the same thing happened to him.”

The dancer with the two tears

Jim Agawa read this story and then sent me this letter:
Hi Wlodek, the story is not correct here's the story of the two drops:
I was born 4th in a small village in northern Ontario called Batchewana Bay which is situated on Lake Superior. Shortly after I was born my natural mother took sick with rheumatic fever, and because of it's severity she had to be sent away from our village to hospital for treatment, my father a fisherman on Lake Superior could not take care of a new born baby as well as three other children, so in his infinite wisdom got my grandparents ( his parents ) to take care of me, and because my grandparents were full blown alcoholics it was total neglect right from the start. The neglect was so bad that they almost killed me, my bottom was so blistered with sores they were actually bleeding, my throat was so raw from crying, I couldn't even cry anymore I would open my mouth to cry, there would be no sound and no tears. So someone got in touch with my mother's mother ( my grandmother) in another village called Goulais Bay mission another reservation a little south of Batchewana Bay, that if something was not none and soon that, that baby was gonna die meaning me. My grandmother made the trip to where I was and when she saw me she just could not believe what she was seeing, so she bundled me up and took me back to Goulais Bay and began to nurse me back to health. She would say "there were a couple times I didn't think that baby was going to survive" so with constant caring, feeding, and cleaning of my sores and in my grand mothers own words,  " it was about 3 months to the day that we brought this baby home, that he finally cried a tear, and when he cried that first tear I knew he was going to be OK, so I cried" so you see the first tear drop is mine and the second is my grandmothers. After about a year of staying with my grandparents in Goulais Bay, they tried to take me back to my father and mother, but I would not stay there, so they took me back home with them. They tried a few more times but with no results, so my father said to my grandmother and grandfather that I was the only one they were going to get, so I lived with them all my life.

You will find this text, 
and many more on the subject, 
in my book "DO THEY STILL LIVE IN WIGWAMS?":