To be 'Indian' a struggle for many

Page 6

Tansi, Ahnee and hello.

This summer is winding down. There's a chill in the air these mornings and on my frequent drives into the country I've noticed the hawks becoming more numerous and busy as

they prepare themselves for the long flight to the south.

There are even the first sightings of leaves on the ground. Somewhere in this change of seasons I can imagine the children discovering that fallen leaves are one of the most

enjoyable accessories to whatever games they might be inventing. Somewhere in this change of seasons I imagine the boy I used to be.

We used to get together on frosty autumn mornings and play Cowboys and Indians. Actually, it was Cowboys and Itchybums. My playmates then weren't all that creative when

it came to cultural putdowns. Most of the time I was the only Itchybum. Those games were fun and almost always resulted in all of us sprawled in a mad tangle in a large pile of

freshly fallen leaves.

As I got older it seemed to become more and more important to my playmates to discover exactly what kind of Itchybum I was. In those suburbs of Toronto and especially in

those all-white neighborhoods no one had ever heard of the Ojibway.

So I became at various times a Sioux, a Cheyenne or an Apache. If you had to be an Itchybum, then at least you could be one that everyone had heard of.

My life changed at sixteen. I migrated to the streets of the cities and there suddenly were much harder names for me than just Itchybum. Suddenly Cowboys and Indians was

for real.

Fortunately for me I had the opportunity to meet elders and other spiritually centered people as a young adult. These people fed me back to an appreciation of my culture, my

heritage and myself. These days I am still in the process of discovering my Ojibwayness, my Indianess and finding out who Wagamese really is.

One of the interesting things about those of us who have been rescued from cultural anonymity and re-introduced to our Indian selves is that we tend to become very upfront

about it. Almost like born again Indians.

It becomes important for everyone to know what kind of Itchybums we are. We talk about our sweatlodge, our dancing, our singing and embarrass ourselves by attempting to

speak our language. At least it was true in my case.

It seems that because we have found our way back to traditional values we tend to think of ourselves as traditional people.

A very wise elder once said that there are three kinds of Indians. The traditional, the transitional and non-practising.

Traditional Indians are rare. These are the ones who actively seek out and practise genuine traditional activities. These are the ones who know every ceremony involved in the

sweatlodge. The ones who know the prayer songs. Those who know and understand the processes involved in the gathering of the trees for the sundance lodge. Those who

live in a traditional and therefore sacred manner.

Transitional Indians are numerous. These are the ones who balance modern ways with any number of elements of their cultural tradition. They are the nurses, lawyers,

journalists and bureaucrats who leave their offices to powwow on the weekends. Those working their way back from cultural alienation because of fostercare or adoption. Those

who are returning after leaving it all behind for alcohol or drugs. Those seeking a return to themselves. Those actively rebuilding the fabric of our tribal societies.

Non-practising Indians are hard to count. By virtue of their invisibility it's difficult to determine how many there are.

These are the ones who have lost it completely. Those who have grown up in an all white world. Those who have the looks of an Indian but no working knowledge of what it

means to actually BE and Indian.

They are also the ones who have walked away. Those who have chosen the ways of the white worldover the ways of their people. Those who have displaced themselves.

This might sound a bit harsh to those of us who consider ourselves traditional. But it makes sense. The nice thing abut it is that it doesn't have to remain the same. The

transitional ones can always continue ti make use of their elders and their teachings an work their way towards becoming traditional. Those who are non-practising can do the

same because the very nature of our circle welcomes everyone who wishes to learn.

The summer is winding down. Together we move into the western portion of the Great Wheel. This is the time of introspection. The Looks Within Peace. We are perched on the

edge of wisdom. We consider the nature of ourselves. We move forward. Itchybum. It has been and will continue to be an incredible journey. Where it will lead me I'm not sure

but at least I have the knowledge these days of exactly what kind of Itchybum I am.

Until next week, Meegwetch.