Powwows evolving from traditional to high-tech

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When I was growing up, my mother used to tell me about how much things had changed on the reserve since she was a kid. There were stories about hauling countless pails of water from the pump, chopping wood, fighting swarms of Indian-loving mosquitoes (without the benefit of OFF), wading through armpit-high snow to get to the outhouse while battling hungry wolves. You know, the usual.

When you're young, you don't listen, let alone conceive of life changing so much. But their stories have come back to haunt me. Because at the tender age of 31, I can't believe how much things have changes since I was a kid.

Specifically, powwows.

When I was growing up on the Curve Lake reserve, just north of Peterborough, Ont., the social event of the year was the annual powwow, which was held at (where else?) the baseball diamond. While some of my cousins and other relations would be dancing out their buckskinned little hearts, I'd be competing with the other kids to collect returnable pop bottles thrown away tourists. Hey, it was a living.

Today, everybody drinks from cans, non-returnable cans. Sad, when the end of

an era can be symbolized an empty Coke can tossed into a garbage container.

Twenty years ago we thought it quite exotic when dancers from the Akwesasne reserve, the Mohawk community near Cornwall, Ont., would come to dance at the powwow. We'd all stand around oohing and ahhing, pointing and whispering, "Wow, look, real live Mohawks."

Now, exotic has taken on new dimensions. I was recently at the grand River Powwow near Brantford, Ont., where Native people from all over Canada and the U.S. showed up. There were even Native people from Central America dancing and selling things. A little more exotic than your average Mohawk to these now-jaded eyes.

In my youth, the majority of dancers wore ordinary buckskins with the odd colorful trapping - mostly beadwork and fur. If they were feeling particularly adventurous, they might wear white buckskin.

Today, the colors and designs are dazzling. Each of the fancy dancers - shawl dancers, grass dancers, jingle-dress dancers - and traditional dancers have a particular lifestyle. And you're lucky if you can find even a few wearing much buckskin, if any. Fashion trends have moved on.

Commercialism has reared its head, too. At some of the larger powwows, it is not uncommon to see prize money for the dancers and drummers in the tens of thousands of dollars.

It happens on a smaller scale, too. A few weeks ago I saw a group of tourists come up to two boys who were wearing dancing outfits. They marvelled at these kids for a moment, then asked if they could take their picture. Immediately, both boys, in stereo, stuck up two fingers and said in practiced tones: "Two bucks!" That's a long way from collecting pop bottles.

The food and crafts have also changed over the years. Long ago, all the money I made cashing in pop bottles was re-cycled directly into the powwow with the purchase of gawdawful amounts of traditional Native junk food: hamburgers, fried bread, corn soup and pop.

The menu of traditional Native foods offered at powwows has grown since then. It now includes pizza, candy floss, tacos, bologna on a scone and lemonade. At the powwow I recently attended, I saw two signs, side side, one advertising buffalo burgers (made from real buffalo), the other peddling something called Indian burgers (I only hope it was made real Indians, not from real Indians.)

Other things sold at this powwow ranged from your basic tacky tourist stuff to expensive leatherworks, sculptures and paintings. There were several dozen booths,

some with inventive names like Imagin-Nations and Creative Native, hawking standard Aboriginal paraphernalia like dream catchers, medicine wheels, glass beads, braids of sweetgrass, silver and turquoise.

Then there were the more...interesting items for sale. Playing cards designed in the style of one's favorite Canadian tribe (I've got a full house - three Haida hiefs and two Cree medicine men. Beat that!) Another booth offered Tarot card readings, evidently a traditional Native activity I've not encountered before. At one powwow I saw a booth selling a large selection of New Age books. One publication in particular caught my eye: How to be a Shaman in Ten Easy Steps.

So, as I stood there in line waiting to use the portable Royal Bank money machine conveniently located beside the port-a-pots, I couldn't help but marvel at all the changes over the years. Powwows have gone high-tech and modern.

Then, off in the distance, I saw a man drain a bottle of pop and throw it away. It was one of the larger, still-returnable bottles. Feeling a twine of nostalgia, I left the line, picked it up and put it in my bag.

Some traditions never die.