The Big Footed Snake

 

The Big Footed Snake

A Bringer of Blessings

 

When I was a young man growing up in Alberta one summer I worked for the Forestry Department and was part of Stand by Crew to fight Forest fires. I was stationed at the Entrance Ranger station north of Hinton just up the road from the Entrance Trading Post.

It was a crazy job where you sat around painting rocks along the driveway until the siren went off and we went to work. 6 of us all with 70# of backpack, shovel, pick, food, water plus plus plus pile into the back of the Forestry Truck with Siren flashing lights and crazy Ranger Joe Pasamera at the wheel.

We would race to the end of goddamned nowhere to drag another 100# of Mercury Fire Pump over hill and dale for a couple of hours to get to the fire and then get to work. That was usually non-stop for a couple of days or so but if we couldn’t handle it the major crew arrived to relieve us. We were first responders: First in, first out and back to painting rocks. Hard bloody work but the company guys and a lot of beer made it a good remembrance.

The Entrance Trading post was sort of the community meeting place for all the local Indians. I was fortunate enough to make a large number of them friends and was welcome all over the little village. I was able to join in ceremonies as a welcome guest and had a seat as a front row observer. I am a detail freak and one of the first things I noticed was the beauty of their traditional costumes: Particularly the buckskin, bead work and best of all porcupine quill patterns that were a marvel of precision design. I wanted to have one

I spent almost a quarter of my summer pay ($125 a week and found) and managed to find a friends mother who made me a complete outfit of buckskin with a really beautiful array of bead and quills. It hung in the corner of my bedroom where I could always see it for seven years until marriage forbade its use. I was a dancer and wore my warrior outfit when I was on the hunt at all the local Country dance halls. I was a good looking young guy, a master of bullshit and pretty good with my dukes if any of the local boys resented me trying to romance his baby out to my car. Unfortunately if you take your wife to the dance you put on your good clothes and act nice to everybody. The lady frowned on fisticuffs and there went the Warrior.

I always looked at my breastplate and moccasins and wondered where the designs came from particularly the porcupine quills. Now 50 years later I finally found out the source in a collection of Native America Lore at

http://www.ilhawaii.net/~stony/lore16.html

It’s all the fault of a Snake

 

The Snake with the Big Feet

Native American Lore

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Long ago, in that far-off happy time when the world was new, and there were no white people at all, only Indians and animals, there was a snake who was different from other snakes. He had feet-big feet. And the other snakes, because he was different, hated him, and made life wretched for him. Finally, they drove him away from the country where the snakes lived, saying, "A good long way from here live other ugly creatures with feet like yours. Go and live with them!" And the poor, unhappy Snake had to go away.

For days and days, he travelled. The weather grew cold and food became hard to find. At last, exhausted, his feet cut and frostbitten, he lay down on the bank of a river to die.

The Deer, E-se-ko-to-ye, looked out of a willow thicket, and saw the Snake lying on the river bank. Pitying him, the deer took the Snake into his own lodge and gave him food and medicine for his bleeding feet.

The Deer told the Snake that there were indeed creatures with feet like his who would befriend him, but that some among these would be enemies whom it would be necessary to kill before he could reach safety.

He showed the Snake how to make a shelter for protection from the cold and taught him how to make moccasins of deerskin to protect his feet. And at dawn the Snake continued his journey.

The sun was far down the western sky, and it was bitter cold when the Snake made camp the next night. As he gathered boughs for a shelter, Kais-kap the porcupine appeared. Shivering, the Porcupine asked him, "Will you give me shelter in your lodge for the night?"

The Snake said, "It's very little that I have, but you are welcome to share it."

"I am grateful," said Kais-kap, "and perhaps I can do something for you. Those are beautiful moccasins, brother, but they do not match your skin. Take some of my quills, and make a pattern on them, for good luck." So they worked a pattern on the moccasins with the porcupine quills, and the Snake went on his way again.

As the Deer had told him, he met enemies. Three times he was challenged by hostile Indians, and three times he killed his adversary.

At last he met an Indian who greeted him in a friendly manner. The Snake had no gifts for this kindly chief, so he gave him the moccasins. And that, so the old Ones say, was how our people first learned to make moccasins of deerskin, and to ornament them with porcupine quills in patterns, like those on the back of a snake. And from that day on the Snake lived in the lodge of the chief, counting his coup of scalps with the warriors by the Council fire and, for a long time, was happy.

But the chief had a daughter who was beautiful and kind, and the Snake came to love her very much indeed. He wished that he were human, so that he might marry the maiden, and have his own lodge. He knew there was no hope of this unless the High Gods, the Above Spirits took pity on him, and would perform a miracle on his behalf.

So he fasted and prayed for many, many days. But all his fasting and praying had no result, and at last the Snake came very ill.

Now, in the tribe, there was a very highly skilled Medicine Man. Mo'ki-ya was an old man, so old that he had seen and known, and understood, everything that came within the compass of his people's lives, and many things that concerned the Spirits. Many times, his lodge was seen to sway with the Ghost Wind, and the voices of those long gone on to the Sand Hills spoke to him.

Mo'ki-ya came to where the Snake lay in the chief's lodge, and sending all the others away, asked the Snake what his trouble was.

"It is beyond even your magic," said the Snake, but he told Mo'ki-ya about his love for the maiden, and his desire to become a man so that he could marry her.

Mo'ki-ya sat quietly thinking for a while. Then he said, "I shall go on a journey, brother. Perhaps my magic can help, perhaps not. We shall see when I return." And he gathered his medicine bundles and disappeared.

It was a long and fearsome journey that Mo'ki-ya made. He went to the shores of a great lake. He climbed a high mountain, and he took the matter to Nato'se, the Sun himself.

And Nato'se listened, for this man stood high in the regard of the spirits, and his medicine was good. He did not ask, and never had asked, for anything for himself, and to transform the Snake into a brave of the tribe was not a difficult task for the High Gods. The third day after the arrival of Mo'ki-ya at the Sun's abode, Nato'se said to him, "Return to your own lodge Mo'ki-ya, and build a fire of small sticks. Put many handfuls of sweet-grass on the fire, and when the smoke rises thickly, lay the body of the Snake in the middle of it."

And Mo'ki-ya came back to his own land.

The fire was built in the centre of the Medicine lodge, as the Sun had directed, and when the sweetgrass smouldered among the embers, sending the smoke rolling in great billows through the tepee, Mo'ki-ya gently lifted the Snake, now very nearly dead, and placed him in the fire so that he was hidden by the smoke.

The Medicine-drum whispered softly in the dusk of the lodge: the chant of the old men grew a little louder, and then the smoke obscuring the fire parted like a curtain, and a young man stepped out.

Great were the rejoicings in the camp that night. The Snake, now a handsome young brave, was welcomed into the tribe with the ceremonies befitting the reception of one shown to be high in the favour of the spirits. The chief gladly gave him his daughter, happy to have a son law of such distinction.

Many brave sons and beautiful daughters blessed the lodge of the Snake and at last, so the Old ones say, his family became a new tribe-the Pe-sik-na-ta-pe, or Snake Indians.

An Apology to Think About, White Boys

An Underdog Strikes Back

Bite Your Lips & Think!

At the beginning of this month I read a column in the Globe and Mail that made me feel ashamed to be White. It was a sarcastic but right on the nose comparison of Native American Culture and Values to that of my White Culture and its lack of Values and  its incessant Greed of historical note.

It really made me think and that is why I am reprinting it here. I don’t think it got enough notice and it is something that I think all my friends and contacts should read. It’s a view from another perspective that needs to be seen and hopefully considered important enough to try to understand.

It was written by Drew Hayden Taylor: a playwright and filmmaker who lives on the Curve Lake First Nation in Central Ontario. And he has earned my admiration with this work.
His article was in the Globe and Mail on Saturday, Jun. 30 2012 as

White people, here’s your one-time Canada Day special:

Native people apologize back!

Canada Day has always been a mixed bag for Canada’s native people. It makes us think of many things: patriotism, flags, sunburned cottagers, barbeques and exploding fireworks. That’s the good stuff.
For some, though, it’s a reminder that it was four years ago when Prime Minister Stephen Harper apologized to the first nations, Inuit and Métis inhabitants of this country for the imposition and effects of the infamous residential-school system.
Since then, much has been said and written about that apology: Did it go far enough? Too little too late? What’s next? That is something I am afraid only educated, wealthy white men in positions of power can decide.
However, some in the native community feel that perhaps we are being a little lax in not issuing an apology of our own.
We are not without some culpability. In the centuries that have passed since that fateful day of contact, we ourselves have been negligent and irresponsible in not acknowledging our liability in many regretful incidents and events in the past.
So in the spirit of cooperation, I would like to offer up these apologies to the people of Canada on behalf of the NAFNIP (native/aboriginal/first nations/indigenous people):
We hereby apologize for being so inconsiderate as to occupy land that, one day, your people would want. Even though we did not have a postal system or an Internet, this was an inexcusable oversight. We hope you are enjoying it.
We apologize for having so many politically correct and incorrect names for you to call us – everything from native to aboriginal to first nations to wagon burner to status-card number 48759375876-1.
In retrospect, to make things easier for you, we should have stayed in India, where we were originally thought to have come from. Unfortunately today it is really hard to get decent palak paneer on the reserve.
We hereby apologize for not understanding the subtle connections between God, children and sexual abuse. Some are still struggling with appreciating this association.
They are forgetting that, early in the Bible, it says, “Let there be white. And it was good.”
We apologize for wanting rights to minerals and other natural resources that exist beneath our feet. When you negotiated for our land, you meant to the Earth’s core.
We did not fully comprehend that when we were put on reserves where our rights to the land only went two or three feet below the surface.
Anything that falls down a sewer grate basically belongs to the Federal Government.
We apologize for being so concerned about the disappearances of so many native women.
We did not realize that the professional attitude of most law-enforcement agencies towards this issue was basically “out of sight, out of mind.” From now on, we’ll report any native women that go missing as white women with dark tans. That should speed up response time.
No need to thank us.
We hereby apologize for straining the Canadian health system due to our propensity towards diseases like diabetes. I know it has been said we put the word “die” in diabetes, but being introduced to all that Kraft Dinner and potato chips was definitely worth giving up the steady diet of salmon and deer.
I am sure the vegetarians are happy.
We apologize for launching so many land claims against the federal and provincial governments. One of our most ancient teachings tells us it is our sacred responsibility to make sure as many lawyers as possible are fed and looked after.
Where would they be without us?
We hereby apologize for wanting autonomy from the Federal bureaucracy of the DIA (Department of Indian Affairs). … Wait a minute, make that DIAND (Department of Indian and Northern Development). … Sorry, but I think it’s now called INAC (Indian and Northern Affairs Canada). … No, I have just been informed the Ministry’s official name is now AANDC – short for Aboriginal Affairs Northern Development Canada. ... Now I forget what my original point was.
And though it had nothing to do with us, we are sorry for obvious reasons for the unique acronym of a once-testy office known as the Government of Ontario Native Affairs Directorate.
Finally, and perhaps most of all, we apologize for helping Canada/Great Britain win the War of 1812 against the Americans. There are many in the native community who feel Barack Obama would be a far more interesting leader than Mr. Harper.
But in our defence, who could have guessed?

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I don’t think I would have!

Blaine Barrett

TheSmeeGoanGuy