Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Got to love Indians


This old lady in BC told me a story about Alert Bay. Rita is her name. I got to visit her for a period of time. She has her quirks like anyone else but she also had some good stories. She told me about the Potlatch. The Potlatch is a big big give-away ceremony. When her grandfather was a young man, his Band had to put on a Feast and Potlatch. The Chief was to put on a Potlatch and take care of some business. In those times there was a law against ceremonies such as the Potlatch. As the government had said "it goes against Victorian values", you know, accumulation of goods. The Indians also had to get permission from the Indian agent or the government to leave the community. This was done to keep track of ceremonies being conducted.
The Indians needed to get the ceremony done so they decided to erect a Totem Pole for the King. Dignitaries and other government officials came out to Alert Bay to see the raising of the Pole for the King. Other Indian communities were allowed to come to witness this great occasion. Many people came. There were no places like hotels for people to stay, so all the dignitaries and police left after the honouring of the King. All that was left in the community were all these Indians from various communities.
Once all the non-Native had left the REAL ceremony began. The Chief was able to do the things he was suppose to do in ceremony. Rita said the Pole is still there. Smart eh?
That's why you got to love Indians, despite all they have been through their still here and they still laugh and love.
I am not sure if I should have shared that story on here. There are some things that I don't know about. But what the heck, the water is too wide and I can't fly.

So, I will share one of my own. I was 17 years old, and I was in my bedroom. I had gotten my older brother's room as they were all gone from our three bedroom house. My Mishoom, my dad and uncles built that house. Anyway, I was drunk. Not drunk falling down, or not knowing what was going on, but still under the influence. There were several rifles on my gun rack. I took a 22 Cooey rifle, loaded it, put it to my chest and pulled the trigger. And then...
Nothing. Nothing happened. I was kind wondering what happened. I opened the breach and took out the bullet. A 22 is rim fire round and this one had a dent in the rim. So it miss-fired. I guess my mom must have heard me messing around in the bedroom. The living room was outside the door, no hall separated the living from the bedrooms and sound traveled easily. She came in and said "what you doing?" I had the gun in my hands so she took it and put it back on the rack and told me to go to bed.
My mom was an amazing woman. She was very kind hearted. She always prayed Rosary for her kids. I guess I always knew she had me safe. I know I should have been killed a few times over.
So you go to love those people, Indians. That was what my mom was... a kind Indian and a good Mom.

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