Garbage Day is Any Day

I was looking out the bedroom window, when a garbage truck pulled up beside our house.

A man ran up our walk, grabbed the garbage can and dumped its contents into the truck.

“What’s a garbage truck doing here on a Saturday morning?” I asked Andy.

“Oh, it usually comes on Thursday,” Andy said. “But it must be a bit late.”

Sisterhood of the Traveling Mitts

The mitts Andy gave me for Valentines’ Day are quite large, falling off my hands. He suggested that we take them to one of his student’s wife, who was familiar with working with hide, and who could most likely alter them.

I met Andy at the shop, so we could drive to his student’s home together. Children were playing outside. A boy on a miniature skidoo, pulling younger siblings on a little sled, was careening up and down the snow piles around the house.

“Who are you?” A little girl, with rose tinged cheeks asked.

“I am here to see your Dad,” I told her. She looked skeptical.

“What’s his name?” She asked.

When I told her his name, she nodded and pointed towards her house. “That’s OK, then.”

Upon entering I was met by Meredith and her sister, Madelyn. Andy didn’t want to take his boots off, and so he stayed in the hallway.

“What do you do?” Meredith asked.

“Well, right now, nothing much. I left my job in Montreal to come here.”

“What did you do in Montreal?” she demanded. I am slightly taken aback, as I often am when confronted with direct question so quickly, as is custom here. I realize how I have been conditioned to social niceties, which seem so unnecessary here, where conversations and questions are direct and upfront.  Question:  Where are you from?  Answer:  A small town, called Pointe Claire Village, near Montreal.  Next Question:  Where do you COME from?  Answer:  My ancestors were the Viking tribe … well actually, my parents and I came from Germany. Knowing who belongs where and where they come from is of importance here.

“I worked as a documentation specialist and a proofreader before that.”

Silence.

“Just administration stuff, nothing important,” I added.

Thankfully, Meredith’s son, the one driving the skidoo, arrived at the door, yelling “More Gas!”

I showed my mitts to the women and after careful examination and discussion, they agreed that it would be too much work to render them down to a smaller size. It would be as much work as making an entirely new set of mitts.

“Those are man’s mitts,” Meredith said, handing them back to me. Andy said he would keep the mittens for himself. Marilyn said she was in the process of making a woman’s pair and showed me some of her handiwork. I commission her to prepare the mitts for me so I would have some that fit.

We chatted for a while longer about children, pets, our mothers and sewing, until I notice that Andy was becoming impatient, standing in the hallway, his boots puddling on the floor. I thank both women for their time.

When back in the car, I realized, how much I missed talking to women.

The Wolves are Back in Town

I want to ski across the lake alone today … to explore the other side.

The previous evening, Andy mentioned that he heard there’s a couple of wolves hanging around town. This area has been pretty much hunted out and predatory animals are hungry enough to take out local dogs.

One of Andy’s students had told him how he was out with his four dogs, when a decoy coyote/wolf lured his dogs into the bush where the pack was waiting in ambush. He heard a lot of barking, then high-pitched shrill screams … only two dogs returned. The next day, the owner went into the bush, and only found the muzzle of one of the missing dogs.

“I really liked that dog,” he said.

Fresh Moose at the Door

We were cleaning up after dinner when the doorbell rang. One of Andy’s students stood in the hallway, holding out a Ziploc bag of deep burgundy meat.

He had been hunting, he explained, with four guys and they took a moose.

“Where?” I asked.

He described a trip of about 100 km. by truck and another 100 km. or so by skidoo.  It took them four days.

We were touched by his generosity and thanked him profusely. I ran into the basement and pulled a frozen lemon loaf out of the freezer to offer in appreciation.

After he left we wondered … should we have accepted this meat?  It was an unsolicited gift from a student, and we didn’t offer money.

Maybe I should do some more baking … you don’t know what might appear next. Ground bear or beaver tails?

Giant Bumblebees Stuck in Ice

Andy and I decided to ski across the lake. Skidoo tracks span it’s entire surface in crisscross patterns. At night, I’ve observed the machines from the living room window, dancing like fireflies in the dark.

There is a section near town, in an inlet, where water has percolated over the ice, forming large puddles. Open water?  An object was embedded in the ice nearby, resembling a giant bumblebee, nose up, from its black and yellow stripes. It must be a skidoo, I surmised  and hoped the driver was able to jump to safety.

It was cold. I felt a pain between my eyes when crossing, facing the wind, reminiscent of the pain of eating ice cream on a hot summer afternoon – nothing a hot pot of tea couldn’t cure.

Celtic Love Spoon and Warm Mitts

Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day!  Andy presented me with beautiful hide mitts, with soft grey fur lining. These mitts are meant to be worn over regular mitts and fit easily over parka sleeves. They can be slipped off, offering more dexterity when operating machinery outside, etc. The braided rope keeps them from getting lost in the snow.

Also, my sweetie carved a Welsh (Celtic) love spoon. His students took a break from regular work to carve these spoons, and I am sure that many sweethearts in the community received one …

In return, I cooked a lovely Indian dinner. I had a recipe for curry (I use beef; however, the original recipe probably calls for goat) given to me by an Indian woman from South Africa I had worked with at Calgary General Hospital eons ago. It is an especially good recipe, as it requires freshly ground tomatoes to be added just before serving, giving the dish a fresh appeal. Along with that, was a chicken korma with cauliflower, dal with spinach, and basmati rice. For appetizers, we had samosas, brought frozen from Alain’s Depanneur in Pointe Claire Village.  Of course, this necessitated a couple of cold Belgian beers …

Spic n’ Span

Today is my cleaning day. Of five major appliances, only the stove and fridge function fully. The dryer works, but the timer doesn’t. I need to set the microwave timer so my clothes won’t burn. The washer usually works, but needs a well-placed whack in a specific area on the lid. This sometimes works and sometimes it doesn’t.  The dishwasher is considered a luxury item, and will not be repaired.

“How could all these high-end, relatively new appliances not be repaired?” I asked the owner of the house.

He explained that it wasn’t worthwhile having appliances fixed. Repair persons would not come out this far, and he would have to actually transport items to be repaired to the nearest service centre. When the appliance finally dies, they are just replaced with new ones.

Now, I have been using a drying rack for clothing.

Oh, yes, there is no vacuum cleaner either, so I use a broom to sweep up dark blue, gray and white curlicues of dust.

Dishes? Where do they all come from? I’ve washing dishes by hand.

Without the long cycles of the dishwasher, whirring of the food processor, buzzing of the microwave, slapping of wet laundry in the dryer, there is a meditative stillness – no static or noise, just the hum of a quiet house … and it is good!

Pileated Woodpeckers?

Pileated Woodpecker – lifted from Google Images

Another cobalt blue and crystalline cold day, snow glimmering a million crystals. I head for the lake through a small copse of pines and spruces. A soft chirping, close to the base of a nearby tree alerts me. I turned towards the direction of the sound, hoping to glimpse a little woodland bird. I’ve missed the little chickadees fluttering at my black sunflower feeder in Pointe Claire. So far, all I’ve seen are giant black ravens. Suddenly, a puff of snow appears, and a brilliant red crest emerges from the cloud. A pileated woodpecker? Here? I have seen them around our old home, in the ancient maple trees, digging and hammering for insects, but this far north?

I later Google the habitats and distribution of these birds and find that this area is at the northern boundary. And, of course, I left my camera at home.

Andy invited one of his colleagues for dinner. It was nice setting a table for three. Lee is from the Abitibi area, east of here. Aside from teaching carpentry and regular school, he has worked as a fishing guide.

“How can we get some fresh game,” I asked Lee.

“You are not allowed,” he said. “Even if someone gives you some, you must say ‘No!’”.

He warned us to be wary of accepting meat from the community, as it is illegal to sell.

Maybe I can try beef in my moose recipes …

Let’s Go Home

Downtown Chibougamau

The town is on a main trucking route, but it is also a major service centre for outlying communities. Multitudes of trucks line the streets, parked in front of restaurants, shops and service centres.

First stop is IGA. I gather up more baking supplies, fruit and vegetables. I head to the meat counter, where tiny bits of beef are packaged and labeled “boeuf bourguignon” at exorbitant prices. No good stewing beef in sight.

“You’ve gotta start hunting, Andy,” I tell him

It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I have become accustomed to living in an English community, hearing lulling, soft Cree spoken everywhere.

“Anything else?” Andy asked.

“No” I tell him, as I look around, “Let’s just go home.”

I ate Moose, and I LIKED IT!

A different post:  This is an article I prepared after Andy’s field trip with his students.  I tagged along as photographer, and wrote a trip report. It ended up with PR people at the Montreal Office and it’s being prepared it for publication. I removed last names, and did not include pictures of the elders, as I am in the process of obtaining permissions.

Any proofreading errors? Please tell me!

Traditional Cree Fishing & Chisheinuu Chiskutamaachewin Project.

Entry to Murray’s Lodge

On February 7, 2013, students of the cabinetmaking program offered by Sabtuan Adult Education Services took a morning off their woodworking projects to visit the Traditional Cree Fishing & Chisheinuu Chiskutamaachewin Project, otherwise known as Murray’s Lodge, with their teacher, Andy Anderson.

The Project comprises a series of teaching lodges arranged in a semi-circle on the bank of Lake Mistassini, just after the fork on Rte. 167, which leads to the town of Mistissini. It is a place to regain the Cree way of life through cultural knowledge and skills as passed down from elders of the community to their youth.

“The primary purpose of the trip,” Anderson explained, “is for my students to gain an understanding and appreciation of traditional methods of wood carving, tool making and other crafts.”

The secondary purpose:  A hearty home-cooked lunch would be served in the dining lodge.

While some lodges are solid wood structures with wood flooring, others have wood siding that reaches only to about waist level. A tent stretches from the siding to form a roof, often with skylights. Each structure has at least one wood stove, keeping the inside toasty and cheerfully warm.

Some of the creations in the carving lodge

The class first visited the carving lodge. Inside, Henry was shaping snowshoes. He showed how the wood needed to be steamed to render it more pliable. He indicated towards a large contraption, which generates steam for this purpose. After being shaped, the snowshoe would stay in a mold for several days.

Standing next to Henry, Alfred carved shovels. He demonstrated various sizes, which could be used from stirring stew to scooping ice out of fishing holes.

Ben pulled items out of a box to show the class: a caribou hide rattle, a toy toboggan, and trimmings for drum making. He reached for a miniature axe.

“This is for the walking out ceremony,” Ben said, “When a young child reaches around the age of two, after they start walking, they are given this. It is a very important occasion.”

Ben then held up hand-crafted skewers. “This is for cooking beaver.” He demonstrated how beaver would be roasted over a fire, and twirled for uniform cooking.

“I love beaver,” he added. “We are having it here next week, but I like it cooked inside out so the fat runs off.”

Harry Meskino further demonstrated traditional carving and shaping techniques.

“Birch is usually the wood of choice,” he said. “It is easier to bend.”

At the medicine lodge, Bella and Pat explained traditional medicine made from the bark of gray alder, birch, and tamarack and also from leaves such as labrador tea. The students had questions for various ailments for themselves and family members. Blacksmith said that this knowledge of medicine could only be passed on to members of the Cree community.

Labrador tea was offered to the visitors. It was smooth and woodsy, with a slightly bitter aftertaste.

Woman’s Sewing Lodge

An embroidered hide marks the entrance to the sewing lodge. By lifting the hide, entry is gained into a ‘cold room.’ This room acts as a buffer from the frigid air, before entering the main lodge. The flooring here is remarkably soft and buoyant, as carpets are stretched over a thick layer of evergreen boughs.

At a long table, elders and young women were working on various sewing projects.

Elizabeth showed her star-shaped brilliant blue bead work, stitched on a piece of hide. She explained the significance of colours and how they were indicators of family groupings.

Ella pulled out a basket of items in various stages of completion, including an intricate beaded, embroidered bag used to carry bullets, a large pouch for transporting bedding and many baby items. She demonstrated how a baby would be wrapped up and protected in layers of blankets. In past times, moss was used as diapers. “It is not any moss,” she said, “but a brown moss. It is dried all summer and sticks are shifted out to make sure it is soft.”

At the fishing lodge, Emily was weaving a fish net, working a hand-carved wooden shuttle between the nylon threads. It would take about a month to complete.

“These nets are for normal fish,” she said and gestured towards Emma. “She is weaving a stronger net for sturgeon.”

Fresh game, fry bread, bannock and stew

At noon, Anderson and his students headed towards the dining lodge.

Winnie, head chef, was asked for permission to take photographs.

“Oh, yes,” she joked, her face crinkling. “Only if they are all of me!”

Winnie explained that food is prepared at the lodge and fresh game is donated by local hunters.

Today, Winnie is helped by Sophie, Lizzie, Mary Jane, Jane, and Carla.

The central table was heaped with food. First in line was a steaming pot of soup/stew made with bacon and an unspecified meat, wafting a gentle cinnamon-like scent. Laid out next were a pan of mashed potatoes and carrots, a sheet of shepherd’s pie, well-done moose steaks, fry bread, bannock plain and with raisins, and blueberry preserves.

Before lining up for lunch, Johnny led in a prayer of thanks in Cree.

After lunch, the students observed traditional hide preparation. A pale beige moose hide was stretched taut across a wooden rack. Fat and meat were shaved off, like curls of frozen butter, with a long wood-handled metal tool. When Alice was asked if she ever accidentally made holes in this painstaking process, she replied, “Yes, sometimes when I get tired.”

After an enlightening morning, students returned to the whirring and buzzing of their woodworking shop. Maybe, as they are operating power drills, planers, lathes and routers that have made working with wood less time consuming, they might stop for a moment and ponder the dedication and skills of their ancestors.