kiyokewin zine

Issue 001 Kîyokêwin // 01
ᑮᐦᐅᑫᐃᐧᐣ
01
Kîyokêwin

Taanshi and welcome to the first Mamawi Project zine!
We are a collective of young Métis people from across our
homeland. The Mamawi Project aims to create space for Métis
young people to (re)build relations and to celebrate who we
are. Mamawi is a word in Cree, Anishinaabemowin and Michif
that means “together.” We felt Mamawi captured our intentions
perfectly, as we first came together through a shared sense of
urgency to learn, work, and laugh better together.
This zine has been built around the concept of kîyokêwin (visiting).
Maria Campbell shared this idea during the Mamawi Project's
"Journeying Home Gathering," held in Saskatchewan in July
2019. She spoke about how colonialism divided and separated
our people, our cultures and laws, and our languages. However,
when we visit with each other, we put the pieces back together.
What does visiting mean to you and your family? How can visiting
support us in strengthening our governance structures? How
can we come together more and create new spaces for visiting?
Through these words and images, we visit with each other across
the homelands. Thank you for visiting with us. Nimiyeuhteenaan
ee-waapamitaahk!
~ The Mamawi Project Collective ~
02 // The Mamawi Project

Kîyokêwin
The act of visiting
ᑮᐦᐅᑫᐃᐧᐣ

We are a collective of young Métis people from across
our homeland. The Mamawi Project aims to create
space for Métis young people to (re)build relations and
to celebrate who we are. Through digital storytelling, in-
person gatherings, and virtual dialogue we will push our
community to think critically and take action on building a
stronger Métis Nation.
Mamawi is a word in Cree, Anishinaabemowin and Michif
that means “together.” It is often used with verbs like
mamawi-acimowak meaning, “they tell stories together”
or mamawihisicikewin, “the act of working together in a
concerted effort.” We felt Mamawi captured our intentions
perfectly, as we first came together through a shared
sense of urgency to learn, work, and laugh better together.
Stories and knowledge profiled in this project come from
young people whose family roots are in the three Prairie
provinces (Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta), as well
as, parts of Ontario, British Columbia, the Northwest
Territories and the Northern United States.
The
M A M A W I
Project
themamawiproject@gmail.com
Jason Surkan
Justin Wiebe & Lucy Fowler
SUBMISSIONS
DESIGNER
EDITOR
©2019 The Mamawi Project Collective
www.medium.com/@themamawiproject

COLLECTIVE MEMBERS
JUSTIN WIEBE
KAI MINOSH PYLE
LINDSAY DUPRÉ
KRISTA MCNAMARA
ERIN KONSMO
LUCY FOWLER
Justin is Michif with Mennonite
and Ukrainian ancestry (la galet
and ковбаса anyone?) and is from
Saskatoon in Treaty 6 and the
Homeland of the Métis Nation.
He currently lives in Toronto and
is passionate about rethinking
philanthropy, youth leadership, and
playing the spoons off beat.
Kai Minosh Pyle is a diasporic Michif
and Nishnaabe Two-Spirit born and
raised in Green Bay, Wisconsin.
They are descended from Métis from
the Winnipeg area and Nishnaabeg
from Sault Ste. Marie through their
grandmother Louise, who was
separated from her siblings at age
three and raised in foster care.
Lindsay is Métis with family roots
along the Red and Assiniboine
Rivers. She carries Cree, Scottish,
English, Irish and French ancestry.
She is a granddaughter, daughter,
niece, cousin, sister, auntie, friend
and partner. Her work currently
places her at the intersections of
social work, education, and youth
mobilization.
Krista McNamara is a
Penetanguishene halfbreed, learner
and teacher. Their family roots
stretch from the Red River, to
ᐴᑖᑲᓂᒥᓂᔅ and across to Ireland and
France. K is currently a secondary
school teacher in ᒥᔅᑎᓯᓃ and has
been involved in different Indigenous
education projects.
Erin Marie Konsmo is a Métis Prairie
queer who grew up in central Alberta
and is a member of the Métis Nation
of Alberta. Their mother’s Métis family
is historically rooted in the Lac Ste
Anne area northwest of Edmonton
and St. Andrews, Manitoba.
@MxMacTeaches
Lucy is a Métis woman from Treaty 1/
Red River territory and a member of
the Two Spirit Michif local (Manitoba
Metis Federation). She is a teacher
and community organizer with family
from Red River, St. Andrews, and
Oxford House, Manitoba.

SKYE DUROCHER SIMONE ADUAH-ROSE BLAIS JASON SURKAN
Skye Durocher lives in Fishing Lake
Métis Settlement with her dogs,
family, and community. She authored
“Spirits of the Northern Lights”, a
beautiful story about family support,
Indigenous identity, and honouring
tradition in the face of a rapidly
changing world.
Simone Blais is a métis/trini woman
who grew up in Toronto. Her work
focuses on reproductive justice,
poetry and dance.
Jason is a proud member of the Métis
Nation of Saskatchewan and Vice
President of his Métis Community
in Saskatchewan, Fish Lake. He
holds a Bachelor of Architectural
Studies (Carleton University) and a
Masters of Architecture (University of
Manitoba).
www.jasonsurkan.com
@jasonsurkan

Contents //

1.0 // Collective Members
2.0 // Alana Cook // Summers on the Reserve
3.0 // Sabrina MacNab // Kîyokêwin
4.0 // Grace Hardy // Kîyokêwin
5.0 // Justin Wiebe + Charmaine Dumont-Budd // Lillian’s Bannock
Recipe
6.0 // Cassidy Caron + Paul Robitaille // 67
7.0 // Andrew Bracken // Kîyokêwin
8.0 // Dan Laurin // Kîyokêwin
9.0 // Audie Murray // Tea Bag, Socks, Hambone and Métis Billy Stick,
Yvonne
10.0 // Matthew Weigel // Louise Umphreville and the Pemmican Trade
11.0 // Heather Doherty // Kîyokêwin [Visiting]
12.0 // Ambrose Cardinal-Dubitski // Ahkameymoh
13.0 // Cooper Skjeie // Fallen Leaves
14.0 // Spencer Lindsay // Kîyokêwin
15.0 // Rihkee Strapp // Pawatamihk
16.0 // Laura St.Amant // Untitled
17.0 // Kai Minosh Pyle // Kîyokêwin
18.0 // Erin Konsmo // Red Rose Métis
19.0 // Emma-Love Cabana // Triangle danglers and Kiyam Danglers
20.0 // Maria Margaretta // Elbows Off the Table
21.0 // Samantha Nock // mic’so’nahtik
06
10
14
18
24
32
38
44
48
52
12
16
22
26
36
40
46
50
54
56
60

Tansi. My name is Alana Cook. My father is Scottish
and my Mother is Métis, and I identify as a Métis
woman. We trace our Indigenous family roots on my
maternal grandmother’s side back to Fort Ellis, deep in
the heart of the Red River Settlements, located on what
is today known as Treaty 2 Territory. I currently live on
the traditional unceded territory of the Sto:lo Nation,
and am honoured to work on the Katzie First Nation
Reserve 1. Where I feel most connected to Land is here,
on the Sto:lo territory where I was born and continue
to live, and on the Okanagan Indian Reserve in Vernon
where I spent the summers of my childhood. Growing
up as an urban Métis girl just outside of Vancouver,
I didn't always have that important connection to
Land or other Métis youth, except for in the summers
when my parents would take us to visit my extended
family in Vernon. My grandparents have a home on
the Okanagan Reserve, and my cousins and I would
play for hours and hours in the fields, forest, lakes, and
rivers of that beautiful wildness. My poem "Summers
on the Reserve" is an homage to that precious time in
my childhood when I could run free; connected to my
family, my culture, and Land.
Alana Cook //
Treaty 2 Territory // Sto:lo Territory
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Cumberland House, SK (Jason Surkan)

The fields shake, dry as a cough,
rubble roads spiced with rosehips.
We follow the yellow crocodile mountains,
lazing between the earth and clouds
that spill across the sky.
The days stretch, honey-thick, the sun
our promise of protection.
Tasting smoke and sprouting sweat,
this is when we prowl.
Crouched in old grass among the boys,
I marvel at my new skin.
We are the colour of old photographs.
Oily palms and mud-caked toes,
lips sweetened with wildberry blood,
and the scent of fire that clings
to coarse, sun-bleached braids.
We watch, silent as stargazers,
as the oldest boy guts the pearly creature.
It gasps into the blade.
Blood blooms from cuts like constellations
across a pale, plump sky.
Beside my brothers of the long sun
I make no more noise than a kitchen at night.
The city child with the eggshell face
casts only the shadow of a memory.
Summers on the Reserve

I am Sabrina Macnab and I am a Michif woman from
Meadow Lake, Saskatchewan. I am very proud to
be teaching one of Meadow Lake’s first Michif based
language and culture courses at Gateway Middle
School. Our youth are our future. The grade 7 youth
in my class are being introduced to Métis culture and
language and have shared their knowledge about
kîyokêwin with you.
Sabrina MacNab //
Treaty 6 Territory // Meadow Lake, SK
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Métis Crossing, AB (Jason Surkan)

“Visiting is important, because you can visit your elders. This builds a better connection between your family members
and yourself. It also keeps your family ways and language alive, because you can pass down stories and skills. I love
kîyokêwin, because I get to spend time with my dearest family members.”
// Gabrielle, 12
“Visiting is important because you get to see loved ones. It helps bonding between yourself and others. You can
hear elders share stories about their own life. Visiting is important, because you can find out new and exciting things
that are going on with your family, friends and coworkers. Visiting elders is important, because you make them feel
happy just by talking with them. Visiting also strengthens bonds with family and friends. Talking about cherished
memories and your physical presence makes loved ones feel happy. Kîyokêwin also wards off any depression, social
isolation or stress.”
// Emery, 12
“Kîyokêwin is important to me, because I think having relationships with people is good for your soul. Visiting builds
friendships so you have people to talk to when you are down or so you are not bored. You can also help people
that cannot do much anymore, like lifting things for them. Visiting can help someone that is down to rise back up.”
// Tess, 12
“I like kîyokêwin, because I get to talk to elders. I can learn about their lives and the old days. Visiting with family and
friends makes me feel happy.”
// Keithan, 12
“Visiting is important, because elders can tell you about all of our history that happened in the past. You also don’t
know when the last time you will ever see them. Also, kohkums make very yummy bannock. Elders could tell you
more about the Métis and First Nations. I respect kîyokêwin, because it is good to visit your elders.”
// Nevaya, 12
“To visit elders is important, because you can ask them what school was like for them. Then you can ask them what
they ate and what they did in their spare time. You can learn skills like how to survive outside and how they harvest
fish. I respect kîyokêwin, because it is important to build relationships.”
// Lyndon, 12
“Visiting is important so you can learn about people or how to do something that you don’t know. You can learn how
to pick medicines. They may tell you all about our history. I respect kîyokêwin, because of all the knowledge elders,
parents, teachers have to offer us.”
// Isacc, 11
“Kîyokêwin is important, because you can talk to people and learn new things by visiting. You can ask elders
what happened when they were kids and learn different things like respect. Visiting is important, because building
relationships is important.”
// Warren, 12
“It is important to visit the elderly so that you can learn stuff from them. You can also learn tips and tricks from other
people to make life easier. This is why kîyokêwin is important to me.”
// Louis, 12
“Visiting is important to me, because I get to be with my family and friends. Through visiting, I can spend time with
people that are important to me.”
// Monique, 12
Kîyokêwin

Born and raised in the Kikino Metis Settlement, Married,
Aunty to Many, Student Advocate for the Whitefish Lake
First Nation Band #128. I recently made my way back
home to the Kikino Metis Settlement. It was time, my
land was calling me home. When I was a child, my daily
life was full of cultural practices. Hunting, berry picking,
gathering traditional medicines, gardening, learning from
elders by listening to story telling, learning and speaking
my language, the arts in the form of music and dance.
This was life, real everyday life.
I moved away from home as a young adult to experience
life in the Metropolitan atmosphere. I became a student, an
artist, a traveler, a wife and absorbed the culture the cities
had to offer. I immersed myself in the world outside of my
home, gathering knowledge, learning the ways of other
cultures and building relationships with people. I always
knew where home was due to the deep connection I had
to the land, to my community. It is a part of who I am and
helped mold me into the woman that I am today.
Making my way home made me realize that my identity is
deeply rooted in my community. My family has overcome
obstacles such as extreme poverty, intergenerational
trauma because of the resilience and pride that our
culture provided us with.Kikino Metis Settlement is filled
with beautiful landscape, strong family units, culture that
is weaved into our very existence, and I am happy to be
home.
Grace Hardy //
Treaty 6 Territory // Kikino Métis Settlement
BIOGRAPHY

I took this photo of my father Randy Hardy on a chilly
October day at his home in Kikino Métis Settlement in
2008.
I happened to be visiting my parents for the
Thanksgiving long weekend, as our growing family
gathered for a weekend together.
I woke up on the Saturday morning to find not a soul
inside the family home.
I found my old winter coat, put on some random rubber
boots that fit and made my way outside.
Iwalkeddowntheoutdoorstaircasetoseemynephews
and nieces playing, each of them enjoying the freedom
and sense of wildness that Kikino provides their spirits.
I see my brother teaching a nephew how to shoot a
pellet gun near the rippling creek, in a different direction
there is a visiting cousin chatting with my oldest brother
and finally I see my father.
He seemed to be working on some wood project
that was hoisted onto his homemade wagon. He was
always working on some project.
I approach to hear him telling the story about how he
learned to speak English. I in fact have heard this story
many times and could tell it word for word.
He goes onto explain that “I didn’t speak English until
I was around 6-7 years old, my first language is Cree.”
The story (and some background on my father)...
My father was a product of trauma.
His mother Mildred had him at a very young age. My
father was given the name ‘baby boy’ legally at birth,
as he believes his mother may have left the hospital
quickly after his birth.
His kokum Esther, a woman who was forced into child
marriage; raised him as one of her own. They lived
near Whitefish lake (the Goodfish Lake reserve) as his
grandmother was married off to a man (at a very young
age) who was from this area.
The household of my fathers kokum was very small,
overpacked with family members. My father said his
kokum only spoke Cree to him. Her language.
When my father was about 6 years old he contracted
tuberculosis. He moved into the University of Alberta
hospital during this time. His kokum, moved her family
to the big city of Edmonton to be near him.
My father lived at the hospital as a long term resident.
His kokum, visited often and they spent their time
together speaking their language. These visits were
the only form of communication my father had as no
one else spoke Cree in the hospital.
During his stay, the nurses in the extended tuberculosis
ward spoke only English around him. At age 7, forced
to assimilate and adapt Mr. Randy Hardy learned the
English language.
What a story.
What a life my father has lived.
He is filled with stories of his unbelievable life. He
shares a story here and there with those that he is
close to, especially the ones who take the time to drive
down the long winding gravel road, toward the lone
pine lake, to have a visit.
Kîyokêwin

Justin Wiebe is Michif and grew up in the Métis
Homeland and Treaty 6 in Saskatoon. He is a member
of The Mamawi Project collective and is Lillian Dumont’s
great-grandson.
Charmaine Dumont-Budd was born and raised in
Saskatoon. She still lives there with her husband and 3
kids. She is Lillian Dumont’s niece.
Justin Wiebe +
Charmaine Dumont-
Budd //
Treaty 6 Territory // Saskatoon, SK
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Lillian Dumont, 222 Avenue R North, Saskatoon SK, March 1959

Get a good size dish,
holds a good amount.
First start with flour,
just enough to fill a good size dish,
a good amount (gestured with her hands the appropriately sized dish).
Baking powder,
not too much,
just enough (showed the right amount with her hand).
Little salt,
not too much.
Then you add cold water,
has to be cold water,
that’s just the way.
Then you add some lard.
Just enough.
Mix together,
mix good and push the dough out.
Poke with a fork and bake at a good temperature.
(About how high?)
About 350 until nice and golden.
Same for fried bannock,
except cut up and slice dough with 2 lines.
Fry in cooking oil until brown.
Lillian was born on July 15th, 1927 in Lloydminster. She used to tell us stories about moving around a bunch
living on different people’s farmland before eventually settling in Saskatoon as a young girl. The city schools
wouldn’t let her attend and she never could read or write. She was an incredibly hard worker and spent most
of her life working as a caregiver or cleaner.
For many of us, Auntie or Grandma or Great-Grandma was one of the kindest and most loving people we
knew. She was a devout catholic. Her trademark saying was “oh my stars,” which somehow could be used
in surprisingly different contexts. Whether she was hosting you or if she was coming to a gathering at your
place, she’d always show up with her famous fried chicken or bannock. Lillian loved her family more than
anything else, and despite never having much she’d always find a way to give you whatever she had. She
loved to spend time with people, listening to their stories and sharing a few of her own.
One visit at a time our stories, knowledge, and of course recipes have always been passed down from
generation to generation. This recipe is just one example. Lillian shared this recipe with her niece, Charmaine
Dumont-Budd, in February 2016 during one of their last visits. Charmaine typed it down verbatim, and
although not in the old way over tea, she shared it with Justin via facebook messenger (visiting and sharing
can happen anywhere right?).
Lillian’s Bannock Recipe
[In Her Own Words]

Cassidy Caron +
Paul Robitaille //
My name is Cassidy Caron! I am the Métis Nation
BC (MNBC) Minister Responsible for Youth and the
Provincial Métis Youth Chairperson! My Métis roots
lie in Batoche, Saskatchewan where my maternal
grandparents, Marie Odile Boucher and Jean-Baptiste
Caron, were raised. I was born in the Kootenays and
was fortunate to grow up knowing of my Métis heritage
and to be involved in our community.
Paul Robitaille. Paul plays a central role in SFI’s
partnerships with Indigenous communities. He is a
citizen of the Métis Nation, with roots in the historic
Drummond Island Métis community, and has a
wealth of experience in supporting Indigenous rights
recognition, relationship building and socioeconomic
development. VP MNO Youth Council.
Treaty 6 Territory // Meadow Lake, SK
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Forest Fire Regeneration near Pinehouse, SK (Jason Surkan)

To many, kilometre 67 of the Key Lake Road might
be indistinguishable from any other tree- lined stretch
of a ruddy northern bush road. But for a few weeks
each fall, the roadside pines at 67, as it is affectionately
known by the locals in nearby Pinehouse Lake, conceal
a manifestation of community unlike anywhere else
these two travellers have ever encountered.
It is within this sandy, gently rolling stand of maturing
jack pine, perched atop a narrow meandering tributary
of the mighty Churchill River, that Métis, Treaties and
a few rather unexpected guests—which included a
former Canadian Deputy Prime Minister—gather each
year to renew relationships with the land and with one
another. And while as natural and organic to the locals
as the bounty of their community harvest, their time-
honoured way of togetherness might seem as much of
a culture shock to newcomers as those encountered in
some far away continent—even to Métis governance
nerds, like ourselves, who are regular fixtures at
gatherings of all kinds throughout the Métis Nation
Homeland.
The first foreshadowing of the kindness and generosity
we would soon discover came at the Gordon Lake
Campground—kilometre 32 of the Key Lake Road—
where a well-meaning friend had (as we would discover)
mistakenly told us the community was gathering for the
harvest. Arriving after dark following two flights and a
nearly 8-hour drive from Edmonton, in a conspicuously
out of place rental Jeep Wrangler, we entered the
campground eager to settle in for the night amongst
friends both old and new. All that greeted us, however,
was a solitary camper trailer, with a few lights glowing
from the windows and small outdoor campfire. Not a
single person in sight.
Convinced that the encampment must be only just
out of our view down some only-known-to- the-locals
sideroad, we took a few creeping passes through the
grounds, high beams on, looking for any signs we had
ventured to the correct place. Seeing none, and with
reliable cellular service only a distant possibility, we
slowly came to terms with the realization that folded
67
down seats and the occasional blast of heat would
likely serve as the evening’s accommodations.
In one final act of either faith or desperation, we decided
to return to the lone trailer. Pulling into the campsite,
high beams still on, a solitary, hooded figure soon
emerged from the shadows and began to approach
the vehicle. Hesitant, but resolved in our potentially ill-
conceived plan, we got out to greet them and explain
our dilemma. After a couple tentative and slightly tense
pleasantries, followed by a brief explanation of how we
had come to this unexpected place and who we were
hoping to find, the gentleman—now no longer terrified,
as he would later tell us during a subsequent visit—let
out a gentle and welcoming chuckle.
Though, like ourselves, he was not a native of
Pinehouse, the man was a long-time visitor to the area
and, over the years, had built lasting friendships with
many of the same people we had eagerly travelled
to see. With our mutual relationships established
and a few more laughs shared, he set us in the right
direction—another 30-or-so kilometres up the road—
with an invitation to stop by over the weekend to
continue our conversation over a hot cup of tea.
- - - - - - - - - -
A single billowing strand of fluorescent pink flagging
tape and sun-bleached reflective safety vest dangling
from a roadside pine marked the entrance to 67. Still
unsure if we were in the correct location and ever-
cognizant that cellular service was now even farther
behind us, we rolled down the windows and listened
intently as we began to slowly snake our way along the
narrow, sandy laneway into the enveloping darkness.
The faint hum of a distant generator portended some
manifestation of humanity ahead— though what
that manifestation would be was still far from certain
as we continued our quiet, tentative crawl along the
blackened, winding drive. Soon enough, though, the
silhouettes of prospector tents and camper trailers
began to appear out of the darkness. Pulling up to

the largest and most well-lit structure—a long, tarp-
covered, wood-framed dining tent—our headlights
illuminated a small group of campers enjoying some
tea, conversation and the cool evening air.
A hearty “Hello!” and genuinely interested “How did
you find us all the way out here?” greeted us as we
emerged from the Jeep to introduce ourselves. We
were no farther into sharing the story of our day’s travels
than the source of our poor directions—which was met
with a sympathetic laugh by mutual acquaintances
among the group, to whom the revelation seemed of
little surprise—when we were offered some hot tea,
fresh bannock and an invitation to join them all inside
by the fire where we could continue our introductions.
In short order, we were offered warmer jackets, extra
blankets, a waterproof ground sheet and a even a
mattress. Despite being almost complete strangers
to all but a single person that evening, no gesture of
kindness or generosity was spared to ensure that we
felt safe, comfortable, and most of all, welcomed.
Over the next few days, a pattern to life in the harvesting
camp began to emerge:
Awake at dawn or shortly thereafter to the sound of
laughter coming from the dining tent.
Storytelling over fire-boiled tea and coffee—sharing
accounts ranging from the moose that got away earlier
that morning to how a northern community scourged
by addiction became a national leader in Indigenous
language revitalization.
Eat a masterfully-prepared buffet breakfast. Guests
always served first. Short prayer for a safe harvest.
Take to the land and water, quick trip to town, or stay
at camp to help with the seemingly endless stream of
duties from preparing meals to chopping firewood to
keeping the children entertained. Hide-and-seek, plant
walks by the river and berry hunting a must.
Tea, coffee and fresh bannock. Storytelling. Fiddle,
guitar, singing and beadwork. Storytelling.
Eat a hearty dinner of freshly harvested fare. Guests
always served first. Storytelling—this time, about each
person the harvesting party had stopped to visit along
their travels or, once again, about the moose that got
away.
Evening hunt.
Hot tea and fresh bannock. Friendly game of Blitz (ask
a friend from northern Saskatchewan). Laughter.
Make a small fire to warm up your tent. Curl up in a
sleeping bag beside said fire. Fall asleep to the sounds
of the northern lights.
Repeat.
To the unwitting traveller, it may have appeared that
the camp functioned entirely through telepathy or extra
sensory perception. Each person knew what needed to
be done. Few needed to be asked to take on a task—
certainly not twice. Locals and newcomers alike, each
person pitched in to his or her own interest and ability.
Each was grateful for the contributions of others. Each
took time to express their sincere gratitude for even
the smallest contributions and acts of kindness. Each
shared in the harvest’s bounty equally.
Children ran about the camp and surrounding forest,
never straying too far, occasionally taking a moment to
see what they adults were up to—observing, learning
and laughing all the while. Imitating everything from
chopping wood to joining in on the harvest. Adults
and Elders renewed relationships and forged new
ones, occasionally taking a moment to appreciate the
children’s fun and imagination—laughing, listening, and
sharing all the while. Four generations living together,
learning together, laughing together and growing
together. A seemingly simple act, but nonetheless
one of revolution, wholly reshaping the trajectory of an
entire community.
At 67, Pinehouse is actively and deliberately reclaiming
its right to be well and to relate well. A right that had
once been all but stolen from them by alcohol and
the social upheaval that often comes with so-called
“progress”. Today, Pinehouse is consciously creating
opportunities for the next generation to build loving
relationships and to make healthy choices.
Opportunities that many in the older generation never
had. In an era where many Métis struggle to remember
the old ways and to find a sense of community,
Pinehouse serves as a model for how each and every
one of us can contribute to building a healthy, vibrant
and prosperous future for all Métis people—one visit,
story and hot cup of tea at a time.

Image // Dry Meat being smoked at Pinehouse Elders Gathering (Jason Surkan)
Image // Métis Skiffs on the shores of Pinehouse Lake (Jason Surkan)

Andrew Bracken //
Taanishi / ‫םולש‬ ‫םכילע‬ (Sholem Aleykhem) / Hello! My
name is Andrew Bracken and I’m a Michif-Ashkenazi
Jewish student from the Bay Area, California (Ohlone
land).Growing up outside of the homelands, I have
been working hard to reconnect to my Métis culture.
My roots are primarily based in the Red River area of
Manitoba, specifically St. Boniface, St. Norbert, St.
Vital, and Ritchot.I currently am living in East Lansing,
Michigan (Three Fires Confederacy territory) in the
Residential College of Arts and Humanities at Michigan
State University. Maarsii / ‫ַא‬ ‫םענייש‬ ‫קנַאד‬ (a sheynem dank)
/ Thank you!
Ohlone Lands // Bay Area, California, USA
BIOGRAPHY
Image // South Saskatchewan River, Batoche, SK (Jason Surkan)

who am I
who am I
who am I
when you call me cousin because we’re probably related
somehow
when kids are runing around laughing
while someone’s playing the fiddle
when I’m cooking our foods and giving
everyone something to eat regardless of
whether they’re hungry or not
when I bead our florals
when I speak my language
when I wear my sash

Dan Laurin //
Dan Laurin is a recent Master of Studies History
graduate student from a University in England—the
farthest from home he has ever been. This distance
has tremendously affected how he views cultural
retention as a Métis trans man visiting one of the
most aggressively invested colonial countries in Turtle
Island’s history. When thinking of visiting (kîyokêwin)
his father’s home town of St. Laurent, he thinks of the
bitter reality when one must eventually leave again
(atimâpamêw) and how each greeting composed
in his native tongue invokes a chance to connect
once more to his ancestral land no matter how long
the absence. Self-labeled as a disconnected Native
he has constantly tried maintaining memory and
traditional customs as he never wants his ancestors
to feel like they have been forgotten. Steadily, he has
been reconnecting through long conversations with
his grandmother and can now make bannock to her
standards and can jig well enough to make her smile—
even if only in second-hand embarrassment. While he
is far from home, he still carries ceremony wherever
he goes and has found comfort creating beadwork for
his friends and visiting the Métis and American Indian
art housed in the local museums around his University.
United Kingdom
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Round Prairie, SK (Marcel Petit)

Taanishi
I don’t remember the cedar trees, the flat expanse
of grain, but I do remember the clouds heaving with
thunderous breath the color of wild saskatoon berries
that flavored my grandmothers’ Matrimonial cakes. I
remember that childhood storm that both terrified and
humbled me, and I have never been back.
Kîyokêwin
Boozhoo
I can recall the first time I beaded, a dish-towel with
scraggly strawberries seeded with opaque gold and
plastic red. It had been a long time since my feet
had touched scrip’ed land, but I was determined
nonetheless to show my grandmother that I
remembered. My needle was clumsy and my threading
loose, but her tender hands took the cloth and framed
it for her living room. It was a long time since anyone
beaded in our family, she said.
Aaniin
I learned from elders not of my kin, piecemeal stories
that fed my hunger to grow into my own. You’re
doubled, you’re dual—you’re separated, but you will
return. That ache you feel is the cold of isolation so
come back to the hearth fires of your people. You live
with different mountains—the valley wasn’t Red, the
River wasn’t deep. You’ll taste ode’miin again.
Boon Zhoor
The land under my feet is an island, but it is not my
father’s Turtle Island. The water surrounds me, but it
doesn’t give Walleye and it’s far too rough for birch
bark canoes. Matoaka is buried here and one day
I’ll greet her in an Indigenous tongue four-hundred
and two years late. I’ve taught the native population
beadwork and fell in love with one. I know all the
ways to speak in welcome—but for the longest time I
only ever left and said goodbye. I won’t let kîyokêwin
turn to atimâpamêw, because I now carry my family,
traditions, and greetings wherever I visit. To all my
relations— miyoonakishkatoohk—welcome home.

Audie Murray //
Audie Murray is a multi-disciplinary artist that works
with various materials including beadwork, quillwork,
textiles,repurposedobjects,drawing,performanceand
video. She is Michif, raised in Regina, Saskatchewan,
treaty 4 territory. Much of her family and family histories
are located in the Qu’Appelle region of southern
Saskatchewan and the Meadow Lake area which is
located mid province Saskatchewan. Audie is currently
learning and creating on the unceded territories of the
Lkwungen peoples (Victoria). Audie holds a visual arts
diploma from Camosun College, 2016, and a Bachelor
of Fine Arts from the University of Regina, 2017. Her art
practice is process oriented and explores overarching
themes of contemporary Indigenous culture, duality
and connectivity with the presence of medicine,
healing and growth.
WSÁNEĆ and Lkwungen Territory // Victoria, BC
BIOGRAPHY
Opposite Page: Yvonne- 2017, watercolour. This is
inspired by ‘a buffalo that walks like a man’ who is part of
plains Cree culture & tattoo ceremony. It is written about in
the traditional tattoos of the Cree Indian book, published
by the Glenbow Museum. This drawing is inspired by my
grandma after she had passed away while I was learning
how to tattoo with the Earthline tattoo residency. I am
linking ancestral markings, ways of working, and traditions
to ways of connecting with our ancestors.

Buffalo Bone China- 2014, screen print.
This print is depicts a bison regrowing
from a bone china teacup.

For Hambone, Métis Billy Stick- 2019, leather, beads, wood,
acrylic paint, chain. This work is a remaking of an object my
mooshum made which was a piece of wood with the words ‘métis
billy stick’ written on it. I think of this piece as being a gift and a
collaboration with him. I see so much of the things made and done
by my old family members as being art and I think part of my work
is to recognize this fact. Almost everything in this photo has been
made by hand. I really see this piece as a labour of love, and a way
to give back to my community. The process of making this piece
involved visiting with my family in different ways.

a pair of socks: fiddle & sash- 2018, seed beads, wool socks.
These are inspired by old ways of visiting, especially from stories of
métis communities visiting when they lived closer to their kin. This
work is about dancing, and how our feet connect to the earth.

Tea Bag- 2017, tea bag and seed beads. This piece is part of the
beadwork interventions that I have made. Visiting is medicinal,
alongside our tea and our time spent making. These acts are a way
of visiting, learning and understanding.

Matthew Weigel //
Matthew James Weigel is Dene Métis, British and
German, with Métis relations from Alberta to the
Northwest Territories and to Manitoba. A poet and
artist in Edmonton with a degree in Biological Sciences
from the University of Alberta, his work investigates a
variety of poetic interfaces between water, land, air,
people, writing, speaking, and the material and visual
arts.
Treaty 6 Territory // Edmonton, AB
BIOGRAPHY

This year, I was given space to display some of my
art. To star in that space, I wanted to create a new
piece that honored my ancestor Louise Umphreville.
However, I am a student, not a full-time artist, and
so balancing my studies and my artistic practice is
a challenge. Planning this new artwork was in the
back of my mind when I had sat down to a meeting
with an acquaintance to discuss my academic work:
investigating the print culture of treaty documentation.
We got to talking about the role that Métis interpreters
and negotiators played in the signing of the numbered
treaties. This turned into a discussion of our
genealogies. Very quickly we learned we were not just
acquaintances, but family. We were no longer having a
meeting, we were visiting.
Our mutual respect for Louise Umphreville became
the subject of our conversation, and I was told a story
about her role in the pemmican trade. In that moment
I knew I had brought my academics together with my
art. I felt blessed. This was the power of kîyokêwin,
Louise Umphreville and the Pemmican Trade
where disconnected pieces were being put back
together through visiting with one another.
I do my best to sit with wâhkôhtowin, to understand
my kinship with all of creation. Pieces brought together
by kîyokêwin have always been there and have always
been bound by their relationality. What makes kîyokêwin
so important is its role in helping us understand that
relationality.
Louise Umphreville and the Pemmican Trade is
on display outside the English and Film Studies
department offices on the third floor of the Humanities
Centre at the University of Alberta. Hand etched in
glass is a representation of Louise upon her favourite
horse. She travels amid the buffalo, accompanied by
her prize herd of horses. The glass images are meant
to be animated in shadows cast with a handheld light,
illuminating the story with the viewer’s motive energy.
Here are the display’s four component brushpen and
ink images reproduced digitally.

Heather Doherty //
Heather is a Métis multidisciplinary artist living in
Tla’amin territory ( Powell River, BC ). She spends her
early mornings and late nights connecting with her
ancestors through beadwork. When not creating art,
Heather is with her two young children among the
trees, at the ocean, eating cookies or reading books.
Heather is a member of the Métis Nation BC, the North
Fraser Métis Association and the Powell River Métis
Society.
You can view more of Heather’s beadwork on
Instagram @askipison
Tla’amin Territory Territory // Powell River, BC
BIOGRAPHY

Kîyokêwin [Visiting]
Sinking into the quiet
With needle and thread
Breath Strong and Slow
The Pouring out of colours
Soft waterfall chimes
Gathering relations
Be still and slow down
Remember us
Visit with us
Joy in my DNA
Medicine for us all
Weaving together

Ambrose Cardinal-
Dubitski //
Ambrose Cardinal dishininikaashoon, ooschchi
kistapinan .I am proud in the ways I was brought up.
I am very fortunate that I was able to walk the earth
at the same time as my chapan, Joe Gaudry. If it
wasn’t for him I would be disconnected. I never knew
much about being Métis, but I knew I was different.
I knew I came from a strong Métis family, I knew I
was a Campbell, Arcand, Dumais and Gaudry. I knew
that I was from the families, i knew i was from Prince
Albert, but my rationality to that place was fractured. It
became fractured when they pushed us out, deemed
us squatters and condemned us into small towns.
That way of life, the language and our kinship systems
unraveled. These names didn’t mean much to me
growing up, as all I saw was poverty and disfunction,
except when things got really bad. When things got
really bad, we would come together with all that we
had to be there for one another.
Treaty 6 Territory // Edmonton, AB
BIOGRAPHY
Within the honeycomb of my bones is resistance, I am
reminded of this when I sink my sunken body into the
contours
of okimaw-askiy I am greeted by glowing red
grandfathers... The ancient ones,who extend beyond
the physical struggle of existence, they teach me
resistance, “Chin-up, ahkameymo”, Keep going. Do
your sacred dance the way it was meant to be.
When we come together, all we do is ceremony.
Each one has a role,
Chapan, told the stories, kokum made them
neckbones,
And I sponged up those medicines.
Not every gathering felt like “ceremony”
Some nights were filled with family feuds,
Black eyes under black skies,
We aren’t perfect,
We aren’t furbished.
Our moccasins got holes in dem’.
But when we come together
We heal,
Might be to a reel,
But all together it’s all about how you feel.
I may not be perfect,
But I’m learning how to deal,
Justlikemosominthose“Texashold’em”tournaments,
Sometimes I feel like likes just about torment,
But then I sit down and vent,
Call you up,
Up there in the spirit world.
You keep telling me “ahkameymo”.
So, I guess that’s all I really gotta know.
Ahkameymoh

Cooper Skjeie //
Cooper Skjeie (/sh-ay/) is a Métis educator born
and raised in Saskatoon. He has kinship ties to
the Métis communities of Duck Lake, Fish Creek,
Prince Albert, Portage la Prairie, and St.Ambroise,
and is also a descendant of German and
Norwegian settlers. As a poet, he was a participant
at the 2019 Emerging Writers Intensive at the
Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity. He has also
been a featured speaker for Red Rising Magazine,
and his recent work appears in Grain Magazine’s
Indigenous Writers and Storytellers issue.
Treaty 6 Territory // Saskatoon, SK
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Treaty 6 Territory, SK (Jason Surkan)

fallen leaves
she
provider strength
/ rejuvenation
floras roots (un)matured
/ becoming
gather what fits in bundles
not
only
to
consume
but give when another falls again
see
after
a spring’s fall
one 1885
there was a mighty wind
and when the dust
s e t t l e d
i
had family in alberta
and others in unmarked graves
i
the flora unmatured
/ becoming
gather in bundles
not
only

to
consume
but give when
/
see
when a tree falls ill
surrounding trees
sacrifice sustenance
to aid in her healing
i am the tree
that
grew
from
the
river
trees surround me
offering presence as medicine resistance revolution
airborne seeds
now falling
across the homeland
planting spirit in nimitâw
kistapinân
otînaw
oskâyak
r e c l a i m i n g
what has been
will always be
ours

Image // Fish Creek, SK (Marcel Petit)

Spencer Lindsay //
Spencer was born and raised in the territories of
the Lekwungen-speaking Esquimalt and Songhees
peoples (Victoria, BC) and is grateful to be living in the
unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and
Tsleil-Waututh Nations (Vancouver, BC). His maternal
ancestors settled in Treaty 7 territory near Cremona,
Alberta from Scotland and Germany. His paternal
ancestors settled in Chelan, Saskatchewan from
Scotland and from the Manitoba and the Touchwood
Hills. He is a descendent of the Monkmans who ran
the saltworks that supplied the Red River Settlement.
Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Territory //
BIOGRAPHY
Image // St.Laurent Region, SK (Jason Surkan)

2009 - Victoria, BC
My dad didn't seem very interested when I first brought
up the idea of taking a trip to Saskatchewan. We didn't
visit his family growing up. He didn't talk about his past.
A few weeks later, when I was catching up with my
mom over the phone, she told me he had warmed
up to the idea. He starting to get excited. He started
planning.
2010 - Chelan, SK
I didn't know where my dad was taking me that
day. We were headed southeast from Prince Albert,
towards Yorkton. As we rounded a corner, I was taken
by the view of the hills. It was an eerily familiar scene.
I'd been here before.
“Where are we going?”
“We're goin to Chelan, it's where my parents' families
are from. Everyone's buried there.”
I'd been there more than once. I'd visited this place in
dreams.
2017 – Touchwood Hills, SK
My second time in Yorkton I was determined to absorb
the encyclopedic geneological knowledge of my Aunt
Sharon. She overwhelmed the first time with books,
photos, neatly organized duotangs and outdated
computer databases full of names, dates, and places.
Between rum and cokes I asked questions and I read.
I studied till my eyes stung from the cigarette smoke
hanging in the house.
They next day I set out to visit the graves my aunt had
recorded. I only had one day. Punnichy, Gordon, Stone
Church. I visited them all. I spoke with every one. By
the end I was exhausted, drained.
They had a lot to say.
2019 - Prince Albert, SK
We had some time to kill before Uncle Jock's funeral.
My dad asked if I wanted to see his childhood home
again. I was hoping he'd say that.
The stories came easy that day. He marvelled at the
size of his old backyard. It seemed so huge to him
when he little. He pointed out the houses where his
playmates lived.
“Tim and Terry Nilson used to live there. One time we
climbed into the back of a dumptruck that was parked
across the street. The driver got in and didn't know
we were playing in the back. We made it half a block
before we had to slam on the cab to make him stop.”
When we headed downtown the stories kept coming.
But the tone changed. He remembered getting
dressed up to go for fancy dinner, and witnessing a
knife fight on Central Ave.
It was time to head to the funeral. As we doubled back
to find the highway again we passed a plain looking
bar, with a parking lot out back.
“My daddy left me in the car here once. So he could
go in for a drink.”
I'd never heard him say the word 'daddy' before. Half
a block down River Road we passed what seemed to
be PA's only high rise.
“I had to move my mom out of there once, when she
had one of her episodes.”
I was seeing past the walls he'd built. I saw that boy.
Kîyokêwin

Rihkee Strapp //
Miskogwan Gegek ndishinikaaz. Kwinkwa’aake
ndoodem. Wanamani Saa’ikanink ndoonji. Rihkee
Strapp is a michif ayakweh artist from Red Lake,
Ontario and with family ties to Poplar Point, Manitoba
with Nehiyaw-Pwat ancestry. Growing up in Ojibwe
and Ojicree territory with their family moving around
Northern Ontario made them feel like a visitor even in
their hometown. Their grandmother is their biggest
inspiration. Her house was full of silk screen prints from
the pioneers of woodland art, and she would share
stories about them. A prolific artist herself, Rihkee’s
grandmothercontinuestomakemoccasins,beadwork,
medicine pouches, water colour paintings and recently
took up felting. Their grandmother’s early embroidery
work combining Métis florals with Sylvestor the cat is
where Rihkee credits their pop sensibilities. Rihkee’s
arts practice focuses on reclamation and an attempt
at incorporating humour throughout reintegrating
appropriated images from popular media.
Anishinabewaki Territory // Red Lake, ON
BIOGRAPHY
Media pieces by Connor Pion
Performance by Tejhler Leadbeater
Music by Riley Hill aka the Emu
Beadwork by my sister Caitlin Strapp
Documentation by Taylor Jolin

Pawatamihk is the transmutation of kinship through
popular media.
Matchatogewub known as Ka Michet O Kehewak -
Many Eagles or La Sonnant - The Rattler was a peace
maker who foretold the arrival of the colonizers through
shaking tent. He died by the hands of capitalists
through biological warfare.
He is my ancestor.
The bottom right television features him in film stills
from Deck the Halls with Matthew Broderick and
Danny Devito used as a set dressing.
I asked to use a media piece that Connor had
previously made featuring Hawk from Twin Peaks and
Cree syllabics saying Hawk / Kegek (Gegek in other
dialects). Late one night in my basement studio I am
testing this cluster of televisions and coaxle and rca
cables. My phone buzzes from a text message. It is
MaNee Chacaby. I had passed her tobacco for a name
earlier in the year. She txts me my name: Miskogwan
Gegek - Red feather Hawk.
Time does not exist. My spirit knew and chose Hawk
before linear time revealed the truth. My grandmother's
spirit knew when she gave me my first feather, a hawk
feather before linear time revealed the truth.
Pawatamihk is michif for dream and the title of this
immersive experience. It is the reclamation of digital
territories beyond time.

Laura St. Amant //
Laura St. Amant is an artist of Métis, Anishinaabe,
and Ukrainian descent from Penetanguishene though
currently based in Toronto. She works primarily in oil
paint, and draws upon her background to make works
that discuss identity, colonization, and her relationship
to the land and spaces she occupies past, present,
and future.
Treaty 13 Territory // Toronto, ON
BIOGRAPHY
Name: Untitled
Medium: Acrylic on Canvas Size: 2.5’ x 2.5’
Date: 2019
With this piece, I have decided to paint a tool
that has been a part of my life since childhood.
My family relocated a lot but always ended up
returning to Penetanguishene and reuniting over
food and fishing. I’ve always found fishing lures
beautiful, just as the fish find them so attractive
that they follow them into danger. To a fish, a
lure looks like sustenance, but within lies the
hook. I also thought about lures as a metaphor
for promises made to Indigenous peoples by
politicians, while we continue to wait for their
fruition.

little michif girl
with no kin
her father dead
her mother drunk
little michif girl
with no kin
finds her sister
who finds her brothers
little michif girl
visits her sister
they walk together
among green trees
Kai Minosh Pyle //
Kai Minosh Pyle is a diasporic Michif and Nishnaabe
Two-Spirit born and raised in Green Bay, Wisconsin.
They are descended from Métis from the Winnipeg
area and Nishnaabeg from Sault Ste. Marie through
their grandmother Louise, who was separated from
her siblings at age three and raised in foster care. This
poem and artwork honor the ways Louise and her
older sister Donna found to reconnect through visiting-
-kiyokewin.
Oneida Traditional Territory // Green Bay, Wisconsin
BIOGRAPHY
Kîyokêwin

Erin Konsmo //
Erin Marie Konsmo is a Métis Prairie queer who
grew up in central Alberta and is a member of the
Métis Nation of Alberta. Their mother’s Métis family is
historically rooted in the Lac Ste Anne area northwest of
Edmonton and St. Andrews, Manitoba.They organize
with the Mamawi Collective, a group of Métis young
people building relationships across the homeland.
Their arts practice currently focuses on fish scale
art, an artform they are being mentored into by Métis
artist Jaime Koebel. Erin is also an Indigenous full-
spectrum doula specializing in fertility, menstruation
and 2SLGBTQ+ birth supports. They currently work
as a harm reduction worker.
Treaty 6 Territory // Lac Ste Anne, AB
BIOGRAPHY

Kîyam Danglers //
Kîyam is a Michif word that encompasses the personal
feeling that all is well within - that we can find peace
and calm in the midst of conflict, by having trust in
one another. It holds a lot, but it carries a lightness.
These earrings are flowy and light and remind me of
that feeling of kiyam.
Triangle danglers //
These earrings were modelled after the weavings of
the Métis sash. They are place based designs - the
Ocean Cedar and Sand Sunshine earrings are based
on my home here in Vancouver. The Golden Arrows
are traditional design meets Art Deco, reminding me
of the year I lived in New York City.
Emma-Love
Cabana //
Emma-Love Cabana was born and raised in
Saskatoon, SK. She was a member of CUMFI local 34
and is now in process of transferring her membership
to North Fraser Métis Association. She was a MNBC
delegate at the Métis Youth Forum this summer.
She is from the Boucher family with connections in
Saskatoon, St Louis and Prince Albert and historic
ties to the Red River Settlement. Her ancestors were
heavily involved in the Northwest Resistance and the
Red River Resistance. Her great, great-grandfather
was a member of Riel’s Exovedate and a Captain of
one of Dumont’s 19 companies.
Oneida Traditional Territory // Green Bay, Wisconsin
BIOGRAPHY

Elbows Off the Table
Table, lace table cloth, seed beads, tea cups, red
rose tea
2018
Elbows off The Table is a satirical installation centered
around the implications of taking on
the identity of both the settler and the settled. As a
white-passing Métis woman, I must negotiate
how I can disrupt settler culture while also
acknowledging my privilege being able to move
freely through both identities. Elbows Off The Table is
a replica of my British Grandmothers
living room table. The installation features a round
lace tablecloth embellished with traditional
Métis beadwork signifiers of British colonialism and
Indigeneity. Through a satirical
interventional approach, I employ symbolic
subversion as an act of reclamation. This piece
demonstrates the complexity of existing on the binary
of cultural hybridity while subsequently
claiming my own autonomy as a Métis woman under
colonial rule.
Maria Margaretta
//
Maria-Margaretta is an interdisciplinary Métis artist
exploring ideas of Indigenous representation through
social and political issues. Her work is an investigation
of the modern day Indigenous woman attempting
to negotiate her own sense of self through all the
implications of existing in a patriarchal colonialist
structured society. Utilizing her Métis identity, cultural
knowledge, and traditional practice, she challenges
assimilation tactics through cultural resurgence and
resilience.
Treaty 6 Territory // Saskatoon , SK
BIOGRAPHY

Samantha Nock //
Samantha is a Cree-Métis writer, jr front end web
developer, database nerd, house plant enthusiast, and
overly dedicated cat parent from Treaty 8 territory in
the BC Peace Region, but her family originally comes
from Ile-a-la-Crosse (Sakitawak), Saskatchewan.
She has been published in Canadian Art, Shameless
Magazine, SAD Mag, GUTS Magazine, Prism
International, amongst others. Samantha is host to the
monthly podcast, Heavy Content, and co-organizes a
bimonthly community reading series called Poetry is
Bad For You. She cares about radical decolonial love,
coffee, corgis, and her two cats, Betty and Jughead.
You can catch her tweeting @sammymarie or
obnoxiously posting stories on insta @2broke4bingo
Treaty 8 Territory // Peace Region, BC
BIOGRAPHY
Image // Île-à-la-Crosse, SK (Jason Surkan)

when you go to kokum’s it’s rude to knock before you enter, only strangers and door-to-door salesmen
knock. take your shoes off when you come in, only mon’yawak walk around their house with their shoes
on. go straight from the door, past grandpa’s couch, past auntie caroline’s chair, straight to the kitchen.
kokum’s kitchen is small and yellowing. the fridge is covered in magnets that hold up the canadian food
guide from 1980. to the right of the fridge is the glue that holds the house together; the sturdy brown
wooden table is tucked away in the corner. a clear plastic sheet covers the white doily tablecloth. this
table is the pinnacle of our family’s governance, all decisions are made here; holiday feasts are eaten here;
deaths are mourned here.
on the far side, by the sliding glass door that leads to the rotting wood deck, is grandpa’s chair. grandpa
sat in that chair and played game after game of solitaire. he drank iced tea out of a measuring cup, mixing
tablespoons of nestea until it was a sugary syrup. when you heard the crack of a tin of herring, you knew
you were moments away from being dared to eat a fork full of pickled fish: “i’ll give you a dollar if you eat
this” he would laugh. none of the grandkids were brave enough.
when you visit, never sit in grandpa’s chair. you sit across from him or beside him in the chair that’s in
front of the phone. both are temporary spots, because they’re reserved for kokum. if the phone rings, you
answer it and pass it over when you hear “ay is jean der”? you move and make yourself sugary nestea or
a cup of red rose while she shouts loud cree into the receiver. she hangs up without saying goodbye and
moves to her seat across from grandpa. she grabs his deck of cards, and plays her own game of solitaire.
this table has its own treaties that are undiscussed but honoured nonetheless. if you’re a visiting guest,
stand and wait to be invited to sit down. you’ll probably be asked to move anyway.
if kokum’s table could talk, it would hold all our family’s secrets in its fibers. it’s the same table i hid under
as a kid and cut my thick hair with dull scissors, is the same table that was our rock when grandpa died,
is the same table that we sit at for christmas. if her table could talk, it would tell you all the unwritten rules
of visiting.
the rules are simple in their complexity: if you’re family, come in and sit. if you’re there with mom and aunty,
you’ll hear some good gossip around that table, and kokum will yell from her spot in the living room any
missing details. if you had the chance to sit at the table with grandpa, you sat there quietly while he played
solitaire. if you’re there with kokum, you better know how she likes her cup of red rose. if i like you, i’ll tell
you how to make it, or else you’re on your own. at this table, you learn to listen. you will earn your right, in
time, to have your say.
after grandpa died, kokum sat in his spot, and shuffled his deck of cards: small brown hands shuffling and
reshuffling grief and sadness. outloud to no one she says, “well who’s going to fight with me now?”.
mic’so’nahtik

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