Albert Dumont

Proper remembrance of our ancestors is very important to me. So important to me that in fact, I acknowledge them each and every day upon awakening. It is something I have been dedicated to doing each dawn, for many years now.

As I have done before, I went to Baskatong northeast of Kitigan Zibi, to sit for a while in the shade of an old pine tree in the cemetery where Algonquins are interred. The graves are old, going back to the 1800’s. I go there to show my respect and to offer tobacco, water, berries and prayers to them. “Kiságiyán” (I love you) I say, while sitting on a carpet of pine needles. All Algonquins buried there were honourable people, of this I have no doubt. I honour them with words describing how I feel about the Algonquin blood flowing strong in the vessels of my heart. Though their last heartbeat was received into the spirit land many generations ago, their healing energies linger still, in this place where today, their bones decay.

I often ask our young people this question: Do I want my future generations to forget about me just because I’ve been dead for a hundred years? No, I don’t! To me, honouring our ancestors is something natural, expected and spiritually enriching to do. It is something which makes me feel good deep inside my soul. In this territory, there is the best of all things. The best fish, birds, animals, trees, flowers, lakes, rivers and yes, the best of the best of all human beings were born and lived out their lives here. I am not being boastful, I am stating what is to me, an indisputable fact!

Today while sitting in the cemetery, I heard the gentle rattle of the poplar trees, standing aplenty outside the fence which marks the perimeter of the graveyard. The spirit rejoices when the poplars sing. I marvelled at the magnificence of the red pine trees, spread here and there in the burial ground. A sole white pine stands tall in the graveyard and I delighted in taking shelter from the heat in the shadow of its branches. On the floor of the cemetery, I saw in abundance, wintergreen leaves. What a great addition they are to forest medicine tea. To me their presence there is telling me I should consume more of them than I already do. My health will benefit from doing so.

It is good to sit in an old burial ground such as this and ponder the greatness of your Nation. The poet in me imagines their last wish of these ancestors for them, the seventh generation. How true and sincere their prayer for their wellness must have been! In the lullaby of the nearby poplars I hear our ancestors speaking from their deathbeds, “Be good, be kind, be true to your bloodline. Never back down. Never give up.” Yes, this I’m sure was the final request they made of us before departing their never surrendered lands.

Not many of the grave markers are still standing. The snow of past winters, the heavy rain of spring seasons have taken a toll. Soon, only the stone and metal markers will remain, declaring that a body who was dearly loved while living the life of a human being lies below the sod. I will recommend that the grade 11 students at our school go to the burial ground, to sit and meditate and then write a poem about how they feel about them, our ancestors.

Before leaving the site a bird appeared, a blue jay! She went from branch to branch of a red pine tree. Then another bird, a robin alighted on the branch of the white pine tree over my head. Both were welcome visitors. Both birds are to me, messengers! I have no doubt that these birds were spirits. They came to say “Migwech for your visit today.”

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Of all creatures moving about on the land, I see that none are closer to the earth than snakes! They do not stomp, walk or shuffle when going from one location to another. Snakes gently caress the land. They slither silently when travelling in and around gardens, searching for prey.

Snakes in Algonquin territory are harmless to human beings. Snakes – lots of Indigenous folks respect them as great messengers! I don’t fear them now but years ago they terrified me. At the sight of a snake on a forest trail or seeing one or two … ugh, crawling along a wall of a shed, my entire chest would tighten up. I felt panic, my heart pounded and I moved quickly away from where the snake lay. I didn’t want anything to do with them. Then one day, only months after my sobriety began, I was in Gatineau Park (Algonquin territory) at a site I had adopted as a healing place I could go to, assisting in keeping me strong in my vow to never allow alcohol to pass my lips again.

It was 5 o’clock in the morning. I had marked out my circle with sacred tobacco and was about to begin my prayers. Somehow, I felt that ‘eyes’ were watching me. “An early morning hiker,” I thought. I searched the landscape, hoping to see who it was. I saw no one and continued with my ceremony. Still, I felt certain that eyes were watching. I looked again to find who was there, this time searching closer to where I stood. I saw her then, a large garter snake. She was in my circle, resting on the root of a cedar tree. And because of it, for the first time in my life, I was not afraid.

“You have never hurt me,” I said to the snake. “You have never bitten me nor wrapped yourself around my neck to choke me. I have no reason to fear you. Today you have entered my circle and I welcome you here. From this day forward, I shall never fear you again.” My ceremony went well and after completed, the snake slowly left the circle.

All this brings me to what is going on in my life today in regards to snakes. I live in a small log house, located in Kitigan Zibi. In the few years I have lived here, snakes have come into my home seven times. I found one in my cupboard last summer, where I keep sacred objects. He was sitting on my rattles. “Oh,” I said upon discovering him there, “a wannabe rattlesnake.” I caught hold of him and gently evicted him from my home. Turned out he was a ‘milk snake’. I had never seen one before (see photo). I have caught three more snakes so far this summer, all in my bedroom. I have nothing against snakes and am not at all ‘rattled’ at them being close to me but just to be clear, I do not want them as bunk mates. Someone asked, “How do they get in?” I told my friend, “Maybe they are like explorers of old and future times (Star Trek LOL). They want to boldly go where no snake has gone before.” To the snakes I say, “Please do so, just don’t show up in my bathtub, especially when I’m in it. There has to be a limit!”

I remember a priest telling children when I was 6 years old, “Snakes are good for a garden, don’t chase them from it.” Yes, I agree! But what about the ‘Garden of Eden’, where according to the Catholic Church a great ‘sin’ was committed? Though I am unafraid of snakes now, I think I might retreat from one the size I saw in a painting depicting a snake wrapped around a big branch of an apple tree where two naked human beings stood. It was a monster! The  fear I had of snakes most of my life likely began way back then when, as a kid, I saw that painting. I was traumatized! Adam and Eve didn’t fare very well after their encounter with the snake, did they? Hmmm, I wonder!

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Travelling “up the Gatineau” oftentimes brings thoughts of spiritual wonderment to my mind, my heart and to my dear soul.

An example: Heading south December 22 at the time when the sun begins its skyward journey, I saw in the eastern sky, sundogs! It was only the second time in my life I have been blessed to see this spectacular phenomenon! I noticed the sundogs between Kaz and Low and kept them in sight till I was close to Wakefield. The teaching I received on sundogs is that they are looked at by some as predictors of fast approaching freezing temperatures. Others, such as I, believe that seeing three suns on the horizon signals the arrival of a time when deep spiritual meditation should take place to assure sacred enrichment for the human spirit. “Time to light your pipe,” was suggested to me by Maria Campbell, a celebrated author and an elder in Saskatoon whom I have great respect for.

Many years ago, I was instructed by a Cree elder (Raymond Ballantyne) to place my first pipe, made of red pipestone, onto the branch of a tree in the woods for four days and four nights before its first use in ceremony. I chose the balsam fir up the Gatineau, to keep the pipe safe till I returned to bring it with me to a ceremonial site. It was 1995, I still have the pipe and smoke it by and by when spirit calls on me to do so! The pipestone was carved as a gift for me by legendary elder Lame Buffalo (Bobby Woods).

The trees up the Gatineau mean a lot to me, both emotionally and spiritually. I embrace them, both for their physical beauty and how I hold them up as the most wise of all life Creator placed on this earth, helping human beings to live well. I write poetry in honour of trees, I press my face on their bark on extremely cold days to feel their warmth. What wonders they are! I once stood barefooted on a decaying old maple tree in the woods near the 105. My legs sank past my ankles into the tree. I felt the caress of the tree’s energy, still very much alive in the old maple. It was so soothing and spiritually refreshing! Trees are so perfect! 

Worthy

I will turn my face
Towards the sun and say
Grandfather
In your fire I find my strength

I will allow the winds
To gently stroke my thoughts
And I will say
Father
O how you make me wise

I will gaze upon
The full circle of the moon
And say
Grandmother
Through you I see
The love of God

I will lay down
On soft meadow grasses
And say
Mother
Heal me and teach me
To respect all the things
On this earth

And only after I have done
All of these things
Will I be worthy
To walk among the trees

I have a memory from the early 1960s of my uncle Maurice going out in a rowboat and catching a 36 pound catfish in the Tenàgàdino Zìbì (Gatineau River). I wonder today if such ancient fish of that size still roam the river, up the Gatineau. I hope so!

The Algonquins have a legend telling us that the first “treaty” or “promise” ever made was between a sturgeon and a muskie. The sturgeon proposed that if the muskie promised to never attack him, he (sturgeon) would forevermore keep the muskie’s hunting grounds clean. The muskie agreed. A treaty was made between them all that time ago and holds strong to this very day! In my view, a treaty is the word of the Nation! If your “word” means nothing to you nor to anyone else who knows you, then I ask, “What is left in your heart you can point to that declares, ‘I am a human being’?”

Up the Gatineau! Long live this wondrous place on the unceded lands of the Anishinabe Algonquin.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

I went again today, as I often do, to my forest prayer circle. I go to my place of meditation to express gratitude for the blessings of life I encounter by and by, as I go here and there, sharing from my storytelling bundle or to recite poetry. At other times, I go to the circle to ponder my many shortcomings and also to reflect on the emotional and spiritual dysfunction weighing down society in general, at this time in our world. It is so worrisome! Today though, I had friendship on my mind, its meaning and purpose.

What is a friend? I can tell you that there was a time in my past where I felt I had not even one person whose face I could look upon and see in it, a friend. Such a feeling brings depression, it initiates rebellion, it puts a gigantic chip on the shoulder of a young person! Times have changed. In the last 15 years, I have been so very fortunate to have friends in my circle who trust in me to the same degree I trust in them. I can confide any and all things of my life with them. I am there for them as a shield and I have no doubt that they would act as such for me too, should I call on them to do so. I celebrate my friends, I honour them, I feast them! My life would not be as joyful or meaningful if not for these special people in it who I hold up as ‘friends’.

In the heart of a true friend, you find the music, the beat, floating in perfect harmony with the spiritual beliefs you lean on to take you to places of grandness never imagined before.

When I think of friends and how they so greatly enrich me in my emotional domain, my thoughts take me to the lives of my daughters, my grandchildren, my brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews, my cousins and other relatives and I wish for them, true friends in their lives. I want the new life (born only a couple of weeks ago), my great-granddaughter Isla, to grow up surrounded with ‘good’ friends who will emotionally support her and stand by her (elbows up) in troubling times as I know she will do for them.

I picked up a feather after my sobriety began. It spoke to me, it said “Accept me as a symbol of strength, of purity and of truth and like a real friend, I will never let you down.” The eagle feather has been true to its promise!

I look to the trees around my house and see living beings I regard as friends. The pines, the balsam, the white birch, the maples, all of them, they are real friends as are all things I regard as ‘All my Relations’. I share with them things from my heart, my sorrows and joys. I touch them lovingly. I present them with offerings of sacred tobacco.

If real friendship was a tree in the forest, it would be an oak. For the oak is strong, eloquent and generous in its provisions for all things living in its domain. This is how I see my dearest friend.

I hope all the people I care about have a friend, a special one, who stands by them through good times and bad times. A friend who will listen carefully to you and will emotionally support you when your energy is at its lowest. A friend whose voice brings energy and smiles into your world.

I can’t end how I feel about friendship without mentioning our family dog (1956-1965).

Laddie was my first friend. I learned so much from him, like what it means to be protective of those you care about. What things of respect I have acquired in my life that came to me because of actions people described as ‘deeds of courage’, have their seeds in the teachings given me by Laddie. What a fighter he was! He went into instant attack mode when he sensed a threat was close by, ready to harm the Dumont kids. His presence near me when I experienced any kind of trauma was a tonic which brought instant relief. His heart was a place I could enter and curl up in and be at peace. I’ll never forget Laddie and know I will see him again in the Great Spirit Land.

Friends, they make the world go round.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Isla, my second great-grandchild was born on April 21. She is little sister to big brother Carter, born May 29, 2023, deceased July 9, 2023. Isla is as perfect as perfect can get! Oh how I love her! When granddaughter Kyrstin announced that a baby was being created in Kyrstin’s birth waters, I told the baby “I love you”.

That is the way it is with our people, we love our future generations even before their first breath of life is taken.

I wrote the following poem for Isla:

For Isla

When I first held you close
On the morning of your birth
I told you, in whispers
About the magnificent trees
Surrounding my home in Kitigan Zibi
I introduced you to the robin
The partridge, the turtle and the hawk
Spirit helpers of mine
Now yours to spiritually embrace

I took you to Bitobi Lake
And shared with you
The origins of the canoe
Together, you and I
Floated over white water
In a birchbark craft
How I smiled
To hear your joys of glee

And as you fell
Into peaceful slumber
I whispered
“Listen to my heart
Hear in its vibration
The heartbeat of my father
And that of my grandfather
Hear in it, the drumming
Of the heart of my mother
And that of my grandmother
Hear in my heart, the songs
Of your ancestors”
Remember the heartbeat, sweet Isla

I whispered these things
As I held you close

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

March 27 marks the day my beautiful Mima (mother) passed away twenty-three years ago. Though a long time has gone by, to me all my memories of her earthly travel, flash brightly in the domains of my mind, my heart and my spirit. I dedicate this blog to her.

I recall vividly that when my brother Maurice died, age 47, how it placed the heavy stone of sorrow into her heart. I remember my Mother sitting in the funeral home weeping, her head bowed. Her sobbing called out to me and I went to her side. She told me that Maurice went to her home once a week to take her to a restaurant for breakfast and then to the grocery store to help her with her grocery shopping. “I will miss that so very much,” she said through tear-filled eyes. I assured my Mother that she could count on me to take over what Maurice had done for her. Hence, every Wednesday I was at her door at 8:30 a.m. We went together to the restaurant to eat and chat, then went on to the ‘Metro’ in Aylmer. She pushed our grocery cart up and down the aisles of the store, selecting food items and what not in the way of supplies for her weekly needs. My sister Pauline joined us most of the time. We always had a good visit.

Mima endured much heartache and trauma too in her life (she lived in a sanatorium in Montreal, battling tuberculosis for 2 years). She gave birth to 13 children, she lost her first two sons, Paul Emile (17 months) and Raymond (7 months). She lost Anne (age 21) and Russell (age 25) too, early in their lives. Mima suffered greatly and sadly, the wildness and nonsense of my life before my sobriety began, also brought worry and despair into her life. I am truly ashamed now for being such an idiot during those wasted years.

I promised myself that day in the funeral home, I would be as perfect a son for her as I could possibly be for a mother who deserved the best of the best life can offer. I felt being there for her in her older years was the least I could do for her in appreciation for the wonderful Mother she was to all her children. I was a ‘good’ son for the last nine years of her life!

My Mother was not the type of person who wanted to be wined and dined by my dad. She didn’t want expensive jewelry nor fine clothing. All she wanted was to be happy and what made her heart sing was looking into the eyes of her children and seeing love, peace and joy looking back at her.

Mima took sick with congestive heart failure when she was 82 years of age. There came a couple of weeks near the end where she was in so much pain from blood clots in her legs that she cried, begging for death to relieve her of it. I spent a lot of time with her then. My feeling was that she was there when I took my first breath of life and I wanted to be present when she drew her last.

One day, in those last hours of her consciousness, she told me of a memory she had when she was 12 years old and working in a lumber camp as the cook’s helper (my grandma was the cook). Grandpa was also at the camp working as a lumberjack. She shared that at the camp, a worker had taken very sick. It was believed that the poor man’s death was imminent. While this was happening travellers arrived at the camp, an old man and two old women, all Indigenous. They asked permission from the camp foreman to set up their lodge for one night within the perimeters of the lumber camp. Permission to do so was granted.

Mima told me that after nightfall came, the travellers saw that there was a lot of activity at one of the shanties. The old man among them inquired as to what was going on in the cabin. “A man lays dying there,” he was told. For whatever reason the old traveller asked if he might go to the dying man’s bedside. He was told “yes” he could do so.

My Mother related that the old man went into the shanty for a short while. He then returned to his lodge and prepared to smoke a pipe. My Mom described the pipe as big, very long. She measured a distance of at least 18 inches in length by spreading her arms.

“He sat on the ground and smoked it,” she said, telling me that while the pipe was smoked, the two old women travelling with the man danced on either side of him. I asked my Mother how they danced. She replied that the women were wearing long skirts and only how the cloth of their dresses moved, made it clear that the feet of the women were moving in a gentle manner on the earth. My Mother stated that after the pipe was completely empty of tobacco, the old man raised up from the ground and returned to the sick man’s bedside. “This man will not die,” he told the people holding the death vigil. “He will recover and regain his strength and return to his worksite, strong as ever before.” At dawn the sick man’s fever broke, he regained his health and worked again as he had before taking ill.

I knew that my Mother told this memory of hers to me because it was her way of telling me the spiritual beliefs I have embraced are good to keep strong by my side. They are powerful and can be there to assist in bringing about wonderful things.

My beautiful granddaughter Kyrstin gave birth to my first great-grandchild on May 29, 2023. ‘Carter’ didn’t live long, only 7 weeks! How we all loved him! My heart knows that there is no greater love than that which lives in the heart of a mother for her children.

Kyrstin I know, holds her son spiritually, each and every day since he left us. So it will be till she, after living a long life, will bring Carter once again to her bosom. A mother’s love is a fire impossible to extinguish.

Many of my dearest friends are mothers. There is no sacrifice too great that would deter them in any way from going to the side of that child and fight with the ferocity of a mother bear to protect her offspring. To all of you reading this, all the sons, all the daughters, I say, “Never take the love your mother has for you for granted. It is a love you should cherish, honour and feast, you will never again know it from any other human being on this planet.” To me, the word ‘perfect’ was created to describe the unconditional love dedicated moms have for their children. The word ‘perfect’ is not a ‘fit’ to describe anything else around us save for the trees, the waters of the rivers and lakes and all else we look to when we say “All our Relations”.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Driving to Ottawa from Kitigan Zibi on the 105 last Sunday, I saw in the distance, bright, flashing lights on the roof of a police car parked on the shoulder of the road. It’s a sight I often come across on the busy 105! Speedsters going way too fast will sooner or later fall victim to the coppers’ radar. As I drove by the foolish driver who moments before saw a police officer where not many want to see one, in their rearview mirror, I said, “I hope that learns you not to speed.” LOL!

In my poet’s mind I see things. The blinking lights, a police car, a speedster, they drew me to a fantasy place. I imagine a world then, where the flashing lights of a police car on the shoulder of the road tell passers-by not that a speeding ticket is being handed out but declaring instead that a motorist is being rewarded for their excellent driving skills. “We’ve been watching you drive with care and safety in mind on this busy highway,” a cop might say to the car’s driver, “and we are going to give you a gift in acknowledgement of your contribution in making our highways safer for all.” The driver might receive an expensive box of Belgian chocolates or perhaps a shiny fishing lure, guaranteed to catch nice pickerel (walleye). Such a sight, such a world, would brighten the day of all drivers going to and fro who witnessed it.

Another fantasy land comes to mind after I paid my latest plowing bill. The man doing the job does a perfect job of it. The snow is scraped so clean that what is left is tight like skin to the gravel bed covering my yard. I imagined spreading all my shortcomings, all my dysfunction, all that is negative in my thoughts and actions, onto the surface of my yard. I then call a magical truck which plows it all clear of my yard and brings it to where the purity and perfection of tree spirits deals with it. Now that’s plow work I’d pay anything to have done! LOL.

I often go to Farm Boy on Sunday afternoons after visiting with my grandkids to replenish the food supplies I will need to see me through the next week. So there I was just a few days ago in my favourite store with my grocery list in hand. I had been craving the sweet, refreshing taste of an apple for several days and looked forward to bringing at least half a dozen of them home with me. I love apples! I love them in pies, in crisps, in cake and in a strudel! I knew a guy many years ago who would cut an apple into slices, placing them in between two pieces of toasted bread and eat it as one might eat a tomato sandwich. I tried it and must say, it wasn’t bad at all. I like to cut apples into four pieces and munch on them while listening to powwow songs. I buy apples grown on Canadian soil. I refuse to eat an apple imported from the USA. Let me be perfectly clear, I would deny my taste buds the pleasure of eating an apple again if it meant I’d have to buy one from the USA to do it. What Canada can’t supply, I’ll do without. I hope the readers of this blog feel the same way!

On this day however, there were no apples from Canada available at Farm Boy. All the apples contained in the bins were imported from the USA. Thus, Farm Boy was denied a sale. I am boycotting everything, all things imported from the States. Donald Trump, a convicted felon is cozying up to war criminals like Putin and Netanyahu. He is telling the world that he will annex Canada. The war criminals by his side who have a lot of experience in that area of oppression will urge him on. The annexing of another country’s territory is their specialty. Putin and Netanyahu – Trump is talking their kind of language!

I bought a new (used) car a week ago. I didn’t buy American. I’d ride on a horse/dog team to the city or walk before I support a business from the USA. I bought a Kia! 

I haven’t been in the dating game in many years but if I was, I’d be singing “American woman get away from me. American woman, momma let me be” (girlcott?). When I say boycott, I mean boycott. Trump believes the people of this country will bend to his wishes. He doesn’t know us very well, does he?

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

When we think about who we should trust the most in this dysfunctional world (outside of our own family members), we realize that it is the person/politician we voted for to represent our voice in Houses of Assembly.

When I look at the person seeking to get elected to political office with the aid of my vote, I try to see what is honourable about the candidate, not only through my eyes but also through the eyes of my grandchildren. For it is they, the next generation of our bloodlines, whose health and wellness will be impacted the most by decisions of concern to the environment, healthcare and human rights, our political leaders make today. 

On behalf of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren I want questions answered by people hoping to secure my vote on election day. “What is your plan to stop crime, to fight abuse of power by corrupt politicians, to combat homelessness and to assure sensible medical aid for all citizens?” To bring peace to my mind I want to know the principles that will guide the person I will support with my vote! My relatives not yet born are counting on me to do my part as a voter in bringing in the best of the best to lead us into a gentler and better future.

It is true that money corrupts but I put my trust (my vote) into a person I believe will never sell out to anyone. I do not want to worry about the person I voted for being bought by powerful lobbies or corporations in this country. The person I vote for will be expected to fight the oppression of any human beings on this earth, regardless of skin colour or cultural background. I expect them to do so with every fibre of their being. If they don’t, I will regard it as a broken trust and I will not be quick to forgive.

Some of you reading this might not like it, but when Justin Trudeau was elected Prime Minister, I was happy. He got my vote! I believed in him and put my trust in him when he promised “a Nation to Nation relationship” with the Indigenous Peoples of this land. No more!

Trudeau broke the trust I had in him further when he brought Canada into a dark place where Canadians found themselves being complicit in a genocide (Gaza). The Liberals lost my support! I have no trust in Poilievre (that’s a straight up no-brainer), he would be a disaster and march lock step to the orders of other world leaders as Trudeau did. In the next election I am voting NDP.

I support Joel Harden’s nomination for Ottawa-Centre and I will be voting for Gilbert Whiteduck in Pontiac-KitiganZibi.

I trust in both of them to uphold the values I stand to protect and defend. Both Gilbert and Joel have proven themselves over the years I have known them, to be ‘honourable” men who will do all they can to make our world cleaner, safer and fair for all.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

I believe in a loving, understanding and forgiving Creator! Human beings are creatures of many faults and shortcomings. No matter how hard we try to be gracious and accommodating, our limits are all too often tested, leading to wrongs being perpetrated. Thank goodness Creator is patient with us.

I believe I can, through the force of deep spiritual meditation, communicate the concerns I have for family, all my relations and also my Nation to Creator in a good way. I believe that the doing of good deeds by human beings is recorded and celebrated in the world some of us will go to after our lives come to an end for us on this plain.

I believe in love of family. They say that “Blood is thicker than water” and that “Water is life”, what more needs to be said! The blood flowing through the hearts of my family members and the birth waters of my mother are sacred to me. I believe in friends, real ones! In my life I’ve known (and have today) friends who are compassionate, empathetic, supportive and loving. The kindness of their hearts is what attracted me to them. They have my back! I have theirs! It saddens me to know that the world has people in it who don’t know the difference between what is a ‘friend’ and what is an acquaintance. I do! I have had enough of false friends and no longer make space for them in my life.

I believe in doing all I can to make sure that the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation gets its due respect on our never surrendered territory. To our guests and visitors I say “tread softly on the rights of the Algonquin people.” I never cared much for the words “since time immemorial”. These words are not strong enough to describe how long the people who have become known as ‘Algonquin’ have been living here. Our Creation Story begins here within the perimeters of the Kichi Zibi watershed and even beyond that time, never doubt it! If you wish to know how long the Algonquins have been here, ask Creator!

I believe in the Anishinabe Algonquin legends and their ancient lore, passed on to our people by our ancestors. I believe in the wisdom of our old people and in the strength and energy of our young people. I believe in honourable role models and in kind-hearted mentors.

I knew a wise old man years ago, a good friend, who would bark, “Come on in out of the storm” when he came to answer my knock on his door. He would say this in the way of a welcoming, no matter if it was the dandiest day of the year weather-wise. He knew life was a ‘storm’. A storm that had the ability to consume you if ever it found you in a state of weakness. The storm which has engulfed the earth for centuries has gotten far worse today. We need to keep strong teachings by our side to shield us, to defend us and to believe in, to give us a chance to survive ferocious, opposing winds. I recall a person up in age at a pow wow, who said, “It’s not the price of a gift which makes what you are given precious. It is the good intentions of the gift giver which are priceless.” I agree!

We need something to believe in! If you don’t have it, find it!

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

My poet’s heart sang and danced last week when I found myself at Pinecrest Public School, a public elementary school (OCDSB). As I expected would be the case, the students at Pinecrest were extraordinarily welcoming and gracious!

I was invited to Pinecrest by Principal Naya Markanastasakis to speak to the students about my children’s story ‘The Maple Leaves of Kichi Makwa’ (written 30 years ago). While there, I was thrilled (not to mention super surprised) and humbled to see on walls of the school, maple leaves in the likeness of those in my story, drawn by students. I saw questions and statements about the story, posed and declared by students as young as 6 years of age. These were also interspersed on walls of the school (see link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NsCs-oyogJJ41u-xrLRTG1qHWCGn9OeixXjtkPAivw8/edit?tab=t.0).

After the students had entered the gymnasium/auditorium in a mannerly and organized way, they sat on the floor facing the stage where I sat with five student school leaders. The energy was delightful! A broad smile stayed fixed on my face throughout their entry, I knew right away that we were going to have a good time!

The story ‘The Maple Leaves of Kichi Makwa’ tells of the maple leaves on the limbs of maple trees in the magical land of Kichi Makwa (Great Bear). The story tells how the maple leaves became upset when they observed that their friends and neighbours around them were painted with several colours. The flowers were colourful, the birds too, even the rainbow. The leaves didn’t think this was fair, they had only one colour: green! So they cried countless tears, not for days or weeks but for many months. Eventually Aki, the spirit of Kichi Makwa, fed up with the constant wailing of the crying leaves granted the maple leaves the gift of colour.

The leaves, now bright and majestic with the colours of orange, red and yellow felt that they and they alone, were the most precious and the most beautiful of all the beautiful life forms of Kichi Makwa! They became egotistical and mean-hearted. The maple leaves bullied and teased everyone around them! This constant harrassment by the leaves made all their neighbours feel angry and frustrated!

Aki was watching, what she saw made her heart race, and in her displeasure with the leaves (she had no tolerance for bullies), used her great power to create the land’s first autumn. Kichi Makwa had before then, known only one season, summer! Cold days and nights along with winds unknown before in Kichi Makwa loosened the leaves from their branches and off they flew, leaving the trees empty of their presence. “I never want to see a maple leaf again,” declared Aki. “They are forever banished.”

The story does have a happy ending. Forgiveness occurs, the leaves return, Aki’s wisdom and compassion saves the day! The purpose of this tale is to remind all of us that you, whoever you are, wherever you come from, are already perfect in the eyes of Creator. The story teaches us that bullying is not acceptable! No human being comes from a culture or heritage that is greater before Creator than the one of the people living next door or sitting beside you in a classroom! We learn that no matter the skin colour of the person next to you, he/she is as worthy of being treated with equal respect and dignity as ‘you’ are. We are all citizens of this great land, let’s recognize it and together, make Canada better for it.

The students at Pinecrest have found a place in the heart of a poet and storyteller. And I feel I have grown emotionally and spiritually because of it. Pinecrest is a wonderful school!

To purchase a copy of ‘The Maple Leaves of Kichi Makwa’, check out my website at http://albertdumont.com/books/the-maple-leaves-of-kichi-makwa/. The story of the leaves has been written into a play. Pinecrest is considering performing it at their school. I look forward to seeing it.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)