A Sacred Hoop Mending
by Gilbert Oskaboose

The rains stopped, the sun poured down like honey, and Ojibway drums thundered out a welcome to a thousand people assembled for the fifth Annual Traditional Gathering on the Serpent River First Nation ceremonial grounds in Cutler. A day later there were two thousand, then three....

High up on the hill overlooking the grounds an old man looked down on the celebrations, and quietly wept mixed tears of sorrow and joy.

He was remembering, back to the time when Environment Canada had described this very place as "the most toxic site in Canada," because of the sulphuric acid plant that had been built, operated and abandoned there.

He was remembering the men whose should have been our elders now, gone on to the spirit world with cancer. He thought of the changes the acid plant, and the uranium mines it served, had brought to the community. With the wage economy replacing the old lifestyle of hunting, trapping and fishing came changes.

The little gardens people used to tend so carefully now grew weeds that only partially hid the rusting used cars and refrigerators that came to litter the community. People who would walk or canoe for hours just to visit their neighbours stayed at home to watch TV - and to dream of what other shiny, plastic things they could buy to outdo those neighbours. When the wages ran out, there was a lifestyle of "pogey," and when that ran out there was always welfare. With these things came an increase in drinking, fighting, sleeping around, jealousy and despair. Residential schools tore families apart; Christianity "set brother against brother, parents against children'" Indian Affairs spread the poison of dependency. The community was slowly and painfully dying.

High up on the hill overlooking the ceremonial grounds an old man remembered the vision, a vision of the land and people healing together. Some of the people wanted a "cleaner, fresher" site, but the old man said no, we are the land and the land is us. We must heal together or die together because we are one.

Some of the people, including himself at times, wanted an instant return to " the old ways," but again the old man counselled no, be patient. For many years we have fought a running battle with the newcomers. We were a people on the run, beset on all sides by our enemies, harassed by the dogs of prejudice and discrimination. Now we've gained a little ground and there is a lull in the battle. We have a chance to go back and find what we lost or abandoned along the way. But we must be careful of what we claim to be ours. Beads and bangles - the shiny and the superficial - lie openly on the broad path; tradition, customs and beliefs - the true and enduring values of our culture - lie hidden in the tall grasses. We must learn to know the difference.

It's hard to be patient and careful. Many times he had stood on that barren hill and begged the Creator to take pity on the Serpent River People: show us the way, Grandfather, give it back to us, please....

But it wasn't for the Creator to give back. The Creator hadn't taken it away in the first place. It was us who had abandoned the old ways so only the Wind heard him and answered: be still, be silent, in the proper time - and in a sacred manner - these things will come back to the People, but only if they want them to. It was up to us.

Five years ago a few people dared to light a sacred fire and dared to dream. They smudged with sweetgrass, burned cedar, smoked a small pipe together - and wondered if they were doing the right thing. They checked over their shoulders for disapproving priests or lightning bolts from "an angry and jealous" Christian god.

"Forgive us, Grandfather, we don't know the ways of sweetgrass, the sacred pipe and the drum any more. Forgive us if we're clumsy and do or say the wrong thing."

In the beginning there were a few who tried, and many who stood back and ridiculed, laughed at "the loonies down on the beach talking to stones and eagles." Little by little, day by day the laughing stopped - and the circle grew larger and stronger. The hoop was mending.

People would come down to the fire "just to shoot the shit" and they would end up staying, for the ceremony and "to talk a little more about these things." The next time down they would bring tobacco or cedar and shyly place it in the fire. Each day the land heals a little more and the People grow stronger. Like the legendary Firebird of ancient Greek mythology we are rising anew - from the ashes of our own destruction.

The land and the People are healing together because one is nothing without the other. We are the land and the land is us.

The Sacred Hoop is mending; The Flowering Tree of the Nation is blooming in Cutler, but this is not the end of our story, only the beginning.... The Serpent River people have come so far and we have so far to go. This is only the beginning.