We just finished a show in Vancouver where all went well. Undoubtedly, the highlight of the show was our neighbours in the adjacent booth, Ron and Jose.
Jose, her proper British accent quite intact, is obviously from England, originally. She tells us that she returns for visits regularly enough to keep her accent intact. She is a lovely and charming lady who hand sews beautiful, colourful garments in, what I would refer to as being, in a distinctively North American Indian flavour. Ron, dressed in a colourful shirt, blue jeans and a hat sporting a single eagle feather, is a soft spoken man of obvious tremendous depth.
I'm not sure who these people are yet, but they are both kind, with a wonderful sense of humour, and I know we'll get along quite well. I discover that this is their first "craft show" - that they usually do traditional "Pow-wows". These are Indian cultural get-togethers.
As we chat, I learn more and more of Ron and Jose. Ron is Jose's partner and teacher for the past 28 years or so. Before I continue, I will mention that I think I now know him well enough to believe that, when I get a few details of his/their past wrong, he will be quick to forgive.
Ron is a highly respected Métis elder from the Cree and Chippewa tribes. He grew up on horse and wagon, in one of the last nomadic Métis communities of Canada. He does not know his exact age; he thinks he is around 75. As he was told, he was born in the year "the men did not come home from the hunt".
Jose is quick to point out that Ron is a "storyteller". I'm not exactly sure what that means yet, but I intend to find out. And, as we speak (actually, as I listen), it's quite obvious that this is no "mere" storyteller. Later, in our hotel I go on line and find that, as one article describes him, he is an "oral historian" and "a living repository" of his people's languages, culture, myths, legends and stories. The McGill University web site describes him as a "veritable human encyclopaedia of stories, myths and oral history" of his collective peoples. As he reveals more and more of himself to me, I come to appreciate that these descriptions are not overstated - that I'm in the presence of a living Canadian treasure.
I do recall studying the Metis and the Louis Riel rebellion, albeit briefly, in public school. As he speaks, I realize how little we know about the original peoples of our country.
Ron's forefathers were "beaver chiefs". These were tribal leaders who had a deep knowledge of the beaver, and were tribal guardians of this particular gift of nature. They knew how and where to look for beaver, decided when, where and how many beaver could be trapped, and decided which beaver colonies must be let alone, to avoid "hurting them" (damaging the eco system and threatening the overall beaver population). With a quiet undertone of sorrow, Ron tells me that, had history not unleashed itself on his people, that he too would have been a beaver chief.
Aside from English and French, Ron speaks a number of Indian languages, although he admits he is somewhat rusty in a few which he hasn't used for quite some time. As he relates story after story with me, it's obvious he possesses an amazing memory for dates and detail.
Ron has taken on a sacred responsibility to try to pass on his people's stories, culture, history. Many of his stories are hauntingly reminiscent of those of "the Holocaust". Occasionally, tears well up in his eyes; but he manages to remain rather matter-of-factly for the most part. I am unsure of whether this is because he has told them so often, or it is a kind of Indian acceptance of changing realities.
At the Vancouver show, we find out that Leonard Cohen has just died. Ron is a bit puzzled when Arlene takes the news quite hard. Ron has never heard of Leonard Cohen. I'm more than a bit surprised to find out that this learned elder, although he often lives and lectures in "white" society, his breadth and depth of traditional knowledge, that which has been all but lost to the ages, is in stark contrast with his lack of knowledge of "our" society. At one point, for example, he tells me that he thinks he has heard of the Beatles, he has no idea of what or who they are. He has little or no knowledge of the celebrities, icons, TV shows, or any other accoutrements of our harried world ... things that most of us take for granted. Ron is not someone with whom you'd want to partner, in a game of Trivial Pursuit ...
I won't try to relay any of Ron's stories; I'm not sure I could do them or him justice. However, there is something I feel compelled to pass on - something that, perhaps because of how he told me, will continue to haunt me ...
We "liberal thinkers" have been lead to believe that the main cause of the decline of Indian culture in North America was heavy-handed missionary influence or, perhaps unfair and illegal government intervention, or life on the reservations ...
I am surprised when Ron tells me that it was (as he refers to it as) "the hippy revolution that killed Indian culture"!?! As he explains it, most Indians in Canada lived north of the farming belt. Most lived "traditional" lifestyle, hunting, trapping and trading. Ron specifically mentions the years 1967 and 1968 as the turning point - when furs fell out of fashion, and the fur trade was effectively ended. He recalls the first time he went to a trading post with his father, and both they and their furs were turned away; he thought they were joking at first. Within that year, a traditional lifestyle was totally erased.
The concept of money was a difficult one for many; Ron's father, along with many of the elders at the time, did not adapt well. When trying to make a purchase, Ron's father would often ask him, "How many beaver pelts is that?" There was a tear in his eye when he related this.
Below is a photo of Ron and me; please forgive the poor quality.
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