Read Online Scattered Bones by Maggie Siggins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maggie Siggins
Tags: Religión, History, award winning, Community, First Nations, conflict, Pelican Narrows, settlers, residential school, burial ground
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annoyance, could easily spot her. It was her curly, fiery-red hair as untameable as the girl herself, always escaping from the braids that had been so firmly knotted in place. In the evenings, Lucretia would yank the tight ringlets with a fine-toothed comb. “Where you got this unsightly bramble bush, I’ll never know. No one on my side, that’s for sure.” Izzy’s eyes would water, but she did not cry out, not once.
The girl’s unruly behaviour was a disgrace, no question about that. Lucretia nagged at her husband until Ernst finally laid down some rules. Izzy was to spend three hours each afternoon in the rectory, studying Latin and scriptures, and, in preparation for her future, was to learn something about keeping house from Annie. This would have been torture for Izzy except the Cree woman’s stories, told while scrubbing the floor, or preparing rice pudding, or washing the clothes, enthralled her. Annie became Izzy’s confidant, so much so that Lucretia suffered twinges of jealousy, although she would never admit such a thing.
It was Annie who trained Izzy to hear the music in the Cree language.
“Listen for the birds,” she would say. “Over there is piskwa , night hawk, there misko-chachakwan , red-winged blackbird, there makwa , a loon, and on that tree ohoh , well you know what that is – an owl.”
“Please, Annie, let’s do snow,” Izzy would plead, and together they would recite, kona – big snow; mispon – falling snow; saskan – melting snow; piwan – drifting snow, papeskwatatin – snow drifts.
Annie loved to shock the proper white girl. “Name the places in English where you go to pee,” she’d demand.
“Washroom, toilet, ladies’ room, WC, water closet, powder room.”
“In our language it’s misiwikamik , plain old shithouse.”
Before her marriage to Alphonse Custer, Annie had been a Ballendine. Her father, Peter, was elected the first chief when the band was established twenty-four years before and she liked to tell stories about him.
“He was a wonderful old bird. But strange. He maybe wasn’t even Cree. Well, they don’t know where he came from. My grandfather found him all alone on an island in Deschambault Lake. A young boy, and yet he smelled like some animal long dead, so they nicknamed him Wichikis , the stinky one. My grandfather thought he had buffalo on him, or perhaps it was because he ate so much raw fish trying to survive in that place. He either got lost in the bush, and his parents finally left without him, or they died from the white man’s illness that was killing so many of our people at the time.
“He didn’t speak our language so he couldn’t tell us anything, and when he did learn Cree, he wouldn’t talk about his family. Or maybe he didn’t remember. Whatever happened turned him very peculiar. Elijah the prophet, some people called him. Was there moose over there? Yes, he’d nod, and off would go our hunters. And always they came home with something. For years there was no hunger in our camp because of him.
“When he was an old man, he used to say, ‘If white men come to our land, there will be a lot of them. Life is hard now, but it’ll be harder when the white man comes.’ And, of course, he was right.”
Izzy hated it when Annie talked about the harm her people had suffered at the hands of white trespassers. She knew it to be true, but she, Izzy, would have cut off her right hand before she’d hurt Annie, she loved the Cree woman that much.
“I’ll take care of you, Annie. I’ll never leave you,” she’d say.
“Just wait until some handsome, fair-haired guy with blue eyes comes sniffing around. You’ll be gone before I can wave goodbye.”
~•~
The scholars are starting to wiggle in their desks which means their assignments are almost finished. Izzy isn’t surprised that Angus Crane is the first to jump up. She loves this kid – he is so enthusiastic, bright and funny.
“Okay, Angus, tell us what
The girl’s unruly behaviour was a disgrace, no question about that. Lucretia nagged at her husband until Ernst finally laid down some rules. Izzy was to spend three hours each afternoon in the rectory, studying Latin and scriptures, and, in preparation for her future, was to learn something about keeping house from Annie. This would have been torture for Izzy except the Cree woman’s stories, told while scrubbing the floor, or preparing rice pudding, or washing the clothes, enthralled her. Annie became Izzy’s confidant, so much so that Lucretia suffered twinges of jealousy, although she would never admit such a thing.
It was Annie who trained Izzy to hear the music in the Cree language.
“Listen for the birds,” she would say. “Over there is piskwa , night hawk, there misko-chachakwan , red-winged blackbird, there makwa , a loon, and on that tree ohoh , well you know what that is – an owl.”
“Please, Annie, let’s do snow,” Izzy would plead, and together they would recite, kona – big snow; mispon – falling snow; saskan – melting snow; piwan – drifting snow, papeskwatatin – snow drifts.
Annie loved to shock the proper white girl. “Name the places in English where you go to pee,” she’d demand.
“Washroom, toilet, ladies’ room, WC, water closet, powder room.”
“In our language it’s misiwikamik , plain old shithouse.”
Before her marriage to Alphonse Custer, Annie had been a Ballendine. Her father, Peter, was elected the first chief when the band was established twenty-four years before and she liked to tell stories about him.
“He was a wonderful old bird. But strange. He maybe wasn’t even Cree. Well, they don’t know where he came from. My grandfather found him all alone on an island in Deschambault Lake. A young boy, and yet he smelled like some animal long dead, so they nicknamed him Wichikis , the stinky one. My grandfather thought he had buffalo on him, or perhaps it was because he ate so much raw fish trying to survive in that place. He either got lost in the bush, and his parents finally left without him, or they died from the white man’s illness that was killing so many of our people at the time.
“He didn’t speak our language so he couldn’t tell us anything, and when he did learn Cree, he wouldn’t talk about his family. Or maybe he didn’t remember. Whatever happened turned him very peculiar. Elijah the prophet, some people called him. Was there moose over there? Yes, he’d nod, and off would go our hunters. And always they came home with something. For years there was no hunger in our camp because of him.
“When he was an old man, he used to say, ‘If white men come to our land, there will be a lot of them. Life is hard now, but it’ll be harder when the white man comes.’ And, of course, he was right.”
Izzy hated it when Annie talked about the harm her people had suffered at the hands of white trespassers. She knew it to be true, but she, Izzy, would have cut off her right hand before she’d hurt Annie, she loved the Cree woman that much.
“I’ll take care of you, Annie. I’ll never leave you,” she’d say.
“Just wait until some handsome, fair-haired guy with blue eyes comes sniffing around. You’ll be gone before I can wave goodbye.”
~•~
The scholars are starting to wiggle in their desks which means their assignments are almost finished. Izzy isn’t surprised that Angus Crane is the first to jump up. She loves this kid – he is so enthusiastic, bright and funny.
“Okay, Angus, tell us what
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