Sunday, January 14, 2007

Indian hunour is good medicene for life's ups and downs

Another Eagle Feather News Column I wrote. Readers seem to remember the humour pieces more than most other genre. Who can blame them. Life was never kind to Natives. The United Nations quality of life index places Canada sixth over all in the world. Canadian First Nations people, however, are in sixteenth place. The good news is we are ahead of Suriname whatever or where ever that is. I'm slowly sinking into bitterness so I will pull back and let this piece speak for itself.

A while back some one told me they wished they could be an Indian. I replied half jokingly why would they want to be poor and depressed all the time. I find humour very sustaining. One of my favorite examples is when Chief Piapot was confronted with a miserly Indian agent of which there were many. He lightened his load by making fun of the agents character. He said, "The government has provided my people with an Indian agent who is so miserly he carries a piece of cloth with him everywhere he goes so that when he blows his nose he will lose nothing of value to him."
The following are among my favorite examples of Indian humor. Special thanks to Daryl Greyeyes, Bill Wilson and the late Ben Sand.
The story goes some Cree scouts were searching for Buffalo when by remarkable coincidence they came upon the tracks of a circus wagon train traveling from Fort Garry to Calgary. They wondered who would be traveling so far out on the prairie and being curious they followed the tracks.
The circus included wagons full of exotic animals such as leopards, rhinos, elephants, giraffes and such. One wagon was full of monkeys. There was one monkey among them who was very sick and skinny. He was so skinny he bounced through the bars and fell on the ground. The wagon train continued on and left the poor monkey behind.The Crees eventually came upon the more dead than alive monkey and they became very interested in the strange creature. They talked excitedly among one other and having never seen such an animal before no one could say what it was. They then agreed to consult their people and they returned to camp carrying the monkey with them.
Word spread far and wide that a mysterious creature had been found upon the prairie. People came from all over but no one could say what it was. Finally the oldest and wisest among them was summoned. When he arrived he was taken immediately to the Chief's lodge in the center of the camp. When he entered he found to his amazement the now recovered monkey feasting on chokecherries, gaily swinging on tipi poles, chattering excitedly and pestering everybody. The old man watched carefully and then with a quick motion grabbed the monkey and held him fast. He inspected its ears, stretched its tail, examined its hands and face and scratched its hide. He th! en released the animal and solemnly spoke. "I now know what it is." he said, "It has the hide of a cow and the tail of a cow. It has the hands of a boy and the face of a boy. My friends it is a cowboy. "
Then there is the story of the poor old Indian couple who had nothing to eat. The old man took down his 22 rifle and put the last of his rusted 22 shells in his pocket. He told his wife to put a pot of water on to boil as he was going to hunt anything he could find. He went out but could find nothing not even a gopher or a magpie to shoot. Reluctantly he turned back and headed home. On his return he came upon a turtle. "It will have to do" he spoke and gathered it up. When he came home he gave his wife the turtle and sadly said, "This is all I could find." "It will have to do", she sighed as she dropped the turtle into the boiling water with a bit of salt. By and by they set the table, made their tea and placed the steaming turtle on a plate. When they sat down to eat they heard Indian singing. The song stopped and another began. They then realized to their surprise the singing was coming from the turtle shell. The song ended the turtle poked his head out and said. "Wah!wah! that was a good round. Oscapeos bring four more rocks."
Finally there was this poor old Indian who used to ride his bicycle from Kawacatoose First Nation to Raymore every week to pick up his groceries. He used to keep his supplies in a wire basket on his handlebars. One day he was riding to town when he noticed a cloud of dust fast approaching. A Pontiac Trans Am full of teenagers pulled up and the driver spoke. "Grandfather there is no need for you to work so hard in this hot sun we'll help you." With that and before the old man could speak they had pulled out a rope and tied it to his basket. "No need to worry we'll go nice and slow you'll see."the driver spoke. With that they idled slowly on their way. Grandfather despite his concerns rather liked this. No hard work and the cooling breeze was refreshing though their loud Credence Clearwater Revival tape rumbling from their eight track did drown out the meadowlarks. Everything went well until another cloud of fast approaching dust appeared. It too was a fast car full of teen! agers from a neighboring reserve. They pulled onto highway six and with squealing tires the cars accelerated fast. Poor grandfather was terrified. The kids had forgot about him. His bike began weaving wildly, his braids flapped furiously and he held on for dear life. Down the road, Constable Jones was parked at the Raymore campground. He saw the vehicles approaching caught them on radar and called into his detachment. "I have clocked a Pontiac Trans Am traveling at one hundred sixty kilometers an hour followed by a Chevrolet Camaro traveling at one hundred fifty eight kilometers an hour and Sergeant Willis you are not going to believe this but there's some old Indian on a bicycle trying to pass."

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