Muinji’j Becomes a Man Read online

  MUINJI’J

  BECOMES A MAN

  MUINJI’J

  BECOMES A MAN

  by

  Saqamaw Mi’sel Joe

  illustrated by Clara Dunn

  BREAKWATER

  100 Water Street

  P.O. Box 2188

  St. John’s, NL

  A1C 6E6

  National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Joe, Saqamaw Mi’sel

  Muinji'j becomes a man / Saqamaw Mi’sel Joe;

  illustrated by Clara Dunn.

  ISBN 1-55081-167-3

  1. Indians of North America--Juvenile fiction. I. Dunn, Clara

  II. Title.

  PS8569.O2652M83 2003 jC813’.6 C2003-900991-2 PZ7

  We acknowledge the financial support of The Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing activities.

  We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) for our publishing activities.

  Printed in Canada.

  MICHAEL SHANNON JOE

  January 29, 1972 June 1980

  To live in the hearts of those you love is not to die.

  This book is dedicated to our son,

  Michael Shannon Joe

  who drowned in 1980 at the tender age of eight

  and to all the little people in Conne River.

  Table of Contents

  East

  South

  West

  North

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  Saqamaw Mi’sel Joe

  East

  Muinji’j woke up to the sound of someone moving around. The first thing that came to his mind was ‘Niskamij is up and getting ready to go on our trip and he’s going to leave me.’

  As he pushed back the warm qalipu skin blanket, he realized how cold it was and that it wasn’t his niskamij he had heard. His dog, L’mu’j’i’j, had come into the wigwam during the night. He called L’mu’j’i’j and made the dog lie beside him. He snuggled down under his blanket again and became warm.

  Muinji’j lay for the longest time looking up through the smoke hole. He could see the stars and count many of them. He imagined the trip he and his niskamij would take in the morning. They had talked about this trip for a long time.

  Muinji’j realized that this was a turning point in his life. Once he made this trip with his niskamij to sell their furs at the big city, he would be a man. He would be selling his own furs. He would buy the things they needed for the coming winter. Muinji’j had already planned what he would buy for his nukumij. He would get her pretty fabric, needles and beads, and buy her a brand new, shiny skinning knife so she could help with the cleaning of the animals.

  Muinji’j drifted off to sleep. He dreamed of the things he had thought about during his waking hours. He dreamed he was standing on the river-bank and his niskamij was leaving to go on a voyage to the big city without him. He was calling to his niskamij, ‘Come back, Niskamij, and take me. I want to go with you. It’s my turn.’

  In his dream, the boys and girls in the village were laughing at him and calling him names because he cried. He loved his niskamij dearly and couldn’t understand why he would leave him behind. He cried out again, ‘Don’t leave me, Niskamij. Don’t leave me.’

  Suddenly Muinji’j felt someone shaking him. It was his niskamij. “Get up boy, get up. It’s time we start to get ready to go on our trip,” he said.

  Muinji’j then realized he had been dreaming. His niskamij had no intention of leaving him behind. He was actually going to the big city.

  Muinji’j remembered the stories that had been told by people who had been to the city. They told of the fast pace, the big buildings and the delicious, sweet candy. Muinji’j planned on buying some of that wonderful candy with his money.

  He jumped out of bed and greeted his nukumij. She said, “Go to the river and pay homage and give thanks to the spirits for all the good things we have. Wash your face in the clear, sparkling water. Face the East and thank the Kitpu for his protection. Face the South and thank the Nukumij. Face the West and thank the Spirit World for accepting you when it’s your turn. Finally, face the North and thank the Great White Bear for all he has done for us. When you’ve done that, come back and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you. Then we’ll talk about your trip.”

  Muinji’j couldn’t wait to get outside to do all the things he had to do. He was so anxious to be on his way that he rushed through some of the rituals he had done every day for most of his life. In his haste, he forgot an important thing he should have remembered. He forgot to thank the Nukumij.

  Muinji’j came rushing back into the wigwam and sat beside his nukumij. She said, “Muinji’j, when you go on this trip to sell your furs, you will learn again all the many things we’ve taught you throughout your life about how to survive. You know there are fish in the rivers and there’s food on the land. You know what berries to eat. You will be okay.

  “You must remember the furs you’re taking to the city are to buy things we need to get us through the winter moons. You have to be careful how you handle them and don’t let them get wet.

  “I want you to take care of your niskamij. He’s getting old and fragile. He’s not as strong as he used to be, so I want you to take care of him. Most importantly, if anything should happen to your niskamij, you have to look out for him. Make sure he’s warm and comfortable.

  “Remember, we will be praying for you and the spirits will be watching over you and your niskamij as you make this journey. Eat your breakfast while I prepare the bundle for you. I will put in your blanket and a good knife. I will also put in some of my favorite tobacco so that when the time comes to pray to the spirits for guidance, you can make your offering.”

  As Muinji’j ate his breakfast of lu’skinikn and qalipu meat, he could hear his niskamij moving around outside, preparing the canoe with the furs and other supplies they would take on their journey. Muinji’j almost choked on a piece of qalipu meat in his hurry to get outside. His nukumij looked at him and told him to slow down. She came over and handed him his bundle and said, “Remember, Muinji’j, we love you. You will have to be strong. You are the future leader of our people. Take care of your niskamij. I believe he is now ready to go.”

  Muinji’j hugged his nukumij before running out the wigwam door. When he got to the river, his niskamij was moving the canoe out into the water with a smile on his face. Niskamij knew how important this trip was to Muinji’j.

  Muinji’j sat at the front of the canoe and Niskamij sat in the back. The canoe was heavily laden with furs and supplies. Muinji’j felt good. The sun shone warmly on his back. There was no wind and the water was calm.

  A crowd of young girls and boys had gathered to see them off. They all waved goodbye. Muinji’j knew the boys, who were younger than he was, were wishing it was their turn. It made him feel proud and privileged. It would be just his niskamij and him and it would take many moons to reach the big city.

  South

  Muinji’j was anxious to be going. However, he knew his niskamij to be a very patient person and there would be no rushing.

  Muinji’j paddled as hard as he could. Niskamij watched Muinji’j for a while before saying, “If you paddle too hard and too fast, you will quickly become exhausted. You need to pace yourself so you don’t get tired. Or else you will be no help at all.”

  No matter how hard Muinji’j tried to be patient, he couldn’t be. He wanted to see what was around the next bend. Meanwhile his niskamij sang softly to himself in Mi’qmac. Muinji’j could only think, ‘I want to move faster. We’ve got so many things to see.’ He was impatient and his niskamij’s sin
ging frustrated him.

  They had paddled for some time when Niskamij said, “We have to go ashore now and make camp for the night. We will have pitewey and talk more about our trip to the city.”

  “But Niskamij, the sun is still high. Why do we have to stop? We’ll never get to the city if we’re going to stop every time you feel tired,” said Muinji’j.

  Niskamij laughed and said, “We need to stop because we have to make camp before dark. We can’t wait until dark because then we’ll stumble around and hurt ourselves. Then we’ll never get to the city.”

  They found a nice beach. They had to take their canoe out of the water and unload their furs. After they were done, Niskamij said, “Muinji’j, do you see that point of rock up ahead? Take your hook and line and go catch our supper.”

  Muinji’j’s heart wasn’t in what he was doing. As he walked he was talking to himself. He said, “The sun is high. I don’t know why we have to stop when the city is so far away. Why do I have to go catch the old fish anyway?”

  Muinji’j threw his hook into the water. Immediately, a great big trout hooked onto his line. All of a sudden he was excited. “Niskamij, Niskamij! Look, I’ve got a fish! I’ve got a fish!”

  His niskamij looked over at him and smiled. He thought, ‘If he’s not careful, he’s going to fall in and get wet. I’ll have to dry him off and he’s going to be mad.’ Sure enough—SPLASH—Muinji’j fell into the water. He was swimming around and trying to hold onto his fish, but he couldn’t do both. The fish got away.

  Muinji’j came ashore all wet and cold and very disappointed. “Now I’ve ruined everything. I let our supper get away. We’re going to be hungry tonight.”

  Niskamij felt sad for Muinji’j. “No, no, no, we’re okay. It just shows that you have to be careful. You have to watch what you’re doing and be patient,” he said to Muinji’j. “I know how we could have something good for supper. My father taught me a good trick. We’re going to make wood soup.”

  “Wood soup?” said Muinji’j. “How can you make soup from wood? That’s not possible.”

  “Well, we’ll see. You go back into the woods and find a nice stick that’s not too dry and remove the bark from it,” Niskamij said. “Bring it back and we’ll make wood soup.”

  Muinji’j went into the woods. ‘My niskamij is crazy. He can’t make soup from a stick. Maybe the cold air out here is doing something to him,’ grumbled Muinji’j. Suddenly he saw a nice stick. It looked like a bone from a bird’s leg. “Perfect! If Niskamij can make soup from this, he’s a real miracle worker,” said Muinji’j.

  Muinji’j took the stick back to the campsite. He was still all wet and soggy from his earlier swim with the trout. He walked with his eyes downcast, feeling sorry for himself.

  Niskamij said, “You take off your clothes and hang them by the fire to dry. I’m going to make us some wood soup for supper.” Niskamij dug out his old blackened pot to hang over the fire. He was singing and being cheerful.

  Muinji’j took off his wet clothes. He was shivering from the cold when his niskamij came, wrapped him in a qalipu skin and sat him by the fire. He said, “You sit here and watch your clothes. Make sure they don’t burn and I’ll make supper.”

  Muinji’j mumbled, “Wood soup. I bet it is going to be really, really bad. Whoever heard of wood soup before?”

  Niskamij smiled, went back to the pot and threw in the little stick. The only things in the pot were the hot water and the little stick floating at the top.

  When the water boiled, Niskamij went to his bundle and when he came back he said, “Oh, look! I found a piece of qalipu meat. Maybe I’ll add that to the pot.” He went off into the woods and came back with an assortment of roots and plants. Soon the pot was full of different plants and wild vegetables.

  Muinji’j thought to himself, ‘This soup smells pretty good to be made from a stick. He said, “Niskamij, are you pulling my leg? Are you really making wood soup?”

  Niskamij said, “Come Muinji’j, see for yourself. See how good it looks.”

  The soup was delicious. Muinji’j ate and ate until he couldn’t eat any more. He crawled into the lean to with a big groan. The fire was burning outside and the stars were beginning to shine. Muinji’j was no longer in a bad mood. His niskamij sat by the fire and told him stories of his youth and of all the places he had been. Muinji’j slowly drifted off to sleep. That night, his dreams were of the big city, the fancy places his niskamij had talked about, the tall buildings and the people who were always in a hurry.

  Muinji’j woke up to a new day. “Get up, Muinji’j,” his niskamij said. “Get up. We have to move again. We can’t stay here all day.”

  Muinji’j hurried to get up and put on his clothes and get ready for another long day. He went outside and found his moccasins, leggings and the jacket that had been dried by the fire. Niskamij said, “Don’t forget to make your offering for the day, to give thanks for all the good things we have.”

  Off Muinji’j went to the river to make his offering. By this time, his stomach was growling. He was hungry and a little impatient to get on the way. When he returned to the fire, his niskamij had made pitewey and lu’skinikn, and warmed the wood soup from the night before. Muinji’j said, “I think I’ll have more of that miracle soup, Niskamij.” It was then that he realized his niskamij didn’t look very well. He wondered what was wrong. “Are you okay, Niskamij?” he asked.

  “Yes, Muinji’j, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired today. As soon as we eat, we’ll load our canoe and head further along. We should reach the big river today if the wind doesn’t blow and the spirits favour us. It’s a mighty river, moving fast and furious. A lot of our people have lost their lives to that river. So, Muinji’j, today we have to be careful. Eat, my son, and when we’re ready we will leave,” said Niskamij.

  Soon they had loaded the canoe and were paddling along the shore of the lake. A family of otters swam by. Muinji’j said excitedly, “Look, Niskamij. Look at the otters.” A ti’am and her little one were feeding along the river bank. Later that day, a qalipu swam across the lake in front of them. The wind was blowing softly in the trees. It was such a glorious day that Muinji’j wished it would last forever. At the same time he had never been this far before, and that made him excited, too.

  Soon Muinji’j heard a noise that sounded like thunder. “Niskamij, is it going to rain? I hear thunder.”

  “No, Muinji’j, that’s not thunder. That’s the waterfalls near the beginning of the river. Do you see that mist ahead of us?” asked Niskamij. “That’s the mist that rises from the waterfall. That’s where we have to be careful, Muinji’j. We’ll camp near the top of the waterfall tonight and tomorrow we’ll portage around it.”

  Muinji’j didn’t like the idea of stopping again. “How many more times do we have to camp before we get to the city?” he asked.

  Niskamij said, “You have to have patience. It takes time to travel. We have to get all our furs down the river to the city. They can’t get wet or all the work that we’ve done so far will be for nothing. and we won’t have any supplies for the winter. We have to be careful. Maybe when we get to camp you can go catch a fish again, like the one you caught last night.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Muinji’j responded, “and maybe you can make more wood soup.”

  Niskamij laughed, “No, we’ll have fish tonight. If you use patience and I lend you my hook and line, I am sure you can catch our supper.”

  On they paddled, hour after hour. Niskamij said, “We have to stop soon, Muinji’j, to have some pitewey and rest before we finish our journey for today.”

  They pulled into a sheltered cove with a white sandy beach and hauled in their canoe. They made a fire and soon the kettle was ready. Niskamij took out lu’skinikn left over from the morning and they had it for their lunch. They were soon on their way again.

  After paddling for what seemed like forever, Muinji’j and his niskamij finally reached the start of the river with its roaring waterfall
s. The mist hung over the river like a fog. There was a good landing place with a campsite they could use for the night. The next day they would have to portage all their furs, supplies and their canoe around the falls before going further downriver to reach the ocean.

  After making camp and cooking their supper, Muinji’j and his niskamij sat by the fire and talked about their journey the next day. Niskamij said to Muinji’j, “After tomorrow, you know, and another day’s run, we’ll be at the ocean. In one more day we’ll get to the city. Are you excited, Muinji’j?”

  Muinji’j tried not to show his excitement, but all he could think of were the great sights he would see and the things he could buy with his own money. He hoped his niskamij could appreciate how he felt. He knew his niskamij, at one time, had been his age and must have gone through the same sort of excitement of making his first trip to the city.

  After talking for many hours in front of the fire, his niskamij said, “It’s time we slept, Muinji’j. Tomorrow we wake up early and make ready for our journey downriver.”

  That night they slept under the stars and listened to the roar of the river. If Muinji’j listened closely, he could hear the river talking. It spoke in a foreign language at times, but sometimes it sang the songs of his people and told the stories of ancient people who had come this way. Finally, Muinji’j slept and again dreamed of the city and all it had to offer.

  Meanwhile, his niskamij lay awake and wondered if he was strong enough to move all their things around the falls and make the trip down the river. He had not told Muinji’j, but during the last day or so he had not been feeling well. He knew his strength was failing. He hoped, for the sake of Muinji’j, that he would be able to make this trip, but tonight he wasn’t sure how he would do that.