WHEN EAGLES SOAR

A ten year-old Aboriginal boy should be full of laughter, but not Jay.  He is sad.  His father who is White, just died.

It’s not nice when children call Jay “White Eyes” at school.

“You are Mi’kmaq my son.  Your heart is Native, no matter what your skin speaks.  Kisu’lk weswalata, our Creator took him,” his mother says.”

Getting back to school is not easy, and the test of Jay’s healing begins.  Morning class is finished, time for lunch.  And children’s words follow him.

“No Tongue! No Tongue!” is a name with many names.

“I am Mi’kmaq,” Jay tells them.

“Hey Jay!” Peter, his best friend is White.  They are in the same grade five-classroom.

“I’ll see you after lunch,” Peter says.

The boys always walk together for school.

“Why,” he asks at home, “must I go to that school? They do not understand the traditions of my past.”

“Names and faces can’t hurt you,” his mother speaks.  Her skin is dark and her cheekbones like a raven, searching, hunting, and protecting.

“What’s for dinner?” Jay asks.

“You’re always hungry,” Mother Bear speaks again.  “I made some of your favorite Mi’kmaq bread, Lusginigen.”

“Oh Lusgi!” Jay answers back, using the shorter name.

“Yes.  Always hungry,” his older cousin answers from a corner of the room.  She does everything well.  Playing ball.  Soccer.  She has many friends.  Sometimes Jay is jealous.

He is her opposite.  When his feet tripped running to first base, he was shamed.  Jay became ‘Mikchikch the Turtle’ when others’ words created a path of sorrow to his heart.

In the woods last November, he watched Oapos hopping then eating the remainder of fallen apples.  He felt the same, except he was hopping from one sorrow to another.

Jay was his father’s name.  And mother Bear wanted him to be like him.  Study and read.  Watch and learn

His White name is Jay.   Inside Jay’s skin he is Mi’kmaq.

Grandfather’s stories from his time at the residential school were lessons to be remembered.

“Why could you not wear your Native clothes?” Jay asked one day.  Grandfather’s answer was a tear.  “Never mind,” his lips said.  “My sorrow is not yours.”

And then he taught Jay much.

Your father’s funeral was a celebration,” his grandfather said.  “And there is happiness in the sadness of his passing.”

“What did you promise my father when he went to Niskam?” Jay asked.

Grandfather’s answer was the knowledge he taught Jay, who became Eagle Feather, his grandson.  It was his gift.

Grandfather said, “The Great Spirit gave us instructions to take care of the earth and all the creatures.”

The fireflies became Jay’s friends.  The rabbit became his candle of trust.  The birds and other animals in the forest became his family.

They formed part of Jay’s circle.

His feet soon walked paths bathed in moonlight.  And his heart was filled with songs from the past, Jay’s heritage.

Many lunches later, Jay finished and looked at his mother.  “Your ‘Lusgi’ was great ma!”

“Such a beautiful boy.  Isn’t he Nan? And look at those teeth.  I can’t believe you are almost twelve years old, then soon, a teenager.”

Jay’s smile was like a quiver full of happiness for her.  “What does it matter? Jay felt like a man now.”

And his feet danced to the beat of drums made from deerskin.

Grandfather told him, ” We must thank the deer for giving up his life, so we may share his hide.”

His grandfather also told him an Eagle Feather is an important symbol.  It represents truth and carries prayers to the Great Spirit.

An Eagle flies highest and sees best.  Jay became Eagle Feather, a carrier of truth.

Sometimes Jay dreamt his grandfather was sent by Glooscap, a wise leader and teacher.  He never married, the legends say.  His life was with Noogumee an adopted grandmother and a young boy named Marten.

They were his family.

In Jay’s teachings he pretended his grandfather was Glooscap.  In his learning Jay became Marten, his son.

“A young boy becomes a man,” grandfather said, “when you are no longer bothered by people who tease you.”

Jay’s ears heard much.

“We are people of the Dawn.  Mi’kmaq greet Dawn with a pipe.  We hold on to the earth to make it good for everyone,” grandfather said.

Jay learned the Circle Dance is an important part of his culture.  In the Council Hall everyone stands sideways and moves around the drums.

Then turn, placing hands on shoulders, following the leader in his deerskin lace suit of clothes.  Drumming sounds tingle in the back of Jay’s head.

Goosebumps make the blood in his veins flow like a wild current.  As his steps dance, he hears voices.  As when his ancestors greeted the first Europeans.

In the evenings, Jay hears the song of Mother Earth that forms a bond:

“…voices are echoes from canyons

where laughter is free as the deer

and tears travel with the falling rain

when my soul is no longer in pain…”

“Tahoe!” is his yell of triumph.  It is said at the ending of each song.  “I thank you, I acknowledge you.”

Preparing for school, Jay watched his mother.  She is also like a partridge, moving quickly from one moment to another.

“Wipe your face.  Brush your teeth.  Scoot to school.”

Peter is now two years older and waiting for so they may head for school.

Jay’s grandfather taught him to put away ‘No Tongue.’ That it was only a name to mock him.

“Be a proud Mi’kmaq, young Son” grandfather said.

Jay now has warmth and protection.  He soars above difficult things.  His wings are as beautiful feathers.

Peter calls through the doorway with impatience.  “Hurry up, Jay! Or, we’ll be late!”

Once he was “No Tongue.” Now Jay answers with a new

Song.  “Eagle Feather is coming!”

* * *

© Richard & Esther Provencher 2007

AT RED ROCK

The red spool held in the boys’ hands twirled rapidly as the kite tugged.

“Let the line out slowly,” dad said. “You don’t want to use it all at once.”

“But dad,” Colin answered, “I want it to go higher and faster.” His face was sunburned as the sandy Red Rock on which they were standing.

Two sparrows shared a branch above the pebbly ocean shore. “Up, up and goodbye,” they chirped.

“Careful Colin, don’t slip on the moss,” said Mom. She stepped carefully across the huge rock, almost the size of their car garage.

“Mom, I am being careful. LOOK! It must be a mile high.”

“Not really, son,” said mom. “You only have five hundred feet of string.”

“It’s really neat having our family picnic on top of Red Rock,” Colin said.

It was such a pleasant place on this finger of land poking into Cobequid Bay, Nova Scotia. The day was sunny and clouds white as ocean whitecaps danced against the shore.

Colin’s waxed string held tightly to the climbing kite. A happy face on its plastic shape jiggled around, up and down. At times it teased the boy, plunging downwards.

Colin pushed the spool forward, then pulled it back to his chest. This quick movement, made the kite climb with new energy.

“We must leave soon. Before the tide comes in,” Dad said.

Colin wasn’t listening; eyes were fixed on the kite’s shimmer of red and white. Also busily munching on his turkey and mayo sandwich.

“We can finish our picnic on the shore,” suggested Mom.

She was first to step down from the sandstone rock. Colin’s dad also crossed the sandy beach and up wooden steps onto higher land.

They didn’t notice Colin had not followed.

From their scenic view, the open water stretched to Maitland, fifteen miles on the other side of Cobequid Bay. Sea gulls flew in twists and turns.

ERK! ERK! Calls were more like warning cries from their long beaks.

So what if the tide came in? Colin thought. “Then I’ll have to spend all night here on this rock,” he chuckled.

Before long he realized his new problem was huge as Red Rock itself. It would take a while to retrieve his line, and began winding furiously. It seemed as if it touched those Cirrus clouds.

Oh-mi-gosh it was getting dark. Was that the moon behind his kite?

Now he realized Mom and dad were gone. He couldn’t hear their voices calling from shore.

Tidewater began lapping at the base of Red Rock. But Colin was still determined to reel in his kite. It had been a birthday gift from uncle Lawrence.

“Mom! Dad!” he called, seeing them wave from shore. They couldn’t hear him either. Only shadows in the forest heard their frantic calls. The kite soared and dipped. And circled and climbed reluctant to leave its freedom in the sky.

Trees rustled from the approaching wind. Stars came out. Colin held firmly onto his kite string, arms too tired to wind any further.

Tidewater rose higher.

The Milky Way seemed so close. Planes flew by. Colin heard water sloshing in the darkness. Some water even splashed against his sneakers.

Tired legs hoped the boy would sit down and rest. However, Colin waited for some kind of miracle. And, IT DID!

A super gust of wind blew in from the ocean.

With a mighty “WHOOSH!” his kite lifted high, dragging him along. Thankfully Colin didn’t eat his extra sandwich. He might have been too heavy.

The powerful wind blew the kite dragging Colin towards the shore. He held firmly onto his red spool.

Stars blinked at the scene before them. Several planes flew high above.

Before long, Colin was directly overhead his parents.

Dad’s strong arms reached up grabbed Colin’s legs and pulled him down. Mom wrapped warm arms around her little man.

In all the excitement, Colin forgot about his kite that carried him here. In fact, he still held tightly to the spool of string.

High above, the plastic kite with its smiling face continued to make circles.

Suddenly there was a snap. Colin was not disappointed as he watched a trail of string follow his kite. He was also happy to be back on land with his parents.

Besides, his kite was free to travel anywhere it wished.

Now when you look up at night, you’ll notice a few clouds, stars and planes, perhaps a few seagulls. if you’re lucky, you may even see an eagle.

But if you look closely; you may see something quite different. It’s Colin’s red and white kite.

And its smiling yellow face is looking for another friend.

* * *

© Richard & Esther Provencher 2007

Hidden treasurer

Grandpa appeared beside them. “You found the hidden treasure just in time,” he said, looking at his watch. “It’s almost four o’ clock.” Phew!

Millie and Billy rummaged through the contents of the chest where they found lots of old jewellery – necklaces, broaches and bracelets; and a couple of old watches – one for a lady and one for a man. They also found a little blue car and a little green one; and an old book about a rabbit, called “The Adventures of Nibbles.”

Millie and Billy had a lovely play with the things they had found in the treasure chest. Millie tried on some of the jewellery and the lady’s watch, which ticked when she wound it up. Billy put on the man’s watch but when he tried to wind it up it didn’t make a ticking sound. He played happily with the blue car and the green car. Then grandma sat down on the sofa with Millie and Billy and read them “The Adventures of Nibbles.”

After that it really was time for Millie and Billy to pack so that they would be ready to go home the next morning. Grandpa said that as a prize for finding the hidden treasure they could choose two things each from the treasure chest to take home to keep and to show mummy and daddy.

Billy couldn’t decide between the blue car and the green car and in the end chose both of them. Millie chose the lady’s watch and the story book, “The Adventures of Nibbles”, which grandma had read to them.

Snuggled up in bed that night, Millie and Billy agreed that the treasure hunt had been great fun and the prizes they had won at the end of it had come as a wonderful surprise. It had been the perfect way to end their fun-filled stay with grandma and grandpa. They soon drifted off to sleep and dreamed of pirates and rabbits and cars and ticking watches and, of course, hidden treasure.

©2007 Tony Murrell