Di-bayn-di-zi-win (To Own Ourselves) | Sample Chapter by Dundurn Press

ADVANCE RE ADING COPY

FEBRUA RY 2022

Jerry Fontaine & Don McCaskill

DI-BAYN-DI-ZI-WIN (TO OWN OURSELVES) EMBODYING OJIBWAY-ANISHINABE WAYS Jerry Fontaine & Don McCaskill An indigenized, de-colonized worldview for Indigenous leaders and academics seeking a path to reconciliation. Publication: CANADA February 22, 2022 | U.S. March 22, 2022

FORMAT 6 in (W) 9 in (H) 298 pages

Paperback 978-1-4597-4899-6 Can $22.99 US $19.99 £15.99

EPUB 978-1-4597-4901-6 Can $9.99 US $9.99 £6.99

PDF 978-1-4597-4900-9 Can $22.99 US $19.99 £15.99

KEY SELLING POINTS With a mixture of storytelling, historical recounting, and political insight, offers an Ojibway

Anishinaabe perspective on the way forward for Indigenous leaders and academics Written for academics and activists: Uses Ojibway-Anishinaabe language, techniques, and perspectives to de-colonize the Ojibway way of thinking and acting The Ojibwe live around the entire Great Lakes, including in Minnesota, North Dakota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec, Saskatchewan, and Alberta Author Fontaine is an experienced leader, negotiator, activist, and academic, having served as chief of Sagkeeng First Nation and a spokesperson in negotiations between local communities and pulp and paper mills Co-author Don McCaskill is one of the first academics in the field of Indigenous Studies in Canada

BISAC SOC062000 – SOCIAL SCIENCE / Indigenous Studies HIS028000 – HISTORY / Indigenous Peoples of the Americas

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Makwa Ogimaa (Jerry Fontaine) is Ojibway-Anishinabe from the Ojibway-Anishinabe community of Sagkeeng in Manitoba. He was (indian act) Chief during the period 1987 to 1998 and has been an adviser to Anishinabe communities and industry. Jerry currently teaches in the Department of Indigenous Studies at the University of Winnipeg. He lives in Traverse Bay, Manitoba. Ka-pi-ta-aht (Don McCaskill) is professor emeritus in the Department of Indigenous Studies at Trent University, where he taught for forty-seven years and served as chair for thirteen years. He has edited seven books in the fields of Anishinabe culture, education, community development, and urbanization. Don lives in Toronto. dibayndiziwin

MARKETING AND PUBLICITY Publicity campaign to targeted media and influencers Consumer, trade, and/or wholesaler advertising campaign Social media campaign

Email campaigns to consumers, booksellers, and librarians Digital galley available: NetGalley, Edelweiss, Catalist STAY CONNECTED

RIGHTS World, All Languages ABOUT THE BOOK Indigenization within the academy and the idea of truth and reconciliation within Canada have been seen as the remedy to correct the relationship between Indigenous Peoples and Canadian society. While honourable, these actions are difficult to achieve given the Western nature of institutions in Canada and the collective memory of its citizens, and the burden of proof has always been the responsibility of Anishinabeg. Authors Makwa Ogimaa (Jerry Fontaine) and Ka-pi-ta-aht (Don McCaskill) tell their di-bah-jimo-wi-nan (personal stories) to understand the cultural, political, social, and academic events in the past fifty years of Ojibway-Anishinabe resistance in Canada. They suggest that OjibwayAnishinabe i-zhi-chi-gay-win zhigo kayn-dah-so-win (ways of doing and knowing) can provide an alternative way of living sustainably in the world. This distinctive worldview — as well as values, language, and ceremonial practices — can provide an alternative to Western political and academic institutions and peel away the layers of colonialism, violence, and injustice, speaking truth and leading to true reconciliation.

For more information, contact publicity@dundurn.com Orders in Canada: UTP Distribution 1-800-565-9523 Orders in the US: Ingram Publisher Services 1-866-400-5351

dundurn.com @dundurnpress

CHAPTER 1

Ka-pi-ta-aht di-bah-ji-mo (Don McCaskill Tells His Story)

tories are important. Gerald Vizenor, an Ojibway- Anishinabe scholar, once stated, “You can’t understand the world without telling a story. There isn’t any center to the world but story.”1 Many Anishinabe scholars suggest that stories are central to the academic discipline of Indigenous Studies. Personal stories are particularly important for appreciating an individual’s personal and spiritual journey as well as their particular perspective. Indeed, it is part of my o-dah-bah-ji-gahn (Medicine Bundle) that I will share my story with the readers to understand my ideas regarding an Ojibway-A nishinabe bish-k ayn-d i-ji-gay-w in (pedagogy). Articulating my position, as a White person, in co-w riting this book involves telling my story as it pertains to my coming to understand aspects of Anishinabe and indian ways of doing and knowing and ideas regarding education. My story begins with an expression of gratitude for having been given the privilege, over fifty years, to be with Ojibway-A nishinabe Elders, Spiritual

Leaders, and Medicine People to receive teachings, attend ceremonies, and teach in the Department of Indigenous Studies at Trent University. Trent University is located on the territory of the Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg in Peterborough, Ontario. In these endeavours I have tried to respect Ojibway- Anishinabe culturally appropriate protocols, including beginning the writing of this volume ceremonially with the presentation of tobacco, an exchange of gifts, and a Pipe Ceremony, as well as asking for guidance from Elders. I am a Canadian and an Indigenous Studies professor emeritus of Scottish and English background. My ancestors were from the Isle of Skye in Scotland and Wiltshire in England. My Scottish lineage includes being a sub- clan or sept in the Clan MacLeod, and my people carried the responsibility of protecting the land and clan leaders. I was born and raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and first interacted with Anishinabeg through writing academic papers and visiting First Nations communities as an undergraduate at the University of Winnipeg, and then later by participating in programs through the Friendship Centre and the Manitoba Indian Brotherhood. My master’s thesis and PhD dissertation focused on issues facing urban Anishinabeg in cities across Canada. I started teaching in the Department of Native (now Indigenous) Studies at Trent University in the fall of 1972, when it was just beginning to emerge as an academic discipline. It was the first Canadian university department devoted to the study of Anishinabeg. Some Western academics could not make sense of Anishinabe ways of doing and knowing and did not accept that the department could have academic rigour. Thus began the paradoxical relationship between the department and the university; between the need and desire, on the one hand, to fit in, adhere to the rules of the institution, and be normal, and on the other, to address the cultural, political, and community issues of Anishinabeg in a way that reflected the social, linguistic, and pedagogical principles, protocols, and values of Anishinabe culture and involvement in Anishinabe communities. In the words of Joe Couture, addressing “the forces of traditional university intellectualism versus Native intuition, of academic versus colloquial languages, of elitism versus people- in-communities, of knowledge of the professional versus knowledge of the 24

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill People, of direct knowledge versus indirect knowledge, and of written tradition versus oral tradition.”2 Bridging these worlds has been my work throughout my career at Trent. Implementing the Anishinabe cultural components of the initiative was particularly challenging for faculty in the department because Anishinabe ways of knowing was a knowledge tradition of a new order for the university, one which involved a commitment from faculty to adopt a different way of being. A major development in the department’s history and my personal story came with the appointment of Dr. Joe Couture, a Cree/Métis from Alberta, as Chair of Native Studies in 1975. He had a profound impact on the department and a deep influence on me personally. He was brought in by the university administration as a senior academic to provide leadership for the junior scholars and to bring academic rigour to the department. Joe believed in high academic standards but, more importantly, he argued that traditional Anishinabe learning comes about through “doing it” before reflection or analysis and is best acquired through oral traditions and ceremonies. He introduced Anishinabe Elders as carriers of spiritual and moral teachings and facilitators of ceremonies. We conducted Smudging, Teaching Circles, Pipe Ceremonies, and ma-dood-sahn (Sweat Lodge) Ceremonies at Trent. He stressed that experiential learning and spirituality were of critical importance to the department. He believed that Native Studies was a prime agent of Anishinabe culture and community development. He maintained that “universities are obvious purveyors of culture. The attainment of this goal in programs about and for Indigenous students is understandably conditional on the experience of the faculty itself. Native Studies faculties, knowingly or not, are prime agents of Aboriginal cultural preservation and development.”3 As such he maintained that in order to teach effectively in the discipline “requires faculty members who have a developed sense of oral tradition and a prolonged experience in ceremonies.”4 As he put it, “Go find a spiritual teacher.”5 My spiritual journey, like so many, began with a bah-wah-ji-gay-w in (dream). Dreams can point an individual in a direction on their journey 25

and be a guide to understanding that journey. As Elder Edna Manitowabi states, “I see my dreams as guides or mentors, as the Grandfathers and Grandmothers giving me direction in my life. Dreams are how my own spirit guides me through my life.”6 I was lying on my bed in Peterborough when a vision of a large ginew (eagle) came to me. He invited me to climb on his back and we took off. We flew over the city and I could see familiar landmarks. We flew into the countryside, and after a while the eagle deposited me at the edge of a cliff. I saw, in the air above the cliff, a line of Anishinabe Elders passing in front of me, looking at me in a way that seemed to suggest they had some expectations of me.

The meaning of the dream was clear. In the summer of 1977 and again in 1978, my wife, Jeanette, and I joined Joe and his family at the camp of Arapaho-A nishinabe Medicine Person Raymond Harris on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. I presented Raymond with tobacco, sweetgrass, a blanket, and my pipe and respectfully asked him to oversee my first gi’i’ i’ goshi-mo (Vision Quest or Sacred Fast). Thus, my spiritual journey began with an honouring of original Anishinabe protocol and participation in ceremony. I began to view my spiritual journey as adding to my o-dah-bah-ji-gahn (Medicine Bundle), both metaphorically and literally. I am so appreciative of the opportunity to spend time in ceremony and learn about Anishinabe ways from Elders, Spiritual Leaders, and Medicine People. During my time at Raymond’s camp, we shared many stories and experiences, including the value of humour in Anishinabe ceremonies. At the beginning of a ma-dood-sahn (Sweat Lodge Ceremony), Raymond noticed that the participants were very serious as the red-hot grandfathers (Sacred Rocks) were being brought in and deposited in the pit of the lodge by his son, who was his helper. When the last few grandfathers were being placed in the pit, Raymond declared, “I don’t like that one.” Then he reached in and grabbed hold of a grandfather. Everyone in the lodge gasped! Raymond laughed, and it became apparent that he had arranged for his son to bring in a

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill cold grandfather. It was an important lesson about the need for humour and lightening up when participating in ceremonies.

In 1979 my wife and I travelled to Kootenay Plains in the Rocky Mountains, near the town of Nordegg, Alberta, to set up a camp and participate in ceremonies. Kootenay Plains is a flat area in the mountains, and Anishinabe groups from all over came to trade and conduct sacred ceremonies there. The Bighorn Stoney-A nishinabeg have lived in the Kootenay Plains for centuries.7 It was during my first Vision Quest there that I met a Medicine Person with whom I was privileged to have a ceremonial relationship for nine years. During the gi’i’ i’ go-shi-mo (Vision Quest) the body is “deprived of food and water, the life-g iving force of physical life. With the physical side of life lessened, it was hoped that the spiritual side would come into dominance. It is also said that fasting purifies the body and the mind and makes a person receptive for messages coming from the Spirit World.”8 The camps at Kootenay Plains were special times in our development as teachers/practitioners in our relationship with Anishinabe ways of doing and knowing. We had the privilege to participate in teachings, sacred ceremonies, weddings, stories, gathering medicines, feasts, and songs and to learn from an extraordinary Ojibway-A nishinabe Elder, Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i, who had lived his life immersed in the ways of his people. He was a very traditional individual who epitomized the idea that an Anishinabe Elder has “qualities of mind (intuition, intellect, memory, imagination) and emotion, [a] profound and refined moral sense, together with a high level of spiritual and psychic attainment.”9 He exemplified the qualities of kindness, honesty, respect, and strength. He was a spiritually evolved person and well-respected in his community and throughout Canada. Indeed, he was often referred to as “the Elder’s Elder.” He also had a wonderful sense of humour. For example, at the Elders’ conference at Trent, he was invited to come up to the stage and “to take a chair.” He walked up, picked up the chair, and walked off with it. “Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i” translates as “Medicine Person,” a generic reference I have chosen because Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i did not want his name to appear in print (or any other form of media), even his English name.10 I will respect that 27

wish. My understanding is that an Anishinabe name is given by the spirits and is deeply spiritual and powerful, and the name and deeper meaning behind it is rarely divulged in public. Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i came from a long line of Chiefs of his people, who migrated west from Ontario through Manitoba and Montana and, finally, to Alberta. They never took treaty or became Status Indians. His grandfather, it is said, was born in 1824 and died in 1931 and was a great inspiration in Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i’s life. A story passed down by a friend of the family states that his grandfather prophesized to Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i: “I see a picture of that which has yet to take place in the future. It is not a pleasing picture my boy. If you and your people are to survive, you must shun the towns and cities of the white race of people.… Lead your life in a manner which I and your father have trained you, be honest and kind to all your fellow men. And do only that which your heart tells you is right and good.”11 Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i lived his life according to those principles. I remember an incident when I first met Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni. We were at a restaurant, and my glass of water, which had sweated from the ice, began to move across the table, seemingly on its own. Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni looked at me with surprise, evidently thinking that I might be causing the glass to move. He quickly realized that it was not me. But I had no doubt that he could make any glass move, if he desired, although I never saw him use his powers outside of a ceremonial situation.

The growth that I made on my personal spiritual journey through participating in the camp was profound. I was assisted by Jeanette, who played a key role in the camp as partner and oshkabewis (helper). I learned many significant life lessons through my experiences there. Fundamental to the wisdom I received was that learning the Ojibway-A nishinabe and indian ways was transformative, involving a process of lifelong personal growth and attempting to live mino bi-mah-d i-zi-w in (The good life). I learned that acquiring Anishinabe ways of doing and knowing is as much a process of unlearning and letting go as it is of learning. I discovered that when I was open to letting 28

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill my old narratives and ideologies fall away, I began to see with new eyes. I had to engage in a process of rethinking and challenging things that I thought I knew, assumptions I made, and opinions I held. It involved a shift of my identity. As Adam Grant states, “A hallmark of wisdom is knowing when it’s time to abandon some of your most treasured tools — and some of the most cherished parts of your identity.”12 I came to realize that wisdom does not emerge from the levels of education or the body of knowledge that a person has acquired, but rather from a compassionate regard for others, a way of interacting and understanding our personal stories. In my experience, Elders, Spiritual Leaders, or Medicine People rarely tell you what to do. Instead, through their teachings, performance of ceremonies, role modelling, and everyday living, they patiently listen to your narrative and “accept it, but prod you to reconsider it so you can change your relationship to your past and future.… It is this skillful, patient process of walking people to their own conclusions that feels like wisdom.”13 I believe this is what Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i was doing with us in his teachings and personal being. He was helping us to be open to new experiences based on a different reality and set of beliefs, values, and behaviours. I also learned that the Elders, Spiritual Leaders, and Medicine People will tell you things you need to know when they recognize that you are ready to know them. I discovered that listening is critically important to, as Mash-k i- ki-i-ni-n i put it, “double understand” and that the learning process involves intuitive as well as intellectual comprehension. I also realized that it is not a good idea to take notes when Elders are speaking or to ask the question Why? I came to understand that Ojibway-A nishinabe ways often involve physical effort, such as undertaking the daily tasks needed to keep the camp going. Through participation in ceremonies, teachings, and camp life on the land, a different understanding of life emerged. The lived experiences in the camps, the wisdom and embodiment of Mask-k i-k i-i-ni-n i and other Elders, and the occurrences in the ceremonies allowed me to let go of many of my beliefs and understandings. I also came to understand that the Grandfathers and spirit messengers frequently reveal insights and give messages to us in ceremony that help us understand our 29

purpose and life direction. I realized that learning the indian ways involves developing respectful relationships with family, community, Elders, spiritual beings, and the land, as well as coming to understand the interconnection of all aspects of life. I learned that a relationship with spirits of the land was essential to understanding the indian ways. Over time, I understood that ceremonies conducted by Elders, Spiritual Leaders, and Medicine People on the land are the gateway to the Nimishoomisahg (Grandfathers). mii i’i-way ojibway-anishinabe i-zhi-chi-gay-win zhigo mii’iw eta-go o-way neen-gi-kayn-dahn zhigo ni-gi-noon-dah-wah … ahaaw sa … weweni (This is the Ojibway-Anishinabe way, and this is as much as I know and have heard … All right … Be careful) One day during our time at Kootenay Plains, Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni asked me to come with him to gather medicine. I took a large paper bag, assuming that we would be collecting plants. We drove to an isolated place in the Rocky Mountains and started walking up the mountain. Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni walked in different directions, searching for Bear Medicine, which he described as a very powerful medicine. At one point he turned to me and said, “They are trying to fool me.” I knew that there were no other humans for miles around and assumed that he was referring to the spirits of the land. Eventually he pointed to a cave on a cliff about twenty feet above us. He climbed the cliff face and scraped a small amount of a black, tar-like substance that emerged from the mountain on the side of the cave. He said that this was a place where the bear had hibernated. He divided the medicine between us, and I deposited it in my bag, feeling rather silly that I had mistaken the nature of the medicine. Years later I was diagnosed with cancer and I was very grateful to be able to use the Bear Medicine in combination with Western medicine to cure the cancer.

I also learned that Ojibway-A nishinabe ways of doing and knowing involve a personal relationship with the knowledge. It entails developing attitudes of respect, sincerity, honesty, and humility. Knowledge is acquired slowly, step by step, and must be earned, sometimes through sacrifice, 30

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill suffering, and self-d iscipline. During this process I was slowly building my o-dah-bah-ji-gahn (Medicine Bundle). And spirit is an essential component to understanding. As the Mohawk Elder Sakokwenionkwas (Tom Porter) states, “The minute you take spirit out of anything you have already defeated yourself.”14 I came to understand that learning Ojibway-A nishinabe indian ways of doing and knowing was not primarily a case of acquiring knowledge and a set of skills but was rather a journey of personal growth involving spirituality and the development of a new consciousness, an energy. After we had spent about a month in the camp at Kootenay Plains fasting, doing ma-dood-sahn (Sweat Lodge) Ceremonies, drumming and singing, telling stories, and doing the hard work of maintaining the camp, my wife had to leave to go back to Ontario. I was to stay behind at the camp. I drove her to the nearby town to see her off at the bus station. As soon as I got out of the car in the town, I felt an energy leave me. I realized that we had been in an alternative state of consciousness in the camp, living in a good way on the land and with each other in a special relationship.

In 1986, after we had been travelling to Kootenay Plains for seven years, we moved the fasting camp to a piece of land I owned near Haliburton, Ontario, because so many people from eastern Canada had been going to Alberta that it made sense to ask Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i to come east rather than having so many people travel west. I immediately learned the importance of spirit in the new location. mii i’i-way ojibway-anishinabe i-zhi-chi-gay-win zhigo mii’iw eta-go o-way neen-gi-kayn-dahn zhigo ni-gi-noon-dah-wah … ahaaw sa … weweni (This is the Ojibway-Anishinabe way, and this is as much as I know and have heard … All right … Be careful) When we moved the camp to Haliburton, Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni and I searched for a good place for me to put my fasting lodge. I suggested a location near a

group of rocks at the foot of a cliff, but he said that it was not a good place because “it was close to where the mae-mae-gway-suk (Little People) live.” During the first night we were in our mah-dood-sahn (Vision Quest), Mash-ki- ki-i-ni-ni had to stay awake all night to protect us from the manidoog (Spirit Beings), because with our sacred ceremonies we were, as he said, ah-ba-ji- bahd “waking the spirits of the land up after they’ve been asleep for so long.” During the first night of the fast, I could hear faint singing and drumming coming from a long way into the bush. It was a very comforting sound.

I learned that an essential part of Ojibway-A nishinabe indian ways is reclaiming the connections with the spirits of the land through the rich heritage of ceremonies, stories, language, and the practice of everyday good living. It involves awakening our inner being, our higher consciousness, to intuitively establish a relationship with the ancestors of the land. Ojibway-A nishinabe and indian ways are often imparted through g’ki- nah-mah-gay-w i-nan (teachings), ah-d i-so-k ah-nahg (Sacred stories and Spiritual History), ah-way-chi-gay-w i-nan (Moral stories), and di-bah-ji-mo- wi-nan (Stories of personal experience). The stories often contain symbols, metaphors, and meanings that are revealed over time and require an attitude of openness, intuitively as well as intellectually. mii i’i-way ojibway-anishinabe i-zhi-chi-gay-win zhigo mii’iw eta-go o-way neen-gi-kayn-dahn zhigo ni-gi-noon-dah-wah … ahaaw sa … weweni (This is the Ojibway-Anishinabe way, and this is as much as I know and have heard … All right … Be careful) During my third Vision Quest at Kootenay Plains, I was confused as to whether I should ask the gi-ni-mi-shoo-mi-si-na-nahg (Grandfathers) for a spiritual name for my daughter (who was six weeks old and at the camp) and myself. We had been taught to ask the spirits for direction during the fasting and they would give us guidance. During the fast I kept hearing what appeared to be large raindrops landing on my lodge. But when I came out to see what was happening, I could see nothing but a bright sunny day. When Mash-ki-ki-i -ni-ni

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill came to see me in the evening, I asked him what this unusual phenomenon meant. He replied that it was happening at the camp as well, but he had no idea what it signified. On the final morning of the fast I was still conflicted, so I asked for a sign to guide me in my decision. Just then a hawk, a mi-zhi-ni- way-wahg (Spirit Messenger), flew right in front of me and I knew the answer. During one of the rounds of the ma-dood-sahn (Sweat Lodge) Ceremony that occurred after coming out of my fast, we heard a splat, as if a rock had landed in the lodge. When the sweat lodge door was opened, Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni solved the mystery of the “raindrops” by declaring that my newborn daughter’s name was Asinsis or “Little Rock.” The Grandfathers had been trying to communicate the need to ask for a name for my daughter to me by dropping “pebbles” on my lodge, but I was too thick to understand. My understanding is that names are given by the spirits, are powerful and hold special meaning; they are often given after fasting or dreaming, and the name giver and name receiver are spiritually related for life. Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni also revealed my spirit name, Ka-pi-ta-aht, in the ma-dood- sahn (Sweat Lodge) Ceremony. The name means “someone who hears and is also heard and is a bridge between two worlds, a messenger” in Cree. And we were both given colours associated with our names, which I presented, in the form of coloured cloth, to Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni annually for several subsequent years.

Another lesson I learned was the importance of the Anishinabe language. Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i conducted all the ceremonies in Ojibwaymowin or Cree. Language and culture are closely connected. As Louellyn White writes, “Culture is expressed through language. When you take away its ‘greetings, … its laws, its literature, its songs, … its wisdom, its prayers, … you are losing all those things that essentially are the way of life, the way of thought, the way of valuing, and the human reality …’ Language also expresses one’s spirituality and allows for communication with the Creator, medicine, plants, and the spirit world.”15 Cayuga-A nishinabe Chief Jacob Thomas once 33

told me that Anishinabe languages are the most important component of Anishinabe cultures. mii i’i-way ojibway-anishinabe i-zhi-chi-gay-win zhigo mii’iw eta-go o-way neen-gi-kayn-dahn zhigo ni-gi-noon-dah-wah … ahaaw sa … weweni (This is the Ojibway-Anishinabe way, and this is as much as I know and have heard … All right … Be careful) One evening when we were in the teepee sharing stories, Mash-ki-ki-i -ni-ni declared that he was happy with how we were together in the camp and that he wanted to share a manitou na-ga-mon (Spiritual Song) that was from the time of his grandfather. He asked an Ojibway-Anishinabe Elder, Fred Wheatley, who taught the Anishinabemowin language at Trent, to translate the song. Then he began drumming and singing, and Fred tried hard to translate the words. Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni stopped singing when he noticed that Fred was having difficulty translating. He suggested that the song was difficult to translate and that even if we learned the words, the meaning of the song would be difficult for us to comprehend. It was clear that the spiritual meaning of the song was at a level beyond our understanding. He then continued singing and drumming without translation.

This incident reveals that the deep meaning of spiritual songs often does not lend itself to translation because understanding the song requires intuition, an understanding of the language, and a level of spiritual consciousness. Storytelling, friendship, teasing, and humour were always present at the camp, especially when we were sitting around the fire in the teepee in the evening. Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni was discussing the history of Anishinabeg on Turtle Island and their relations with the White man. He jokingly suggested that it might be desirable if the White men went back across the Atlantic Ocean to their homelands in Europe. A Métis person then said that he was half Anishinabe and

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill half White. He asked, “What should happen to my people?” The Elder thought for a moment and said, “You can go halfway.” Everyone laughed.

I believe this story illustrates how we can “unsettle the settler,” but with humour, caring, and friendship that allow us to move past the awkwardness and exclusion that often happens when discussing the issue of identity. By being in a relationship we remade it, because our shared experiences in the camp exhibited the Ojibway-A nishinabe values of sincerity, honesty, authen ticity, and humour. Laughing, joking, and teasing were always a central part of camp life. mii i’i-way ojibway-anishinabe i-zhi-chi-gay-win zhigo mii’iw eta-go o-way neen-gi-kayn-dahn zhigo ni-gi-noon-dah-wah … ahaaw sa … weweni (This is the Ojibway-Anishinabe way, and this is as much as I know and have heard … All right … Be careful) During our camps in Haliburton, I came to experience that learning Ojibway- Anishinabe ways involved being “examined” on my understanding of those ways. Early in our time at the camp Mash-ki-ki-i-ni-ni asked me to assist him in building our camp sweat lodge. When we got to the site, he sat down and indicated that I was to take responsibility for building it. We had built sweat lodges and fasting lodges at Kootenay Plains, but I had never been given this level of responsibility. I nervously went about the task, with Mash-ki-ki-i-ni- ni correcting any mistakes I made. He later gifted me the authority to run a family sweat ceremony and I built a small sweat lodge at my home in Indian River, near Peterborough. Throughout my five decades of teaching at Trent, I have attempted to stay true to the Elders’ teachings and to my spirit name by engaging in respectful conversations with students and faculty about the history and contemporary situation of Anishinabeg. The Western paradigm is strong within universities and is, in many ways, a valid way to understand the world. It has been a challenge to integrate Anishinabe ontologies, epistemologies, and

methodologies into the academy. Developing the Department of Indigenous Studies has been a struggle because it fundamentally challenges the Eurocentric worldview and academic discourse. Over the years I saw it as my mission to create a place where the Anishinabe language and culture could develop and flourish. Indigenous Studies faculty, especially in the early years of the program, were expected to play the role of mediators, translators, and bridges between Anishinabe communities and the larger academic world. This frequently put us in a position of attempting to articulate two often contradictory worldviews and sets of assumptions, values, and standards. This was clearly a place where I had the opportunity to fulfill the responsibilities of the name I had received in the ma-dood-sahn (sweat lodge) at the fasting camp: Ka-pi-ta-aht (One Who Is a Good Listener and Bridge between Two Worlds).

We quickly came to recognize that we needed to establish our independence within the university. The Indian-Eskimo Studies program (as it was initially called) at Trent was first sponsored by the Department of Anthropology, which seemed reluctant to grant us full sovereignty. It was clear that the approaches of anthropology were significantly different from those of Native Studies. In 1974 I had occasion to invite my dissertation supervisor, Professor John Price from York University, to speak to my class. He was an eminent anthropologist who had experience with Native American Studies in the United States. After the class we met with members of Trent’s Department of Anthropology, and he diplomatically informed them that Native Studies was emerging as an academic discipline in its own right, substantially different from anthropology and that required independence to determine its own destiny. Soon after, there was no more formal association between our program and the Department of Anthropology.

The program of study in the Department of Indigenous Studies at Trent has always rested on three pillars: an academic program based on high 36

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill scholarly standards, an applied community component based on authentic experiences with the Anishinabe community, and a cultural pedagogy which reflects Anishinabe cultures, especially Ojibway-A nishinabe and Haudenosaunee-A nishinabe cultures. The last component is the most challenging, but possibly the most important, to implement. An early achievement in incorporating Anishinabe culture into the department came in the mid-1970s with the tenure-track appointments of two Elders: Fred Wheatley, an Ojibway-A nishinabe language instructor from Wasauksing First Nation, and Jake Thomas, a Cayuga-A nishinabe Chief from Six Nations of the Grand River. Their appointments bolstered the cultural component of the department. Through their teaching, role modelling, and cultural activities (such as snow-snake carving, beading, drumming and singing, on-t he-land medicine walks, and performance of ceremonies), they facilitated students’ filling of their o-dah-bah-ji-gahn (Medicine Bundles), both metaphorically and literally, as part of their life journey. Their wisdom and experience in Anishinabe Knowledge were recognized as equivalent to a PhD. The university demonstrated a high degree of commitment to the Anishinabe community in making the appointments but, at times, dealing with the incongruities between Anishinabe cultural practices and the university’s rules and regulations proved to be a challenge. As chair of the department, my responsibilities included ensuring that we created a safe space for the Elders to teach, practise the culture, and honour Anishinabe protocols, while at the same time being cognizant of university regulations. One sticking point came when the Elders reached the age of sixty-five. University policy required faculty to retire at that age. I remember going into the academic vice-president’s office and attempting to make the case that it was a fundamental principle in Anishinabe cultures not to compel an Elder to retire at any arbitrary age. He had difficulty comprehending that Anishinabe Elders were different from other faculty and resisted bending the rules to make what he considered an exception for these professors. I remembered that he was an active member of the Anglican Church of Canada and suggested to him that Anishinabe Elders were comparable in importance

to the Archbishop of Canterbury in the church context. He understood the analogy, and the Elders retired at their own time (in their mid-seventies).

In many ways it has been a struggle to integrate Anishinabe ways of doing and knowing in a Western institution. I believe that in that instance, and in many more, I was fulfilling my spirit name Ka-pi-ta-a ht, acting as a bridge between two worlds. Throughout my career in Indigenous Studies at Trent, I attempted to honour Anishinabe ways of doing and knowing and the aspirations of the Anishinabe community in my teaching and research and to live up to the meaning of my spirit name. In my classes I endeavoured to integrate Anishinabe and Western perspectives. In my research I often utilized a community-based methodology wherein the Anishinabe community is in control of the research process to address issues in their communities. The integration of perspectives was evident in the establishment of our Indigenous Studies PhD program which strives “to produce individuals capable of advanced intellectual scholarship in both Indigenous and Western traditions … and … able to function in both cultural contexts.”16 I chaired a community committee that took two years to develop the program. We consulted widely with the Anishinabe community and endeavoured to place Anishinabe Knowledge at the core of the program through courses that focus on land-based experiential pedagogies (Anishinabe Knowledge course), on work with Anishinabe communities (Practicum Field Placement course), and on apprenticing with an Elder, Spiritual Leader, or Medicine Person (Bimaadiziwin/Atonhetseri:io course). I share my di-bah-ji-mo-w i-nan (my personal story) to acknowledge my positionality with gratitude for having been given the opportunity to spend time with Elders, Spiritual Leaders, and Medicine People, participate in ceremonies, learn about Anishinabe ways of doing and knowing, and teach in an Indigenous Studies department. I wish to acknowledge and express my gratitude to the Elders, Spiritual Leaders, and Medicine Persons who have devoted their lives to keeping Ojibway-A nishinabe and indian ways strong and have guided me on my life journey, particularly Mash-k i-k i-i-ni-n i. I am 38

Niinitam (My Turn) Don McCaskill thankful for their relationship, trust, and permission to share the learning that I have gained from my experiences with them and my time teaching Indigenous Studies. I am also grateful for my friendship with Makwa Ogimaa (Jerry Fontaine) and for our collaboration in attempting to articulate an Ojibway-A nishinabe indian ways bish-k ayn-d i-ji-gay-w in (pedagogy). We recognize that such a pedagogy is founded in Original Knowledge grounded in spiritual history, ceremonies, oral traditions, language, and geography. We use Anishinabe i- zhi-chi-gay-w in zhigo kayn-dah-so-w in (Ways of doing and knowing) and a- zhi-k ay-n i-mo-nahd-a-di-sid bay-mah-d i-sid (How we used our way of thinking, doing, and knowing to find answers) as the fundamental pedagogy of the book.