Living Our Language_ Ojibwe Tales & Oral Histories - Anton Treuer [30]
[2] Then my father told a story about it. They used to boil [water] in birch bark here and cook things with it, he says. Maybe we didn’t really believe it, not entirely. You see birch bark just burns up anywhere in a fire. We were unable to sense what he was doing. The old man, my father must have gone outside. He was heard talking to us out there.
[3] Outside there he must have built a fire. The Indians customarily built fires outside then. The fire was a small fire where he must have kindled it there. He grasped that basket. It looked like a birch bark sap-collecting bucket inside. Water had been put in there. There must have been about an inch of liquid in that basket. It wasn’t big. It was four inches across, approximately four inches. It was that wide. It was six inches long. And it must have been about eight inches in height, made to that size. Then there was water inside. It was there on the fire. And it did not burst into flames. The fire wasn’t especially large. But that birch bark basket was resting level there with water inside. We looked inside there then, and that water in there was really boiling.
[4] That’s when he showed us how birch bark was customarily used by those Indians long ago when they cooked things. That birch bark did not burn while water was put inside. And that’s how they taught us something about what those Indian people did and the way they lived their lives.
My Horse
[1] I don’t vividly remember my grandfather, my dad’s father. It was only my grandmother that lived a long time. That was my father’s mother. My grandfather passed away then, my dad’s dad. The old man has since died. You see I don’t have a clear memory of him, as I must have been about two years old when he passed away. And my grandmother had been single for a long time, my grandma. That’s what we always called her—“maamaanaan.” And that is what we call our grandmothers when we talk to them. She had now been widowed for quite some time.
[2] So one time she found someone [new], that old man who would take care of her. That old man was probably from over by the shore. And she was spoiled when he made her his wife. I do have somewhat hazy memories of him. We went there when that old lady was proposed to, that was by that old man I’ve been speaking about. He was single himself. And one time now my grandmother went with him, that old man. And they married one another, and thus became partners.
[3] That old man really had [many] possessions. I remember him. He had ponies and those horses were just beautiful. And his [horse] tackle was magnificent. Those ponies were just beautiful. And that old man loved us too. He and my grandmother were elders now. He just helped her, too, and they took care of us. That old man stayed there himself. And one time, now my grandmother married him, my grandmother married this old man. And so we lived pretty close together. We lived for some time like this and one time they arrived and visited one another.
[4] One time he was leading a horse with a rope. That pony was small. He had a dapple-colored coat. He was speckled with round dots on his spotted coat there. Then at that time he handed me that rope myself as he led that horse around. Then he told me this, “That’s your pony,” he tells me. Boy was I ever elated to be a horse owner. My dad made more repairs to that horse stable. My dad kept horses there too. So I put mine in there too. And in regards to him, I was told, “You are going to feed him and furnish his oats too,” I’m told. “You are going to take care of your horse,” I’m told. And then