Living Our Language_ Ojibwe Tales & Oral Histories - Anton Treuer [72]
[8] Then around the time I was there [at home] I started to work in the white man’s way. I must have worked hard, when I started working. I left in 1939. And I went all over the place to work. And I went around Montana working, doing all kinds of things up until the time I was enlisted to go over and fight in Europe during the big war.
[9] It was called World War Two. And then I left there myself; sometime in 1942 I left. I was overseas over there in Europe as it’s called. Over there I went all over the place, fighting and helping out. I was in the war there for three and a half years.
[10] And when I returned over here again, I didn’t come back here to live. I was all over the place again, going over to Montana again. Just about, oh, nearly ten years I wasn’t here, here where I was born.
[11] Then I returned home. Then once again I started my Indian ways, the Indian way—pow-wow and again going around speaking. Once again I danced. And I sang.
[12] And after I fought, I met my brother-in-law, Scott Headbird. And we were always close. We were good friends up until the time he was no longer here.
[13] You see I did all kinds of things. I was asked by those white men themselves to help them out and advance their understanding too in what they did. I did all kinds of things in the white man’s way.
[14] But I never abandoned the Indian way. You see here today, well, now I’m seventy-three years old. I’m almost feeble. And today I only do certain things when I go to pow-wows and go around helping out, speaking Ojibwe, talking and helping out my fellow Indians. And you see, I go all over helping out with this Indian singing, and also with the Indian praying. I no longer practice the medicine dance. I only speak to our Great Spirit and all of his fellow spirits.
[15] And now I go to different schools too, being spoken to about helping these young Indians and young white kids, about what the Indian did long ago. A lot of them tell me to speak Ojibwe. But they don’t understand. But I certainly do it.
[16] You see this here today among all of the older generation that’s still here, I am told. They might as well lead a dual life, I should say. Almost, well it is difficult being Indian as well as wanting to be white people themselves. Certainly you had to do certain things, doing them in the white man’s way, but we are still Indians and believe that way. Oh it’s truly difficult, so maybe I should say it again in English, “You try to lead a double lifestyle.”
[17] You see, that’s how things are with me. A long time ago, I started pow-wow dancing. When I was about eight years old over here, I started dancing, dancing up until 1968. Then at that time I became too feeble to dance myself.
[18] Well, I don’t know if I’m going to say anymore. That must be enough.
When Wenabozho Played Baseball
[1] All right, first of all I want to tell a little story about that Wenabozho. You see Wenabozho must have been up to something. He was always trying to do something. He must have known everything too.
[2] One time he was sitting there—there where he lived. He was really thinking hard, “Maybe I’ll walk around.” Then he left walking around. Maybe there where he must have been they were playing baseball. Then he went in there where they were playing ball. Then one person there must have invited him [to play], “Hey Wenabozh! Do you want to play baseball?” “You bet.” So he must have played, playing baseball.
[3] So maybe during his turn he hits that ball way over there. He just stands there after he already hit it. But he smacked that ball way far over there. Then as he was running there, running just fast, the Indians made a ruckus. “Haa Wenabozh! Home run. Home run,” he must have been told. So Wenabozho ran home. That’s it.
Miskwaagamiiwi-zaaga’igan
Red Lake
COLLINS OAKGROVE
COLLINS OAKGROVE (b. 1944), whose Indian name is Zhaawanoowinini (Man of the South), is one of Red Lake