Singing Pebble Storytelling: 16 March

Posted on February 20, 2013 by South Wind

I knew an old man long ago, with leather-like skin, who would dip his fingers into a tin of Copenhagen snuff and then, with unwashed fingers, gingerly stuff a large pinch of it into a toothless mouth already overflowing with dark brown, runny tobacco juice. He drank porter each day, at least a pint, sometimes two, when booboos acquired long ago came around to bite him. Every four or five days he would saunter up to the tavern and purchase his porter, six bottles at a time, brewed by John Molson, nothing but the best.

There was another old fellow I knew as a child who had drawn his first breath somewhere around 1880. The poor man had been born with a cleft palate that denied him the ability to speak with clarity. All he said sounded the same. One would hardly know what language he was speaking, so strange were the utterances which emerged from his mouth at times when he desperately tried to communicate something to another human being. But he was a man who believed in the great power of prayer. He was confident that in the spirit world his prayers were heard with the beauty and eloquence he had attached to them through the humility and sincerity of his spirit.

As a storyteller I know with all certainty that these men, long dead now, will find life afresh in a story I will write in the future. They are just too remarkable and interesting for them not be allowed to help change the life, for the better, of someone in pain today. The forest too tells many an interesting story; every tree and rock found there has a teaching to share. I know many of them. I have countless more to discover in the future, and to write about and share at storyteller seminars.

I hope you can join me at Singing Pebble Books on Saturday, March 16 at 3pm. I will have stories and poetry to recount, and will share my recent experiences working with aboriginal offenders at Millhaven prison, such as setting up a “Harmony Circle” to increase intercultural understanding and reduce violence and tension there. My books will also be on sale. Admission is $10. Get your tickets in advance at Singing Pebble, 613.230.9165, space is very limited. There will be time for a good discussion together after the storytelling and poetry.

Ticket and book sales assist me with costs connected to running my blog. I am computer-illiterate and therefore must hire an assistant to help out with the technical details! Migwech to all who support my blogs.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Sobriety and the Boulet Boots

Posted on February 17, 2013 by South Wind

I remember a summer day back in 1970, going into a shop in the Byward Market (Lowertown Ottawa) and telling the shopkeeper, “I want the meanest cowboy boots in the store and I don’t care about the cost.” The proprietor, after a few moments, handed me a box containing a pair of black ‘Boulet’ boots, with four chiefs’ heads stitched into their sides. I counted out my cash and the boots were mine. They became my pride and joy. “Gonna walk in style,” said I, every time I pulled them on.

I was a hard living, hard drinking, hard hitting, risk taking son-of-a-gun who didn’t give a damn back then. “Albert Dumont could kick the eye teeth out of a snake at 20 ft. with those boots of his,” my friends would tell fellas who came to town looking for a rumble. I was pretty handy with them all right. A guy pulled a knife on me at a party one time, but as quick as he produced it, my boot came up in a flash, caught him square in the knife holding hand and sent the blade into the ceiling, just like in the movies. What a riot!

I wasn’t living a healthy lifestyle. I cared more for alcohol than I did about the love of my parents and siblings. What a loser I was, threw away my hard earned money in rough and ready bars and taverns every weekend. After a period of time, holes the size of silver dollars wore themselves through the bottoms of my Boulet boots. Taking them to the cobbler for repair was the last thing on my mind; I needed the money for booze, don’t you know. Eventually the boots became so worn that I had to either repair them or give them up. I selected to repair them with new soles and heels, once again, I was good to go, returning to the bad life of over-drinking, nonsense and outright debauchery. And on it went until my sobriety began almost 25 years ago.

The Boulet boots had been repaired more than a few times by then, and like the sins of my past were pushed aside to gather dust. The sober man I became didn’t care to wear them. Then one day a friend named Herman Standing Ready was visiting at my humble abode. “Nice boots,” he said after he spied them in the corner, “why is it that I never see you wearing them?” I explained to him that they had once belonged to a lost soul who no longer felt an attraction to them. “I’ll do a bit of work on them and bring ‘em back to you if that’s OK.” I told Herman to go for it.

A couple of weeks later Herman was back and man, what a job he did on the boots! He changed the colour and added decorations. The boots were a tan colour now with golden clasps on the heals and shiny clips were embedded with nails into the toes. Snakes with eye teeth would have trembled to see them. The year was 1990.

So new life was breathed into the boots by an old Sioux warrior and I began to wear the Boulets again. I still have the boots and occasionally I take a cloth and rub months of dust off them and wear ‘em to a place I am expected to speak on addiction. I describe to my audience how I, like the boots, have changed over the years. Neither the soles of my boots nor the soul attached to my body were doing very well at that bad period of my life. The boots were truly in character with the wild man I was in the 70’s and into most of the 80’s. But then the boots got a make-over, as I did too with sobriety.

Never give up on a son or daughter, or on any man or woman who has been overtaken by an addiction. They can change just as surely as I did. Until they do, pray hard for them, and keep faith that healing will come to pass for them. I care. And so does anyone else who ever fought alcohol addiction and kicked out its eye teeth.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Humility – Curbing Violence Against Women

Posted on February 12, 2013 by South Wind

Humility – is it not the greatest of our grandfather teachings? It is impossible to claim to be surrounding oneself with the grandness of any of the other teachings without placing humility in the front, centre and back of all of the rest. This is how I see it at least.

Some people have strayed widely from the path the Great Spirit placed before them. They become like the bird of legend who told all other living things that he was greater than the eagle. “I see further and soar higher,” is what he wanted all to believe. One morning he awakened from a deep sleep and found that he was no longer a bird. He had been transformed into a beast, near-sighted and slow-moving. Thus, the porcupine came to life. Nevermore would he soar the majestic heavens as a great bird, punishment for putting humility aside.

As the father of daughters and the grandfather of granddaughters, I would never want men who were not humble to enter their lives.

A man who is humble would never bring unnecessary physical harm to another human being. The teaching would not allow him to do so. But what is as clear as the waters of a mountain brook is the fact that men are guilty, all too often, of perpetrating violence against women. What kind of a man would raise his hand against a woman who is weaker physically, than himself?

Violence is never acceptable. “All I did was shove her,” does not diminish the seriousness of an assault on a woman. A shove today will only lead to punches and kicks tomorrow. Curb it now!

I say this to guys who think getting physical is the solution to disagreement and conflict they have with their wives or girlfriends: “Want to fight? I know men with necks like steers who will oblige you.” A real man would be sickened by the thought of bringing his fist down on a woman.

Men be warned. To bring fear into the heart of a woman is against all you are supposed to stand for as a man.  Ours was a matriarchal society. Women had a special place in the community. They were respected and honoured. A man who degrades a woman in any way, commits an offence against the plan of the Great Spirit. It comes at a cost.

Do you hear my heart singing? It sings loud the honour song sung since the first hearts of human beings drummed on our lands. It sings in praise of those men who stand with humility in the presence of our strong women.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

What you can do:
– If you’re in Ottawa this Valentine’s Day, Dare to Care, and be there on the Hill at 11:45am for the Families of Sisters in Spirit Day of Justice.
– Other Events on February 14th
– Share the song “For Our Sisters“

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Hero – Are You One?

Posted on February 4, 2013 by South Wind

A white man I have a lot of respect for mentioned to me recently that he doesn’t believe Chief Theresa Spence was really on a liquid fast for 44 days. “Looked too healthy at the end of it,” he snorted. I have little doubt my buddy has bought into the views being presented now by racist radio commentators, other media sources, and the lamb of the senate, Patrick Brazeau. The respect I had for my friend has been whittled down a few pegs. Life goes on.

Chief Spence is a hero and nothing racist white people (Levant, Solberg, Akin, and Gunter) or wanna-be-Algonquins say against her will ever change that fact. Man, they can’t even stand to watch us heap praise and honour on one of our own. It actually infuriates them. “How dare them dumb redskins think they can have a hero,” is the message their views reflect.

“Hero” – nice word, isn’t it? It’s a word you don’t see attached to very many people these days, not in this country at least. I have met folks in my life who were extraordinarily kind, generous to a fault, braver than lions, wiser than Solomon, and so on and so on. They were special to be sure, but heroes? In my definition of the word, not really.

My spirituality is a hero of sorts. It was my salvation. It fought it out with the severe alcohol addiction I had been overcome with. There was no match, the addiction got kicked to the curb. Whatever good I do or have done, have its foundations with my spirituality. I push forward in life, strong and sober, Kichi Migwech Creator.

Who do you think the trees, birds, and animals of our forests see as heroes? The winds and waters too, have heroes. Who are they? We are their heroes, me and you and all other human beings who love the land and pray for her healing at every opportunity. When we respect and honour all life, we are a hero to those beings without a human heart beating in their bosoms. The lands sing songs of honour for all who walk softly upon it.

The four aces of Sun Media, Levant, Solberg, Akin, and Gunter are not heroes. No one will ever see them as such. Not in this life and not in the next. Their writings seem to confirm that they are OK with the destruction of our waterways and worse yet, they work to create minds who think likewise. I shudder when I think what kind of God must they believe in.

We are heroes, Chief Spence is a hero. Let us stand and face each of the four directions and offer a prayer that the land and waters and winds will heal and that our children and future generations will always be blessed with the energy and sustenance offered by Mother Earth.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Perpetrators of Hatred

Posted on January 31, 2013 by South Wind

The topic was Idle No More, and suddenly the peace was broken. The voice of a very angry white man cracked from the radio perched in my cluttered kitchen. “If there is one thing I can’t stand,” he growled, “it’s someone who plays the ‘victim’ card. And that’s what their people are so good at doing.” The talk show host reacted with “hum, hum”, a reaction which could be defined in many different ways, and I don’t like any of ‘em.

Am I a victim? I’m certain you don’t need to line a race of people up against a wall and then machine-gun them down to rid their likes from the face of the planet, and to perpetrate genocide against them. Anyone who can count to two knows it. Racist people know it, but they will never admit it, at least not when they or their forefathers are guilty of it.

My ancestors, “The People of the Great River”, came within a hair of forever disappearing from the land. By the government’s own statistics there were fewer than 1,500 of us left in the year 1900. How much closer do you want to get to extinction than that? But let’s be clear, every Indigenous Nation within the borders of what is now Canada almost went the way of the Beothuk in Newfoundland. Because of genocide, the Beothuk are gone forever.

The great Prime Minister of Canada, Sir John A. MacDonald, said his government would “Kill the Indian within the Child”. And so it began. What more evidence does one want to prove that men who were ready and able to commit acts of genocide had arrived on the shores of the Americas? Yet there are statues in MacDonald’s honour across the land. He was demonic, a monster who was quite happy to see children die in the sense that they would no longer exist as the human beings God meant them to be. To praise and honour MacDonald is to praise and honour a man guilty of acts of genocide. Anyone who does so has a poor understanding of what happens to their souls after the physical life comes to an end.

In my life, I have been the “victim” of hate more times than I care to remember. Such is the life of a First Peoples’ individual on our own lands. A lot of Canadians hate us, it’s not going to change anytime soon. We are victims of hate, clear and true, yet the growler on the radio, who most definitely hates us, hyperventilates with frustration when our people point out the acts of oppression they have survived.

Hatred did not exist on the lands of the Anishinabe before religions and greed spread their blankets in our communities. Just as many of our rivers are poisoned today by chemicals, so too have the minds and hearts of many Canadians been poisoned by hatred. The birds will sing their lovely songs and the flowers will surrender their delightful fragrances into the grateful winds, but will these things ever be strong enough to remove hatred from a man who believes himself superior to a man who lives a life with less toys than himself? A sum of money can perhaps be offered to a man who hates, and he would accept it and promise to never again direct hatred at others. For the sake of the money he would keep his promise. Hence, we see what has gone wrong within our society.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Chief Spence: The Fast is Complete

Posted on January 28, 2013 by South Wind

Chief Spence has ended her fast, the ceremony is complete. But far into the many tomorrows will the benefits of her sacrifice run like painted mustangs on an open range. Our thoughts which bring tears, our tears which bring a clearer view of what is spirituality, a spirituality which brings purpose of life, have changed forevermore and we will be better human beings because of it.

I urge Chief Spence to write a book surrounding the events which led up to her decision to subsist on tea and fish broth for 44 days. Let her record in her own words, for all the world to see, what Canada is guilty of. The names of the hate mongers in the racist media should be highlighted and their vile, despicable and outrageous quotes be installed on the pages of her memoir so that all who read them will see what was being defined as proud Canadians at this turning point for Aboriginals in Canada’s history. Let the Canadians of tomorrow come to their own conclusions as to what Sun Media’s Levant, Solberg, Akin and Gunter had to gain by promoting hatred of the First Nations in this rich and beautiful land. I truly wonder if similar propaganda and hate promotion was directed at the Jewish people in pre-Second World War Europe as that being experienced by the First Peoples of Canada today. The Jews of Europe did not deserve to be hated and neither do the Indigenous Peoples of this country. Levant, Solberg, Akin and Gunter promote hatred, they not only dishonour themselves by doing so but also forever soil their family names. They prove themselves to be nothing more and nothing less than four aces in Lucifer’s stacked deck. What a disgusting legacy they will leave behind at the hour of their passing.

Photo: ©juliecomber.com

It was a bitterly cold day when Chief Spence ended her fast. The tranquil land was frozen. Snow, stiffened by the subzero temperatures, crunched and belched under the weight of our steps. Sap freezing in trees cracked like rifle fire, birds appeared round as circles under their blankets of down feathers. It was a good day to end a fast.

The cold moons will soon pass however and the season will change. The land will warm and layer upon layer of frost will leave the ground. For me though, the fast will stay frozen in my mind, heart and soul. Because of it, my thoughts about racism and who perpetrates it will never be the same. My feelings about Canada have been altered. I ask myself, “When will the hate stop?” At this point, I have no answer. My spiritual beliefs are stronger now than ever before. I have learned from the sacred fire near Chief Spence’s teepee that the world needs prayers. Prayer is our only hope, it is strong enough to remove the hate from this land. Prayer will heal the wounded waters. Only prayer will signal to the eagle that human beings are still here.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Who is Guilty of Terrorism?

Posted on January 24, 2013 by South Wind

Our voices communicating honour for all life, the sound of our singing drums, the sight of our people dancing, the power of our circles and our growing pride are apparently terrorizing Canadians. This according to a definition of the word “terrorist” as presented in the Sun newspaper and posts by Ezra Levant.

But when I look at our drummers and dancers I see no sign of suicide belts nor do I see anyone loading planes with cluster bombs destined to be dropped where children play. It is not complicated, to me a terrorist is someone who terrorizes others. Martin Luther King was seen as a terrorist by millions of Americans. How wrong they were. Today, Barrack Obama is the president of the USA. It never would have happened had King not been born.

Over 50,000 First Nations children died in Canada’s Residential Schools, dead from neglect as plagues overtook them, murdered by sex crazed perverts or driven to suicide by monsters who attacked their spirits. Many of the little ones, if not all of them, died in a state of terror, the hand of love too far away for the dying children to reach out to. Sir John A. MacDonald, the hero of Canada, wanted to “kill the Indian in the child” and if the child died during the transformation, who would care? Certainly not the Canadians living at that time. And the Canadians of today, they cannot even muster the strength to go there, so unspeakably ugly is this chapter in Canada’s history. Somehow however, many Canadians will still rally around Ezra Levant and join him in his condemnation of the First Peoples as terrorists. Such people are so out of touch with their spiritual beliefs that they are blinded to the harm they do to their souls when they stand at the side of a hate monger and cheer him on.

Our brave Aboriginal people went overseas to fight against oppression. They sacrificed their lives to save the Jews of Europe from the grips of those who were perpetrating acts of genocide against human beings. But were the First Peoples here at that time not also oppressed? Was the storm of genocide not also raging on this continent in all First Nations communities not all that long ago?

The First Peoples call their home Turtle Island. And the turtle they speak of to describe their home is a gentle one. A gentle turtle will rest on a rock surrounded by calm waters. It will sit on a long dead tree limb decaying in the water after a storm has removed it from a tree of the nearby shoreline. The gentle turtle teaches us to honour peace and tranquility. It teaches us that in life we must take time out from our chores to ponder what is sacred to us and that it is a natural thing for even the most passive among us, to be protective of what God has given us.

I do not know Ezra Levant. I am not aware of his spiritual beliefs. I know only that I have never harmed him. To him, because I am a supporter of Chief Spence and Idle No More, I am a terrorist. How he could insinuate such a thing is beyond my comprehension. I wish he would come to my table and feast with me on moose stew and wild berry pie. His opinion about the First Nations might change because of the encounter. If someone reading this has contact with Ezra Levant, then please let him know he is welcome in my home. The gentle turtle, which is Turtle Island, directs me to do this.

All my relations.
Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Chief Spence: The Fasting Ritual

Posted on January 22, 2013 by South Wind

The men of Millhaven Institution’s (CSC) Native Brotherhood have found a hero, perhaps for the first time in their lives. Chief Theresa Spence has become a mighty source of inspiration into their rehabilitation goals. Her messages to them is that violence only assures destruction of one’s inner self and guarantees the suffering of innocents. She tells them through me, that peace and love will turn away any oppressive tide pushed forth by Canadians who, for no good reason, despise the First Peoples. Her strong counsels are meaningful to them because they know of the sacrifice she is prepared to make so all Canadians can enjoy a good and prosperous co-existence with us, the keepers of Indigenous bloodlines.

The men of the Native Brotherhood sent Chief Spence their best wishes and their hope that she will stay strong. They wanted her to know that the stand she is taking compels them to leave a gentle indentation on the land of their own doing, as she is. A mark their communities can spiritually touch and connect with. The Chief was grateful for their good wishes and said she will keep them in her prayers as she continues her fast.

Anyone partaking of a ceremonial fast is in a sacred state of spiritual communication. All their words, all their actions, all their thoughts roll like a wind into the world of spirits. The ancestors and loved ones living there welcome the breeze into their midst and make plans at that time on how best to respond to what the wind has brought them.

The lungs and other organs of a human being’s body know what is occurring when sustenance for them stops because a fasting ritual is transpiring. The organs quieten and react to the encouraging whispers of the spirit attached to the human being undergoing the fast. The organs find strength in the prayers being said and do not cry for foods because of them.

Chief Spence also has the island to support her. The rapids and of course the nearby falls so rich in spirit stand with her, too. Anyone who goes there with an open heart will feel upon their souls, the caresses of the many spirits assisting the Chief in her time of fasting. The spirits grant dreams, profound in spiritual messages. They wait to gift people of good hearts who go to the island, with a seed which will flower in their sleep time and reveal something of spiritual direction for them and only them to benefit from.

Let us stand spiritually with Chief Spence and face each of the four directions and say the words “Peace and love to all”.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Imagine 60%

Posted on January 20, 2013 by South Wind

According to a recent poll, 60% of Canadians believe that the First Nations themselves are responsible for the misery and dysfunction found in their communities. This tells me that 60% of Canadians are a pretty hard-hearted bunch. What must they whisper about me to each other, this 60%, when I’m out of ear shot, I wonder. Nothing nice.

Would this 60% have survived what an oppressive, nazi-like society threw at them in the same way the First Nations have? I doubt it. Imagine the 60% being removed from their parents to attend Residential Schools often run by sadists and perverts. Imagine if they were thrown in jail for 90 days for the crime of praying the way our people were. Imagine not having the right to legal representation until after the Second World War. Imagine not being given the right to vote until 1960. A hard-hearted bunch like the 60% cannot even imagine these things happening to them. We can imagine it very well because we lived it and survived it. We are still here and it is only because we are so strong of will and so strong of spirit that we are still here, intact and ready to fight for our rights. The 60% had better stand aside because the First Nations and the 40% of decent Canadians who stand with us are coming through (in a peaceful way) as we make our way to a life as good as yours.

The 60% will no doubt oppose the honouring of our treaty rights, the sharing of the wealth. I say this to the 60%: We do not want tax dollars, not yours, not mine, not those of the 40% of decent Canadians. Honour the treaties and the First Nations will do just fine. And the environment? It will do just fine, too. Mother Earth will be looked after with great care, if we have any kind of say in it.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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Chief Spence and the Sacred Fire

Posted on January 18, 2013 by South Wind

I had an awesome visit at Victoria Island today, January 16, 2013. The sun was warm and shining bright, not interfered with by even the smallest clouds. Large geese, unafraid of people around them, walked about like military brass inspecting their troops. Nearby, the fire cracked and a man sang an ancient song, the drum sang with him. The background sounds of the city disappeared, seemingly swallowed up by ghosts from long ago and only peace and welcoming energy remained. I was not fortunate enough to see Chief Spence but am confident that she benefitted from the blessings of the day as I and all the others on the island did.

All the days of a season are equal, none is greater in its ability to receive an offering of tobacco than is any other day which passes from one moon to the next. The season is strong, from its first moments of life to the last moments of its existence. Still, a special day will occasionally arrive, one chosen by the creator for the purpose of lessons being shared and lessons being learned. Wednesday, January 16th was such a day.

Most Canadians will never understand what a sacred fire communicates to the spirit of a First Nations person. The ability to hear the messages of the fire has been lost to them because of technology. The fire casts its voice into the circle created by its brightness. During night we see the range of its voice. During daylight, the fire’s voice does not extend any further nor any less than it does at night. It speaks and those within the range of its voice listen carefully. It is up to them to share or not to share what the fire has told them. It is up to them to take the message of the sacred fire far away into territories where the sun rises or sets.

It was humbling for me to sit by the fire and pray for the brave Chief in the teepee. I prayed, too, with those people who place their tobacco and prayers of support for the Chief into the fire. I was warmed by the fire and by the songs of the singer, the drum, the presence of the eagle feather and the energy of the good people sitting or standing within the perimeters of the voice of the fire.

My friends, Chief Spence is not a criminal. The fire burns for her and for all good peoples living on Turtle Island. Do not allow the lies of hate mongers to diminish the voice of the fire. We have a great opportunity to be united in a cause, for the good of our next generations. Let’s not waste it.

Keep the Circle Strong,
Albert “South Wind” Dumont.

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