…up in the gallery. I went to the mall last night to see some sort of Aboriginal performance. The Aboriginal Hockey Championships have been in town all week, and it’s been fun to see rental cars driving by, loaded to the brim, happy smiling faces inside, flags waving from the antennae.
But sad, too. To see a woman stand in front of a small crowd (who is trying not to sit in all those empty seats) talk about honour as other people walk by ignoring it completly.
Sad to hear her talk about singing in Mi’kmaq, how she doesn’t know the meaning of all the words she sings with her granddaughter,
how there are too few people left in her area to speak it, because they were not allowed to speak it in school, it was the “Devil’s Language”. Thankfully, that is changing some, but it’s still so sad –
to hear the stories,
the drum pound pound pounding,
the shaker in time to the beat,
her feet dancing,
hands lifted to spirits only she remembers.
And the shoppers swirled around.
(Hear some for yourself on this page. Many thanks to Mi’kmac online for sharing with us.)
Follow me