Green
Roots: Walt Bresette
The
Power of Stories
By
Dennis Boyer
Walt,
the self-proclaimed Chubby Chipp of Red Cliff, kept popping in
and out of every land-related slugfest that my crowd found
itself in during the 1980s and 1990s. Just as he educated me
as how defense of the Earth amounted to the Warrior's Path and
just as he taught me Earth-connection as the Sorcerer's Craft,
he also initiated me into Earthtales. The presumption to write
might have had a hold on me prior to those lessons. But when
Walt decided to give a teaching to a roomful of European
Americans I gained a new perspective of the relationship of
storytelling to ecological integrity.
Those
who tell, write, or record stories often go through an
evolution that deepens their relationship to story craft. We
might start out with pure entertainment or straightforward
education. Our writings might encapsulate accumulated folk
wisdom or spiritual insights. The tales might even include
warnings or admonishments. A few rare stories might even have
the capacity to heal. Walt felt that a really good story could
do all those things and, perhaps, even some transformative
things.
Walt
came onto European American turf, as it were to give these
lessons. He spoke to a packed house at the Madeline Island
historical museum. It was an upscale crowd, the parking lot
had more than its share of BMWs and Volvos. The crowd was
drawn in to hear about the environmental traditions of the
Lake Superior Ojibwe. For most in the audience, it was their
first encounter with a real live Indian. Though I was long
acquainted with Walt, I was present through the accident of
guiding a Mennonite ecology group through northern Wisconsin.
Walt
was his usual self: warm and inclusive. Though an
environmental radical in many ways, he was also a crowd
pleaser. One of his first tricks was to adopt the entire
audience into his tribe. He quickly pointed out to delightful
laughter that this status conferred only the obligation to
defend the area covered by Ojibwe treaties and entitled none
present to casino proceeds.
He
soon had the audience eating out of his hand. He congratulated
them on their recycling efforts and generally convinced them
that they were coming around to an environmental outlook based
on native ancestral wisdom. He spoke for over an hour and said
many things that stuck with different people in different
ways.
Here's
what stuck with me. I leave to you to figure out how much of
Walt's tongue was in his cheek
To
understand how my people feel about the Earth you must
understand our stories. How we feel about this place comes
right out of our stories. How we think of ourselves in this
place comes right out of those stories. Our stories are very,
very old. Some go right back to the Creation.
A
lot of our story is about how we got here. I don't mean this
area generally, but right here on Madeline Island. This was
the place we were looking for our promised land, our el
dorado, our holy grail. This place was described in great
detail in the ancient prophecy that guided us here from the
East. We were part of the Algonquin people who lived along the
Atlantic Ocean. My people probably lived for thousands of
years in Nova Scotia or that neighborhood.
Some
of the Old Ones said that it became crowded in that
neighborhood. Others said the food was scarce and that fish
and game were wiped out. But the prophecies came to the people
and they knew they had to move. The main prophecy told them to
look until they found food on water and until they found an
island shaped just like this island we are on tonight.
It
was a long journey of many generations. It took hundreds, if
not thousands, of years. Our people followed the St. Lawrence
River and explored in and around the lower Great Lakes. They
spent time in many places along the way because they were
tired and some of the people wanted to quit. Some would say,
'Hey, we found an island sort of like the one in the
prophecy." So some wanted to stop on Lake Ontario
already. But there were elders who would eventually remind
them that they had not yet reached the food that grows on the
water.
So
on to Lake Erie, Lake Huron, and Lake Michigan. In each place
there were always some who said, "We've gone far enough,
this must be the place." But the elders kept reminding
them about the food on water and the special island. This was
so even though the elders were now the grandsons of the
grandsons of the elders who had heard the original prophecy.
All along the way our people encountered other people and got
along with some and didn't get along with others. Some say
that parts of the Ojibwe even split off or missed their
targets and formed many tribes of Canada, the West, and the
Southwest.
Well,
eventually we found just the right spot, right here on
Madeline Island. And in the smaller lakes around Lake Superior
we found the food that grows on water: wild rice. The stories
of the long journey were told again and again and through the
retelling our land here became sacred to us, part of who we
are as a people. How can you not care for land that is a gift
from the Creator?
And
so we lived here for hundreds, if not thousands, of more
years. Sometimes we feuded with neighbors and sometimes the
rice crop was not as good as it might have been. But life was
good in general. Then along came some white guys with long
curly hair and with a flag with lilies on it. They told us
that we were now part of France. We humored them, sold them
some furs and basically things stayed the same.
So
it went for many generations under the lily flag, the Ojibwe
drawing life from the Lake Superior region. Then some white
guys in red coats sailed over the horizon in a ship under flag
with crazy angled strips. They told us that we were now part
of England and, by the way, forget about those French. Not
much changed. Well, actually, furs were getting scarcer. But
we humored them and even fought as their allies against some
upstarts called Americans.
Imagine
our surprise, when after a couple of generations of being
English, another ship sailed over the horizon with a flag
called the stars and stripes. Gosh darn it, now we were
Americans. But nothing much changed. At least at first. Our
main relationship was not with the political powers, it was
with the land and the lake. Our stories about the land and the
lake got us through difficult times. We just had to add new
chapters to the story to account for the French, the English
and the Americans.
This
is why we are capable of great environmental action here. You
know, I think we should take the lead in a pressing
environmental problem. I think I've convinced myself that we
should put the nuclear waste repository in this area. Yes,
doesn't that make sense? We'd only have to displace a few
tourist facilities and we'd be doing the stars and strips a
favor.
They
seem to keep making this waste. It's got to go somewhere. The
darn stuff is deadly for tens of thousands of years and that
complicates things. That's why you need to let us handle it.
These white political institutions don't have the staying
power of the stories that we Lake Superior Ojibwe have. We
kept our stories and our prophecies all during our long
journey here. We kept our sense of balance with the land and
the lake all through the time of the lily flag, the crazy line
flag, and the stars and stripes. Even when our American
brothers gave us our tiny reservations in exchange for the
millions of acres they thought we weren't using.
But
we'll outlast all that stuff because we have powerful stories.
So send that nuke waste up our way. Then thousands of years
from now, after the U.S. government's warning signs have
rusted away, thousands of years after the U.S. government has
rusted away, there will be Ojibwe elders who tell our stories
about our love of the land and the lake. The stories will be
more powerful and more necessary than ever. There will be
chapters in those stories about an evil force, a foolish
poison that men unleashed on this Earth. And those elders will
tell the children about how the Ojibwe helped put the evil
monster to sleep and locked it under a stone door. And so the
powerful stories will tell the young which stone doors on
which hillsides should not be disturbed.
That,
my adopted Ojibwe friends, is the power of our stories.
Copyright
2004 Dennis Boyer used with permission
Dennis Boyer helped start the Wisconsin Greens in the 1980s.
He is a folklorist and writer of regional lore. Among his
recent works are Snow on the Rails: Tales of Heartland
Railroading and Gone Missing: A Supernatural Tour of the Great
Lakes (available at www.badgerbooks.com).
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