As Long as the Rivers Flow Read online

  Under her arm, Grandma carried her small, single-shot .22 rifle. It was so old that it was held together by a bit of wire. Her eyesight was dimming, but she could still bring home a rabbit or partridge for supper.

  “My rifle is as old as I am but that doesn’t matter. It has kept me in food and clothing for many years. That is all that counts,” she said.

  Some medicines grew in swampy areas. Others, like sage, grew in dry areas.

  “You will find Labrador bushes in the muskeg,” Grandma told Lawrence as they walked. “We make tea with the leaves. It helps us feel better when we’re tired or feeling sick.”

  By the shore of a little lake, she used her knife to cut the roots of a plant. From her pouch, she took a pinch of tobacco.

  “This is how we give thanks to our mother earth,” she said. She put the tobacco in the ground where the root had been.

  Grandma held up a chunk of root. “When it is dried, this rat root is good for a sore throat or a cold. Chew a small piece or make a tea with it. I always carry rat root wherever I go.”

  She knew her grandson was tired, yet he didn’t complain. She pointed to a clear stream that gurgled on its way to the river.

  “Here is a good spot for a cup of tea and some bannock.” Soon her fire burned brightly and the water in her tea pot bubbled. She threw a handful of mint leaves into the pot.

  Whiskers eyed the bannock hungrily. “You should be hunting your own food,” Grandma told him. Whiskers wagged his tail. Grandma chuckled.

  “Take this piece of bannock, you lazy dog. But I expect you to keep your eye out for bears.”

  * * *

  “Where is Whiskers?”

  As Lawrence poured water over the fire, Grandma grumbled out loud. “It’s not like that silly dog to run off. He’s usually afraid of his own shadow.”

  She pointed up the trail. “The medicine I want grows just over that hill.” Carrying her packsack, she set off quickly with Lawrence following right behind. Their willow branch fly swatters made the only sound in the forest.

  Grandma slowed down.

  “Something is not right here,” she said. “All the birds are quiet.”

  Lawrence looked around. The forest was still. Even the leaves seemed to have stopped rustling.

  Suddenly he felt afraid.

  Grandma stopped walking. “Stay behind me, Lawrence. Don’t make any noise. Keep a sharp lookout,” she ordered.

  Lawrence’s thoughts raced wildly. He knew wild animals could be dangerous. What if it was a moose with big antlers? What would he do? What if it was a cougar hiding in the trees?

  He crept closer to Grandma. Her eyes searched the tall grasses and willow bushes ahead, watching for movement.

  Without warning, a giant grizzly reared up before them on the trail. Lawrence had never seen anything that big. The bear was as tall as their house.

  The grizzly towered over them, grunting and snorting. His huge front paws were raised high. Lawrence knew from the elders that this was a bad sign. Bears were most dangerous when they stood up, especially grizzly bears. The elders also said that to run from a grizzly was certain death.

  Instantly, Grandma threw her packsack in front of the grizzly. For a moment the bear hesitated, curious at what he had found.

  Grandma hissed, “Whatever you do, Lawrence, don’t move.”

  Ever so slowly, she raised her little rifle with its single bullet. She stared straight at the powerful beast. She knew she would not have a chance to reload.

  Then she shot.

  In slow motion, the grizzly began to fall toward them. Grandma jumped back, bumping into Lawrence as the giant bear toppled forward, crashing at their feet. A cloud of dust rose around them.

  Almost not daring to breathe, they stared at the mountain of brown fur. Even lying down, it was as tall as Lawrence. The bear’s claws were longer than Papa’s fingers.

  Were they really safe? Or would the bear jump up and chase them?

  “If he moves, run and climb a tree as fast as you can,” whispered Grandma.

  “I’m not leaving you, Kokom.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”

  After a long time, Grandma sat down beside the bear. “Thank you for giving up your spirit and not killing us,” she said.

  “Thank you, grizzly bear,” Lawrence repeated.

  “This grizzly was the king of this area for a long time,” said Grandma. “He is the biggest grizzly I’ve ever seen.” She gave Lawrence a hug.

  They hurried back to camp. On the way, Whiskers came slinking out of the bush.

  “Come here, you scaredy

  rabbit,” Grandma scolded. “I should have called you Wapoose after all. You never even barked once to warn us.”

  * * *

  Camp was abuzz with talk of the giant grizzly.

  While Grandma rested, Papa, Uncle Louis and Uncle James went into the bush with the horses to bring back the bear. When he saw it, Uncle Louis was amazed.

  “There are many bears in this area, but none as big as this one,” he said.

  They cut the meat into portions and loaded it on the horses. Back at the camp, it would be smoked and dried, then shared with all the families.

  Every part of the bear could be used. Bear grease was prized as a rub for people with sore bones. The claws and teeth were given as gifts of honor. The hide made a prized rug.

  While everyone worked, Grandma sat calmly, sipping her mug of tea under the shade of a tarp.

  Papa joked, “Kokom, imagine what you could do with a slingshot.”

  More than once, Mama hugged Lawrence.

  “My son,” she said, “we will celebrate your bravery with a feast when we get home.”

  Something like a frog jumped in Lawrence’s throat. He was so happy he wanted to cry.

  Soon it was time to pack for home. The two families had worked hard, picking sacks of berries, smoking and drying meat for winter, and gathering large bundles of wild mint and medicine plants.

  For the last time, Lawrence and his cousins swam in the cool, clear river.

  “I’m a grizzly bear,” shouted Lawrence. He snorted and splashed water everywhere. The children’s laughter carried all the way to the camp.

  Chapter 4 | As Long as the Rivers Flow

  Lawrence ran into the shed. Ooh-Hoo was not there.

  He ran out again, calling for Maruk.

  “Where is Ooh-Hoo?” he asked breathlessly.

  She burst into tears. “He flew away.”

  Lawrence ran to Papa. “Ooh-Hoo’s gone,” he cried.

  Papa was unloading the wagon. “I told you that one day Ooh-Hoo would leave us,” he said. “But don’t worry. He’s still too young to hunt for himself. After he practices flying some more, he’ll be back for his supper.”

  Feeling lost, Lawrence wandered down to the woods. Suddenly, a dark shape sailed silently through the air.

  “Ooh-Hoo!” Lawrence hollered. The owl settled on a nearby tree.

  “Ooh-Hoo, I’m home.”

  The owl’s head swiveled right around as if to listen better.

  “I knocked over a giant grizzly bear, bigger than the shed. You don’t have to be afraid of anything when I’m around,” Lawrence bragged.

  With a swoop, Ooh-Hoo flew into the boy’s arms.

  All day long, good smells came from the house as the family prepared for the gathering. As the guests arrived, Lawrence was surprised that he had so many aunts and uncles and cousins.

  “Tell us about the grizzly bear,” his cousins begged.

  Finally the feast was ready. The table was covered with pots of moose stew and piles of fresh-baked bread. Special foods like smoked fish and duck soup were cooked in honor of the elders and storytellers. Lawrence ate until he was stuffed.

  After supp
er, everyone settled comfortably outside on blankets around the fire. The storytelling began.

  Uncle Louis stood up. He was tall and handsome. Everyone knew that he was the best storyteller around. Even the youngest children were quiet.

  Uncle Louis stroked his bushy moustache before speaking.

  “Once there was a man who walked in the four directions. He went north, south, east and west. He was a brave and seeking person who went from village to village learning all there was to know.

  “He learned about new foods and how to cook them. In the prairies, he lived in tepees. In the cold lands, he lived in igloos.

  “He saw waves of grass where the buffalo roamed. He tasted salty water where the sun rises and the sun sets. He came to dry lands where the sands were hot.”

  Lawrence saw himself in Uncle Louis’s story, walking every step of the way.

  Then it was Auntie Rose’s turn. She told them about three hunters who surprised a grizzly bear eating their moose.

  “The hunters climbed high into the only tree around. It wasn’t very big or very strong. It started sagging until they were over the grizzly’s head. The bear took a swipe at them, but the hunters were just out of reach. They hung down from that tree like berries thick on a branch. They looked tasty, too.”

  Auntie Rose turned to Uncle Dave. “Weren’t you one of those hunters?” she asked.

  “Oh, I was too skinny to tempt the bear,” Uncle Dave replied. “But you should have seen my cousin Otamuwin. He was sorry he had eaten so much. The bear was drooling at the sight of him.” Everyone laughed.

  Grandpa rose and called Lawrence to his side. “This is my grandson. Not many boys his age meet a grizzly bear or care for an owl. From now on, we will call him Oskiniko.”

  The name meant Young Man. Lawrence stood proudly beside his grandpa.

  The firelight flickered on Grandpa’s gentle face. “This land has always given us what we need to live,” he said gravely. “Like they told us long ago, as long as the rivers flow, this land is ours. It is up to all of us to care for it. Now it’s your turn, grandchildren. The future is in your hands.”

  The stories continued long into the night. Lawrence’s eyes began to droop. Soon he fell asleep listening to the familiar voices.

  * * *

  Lawrence rose early. He wanted to walk through the bush to his favorite places. He had heard many things around the fire. Now he wanted time to remember the stories and teachings.

  As his hand touched the door, Mama whispered, “Oskiniko, you take care.”

  “I will, Mama.” He slipped out to watch the earth wake again.

  Ooh-Hoo hooted and followed Lawrence from tree to tree.

  He is speaking especially to me, thought Lawrence.

  By a little lake, he saw two ducks rising swiftly from the water. He knew that soon they would fly south for the winter.

  At Prairie Creek, he went to his secret patch of chokecherry bushes. He picked a handful of the black berries to eat. They were sweet and juicy now. At the swimming hole, he went for a swim.

  When he returned home, the sun was high in the sky. Mama and Grandma sat in the kitchen. They looked up sadly as he came in.

  “Is something wrong?” Lawrence asked.

  “I was waiting for you, my son,” Mama said. “Tell the children to come in. I have something to tell all of you.”

  The children gathered around the kitchen table. Mama put fresh buns in front of them. Each child took one, then looked at her with questioning eyes.

  “In a couple of days, they are going to come to take you to a school far away.”

  Maruk began to cry. “I don’t want to go,” she said.

  Little brother Buddy and baby Leonard cried, too.

  Lawrence spoke in a shaky voice. “You mean we’re not going to live at home anymore?”

  Mama’s eyes were shiny with tears. “They told us there is nothing we can do. All the children have to go to their school or the parents will be put in prison.”

  She tried to smile as big tears rolled down her face.

  The children stared at their buns. No one felt hungry anymore.

  Lawrence ran out of the house to the darkness of the shed. He held Ooh-Hoo close.

  Home was the only place he knew. What would happen without Mama and Papa? What would he eat at the school? Where would he sleep? What would happen to his sister and brothers? Who would take care of Ooh-Hoo?

  His tears fell on the bird’s feathers.

  * * *

  The day finally arrived. After breakfast, the children dressed in their best clothes. They stood close to Mama and Grandma. Grandpa put his arm around Grandma’s shoulders.

  A big brown truck with high sides pulled up. Two men got out. They both wore black and looked like giant crows.

  “Hurry up,” one of them said to the children loudly in English. “It’s time to get on the truck.”

  The children pulled back, terrified of the strangers. Maruk clung to Mama’s skirt.

  Papa spoke to Lawrence in their own language.

  “Be brave, Oskiniko. Take care of your younger sister and brothers.”

  The strange men lifted the crying children one by one onto the truck. Papa watched, his face angry, his fists clenched.

  As the men closed up the back of the truck, Lawrence began to cry, too.

  The sides of the truck were high. He couldn’t see his family. He couldn’t see Ooh-Hoo sitting in a tree.

  As the truck pulled away, all Lawrence could see was the sky.

  EPILOGUE

  Lawrence (Larry Loyie) was one of tens of thousands of North American native children who were taken from their families to residential schools during a hundred-year period that began around 1880. Some children were as young as two years old.

  In these schools, also called Indian boarding schools, mission schools and industrial schools in the United States and Canada, children were separated from their families for a long time. If they spoke their native language, the teachers washed their mouths with soap or strapped them. Parents who tried to keep their children at home could be put in jail.

  Lawrence was ten years old when he was taken to St. Bernard’s Mission residential school in northern Alberta. The children worked hard at St. Bernard’s. They piled wood, planted fields of potatoes, darned and sewed their own clothes, washed laundry, cleaned floors and worked in the kitchen. There were many rules to follow every day, and the teachers were strict and even cruel. The children spent so little time in the classroom that many could not read or write when they left.

  First Nations children call many people grandparents. They learn from all of them. Lawrence’s mosoom (grandfather) Edward Twin lived to be 105 years old. He was Lawrence’s mother’s father. His kokom (grandmother) Bella Twin is famous for shooting one of the biggest grizzlies in North America. She was Lawrence’s mother’s aunt.

  Photo courtesy Louise Loyie

  Photo courtesy Roland Eben-Ebenau

  Photo courtesy Eileen Kuhberg

  Photo courtesy Eileen Kuhberg

  Above: Being outdoors and traveling as a family with horses and wagon were an exciting part of Lawrence’s childhood. After the family crossed a river (left), they would stop for lunch (right).

  Below: Like other children who went to residential schools, Lawrence (circled) was not allowed to speak his native language. He was also made to learn Latin so he could be an altar boy at church.

  Photo courtesy La société généalogique et historique de Smoky River, Donnelly, Alberta When Lawrence finally went home at age fourteen, he felt like a stranger. He tried to recapture the feeling of freedom he had felt when he lived with his family in the bush, but things were never the same. He left home and went to work on farms and in logging camps. Muc
h later in life, he returned to school to learn English grammar. He taught himself how to type. That was his start at becoming a writer.

  Although the residential schools no longer exist, many people still suffer from bad memories of those unhappy times. By talking about the past and by relearning their traditions, many First Nations people are now making efforts to heal the pain and to learn with pride about a beautiful and free way of life.

  Lawrence’s mother and nine of her children went to residential schools. This photo of younger sister Maruk (circled) was taken at her school.

  Photo courtesy La société généalogique et historique de Smoky River, Donnelly, Alberta

  Above: Lawrence’s younger brothers Buddy (front row center) and Leonard (front row second from right) at residential school.

  Below left: Children were brought to the residential schools from great distances. At St. Bernard’s they went to church every day and lived in dormitories.

  Below right: Lawrence looking at a grizzly bear in a museum in Kinuso in northern Alberta. The grizzly his grandmother shot was much bigger than this one.

  Photos courtesy La société généalogique et historique de Smoky River,

  Donnelly, Alberta

  Photo courtesy

  Constance Brissenden

  * * *

  Text copyright © 2002 by Lawrence A. Loyie and

  Constance Brissenden

  Photographs copyright © 2002 by the owners

  Illustrations copyright © 2002 by Heather D. Holmlund

  First published in the USA in 2003

  First paperback edition 2005

  Thirteenth paperback printing 2019