how our stories teach aw

7/22/2019 How Our Stories Teach AW

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/how-our-stories-teach-aw 1/3

HowOurStoriesTeach~AlexandriaWilson

InordertoentertheexhibitareaattheManitobaMuseum

inWinnipeg,youfirstmustfaceamuraldepictinganOji-

Creecreationstory.Thepainting,byDaphneOdjig,tellsa

storyasoldaslifeitself-onepassedfromgenerationto

generation,carryingwithitourreligion,ourcultureandour

existence.Astorylikethatcanonlybetoldandlistenedto,neverwrittendown.Stampedinlinesofblacklettersontoa

whitepage,recordedandreduced,repeatingitselfwith

eachreading,themeaningofthatstorywouldbelost.We

musttellourstoriescarefully.

Iwas15whenIfirstsawthatpainting.Itwasaperfectpiece

ofcommissionedart,brilliantlycoloredandobviously

symbolicinawaythatwaspleasingly‘primitive’tothe

museumboard.Iwascertain.Andhugeasitwas,itwas

secretlyeloquentinthethinlinesthatconnectedeach

animaltoanother,whisperingtome,thisishowtheworld

wascreated.

Ihadarrivedatthemuseumalone,butfellinwithagrouponaguidedtour.Thepainting,thetourguidepointedout,

“describedacreationmyth.Actually,Nativepeoplecameto

NorthAmericaovertheBeringStraitlandbridge.”Heledus

intothemuseum’sfirstexhibit.Onewallwascoveredwitha

mapofNorthAmerica;smallcaveman-likefigureswere

paintedonit,walkingasteportwobehindhugeanimals,

movingdownthewestcoastandheadingsouth.

“TheycrossedovertheBeringStraitwhenthewaterlevel

waslowandeverythingwascompletelyfrozen.Fromthere,

theyfollowedtheanimals,pushedsouthbytheencroaching

icesheetsuntileventuallytheyspreadalloverthe

Americas.Theyhuntedmainlywoollymammoths.”He

turnedforsomethingbesidehimthenspunsuddenlyback

towardus.Withasmalljumpandaheavythud,helanded

onbothfeetkneesslightlybendandfacetwistedintoa

strangeandridiculousgrimace,aspearraisedandreadyin

hisrighthand,apaleanddressedshapeofawarrior.“This”,

hesaid,“isanatlatl-thespeartheyusedtokilltheirprey”,

hesitatingalittle,standinglikehimselfnow,“Imean,a

reproductionofit.”

Thepeopleinthetourgaspedandtouchedthespearin

amazement.Oneman,whohadnoddedhisheadin

agreementduringthedemonstration,washoldingforthto

hisfriends,offeringdetailsaboutthearrowheads,howthey

weremade,explaininghowthespearworkedandthe

physicsofasuccessfulkill.Anotherman,standingbeforethemapandwithaweatherman’sauthorativesweepofhis

arm,wasshowinghiswifethemovementoftheicesheet,

forcingtheflowofthepeopleandanimalsbeforeand

behindit.

Thetourcontinued.Wewerewalkingsouthfromthe

northernmosttipofManitoba.First‘TheArctic’then‘Sub-

Arctic’andonto‘TheBorealForest’.Thetourguidewaited

bytheentrancetothatexhibitforthegroup’sstrugglesto

catchup.Wegatheredinfrontofasmallvideomonitor,

andtheguidebegantoreciteastoryaboutWeesageychak.

ThemonitorshowedacartoonwithWeesageychak

sketchedasanAboriginalmantoillustratethetourguide’s

story.

Istoodbackandtothesideofthesmallcrowd,tryingto

listenbutdreaminginstead.Asachild,thefirstwordI

spokewasmu(listen)inCree.Ihadheardthestorythetour

guidewastryingtotellmanytimesbefore.

MyfathertoldusWeesageychakstories;myfamily

gatheredroundinwarmflannelpajamasoncoldanddark

wintermornings.MydadwouldcookforuseverySunday

andwe’dsittogetheratthetable.Mymom,mybrothers

andIhopedhewouldserveupastorywhilewewaitedforourmeal.Soonerorlaterhe’dstart.

“Weesageychakwashungry.Weesageychakmakaessaoma

utinootekatao,innakayas,askakimichisoot.Shehadn’t

hadanythingtoeatforalongtime.Sure,hehadbeen

eatingberries,roots,bulrushesbuthehadn’thadanything

thattastedreallygoodforawhile.Hewashungryformeat.

Weeasinewessaomakanootamechit.Likealways,hewas

tryingtofigureoutawaytogetwhathewanted.Well,as

shewaswalkingalongthelakeside,shespottedsome

waterfowl.Hethoughtforawhile,tryingtofigureoutan

easywaytocatchthem.Finally,shecameupwithalittle

scheme.Kettatawenessaomakamiskwenetaktansikitta

itakamisit.

Weesageychakbuiltafirealongtheshore.Hestarted

singing,bangingonadrumhehad,anddancingtohisown

music.Soonenough,heattractedtheattentionofthebirds.

“Whatareyoudoing?”theyasked.“I’mdoingaspecial

dance.Ineedyourhelp.There’sacatastrophecoming,I

knowit.Weneedtodancetoavertit.Ican’tdoitby

myself!”




“Well,ofcoursewe’llhelp,”thebirdssaid.“Whatdoyou

wantustodo?”

“Watchmecarefully,thewayIdancearoundthefire,then

followme.Ithastobedonejustthisway,withyoureyesclosedandeverythingoritwon’twork.Watch.”

AndWeesageychakstarteddancingaroundthefireagain.

Thebirdswatchedcarefully,practicingtheirmovementsa

littleandthenfellinbehindWeesageychak,eyesclosedand

dancinginstepwithhim.

WhenWeesageychakcaughtuptothelastbirdintheline,

thegoose,hegrabbeditbytheneck.Heswungitaround

andaroundintheairuntilitsneck

broke,thenthrewthebirdintothefire.

Theloonsmelledthesingedfeathers,

startedtoworryandopeneditseyejust

alittleforapeek.ItsawWeesageychak

twirlingaroundthenextbirdattheback

oftheline.Theloonsoundedthealarm.

“Weesageychakiskillingthegeese!Weesageychakiskilling

thegeese!”Alltheotherbirdsgotaway–evensomeofthe

geesewobbledoutofWeesageychak’sreach.

Weesageychakwassomadattheloonthathestarted

chasingitaroundandaroundthefire.Hetookakickatit,

caughtitrightintherearandsentitflying.Shecaughtupto

itandkickeditagain.Thenexttime,shekickeditsohardthatitsbodymovedforwardandleftitslegsbehind.

“Thus,”myfatherwould

explain,“theloonhasitsstrange

anatomyandthegoosehasits

longneck.”

Now,hereIstood,positioned

betweencaricatureandhistory,

listeningtothatsamestorytold

intheearnest,abridged

languageofananthropology

student.“Thetricksterfigure,

Weesageychak,isthecentral

characterofCreemythology.”I

couldn’thelpbutlaughalittle.

Thenamesoundedstrangeinhismouth,withthe

uncomfortablepronunciationofaforeignword,his

emphasisonallthewrongsyllables.Iwassurethat

Weesageychakherself,himself,wasgigglingwithme.

Remember,Weesagechahkdoesnothaveafluidgender

identityandexpression.

Thetourists,though,wererestless,andtheguidebegan

herdingusintothenextroom.Theroomwasalready

inhabitedbythelifelessformsofadiorama.Thetreeshad

beenconstructed,“needlebyneedle”,theguidesaid

proudly,“entirelyoutofwax.”Therewasarunningstream,stuffedanimals,andpeople.SuddenlyIwasscared.The

peoplelookedfamiliar.Anoldwoman,amanandsome

children,eachfaceshadowedwithmemoryforme.The

guideannouncedthateachofthepeoplewerewaxreplicas

ofrealCreepeoplefromThePasReserve.Ilookedupat

himandwhispered,“I’mfromThePasReserve.”

WefinallymadeitthroughthePlainsandbacktoWinnipeg.

Whiletherestofthegroupwerecrawlinginsideatepee,

theguideaskedmewhatIhadthoughtofthetourandthe

exhibits.ItoldhimhowwepronounceWeesageychak.“He

isn’tjustaman,”Iadded.“Weesageychakcanbewhoeverit

wants,awoman,man,animalorallatonce.That’swhat

makesthestoriessogood.”TheguideaskedifIwouldlike

toworkpart-timeatthemuseum,perhapson“TheNative

PeoplesTour.”

IsaidIwouldthinkaboutitandgothisnumber.

Ofcourse,Icouldn’tresisthisoffer.ThenextweekIwent

onafewtourswithotherguidesandthenIwasonmyown.

Herewasmychancetotellagoodstory.Icouldtalkabout

thepainting;tracethecreationstoryittold.Iwouldpush

thegrouppastthelandbridgesection,remindingthemthat

itwasjustatheory,“ascientificmyth,infact,thatrecentevidencesuggestedwasfalse.”

Itwasn’tlongthough,beforeIrealized

thatmostofthemuseum’spatrons

preferredwaxcaststolivingAboriginal

people.WhatifthatfamilyfromThe

Paswasreallyhere,nolongerfrozenin

ahistoricwilderness?Saytheywere

standingjustinsidethemuseum

doors,outofthecold,tryingtofigure

outwhattheywantedtodointhecity.

Thekidswouldbeaskingfor

McDonald’sandtheparentswouldbe

tryingtofigureouthowtheycoulddo

thatandstillsqueezeinsome

shopping,allbeforeitgottoodarkto

startthedrivehome.Themuseumpatronswouldmove

aroundthem;somewouldevenfindanotherexit.None,I

knew,wouldlookstraightatthem,listenalittle,smileat

thechildren,orofferdirectionstoagoodmallwitha

McDonald’s.

CreeElderStanWilsonofOpaskwayakCreeNation




Ididn’tlastlongattheMuseumofManandNature.I

finishedthecourseIhadbeentakingatthesummerschool

andwasabletoreturnhome.Ihaven’tbeenbacktothe

museumsincethen–I’vetriedtostayoutofanymuseum.

NowI’mhereatHarvard,tryingtouseIndigenous

epistemologytoinvigoratepsychology’sapproachtoourcommunity.I’mfarfromhomenow,butouruniversityhas

someresourcesfortheworkIwanttodo.Icansearchthe

campusdatabasesandfindlistsofbooks,journals,and

writersallofthemhere.IcantalkabouttheCree

cosmologiesandculturalcongruity,andmyclassmateswill

nodinacceptance,asmallgesturethatsometimesseemsto

acknowledgetheauthorityofmyowncommunity’s

experienceofourworld.Iamgratefulforthesethings.

Mostoftheuniversity’sbooksonNativeAmericansarekept

intheTozzerLibrary,adjuncttothePeabodyMuseum.You

enterthroughlargeglassdoors,goupafewstepstoatiled

mezzaninethatformsabridgebetweenthemuseumonthe

leftandthelibraryontheright.Artefactsarehungalong

thepassageway,andacarvedwoodencradleandrock

shapedintoagiantfigureheadsitateitherend.I’vebeenin

themuseumonce,asmuchthefoolnowasIwasasachild.

AsgullibleasWeesageychak’sgeese,Iwasluredbya

museumworker’srequestforhelp.MyfriendandIhad

beenaskedforfeedbackonanewexhibitontheSundance.

Wehadshownupatthemuseumjustasitwasclosingand

hadbeendirectedtothemainexhibitareabyanimpatient

staffmember,obviouslyreadytoleave.Wecircledthrough

themuseum,pastaseriesofreconstructionsofNativeAmericanlife,movie-setminiaturizationsofaPlainspeople

teepee,aPueblo,alonghouse.TheSceneswerestrung

togetheragainstbarelylitwallsandwecouldn’tfindwhat

wewerelookingfor.Howcouldtheymakeadisplayoutof

theSundanceanyway?NoonegoestoaSundancejustto

watchorimaginesheorshecanlearnfromitbylookingat

it.Eachpersonpresentsatthatceremonymustbepartofit.

Itmadenosense.

ThatwasmyonlytriptothePeabody’sexhibitarea.Iuse

thelibraryunwillingly.Ihavefeltuneasythere,really,from

thefirstmomentIsteppedpastthecradleintothe

circulationarea.Imademywayupthestairstothesecond

floor.Ahugethunderbirdissuspendedinmid-air,right

thereinthelibrary.Ifoundmybooksandsettleddown

atthetabletoread.There,inlinesoftypeonsheetsof

paperbrownandbrittlewithage,andinnostalgically

sepia-tintedphotosreprintedinmoderntexts,Ifound

mypeoplepressedflatanddrybetweenthepages.

Thethunderbirdhungheavilyovereachpageandall

roundme.Ilookedupfrommybooksrightintoits

face,anditcalledmeoverwithitseyes.

WhenIstood,asharppainshotthroughmyback,andmy

kneesbuckled.Iwaited,thenstoodagainandwalkedacross

theroomtoit.Ithadbeencarvedfromanenormoustree,

paintedblackandwhite,greenandred,darkandviolent

coloursintheoverlitlibrary.Itswingsextendedacrosstheentirewidthoftheskylightitwastrappedbeneath.Iturned

tolookbehindit.Athickmetalbarextendedfromthewall

andstabbedintoitsback,weldingitinplace.WhenIsaw

thebar,myheadstartedtospin.IfeltasifIwasgoingto

throwup.Ibracedmyselfagainstthewall,whispereda

prayertothethunderbird,thenleftthelibrary.

I’mnotreadytoreturntothelibraryorthemuseumyet.

FriendswillretrievethebooksIneed.Andintheend,no

onefromthemuseumrememberedtoaskuswhatwe

thoughtoftheSundanceexhibit.Istillcatchmyself

sometimes,appealingtoWesternsciencetoshoreup

Indigenousknowledge,startingintoacreationstorywhen

someoneaskswhythere’saturtleonmyshirt.

I’mtryingtolearnWeesageychak’smissedlessons,how

evenourmostnaivelymisguidedactionslingerintheir

unintendedeffects.Ithinkaboutthethunderbird,hanging

overfictionsandtruths.Ithinkofthestolenskeletons,

scalps,clothing,toolsandtotemnextdoor.Ipicturethe

museum’sbasement,wallscoveredwithdarkwooden

cabinets,eachcabinetastackofthindrawers,eachdrawer

filledwithlinesofcarefullymeasuredskulls.AndbeforeI

cancryout,Iimagineundoingitall,the“heroicfool”willto

makerealtheunreal.

Iwillpullopeneachdrawer,athousandemptyeyes

witnessingagain,andIwillinhaledeeplyinthedustofmy

ancestors.Iwillbreatheadeepandswallowedbreath,oneI

refusetoletgo,andwhenIleave,myancestorswillbewith

me,thereinmylungs,smuggledoutinmyflesh.Wewill

walkbackacrossthebridge,upthestairs,standunderthe

thunderbirdandpush.Ourpushwillbestrongerthaniron,

woodwillbestrongerthaniron,andtheironbarwillsnap.

Wewillgiveonefabulouspushuntilthethunderbirdbreaks

free.Itwillliftpasttheglassskylightandmove,redand

green,blackand

white,thecolorsof

theforestagain

beneaththebluesky.

AlexandriaWilsonisa

memberofOpaskwayak

CreeNationandaPhD

graduatefromHarvard

University

*formattedasaBraidingHistoriesteachingstorybyVandaFleury,2012.AversionofthisstorywasoriginallypublishedintheCanadianJournalof

Education,1999.

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