An Old Prayer

AN OLD PRAYER.

THUNDER:  

O Jigwé Nagan’ien

Oh Thunder Leader

Mamwé mishkwezyen shote

Supreme Power here

Égi bgednegoyen éwi je

You were placed and to

Kewabmiyak I je mine

Protect us (also) and

Éwi nizhokmodwan gij

To help your other

Mishkwezimak éwi

Lesser plants under you and good

Mnogmoak éwi nizhokmodwan  *(always praise the

Rains and help (bless us with)       rains)

Éwi mno bmadziyak jak gégo

Good lives (that we may live good lives)

Mine éwi gsiabaudi’ek

All crops, growths and every variety

Nebeshknegen jayék

All rotten things (and washes clean atop the ME

All rotten things)

Anaké tatbégwen mine mishkoyen

Along with leaves and weeds

Nebeshknegen éwi binabaud’iek

Rotten and made clean by the rain

Édnesyak iw je pi

Where we live and when

Zhawno’enmek émnoskyag inoden

The South Winds with their nice damp air and the Great

Good Wind

Égche mnobmadji shka gwi yak

Enable us to live and able

Ije gedzhi’esk miyak jak

To continue all

Mno mikjéwiwen éwi

Variety of good work and

Jak gishwiyak we’an meze

Variety of completed work pursuing

Mno mikjéwiyak éwi zhigojkemegon

Good work and to avoid

Mine jak nenyézanyek

Any and all danger.

NORTH SPIRIT:

Ahau Pondesé wéwéne

Greeting Coldness (One) earnestly

Kenadotmonenan éwi

We ask you and

Kewabmiyak wéwénije

Protect us earnestly we ask

Kenadotmonenan éwi

You to protect us and

Kewabmiyak éwi bwa zigdezhiyak

Watch over us and not to freeze us

Bénagdze éwi zak senyak

Be very mild then Cold Ones

Ije gche ndotmonenan

And we request

Débtso éwi bgeshagon

A sufficiency then of falling snow

Éwi ngwagneg se kig

So as to blanket the Earth

Éwi déb mno Otakiwak

And so sufficient a nice dampening of the Earth

Gé she je kejkadoiyag éwi

In order to help us then

Gizhgatoyag wabgonen

Raise pumpkins

Ndamneg mine penik

Corn and potatoes

Mine kojések mine

And beans and

Jak ézgak washkgbek

All variety of growing things

Mine jak ézgak bébiz wayak

And also small fruits.

THE EAST:

Kegnaswé ékche yéwak

Coming Daylight Greatest

Gebébamzawen gin

Power you

Éwedzema dzegék jak gégo

Start varieties of everything

Bamgak mshkekegé jak

Growing medicine all

Éshkek wa nadwashkag wiyak

Kinds that grow for doctoring ourselves

Ébgosén demak wéwéne éwi

We wish sincerely then

Gizgak iw je wéwéne gé je

They grow then nicely so we can

Skeksedoiyak éwi

Gather them and

Nado’owé wiyak iw pi éyaknogéyak

Cure ourselves when we fall ill

Iw je wéwéne kéndotmon nag tche

And respectfully I ask you an early

Ewi Mnokmek iw je wéwéne

Spring and respectfully

Endotmonag jak ézgak

We ask you for it all kinds of growing

Washkgbeg gé je skeknemag

Fruit that we may gather

Iw pi Ponok éwi mijyak

When Winter comes and we eat

Mine éwizgek nekmek jak

And gather all kinds

Ezgek mashgeké

Of growing things.

THE SOUTH :

Zhawdesi ik she éndotmonag

Hotness now we pray

Ewi mizhyak jak gégo kazegek

Then give us varities of all that

Géte ga nak gin jayék épamzen

Grows in the fields you do have all kinds of control

Ékwabdoyen éwi mno zak ki’eg

You have charge of them and good growths

MOTHER EARTH:

Mesekmekwé ngyénan ik she

Top soil our Mother now we

Wéwéne éndotmonag gé pe

Respectfully ask you to fulfill your

Bamziwen gé gin ga wje

Responsibility that is your duty

Bgetnegoyen éwi je nizhokmowiyak

You were placed to do and help us execute

Shewénmatenejnag éwi mno

Graciously and good

Zak k’yég mine wéwéne éwi

To sprout and properly to

Gizhgag jak gégo waje’ gé’ak

Mature all everything they/we plant

Éwi mémek mikwékek

And make them grow abundantly.

THE GOOD SPIRIT:

She wén ge’en mnomneto wéwéne

Merciful Good Spirit respectfully

Knedotmomen éwi kewabmiyak

We say to protect then (us) from

Jak gégo éje nizan wiyag

All of the dangers

Gche tche igwan n’mo jenak

Avert cyclone or

Gche wawiyasto jayék gégo

Great Whirlwind and all sorts of

Ze’angek égche mkomi

Dangers with great hail or falling storm

Biésag gé’aba éwi bwa

Also avoid excessive

Ozam wizganmek

Winds

Iw je gé she ndotmomen

Also again we pray you

Gche tche igwan jayék

Ward off all kinds

Éwi nénmoyak jak zengak

Then ward them off all danger

Éwi bwa pe gém jeka gwi yak

Then so it will not touch

Gche tche igwan nénmo jenak

Us ward off great dangers

I gé zenan dek noden

Including Hot Wind.

Some Childhood Memories

Good morning,

This particular article grabbed my attention this morning because it reminded me of the childhood I went through. I had friends who were white and pretty much treated me like the fellow who wrote this article about his black friend. I was a lot like Roy growing up, accepted into a white world, expected to behave in that white world, never accepted as an equal, and always felt the loneliness of being separate somehow. 

I was accepted because of the superior athlete I had become in the white world. I was on the basketball team, star football player, track and baseball team and scored more points than anyone, was the star player on any of the teams I played on. I was permitted to eat among my white friends in their homes, even dance with the white girls after some of the games we played in, but was never accepted as a human being, equal in all ways to any of them. 

Some parents openly let their kids know that I was to be watched while in the home. One parent told his wife to make sure I got plenty to eat, as I probably did not get that kind of food in my own home. One parent told his son and daughter I was an okay Injun and it was all right if they played with me. None of my white friends came to my home to visit with me, never!

So I know the Roy this article writes about. Like Roy, I went off to combat too, but I came back, much to their chagrin, and many of the white boys didn’t. Some of my white friends are still friends to this day. I always loved them and forgave them for their ignorance, as that what my dad and mom told me to do. My parents taught me to pray for my enemies and those who treated me despitefully, for they didn’t know any better. I had good loving parents who knew God and treated everyone as equals, as I was taught to.  

Just some thoughts to think on, eh?

Nin se Neaseno.

Dear Roy, 

You were the friend of my youth. You are black and I am white. When  we became adults, we drifted apart. You served in the military. I served  in the ministry. You died too soon for me to tell you this in person,  so I’ll tell you now. You endured more than you should have, suffered  more than you deserved, and were held to the unreasonable expectations  of white culture, yet still you were my friend. 

You came to my white church. You stayed in my white home. You ate at  my white table. Yet I never stayed at yours. An occasional visit to your  world was all my whiteness could warrant, yet you were expected to live  in mine. 

I was in your presence when the n-word was used, on multiple  occasions. I said nothing. You ignored it, while others laughed at your  expense. You were teased by folks in the church, mocking your blackness,  pretending to be welcoming. We wore our whiteness that arrogantly  paraded unceasingly before you. We expected you to conform to our  culture because we thought it superior. We saw ourselves as the savior  your community needed, that you needed. We deceived you with pictures of  a white Jesus, and never told you the truth that he was black. Jesus  was more like you than he was like us. Yet we pretended otherwise.  Because to do differently would have elevated you above us. And we  couldn’t have that. 

People shook my hand and patted me on the back. “How good of you to  befriend this black boy!” they said, without even acknowledging you  standing there. My white world treated you as anomaly, a novelty,  tolerated only as long as you were obedient, subservient, and didn’t try  to date any of the white girls in the youth group. 

In retrospect, I now know that my white world abused you, stifled  you, truncated your growth and experience. Long before Eric Garner or  George Floyd cried “I can’t breathe” all us white folks were stealing  your oxygen. You sung our songs, read our bible, believed our gospel,  all of which were stolen 100 years earlier from another black man at  Azusa Street. We never told you his story, only ours. 

Perhaps it was a saving grace that you were spared the turmoil in our  world today? Had you been given time to reflect on the harm brought to  you by my culture, you may have justifiably lost your mind, leading to a  compounding of your suffering. You would have been justified in your  anger at how you were treated, marginalized, ignored. You were present  in my world, but remained largely invisible. Only seen on the occasions  we wanted to justify our sins by pointing to your body as a token of our  righteousness. We were hypocrites and fools. You were patient and  endured our taunts longer than you should have. 

Ironically, many white folks reading this that shared our history,  will remember all of this differently. They will recall how kind we were  to you. How we payed your way to youth camps, bought you meals, had you  in our home, and were gracious enough to include you in all our  activities. “We treated you like family” they will protest. Refusing to  reflect on the motivations of why we chose to do so. Refusing to  confront the arrogance of assuming that you should come to us to learn,  because we know better than you. 

Roy, I’m sorry man. I’m sorry that I didn’t know better. That I  didn’t do better. I’m sorry that I’m just now saying this, years after  your death. I’m listening now. I’m learning now. I’m speaking up now. 

I hope you can hear me. 

I love you. 

Scot 

Some human thoughts

Memories from my childhood…

Good morning,

This particular article grabbed my attention this morning because it reminded me of the childhood I went through. I had friends who were white and pretty much treated me like the fellow who write this article about his black friend. I was a lot like Roy growing up, accepted into a white world, expected to behave in that white world, never accepted as an equal, and always felt the loneliness of being separate somehow. 

I was accepted because of the superior athlete I had become in the white world. I was on the basketball team, star football player, track and baseball team and scored more points than anyone, was the star player on any of the teams I played on. I was permitted to eat among my white friends in their homes, even dance with the white girls after some of the games we played in, but was never accepted as a human being, equal in all ways to any of them. 

Some parents openly let their kids know that I was to be watched while in the home. One parent told his wife to make sure I got plenty to eat, as I probably did not get that kind of food in my own home. One parent told his son and daughter I was an okay Injun and it was all right if they played with me. None of my white friends came to my home to visit with me, never!

So I know the Roy this article writes about. Like Roy, I went off to combat too, but I came back, much to their chagrin, and many of the white boys didn’t. Some of my white friends are still friends to this day. I always loved them and forgave them for their ignorance, as that what my dad and mom told me to do. My parents taught me to pray for my enemies and those who treated me despitefully, for they didn’t know any better. I had good loving parents who knew God and treated everyone as equals, as I was taught to.  

Just some thoughts to think on, eh?

Nin se Neaseno.

Dear Roy, 

You were the friend of my youth. You are black and I am white. When  we became adults, we drifted apart. You served in the military. I served  in the ministry. You died too soon for me to tell you this in person,  so I’ll tell you now. You endured more than you should have, suffered  more than you deserved, and were held to the unreasonable expectations  of white culture, yet still you were my friend. 

You came to my white church. You stayed in my white home. You ate at  my white table. Yet I never stayed at yours. An occasional visit to your  world was all my whiteness could warrant, yet you were expected to live  in mine. <figure>Roy at my birthday party. </figure>

I was in your presence when the n-word was used, on multiple  occasions. I said nothing. You ignored it, while others laughed at your  expense. You were teased by folks in the church, mocking your blackness,  pretending to be welcoming. We wore our whiteness that arrogantly  paraded unceasingly before you. We expected you to conform to our  culture because we thought it superior. We saw ourselves as the savior  your community needed, that you needed. We deceived you with pictures of  a white Jesus, and never told you the truth that he was black. Jesus  was more like you than he was like us. Yet we pretended otherwise.  Because to do differently would have elevated you above us. And we  couldn’t have that. 

People shook my hand and patted me on the back. “How good of you to  befriend this black boy!” they said, without even acknowledging you  standing there. My white world treated you as anomaly, a novelty,  tolerated only as long as you were obedient, subservient, and didn’t try  to date any of the white girls in the youth group. <figure>Roy and me at the Pentecostal Youth Camp in 1986 </figure>

In retrospect, I now know that my white world abused you, stifled  you, truncated your growth and experience. Long before Eric Garner or  George Floyd cried “I can’t breathe” all us white folks were stealing  your oxygen. You sung our songs, read our bible, believed our gospel,  all of which were stolen 100 years earlier from another black man at  Azusa Street. We never told you his story, only ours. 

Perhaps it was a saving grace that you were spared the turmoil in our  world today? Had you been given time to reflect on the harm brought to  you by my culture, you may have justifiably lost your mind, leading to a  compounding of your suffering. You would have been justified in your  anger at how you were treated, marginalized, ignored. You were present  in my world, but remained largely invisible. Only seen on the occasions  we wanted to justify our sins by pointing to your body as a token of our  righteousness. We were hypocrites and fools. You were patient and  endured our taunts longer than you should have. <figure>Roy getting ready to ride with us. Raising money for missionaries. </figure>

Ironically, many white folks reading this that shared our history,  will remember all of this differently. They will recall how kind we were  to you. How we payed your way to youth camps, bought you meals, had you  in our home, and were gracious enough to include you in all our  activities. “We treated you like family” they will protest. Refusing to  reflect on the motivations of why we chose to do so. Refusing to  confront the arrogance of assuming that you should come to us to learn,  because we know better than you. 

Roy, I’m sorry man. I’m sorry that I didn’t know better. That I  didn’t do better. I’m sorry that I’m just now saying this, years after  your death. I’m listening now. I’m learning now. I’m speaking up now. 

I hope you can hear me. 

I love you. 

Scot 

Enagdewendemyan ngom

Some thoughts today.
Tradition: the handing down of statements, customs, information, religious instructions, a body of knowledge representing belief systems, etc., from one generation to another generation, especially by word of mouth or by practice. Something that has been handed-down, or a long established or inherited way of thinking or acting.

Tradition can be explained in a variety of different ways, but it cannot be changed, for then it would no longer be tradition.
A traditional then, is one who practices the tradition they have been taught or trained in. Remember, tradition cannot be changed to suit anyone’s purpose.
Tradition is not something that can be mixed with anything else, accordingly, to some. Why then do some so called traditional people mix what they supposedly believe with the elements of alcohol, drugs, and the beliefs of such societies, for they indeed become learned behaviours, over a period of time. Some of us shall never understand why some folks drink and do drugs, which is very damaging to the traditional belief system, and still attempt to teach and run ceremonies.

Another thing, a traditional is someone who is supposed to speak in their original tongue, and yet many of these offering teachings, criticisms to others, the performance of ceremonies, often cannot speak their language fluently at all. One is supposed to be able to call in the Spirit/spirits by the use of that target language, sing the songs in that language, and conduct the entire process in the target language of their group. Those spirits whom the God sends in to assist one in the performance of a given ceremony speak in the target language of a specific group, not in English.

I have heard some become critical of others saying they were traditional and yet participate in Christian ceremonies as well. Many of our people have become Christian and still choose to speak their language and perform the standards of their traditional ceremonies as well. Manitoulin Island and much of Canada is this way, and America is not far behind.
In addition, ceremonies are still conducted in the Native Tongues of these groups. Song services or hymns, liturgies and the like are performed in the Native Tongues too, as well as scriptural readings and blessings. I have personally been to many of these types of ceremonies, for that is what they are called and conducted as, by the target groups performing them. I have come away blessed and feeling very close to the Spirit, close and at one with the people, and very much at ease with the proceedings of the whole event.

I am one of these Traditional and Christian believers, I make no bones about it. We don’t smoke, drink alcohol, do drugs, commit fornication or adultery, don’t believe in any unseemly sexual acts between men and women, your families and children can feel safe with us. We pay our taxes like everyone else, work hard, and you’ll not hear us swearing every other word that comes forth from our mouths. That is not pleasing to the Spirit of God, never has been, and never will among Traditional Practitioners.

My Elders never committed any of those acts of sin, and while I was growing up, I never heard any of those elders swear or say anything bad about women, as I do today. Much of what I read on FaceBook, I tend to block out and have distanced myself from people who insist on using foul language on the Internet.

Ehengh Bodewadmi ndaw mine emendokasyan pene she ebodewadmimyan ebidgeyan zhi mendokasgemek anake waka’egan wegwenshe ebidgewat gi neshnabek emadmowat nake ekigdowat o Geshemnedo…..

Let those who critique these type of beliefs come and do it in the language of our people, not in English. When we were children, we were not to throw sticks at anyone else, less we become like them.We were told that!

Iw enajmoyan
Nin se Neaseno.