Umati's Wisdom

When I was a child, we had none of the modern conveniences that people now know. We lived in a small community of tar paper shacks before communism became a nasty word. Two factors had neccessitated this, first the great flu eppidemic and the depression, this unified many of the indigenous people that lived throughout Northeast Ohio at that time, not all, but many. Some Lenape, some Miami, some Shawnee, all different, yet alike, mixed bloods, drawn together by our Elders, who became our teachers, our doctors and governing bodies. Our Aunts and Uncles of the Seneca Nation spread their protective cloak over us and aided us from outside injustices. From the viewpoint of outsiders, we were looked upon as being poor, but there was nothing poor about us. It was a life of richness beyond belief. Yes it was true we had no electricity, no plumbing, not even a decent road to be called a road, but we had each other. No locks were ever needed. Every person was related, if not by blood, by spirit. Each home was home to all, and sharing was not anything special to be bragged about. It was a place where canned food was that which was put up in the old Ball-mason jars that had been passed down and used by many generations. Our store was the fruit cellars dug deep within the earth and our refrigerators were those pits in the back of the fruit cellars where ice cut the winter before nestled amid the straw. Each family had one, plus there was one larger one that served the whole community. In my memories it seemed large, but there were perhaps only a dozen or so families there. Though we each shared a common language, english, in the homes we spoke that of our native tongue and the same was true of our traditions. We each learned to respect those of the others.

Such is the richness of memories. I remember that hunger was never a problem. In fact the only memory that I hold in-so-far as food was the one fact that, if we had cornmeal mush in the morning, we usually had pan fried corn meal mush in the afternoon. It wasn’t all bad though, for it was varied by the addition of dried fruits and maple syrup or honey sometimes. And then there was the common soup. It seemed every home had a pot of soup simmering all day to be offered to anyone visiting or just to be eaten by anyone who felt hungry at the time. I can’t remember anyone who came to call not being offered some before any business was discussed.

But then I have let my memories wander. I guess it is a true sign of old age. My real reason for writing this was to share a bit of wisdom.

When we were children, one of our passtimes would to be getting together to husk or shell maize. It was at this time under the supervision of Umati that she would share this story. She would hold up one of the ears of maize in her hand and tell us of how this beautiful plant was given to the people many, many generations ago and that it once was no bigger than our thumb. Yet through the many years of being given true love , respect and honour by the people it had grown to what we see it today. And because it had been shown that love and respect and honour it returns it to the people by being fertile. For no matter how poor the ground seems to other plants, when its seed are scattered, the earth opens itself to them and the Maize grows to aid the people. It shows itself to be apart of that earth!

Next she would hold up a large ear of De-kalb or hybred corn and call it corn. Telling us of how this was our beloved maize after it had been minipulated by man, having man force its will upon it rather than his respect. This corn, no matter how fertile the soil, or how enriched by Man’s blood sweat or tears, shall not grow. For it has now become apart from the Earth due to man’s interference. Then she would sum this up by asking us. “It is the same with our children. How would you have them grow? Would you have them be raised with love , respect and honour to become a part of the Earth? Or would you see them manipulated to become apart from the Earth?”

Today as I sit here in front of this computor, enjoying the comforts of electricity and all of the products of man’s enginuity, I sometimes wonder at all the costs of it all. Reading all the frustrations and anger on the boards, seeing all the crime and lack of reason, I wander back to Umati’s wise words. Are we now the products of Man’s manipulations? Becoming apart from the Earth? Are our actions and moods, only our subconscience rebeling against our drifting apart from the Earth?

I have had many fearful dreams of late, none of which I can relate, but they warn of dire things to come for our children and grandchildren. They have to do with earth changes and catistrophic events that few may survive. And my mind carries me back to the early days and the wisdom of our elders and their teachings.

But then I am but an old man. These things are only as I see them. But I thought they should be shared.

May love, respect and honor be yours;

Muxumsa Blue Turtle