Going Native

Last night, the CRA hosted an event at the Odawa Friendship Centre in support of Aboriginal awareness. They promised cultural displays, Native-inspired food, storytelling, and singing and drumming. Singing and drumming? I bought three tickets. Sam's a huge fan of Aboriginal singing and drumming. A few weeks back, as we crossed into Confederation Park to see the ice sculptors in action, Sam caught the strains of Natives in song and had us beeline for the far end of the park first, so he could watch the performance from Daddy's shoulders. He loves all live music, but there's something about those drums ...

We toured the displays first, learning a little about sweetgrass, smudging, dream catchers, and the significance of feathers, animals, rocks and crystals to Native culture. Sam loved the colourful costumes, the beaded jewellry, the moccasins, and the instruments fashioned from horns and turtle shells. One table included a selection of full skins—among them a grey wolf, complete with sharp-toothed grin and ghostly blue marble eyes. While he seems comfortable enough in the photo up top, this one catches Sam first spotting the big, bad wolf (click to enlarge). Shock and awe. It took a few minutes to convince him to get close enough to touch it. "I know it's not alive," he remarked. "But it's still freaking me out."

He much preferred the whole bird wings to the limp but still ferocious looking wolf body. I love this little video of his interpretive bird dance.


The Aboriginal meal met with mixed reaction. He loved the venison sausage, the spinach salad with pomegranite seeds and pine nuts, and the bannock with strawberry preserves (2 hunks). But he ignored the wild rice casserole and spit his bison meatballs into his napkin. Then he sat front and centre for the storytelling to learn how the rabbit got its powderpuff tail and how bats came to exist. While he doubted those creation tales, he loved the notion of referring to the sun as an elder brother, to the moon as grandmother and to rocks as grandfathers. One of the storytellers gave him a polished stone last night, and this morning he ran upstairs to find it, calling "Where's grandfather?!"

The highlight of the evening, however, was when the drumming circle opened to include guests. Sam, who had been signing along from his spot on the sidelines, got right in there between two of the Native performers and did the dances. Later, as we headed for the car with our new dreamcatcher, crow feathers, and grandfather rock, Sam said "Carter and I are so going to play Natives." His Aboriginal awareness has increased to the point where now he counts Natives among pirates, cowboys, and superheroes. That may not be precisely what the CRA had in mind, but it's a good start.