Winter Customs & Practices
Through the course of a year an Ojibwa community celebrated the following rituals. At the time of the first maple sap run in the spring, at the appearance of the first berries of each species through the summer, during the wild rice harvest in the fall, when the first animals were killed in the late fall, the Ojibwas conducted thanksgiving feasts for the manitos, providing them with burnt food offerings, prayers, dances and songs. Throughout the winter each family told and retold the tribal myths, thereby recalling and invoking the manitos for the good of the group. At midwinter the family held a feast to the bear Owner and to the bears themselves. At midsummer the extended family made petitionary prayers and offerings to the manitos at a painted pole ceremony. In addition, each person presented a feast and offering to guardian manitos at some time during the year.
- Christopher Vecsey, Traditional Ojibwa Religion and Its Historical Changes
Anishinaabe people engaged in many practices throughout their lives that were meant to protect themselves and their community members from harm and to ensure their continued wellbeing. Stories were told only in the winter “so that the underwater Manito who hibernated then would not hear them. A summer narration of the stories would bring punishment from these creatures, particularly frogs, toads, and serpents.” In order to ensure continued prosperity, hunters showed respect for the bodies of the animals they killed. Janice Gamble describes how, “[i] t was believed that if you put tobacco and three red ribbons into the river in the spring, the Serpent would leave people alone. Offering this tobacco would also bring you good luck.” She shares another story of a woman who saw the Serpent and then engaged in practices to protect her family and community from being harmed by them.
One woman, who asked not to be identified, tells a story from August of 1993. She and her husband went to Stockwater Bay to watch the sailboats go by. They were sitting there watching the water and they saw the serpent moving up and down. They were about two hundred yards away from it but they could see it swimming. They could tell that it was enormous and there were no other boats around at the time.
The woman later told her mother-in-law about it. Because traditionally it is the women’s responsibility to look after the water, the woman had to go to the same place that she had seen the Serpent, and make an offering so that the children who swam there would be safe. In a basket she placed fabric or red, yellow, black, and white as well as some berries. Every year now, she makes this same offering at Stockwater Bay.
Similarly, in Sagamok, Martin Assiniwe describes how a ceremony was held in the spring to “safeguard the users of these waters. This ceremony was given every year without fail. The elders would always talk of beings in the water and how these beings would sometimes be a threat to some people. This was the reason for the annual ceremony, the elders would bless the waters.”
Meeting needs/Redistribution
In the early summer after the Feast of the Dead, the Anishinabeg would travel to their summer villages, more than likely nestled along the shores and river mouths of the North Shore, Manitoulin down to Penetanguishene. Once settled into their wigwams, they would begin to organize for their productive season, including planting corn and vegetables and the harvesting of strawberries, cherries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, and cranberries. In between these activities, the youth would engage in ball games, foot races, wrestling and hunting small game, honing their hunting skills with their bows and arrows. The boys also learned how to set nets and clean fish.
As summer draws to a close and the seasons begin to change, the Anishinabek would head inland, where each family had a designated exclusive hunting and trapping ground, and prepare for the long winter ahead. They will finish processing their foods, smoking fish, deer and moose meat, drying fruits and vegetables and moving to their interior fall and winter camps. At these camps, they will gather firewood and fix any structures and equipment necessary to help them survive the winter. Although deer, elk, moose and bear were hunted for food and trade, fur-bearing animals were also trapped for trade. In addition, commercial hunting provided the Anishinaabeg with the ability to purchase firearms and other manufactured items such as cotton and wool, which were highly valued.
In the spring, they would decamp for the sugar bush. The isolation of winter was replaced with the friendliness of the sugar camp, where many families would come together for several weeks and cooperate in a festive atmosphere. Sugar was the main product. It was a profitable trade item valued by Anishinaabeg and traders. Once maple sugaring was complete, they loaded their canoes with sugar, furs, deer skins, pemmican, bear’s oil, deer tallow (fat) and sometimes honey and began their journey to meet up with other families at the gathering place. Anishinaabe gathered for 5 or 6 days to feast the dead. It is said that all the Anishinaabe and children would go around among the camps and greet one another, feasting and throwing food into the fire. The feast would take place at a traditional burial ground where family members who had passed on during the winter would be formally laid to rest, and memories of long-departed loved ones would be celebrated.
After the Feast of the Dead, all Anishinaabeg who wintered in the area would travel back to the shores of their summer homes and begin their seasonal rounds again.
Meeting needs is often the best response to preventing vulnerabilities or harms. This approach addresses the root causes of harm and often prevents escalation by ensuring children and families are cared for. Often children and youth are apprehended due to perceived neglect which stems from poverty or the inability to meet needs. When those with the capacity to provide food, housing, and other basic needs share what they have, they are preventing harms that may be caused by separation and dislocation as well as improving the quality of life of families in need.
In the past Anishinaabe life was oriented around meeting needs for all family members and community members. Relationships were maintained through seasonal and yearly gatherings which followed the rhythmic abundance and scarcity of the natural world. Children and youth were a part of all of these seasonal movements, learning alongside their families about how to provide for themselves and how to contribute to their communities.
Today, a major reason why Anishinaabe families struggle and have children removed is due to poverty and not being able to meet the needs of their children in ways that are determined by non-Indigenous standards. According to a report published by INDsight consulting, “[e]xisting research shows a consistent pattern in which low-income families are more likely to be investigated by the child welfare system than other families, and poverty rates are higher for the First Nations population than for the non-Aboriginal population.”
Ardith Walkem describes how certain factors seen by outside workers as neglect may actually reflect poverty or the inability to meet needs including “overcrowding; a child not having their own room or bed; a child not having seasonally appropriate clothing; a family not having fresh or nutritious food available; or parents or extended family not calling or attending at access visits regularly where transportation or telephone access is limited due to financial concerns.” Youth aging out of care often struggle with the loss of support from the child welfare system. For many of these youth disconnection from family and community results in a lack of the support needed to meet their ongoing needs and achieve educational outcomes. Meeting the needs of of these families and individuals could prevent intervention with outside institutions in many cases. This is asserted in Mississauga First Nation’s Draft Family Unity Declaration which states that “all institutions in contact with Misswezahging children and families are responsible for working towards the resolution of systemic issues like poverty and homelessness.”
Meeting needs can be an incredibly effective response to helping children and families in challenging situations. Mildred Johnston describes how her mother would always take in kids “…she would clean them, make clothes for them, and told the father she would help out – my aunt had died. And so he took his kids, they came... he’d bring them, she’d clean them up, new clothes, and they’d go back home…” She also describes as a child,
…crying watching a child on the train, a child was taken to [Spanish], and I came and I couldn't stand there, I cried. I went home and I said to Mom, “Why does a mother do that, take that child to [Spanish]?” And she said, “They’ve got no food. That’s why, the mother can’t feed them.” And so, she said, “Well, we’ll go to [inaudible] and try and get food for them,” so I could stop crying that they were going to do something [laughs]. So the next morning, we went on the train to all the grocery stores, and they sent stuff from the train for us to give to the families that didn't have food.
Wilma Bissiallon of Mississauga explains that, “…even though we were…poor [laughs]. So the one thing that I can always remember, though, is that we always had food on the table, we had clothes, we had a roof over our head, and we were happy.” One focus group participant asserts that,
…we’re all said to be poor. But, to me, we were rich in wealth because of how we shared and how we shared with our wildlife. And, when you went into somebody’s home, they didn't ask you what you wanted to eat, they just fed you or they gave you something to drink. There was always food on the stove or whatever. And that’s what my Dad would say, “You don’t ask them what they want to drink or if they want to... you just feed them.”
This type of redistribution and sharing ensures that everyone’s needs are met, especially those who are in the greatest need of resources or support. One focus group participant explains that the obligation to share with those in need was a law. “Because there were a lot of times when we enforced our Law prior to – us having the Indian Day School, or whatever... our grandparents or our parents, when the weather was cold, “No, you don’t keep that fish.” Because they’d cut it in half – one for his friend and the other for him – and my mother said, “No, you’ve got to share. They have enough.” My mother was a teacher so, in her eyes, they had enough...”
Sandra Owl describes how as a community they would come together to hold gatherings including weddings and funerals “…and there’d always be people in that little wee galley kitchen, and they would cook...” Similarly, Rose Pine describes how “…if we were sitting around the table, and if somebody rapped at the door, “Come on in, come on in, grab a chair there. We’re just going to have supper. Sit down and have supper with us.” That’s the kind of family that they were; it was always sharing.” Grace Manitowabi describes working in the schools today and having a boy telling her “I’m so hungry, Grace.” She saw that he never had a lunch so she “made sure he ate at the school.”
In the past, communities worked together to meet the needs of children, youth, and adults. One of the first examples of this collective responsibility and care an Anishinaabe infant would receive would be their tikinagan or baby carrier. As Alexandra Kahsenni:io Nahwegahbow explains, the tikinagan was “[l]ovingly crafted by family and community members in order to welcome a new life, the creation of the tikinaagan followed the traditional, complementary division of labour between men and women: the father or grandfather carved the wooden backboard, footrest, and hoop, while the mother or grandmother fashioned the hide or fabric covering.” Many members of the family worked together to create this first space of security, belonging, and connection for their new member. Annette Chiblow describes another technology her mother used to bring comfort to teething infants.
It’s about as big as your thumb. My Mom would get two pieces of hide, moose hide, and she’d sew it like it was the shape of a thumb kind of a thing – about that long, just enough for the baby to hold onto with a little hand, say. And then she would stuff it with the black coals from the woodstove – the black, hard ones – she’d stuff that in there really tight, and then sew the end up really tight, and then put a string on it to tie it to the wrist or tie it to the baby’s shirt, or whatever they were wearing. And then it could chew on that; and, when they chew on that, it would crush up the ash in there. And then, when it would dry, it would get hard again – but not too hard that it was going to hurt their gums, eh; it’d be nice and soft with the hide. My kids all had one of those when they were babies.