In August, I was happy to attend the Mattagami and Matachewan powwows, which I hadn’t been to in years. These are two special communities I have had the good fortune to be involved with for over 30 years.
I stopped attending public events eight years ago when my partner Mike was diagnosed with a debilitating disease. We could not afford for him to get sick with a common cold which meant that I could not catch anything for fear of passing on any sickness to him. We both missed many events over the years, but we were more than happy to hear about these powwows since they meant so much to many people.
Many people think of about powwows as entertainment events with drummers surrounded by dancers who perform for everyone’s viewing pleasure. It is a powerful feeling to hear the pounding of the drum, and it is entrancing to hear the metallic, rhythmic shaking of a jingle dress. It’s also amazing to witness the bright coloured twirling and twisting of a fancy shawl dancer, or the power and athleticism of a young fancy dancer or grass dancer.
The powwow is more than just performance art or entertaining music. Over the years, I’ve been informed by many drummers, dancers and traditional people that powwow is foremost a ceremonial and spiritual event. To many traditional people, it is a religious gathering meant to bring families together and allow those who are hurt, grieving and mourning to heal and be around a supportive community.
Many of the announcers, arena directors, drummers, singers, dancers and organizers are lifelong practitioners of traditional culture, dance and ceremony. These traditional people take on various roles for different powwow events. They spent years learning from Elders in their home community, as well as from other traditional teachers from many places.
The dancers wear regalia and it is incorrect to refer to their dress as “costumes”. These dancers and their families have spent a lifetime accumulating everything they wear. Each piece tells a story of how it was made, what it symbolises, what the colours mean, who did the beadwork, and often, the parts are handed down from relatives, parents, grandparents or Elders. There is a story to every part of their regalia.
The grand entry and exit are the most sacred moments of the gathering and those in attendance are asked not to take photos or videos. Everyone is asked to stand solemnly to honour the opening, remind ourselves why we attend these events and to think of our loved ones in attendance, as well as those who are no longer with us.
Over the past 20 to 30 years, Indigenous people in northeastern Ontario have worked to reconnect with our cultural past, which we were taught to disregard a few generations before. Residential school survivors were taught to fear traditional gatherings and many grew up believing that they would be punished for taking part in powwow.
I was very happy to see many young people rekindling this sacred connection to our past. In Matachewan, youth worked with Elders to bring powwow back to the community. And in Mattagami, I watched young people become part of the traditional revival and work closely with local leaders and Elders. There are so many other people from these communities who developed their annual powwows, and it makes me proud to see them celebrating our traditional culture.
These two powwows were definitely a healing event for me in so many ways. These gatherings honour our traditional past, remember our loved ones, celebrate our identity, comfort our pains and share the love we feel for one another.
Chi-Meegwetch misiway, pah-tee-mah meena (Thanks very much, everyone, until next time).