Eighty-nine seconds and counting
My father Marius Kataquapit, a hunter, trapper and traditional person from Attawapiskat
My father Marius Kataquapit, a hunter, trapper and traditional person from Attawapiskat
In almost every person’s life there is a “that one”.
When I first met my partner Mike’s mom Emily McGrath so many years ago, I was immediately struck by how open and kind she was. Everyone knew her as Emmy and she reminded me so much of the Elders I had grown up with in my family.
Here we are in a new year and hoping that 2025 will be a positive experience for us and our civilization on planet Earth. If I did a full review of how things went over the past year it just might be a little depressing, but it is good to face reality.
The fiddlers are getting everyone’s feet moving and tapping to the tune of “Soldier’s Joy”, one of my all-time favourite reels. The stalwart fiddler of the old days has been replaced by a stoic-faced musician with only his foot keeping time, a loud rhythm guitar and a booming bass to keep everything tightly paced.
The jingle of coins as they were placed on the kitchen table clashed with the growing mound of money. The cards clicking and the rapid shuffling of the deck and the sounds of air whooshing out of pursed lips were all strong indicators of a good hand. The dealer, an expert from years of handling a deck of 52 cards, and the players, regular Friday night participants, either threw down their rotten hands or stayed on for the growing pot.
When I was a teenager attending high school in Timmins in the early 1990s, people from the James Bay coast were just starting to get accustomed to the modern way of life in the south. There were not many people who had drivers’ licenses and even fewer who owned vehicles. It was a special thing to see someone from the James Bay coast driving a vehicle and even more so if they owned the car or truck they were in.
I’m dedicating this column to my late brother Philip Kataquapit, who passed away on Christmas Day in 1990 at the age of 16.
Through rain, sleet or snow, the mail must be delivered. That’s certainly not true right now and it hasn’t been for a while. The timing of the 2024 Canada Post strike is disheartening and very Grinchy.
I was raised knowing many people in my circle of family and friends who dealt with troubles that they had no control over. Tragedy and trauma seemed be a normal part of life as I grew up in Attawapiskat.