I wish I could tell you the picture here is of the woman I know as "Nokomis", or "grandmother", but I have no pictures. The one picture I know off is now lost to time.
She was an intelligent woman with a deep passion for her people- both groups of them! How did she become a woman of two worlds?
When she was a child, a fever of some kind overwhelmed her community... missionaries came to offer help, and brought children to their hospital. As she recovered she was given the devastating news that those who had not been brought to hospital had not survived: this included her parents, grandparents, and siblings. In a letter held by my grandfather (sadly now lost to time) I read "I felt the sun refuse to rise because all my people are gone..."
In time, she realised that she had been given the gift of life others had not received, and so should live it. She was adopted by a couple who were active missionaries. She became a Christian, learned to read, and write... and in time, she found a man willing to marry "the white Indian".
To spiritually introduce her fiance to parents, they made the day's long journey to where her village had been- she brought a sapling for the two of them to plant in memory of those she had lost.
Meet Nokomis, and hear how her heritage was nearly stolen from her...
As she approached the village... she saw her father... and realised the missionaries had lied. There had been deaths, but very few- and her family was all still there. She was outraged.
Her father took her hand, and said "Forever you will be my child and dwell in my heart, but you have a mate and your life is now set... go, in peace, and rejoin the world that has given you so much..."
Deeply saddened, she accepted that she could not keep her promise to her fiance and return to the village. That night the village celebrated the one who had died but came back to life- but it was also a farewell. The next day she returned to her adoptive parents and told them what she had found. They said they didn't know... and she believed them, knowing they would never harm her.
But she could not deny her nature. She and her husband moved near her village; she taught those in the village to read and write, used her knowledge of traditional medicine and "white" medicine to help people in both worlds. She became a bridge between the Abenaki and white people.
She taught her son about his heritage, and brought him to visit their family. She said "My spirit will not rest if my people are forgotten... remember me, remember them, tell your children, tell them to tell their children... teach them, tell them our stories... speak my name, and I will live forever..." Her son became a horticulturalist who shared his knowledge of plants with others.
Her son told his son about his mother and her special heritage, and his son, my grandfather, told me. There was one picture of his great-grandmother, and one letter from her to his father, which were in pieces... faded... unlike his love for her, which was intact and strong. He said she was a tiny, ancient lady who told him magical tales... and implored him... "don't forget". I can still see those items, shown me with great reverence. I wish I had preserved them, but when you are young you think the old are invulnerable to the passing of years.
In the picture, a tiny woman with long, grey braids wore a fringed buckskin dress, covered with a combination of beaded floral and geometric patterns. She was standing with a smiling, tall, slender white man, who had his arm around her shoulder... and that man looked very, very much like my grandfather. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and warmth; his with pride and love.
I have only met her through her letter, her photo, hearing about her from my grandfather, and the gifts that she has passed to me.... like knowing how to make baskets from sweetgrass, that slippery elm will calm my stomach, that wintergreen will help my tooth... by knowing why bees sting... why blueberries are so tasty... so many, many gifts... she allows me to walk with her.
By storytelling I honour my great-great grandmother - whose native name was "Nina"- "fire"- and give joy to her spirit, because her connection to her people is remembered, spoken of... through me.
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