After selfactivated shared a couple pictures with me, I though perhaps we could all share a pictures of our culture. The culture that identifies us as the Canadians we see ourselves as.
An exchange of our cultures, to better get to know one another.
This was a gift from a Haida elder I met at a gathering in the 90's.
This Medicine Box was a gift from the same elder. It was filled with Alder smoked Pacific Salmon. I had told him in previous conversations that, that was my favourite Salmon, so he purchased it for me before leaving for the gathering.
My first Lacrosse stick, yes I still have it. They don't make them like this anymore.
My traveling kit, or bed roll. The Hudsons Bat blanket and my moccasins, I've had longer then my wife. The little pouch, which is a Metis capote, was made for me by my boys at a Metis Festival a few years ago, when they were participants in a Native dance group. They have since givin it up, as they feel it is to "girly".
This is my Medicine pouch. It contains several healing stones, hair from my boys and my wife, as well as my old dog, Shalamar, who was a Malamute Wolf cross. Sadly, no longer with us. It also contains the bark of a tree, whos age is unknown, but it is said to be well over 500 years old and tobaco. It had a painting of the Wolf Teacher on it, but as I wear it always, it has long since been unrecognisable.
This is a Metis Sash, another item I have had since before I was married. My Grand Mother made this for me when my Grand Father took me on a trip to see some Cree trapper friends in the far North of Quebec. I crossed a certain paralel for the first time as a Trader so I was given the honour of being called an l'Homme du Nord.
This is the MWS flag my cousin gave me. As he tells it, it was flying over his position on the lines at Oka. It is a prized posession of mine.
This is the Tomahawk Pipe, I made, to smoke at my Grand Fathers memorial. After we spread some of his ashes in his favourite fishing spot along the Ottawa River, we buried the rest of his ashes under a freshly planted tree, then as a once again united family, all of us, Onondaga, Mohawk and Metis and non native, sat around our fire and smoked kanikanik, while we told stories about his exploits.
An exchange of our cultures, to better get to know one another.
This was a gift from a Haida elder I met at a gathering in the 90's.
This Medicine Box was a gift from the same elder. It was filled with Alder smoked Pacific Salmon. I had told him in previous conversations that, that was my favourite Salmon, so he purchased it for me before leaving for the gathering.
My first Lacrosse stick, yes I still have it. They don't make them like this anymore.
My traveling kit, or bed roll. The Hudsons Bat blanket and my moccasins, I've had longer then my wife. The little pouch, which is a Metis capote, was made for me by my boys at a Metis Festival a few years ago, when they were participants in a Native dance group. They have since givin it up, as they feel it is to "girly".
This is my Medicine pouch. It contains several healing stones, hair from my boys and my wife, as well as my old dog, Shalamar, who was a Malamute Wolf cross. Sadly, no longer with us. It also contains the bark of a tree, whos age is unknown, but it is said to be well over 500 years old and tobaco. It had a painting of the Wolf Teacher on it, but as I wear it always, it has long since been unrecognisable.
This is a Metis Sash, another item I have had since before I was married. My Grand Mother made this for me when my Grand Father took me on a trip to see some Cree trapper friends in the far North of Quebec. I crossed a certain paralel for the first time as a Trader so I was given the honour of being called an l'Homme du Nord.
This is the MWS flag my cousin gave me. As he tells it, it was flying over his position on the lines at Oka. It is a prized posession of mine.
This is the Tomahawk Pipe, I made, to smoke at my Grand Fathers memorial. After we spread some of his ashes in his favourite fishing spot along the Ottawa River, we buried the rest of his ashes under a freshly planted tree, then as a once again united family, all of us, Onondaga, Mohawk and Metis and non native, sat around our fire and smoked kanikanik, while we told stories about his exploits.
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