* For some reason my brain almost always replaces gaslighting with ghost riding
** Beyonce and Jay-Z, IDRIS “American Gangster”
NanaBjorn Wandering 24
* Jay Z “Story of OJ”
** Rifkin - "Beyond Settler Time"
- Nia’wen to 50 Cent, Bob Dylan, Kayne West, Mark Rifkin, Charles Eastman and the Indigenous holders of our knowledges.
As part of my explorations of the space of experiential research and policy making I am trying different experiential and creative ways to respond to academic text. These poems and the summation text before form my response to ""Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination" by Mark Rifkin.
I think that the language and subject of this book made it work well for a response in poem/rap. I listened to a lot of rap over this time and that multi-layered discussions of race, economics and hope also influenced my response to this text. This book gave words to so many things I could not yet name. He wove threads through time, traditional teachings and the thoughts of some very gifted thinkers from our Nations. I read it "Accounting for Genocide: Canada’s Bureaucratic Assault on Aboriginal People"(by Dean Neu and Richard Therrien) in mind - how these alignments to Hat* time are weapons against us as peoples - holding us in stasis.
We need to reclaim our temporal sovereignty and we do it by practicing - like we did in the Bear spaces - as we gather, make decisions together and solidify our relationality. We are connected peoples and we are temporally sovereign when we live our ways. When we find new/old ways where we live now!
This experiential engagement with a text feels free - not a summary, but a wholeness. I am interested to learn from other if this is a useful way of fast info transfer or just pretentious bullshit. Let me know what you think. Aho Data Bear.
Addendum: Matt Christman of "Chappo Trap House" a great thinker of our time, who has been quiet for a year after complex health challenges has made his return to public with poetry.
List of poems
*Hat in this context is a term for the settler ideas about governance, economics and time and so forth.
As part of my explorations of the space of experiential research and policy making I trying different ways to respond to academic text. This poem is part of a series that is responding to ""Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination" by Mark Rifkin.
Coda: Deferences: responding to Rifkin
Missing collectivitiesData Bear Gathering 24
* pg 182
As part of my explorations of the space of experiential research and policy making I trying different ways to respond to academic text. This poem is part of a series that is responding to ""Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination" by Mark Rifkin.
Prophetic temporality: Responding to Rifkin – Chp 3
Nana Bjorn Gathering 24
As part of my explorations of the space of experiential research and policy making I trying different ways to respond to academic text. This poem is part of a series that is responding to ""Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination" by Mark Rifkin.
Growing in the ditches of greed: Responding to Rifkin – Chp 3
Duration Dense* pg 100 “Not yet doing something”
As part of my explorations of the space of experiential research and policy making I trying different ways to respond to academic text. This poem is part of a series that is responding to ""Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination" by Mark Rifkin.
“Duration of the Land”:
Nipon Kona W 24
* Pg 75 Dale Turner
As part of my explorations of the space of experiential research and policy making I trying different ways to respond to academic text. This poem is part of a series that is responding to ""Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination" by Mark Rifkin.
A little bit human – Reference to Rifkin pg 38Nipon Kona W 24
NanaBjorn Wandering 24
* Eagle lyric to "take it easy"
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| Dolly sewn by Wendy. Accessorized by Elizabeth |
Nipon Kona Wandering 24
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This is the last story this old Bear can write. It has been quite a journey – re-remembering, learning and navigating stories. Bear was privileged to carry the tongue and pen this far. Bear can’t wait to see what the new ones will add to the Bear’s stories.
Well, over some years, this Bear has been able to learn and
grow with bear cubs. A long ago Grandmother had sewn a Sock Monkey. This Sock Monkey
lived an active life in our cave, keeping the dolly antics under control, wearing
many hats, fighting off inquisitive beagles and teasing jealous felines. One day, the whole bear family was out at the
market when our little cub gave a terrible cry. Following their paw, we turned
to find a nearby shop wall was covered in the skins of the sock monkeys! Worse,
the sock monkeys had been sewn into socks and hats for the two leggeds! Being
sold without any proper respects! Well now…many cubs tears fell for those lost
monkeys! Even today the diagram above is easy to find on the internet.
It shows how sock monkeys can be dissected and sewn together to cover the human
foot.
That little cub had got a lot of knowledges eh?
I first came to Kumik 15 years ago. I knew that my family was Métis but that had little relevance to my life. I don’t remember the Elder but the story they shared that day became an important part of my life philosophy and teachings for my children.
About ten years ago, as a result of a conversation with an Elder brought in by IRCC (from Kumik), I made the decision to fully acknowledge my Indigenous heritage. I had long held back for this step thinking that as I got where I was with white skin privilege and didn’t have any cultural knowledge that I should not identify as Indigenous. That Elder gave me the teachings and stories I needed to start my internal decolonization work. As a result I learned about my family, our traditions and started learning Cree.
As there was no downtown lodge, whenever I could, I would get a taxi and cross the river to the Kumik. I started meeting Elders occasionally for one on ones which filled my bundle and gave me a chance to learn about ceremony, protocol, teachings and stories. Sometimes I brought my children and we attended many of the workshops making drums and other items that we still use. This time allowed me to come into community, ask questions and learn with the Elders.
This knowledge helped me to raise my children with good teachings in a healthy Indigenous way. This was possible because of the welcoming environment for those of us who don’t have teachings or language or connection. The Elders and people I met did not care if I was Indigenous enough, only that I was open to learning in a good way. This community opened up other Indigenous resources to access.
As a result of this growth, my child and I were at the closing ceremony for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. My child was brought forward to represent the future generations. Through the Kumik and related community, this child knows their Métis heritage and the good red road, they were there that day and carries those stories and the promises made into the future.
This regular contact with Kumik and the lack of progress on Indigenous issues at my previous department were key considerations in my decision to move to ISC as a senior analyst. I was delighted to have full access to Kumik, the Elders and other community members. My manager was supportive of attending Kumik and my proposal that we apply Indigenous Methodologies to a policy paper I was working on. I was able to even contemplate that work because I knew I could access Elders as needed though the one on ones at Kumik.
The first year of the project I met with many Elders, Grandfathers who tested me, Grandmothers who encouraged me and community that inspired me. Elder Barb Brant, Mohawk, Turtle Clan agreed to work with us on this work and this resulted in the paper “Daring to Meet the Bear”. During this time I learned about Knowledge bundles and created one for this project to capture the teachings and share stories. On the guidance of Elders I ask for a spirit name. I undertook that process and learned and listened and realized how little I know. Through Kumik I kept learning, attending ceremony and experienced the amazing support of doing policy and research with the support of the Elder. The Kumik also supported my student who went on his own identity journey during his time with us. Elder Barb with there for both of us and always patient with our questions.
The second year, after getting our bearings in COVID, the ability to access Kumik was an important coping mechanism and way to stay in community. Working with Kumik we brought Elder Solomon Wawatie (Anishnabek) in for one on ones and team supports. Given that Kumik was not offering one on ones during this time we were very glad to continue to have an Elder to support our work and people. In the third year, Elder Barb rejoined us (She never left really continuing to support us by phone and text). At this time I had been newly named manager with a mandate to apply Indigenous Methodologies to data and analytics. My team and I were blessed to be able to access the Kumik and Elders as we figured out how to do things from this lens. We learnt with others in the community and supported each other through that challenging year.
We are now in our sixth year of practically applying Indigenous methodologies and I am humbled by all the things I have learnt and the journeys our team has taken. We work closely with a team applying Indigenous Methodologies to evaluations for the first time in our context. We have worked with teams in HR, procurement, planning and reporting and innovation. We will continue to find new ways to apply that Indigenous lens. We will continue to have firsts – such an interview panel where everyone was Indigenous. All this does not even touch on the person growth I have experienced from working with the Elders and being part of Kumik.
Kumik has been an important part of my personal growth and family life, while also supporting me and team to apply Indigenous methodologies to all our work.
Ninanaskomowin for listening to my story. EM (Pehiw – She who is in waiting and Nipon Kona (Summer Snow)
Misi-Maskwa: The Great Stiff Jointed Man Eating Hairless Bear – Institutions, Measurement and schools – 1920-1970ish
In those days the balance was lost and the Misi-Maskwa[1]
the great stiff jointed hairless Bear roamed Turtle Island far from their usual
northern lands. Ever hungry, Misi-Maskwa would stride up and down, back and
forth, to the big waters in every direction looking for food. Their heavy steps
reverberated on Turtle’s shell. They tore off mountains tops to dip in salty oceans.
They mixed up terrible stews – fishes, ferns and even folk. Some days they tore
off bits sky dripping in sunshine to slurp up. The noises were unbearable.
Word of this destruction and terror spread quickly. Some
looked to hide in caves and condos. Some declared certain songs the trouble and
came for tongues. Some said Bear was angry
because Bear was hungry and we should give it more food. Some listened to the Old
ones and prepared. They witnessed and walked with the medicines. They went to
schools that weren’t outside! They practiced their songs and told their truths.
Still other folks went on TV to help us better understand. “Misi-Maskwa is not
all bad! Look at their work ethic. Consider their productivity! 42 mountains
are now easier to climb! There is 14.832 percent less sky to pay attention too!
Complaints about Giant Squirrels are way down!”
Year after year Misi-Maskwa’s hungry rampage continued. Until
there was only one mountain left without teeth imprints or scratch marks. You probably
remember that newscast too! Steady serious voices called to us, “Volunteers
needed to protect this last mountain from the massive paws of terrible
destruction.” My cousins and I packed our things that night.
It was many moons to
arrive at that last mountain. We joined campfires made of many peoples
from all the circles of all the lands.
As is our custom, the Grandparents guided our strategy and
organization as they well know the skills strengths of each person. We gathered
weapons. We sharpened minds. We rested. Until the day the Old ones sent out songs inviting Misi-Maskwa to
the fire to find a less destructive way to fill Bear’s belly.
After a long while, behind the drums of the old songs, we
heard the heavy footsteps of Misi-Maskwa. The TV people told us to stop druming
so they could get better coverage of the massive Bear - LIVE. When the songs
continued, some got angry and pulled drums from our arms and threw drum sticks
to the grasses. “This is history – the people deserve to see the truth – hear
the truth -without your noise.” They would not listen to the advice of the
Grandparents.
The end of the songs and the sounds of folks fighting got
Misi-Maskwa, who was always hangry anyway, into a great rage. The TV people
shone their light up into Bears eyes. Now blinded it ran confused into the
great crowd of people. Each enormous paw
left destruction. My cousins and I observed and grieved, we held steady, ready
to track Misi-Maskwa once its belly was filled and it slowed.
My cousins, we were trackers and workers of medicines and
energies who always found what they searched for – no matter how long it took.
Each knew their job. Each knew when it was time to chase and time to disguise.
So as moons came and went the cousins followed Misi-Maskwa up and down
ruined mountains, through valley’s of monster stews. Sometimes we could see
it’s terrible sharp teeth, furless flesh or a flash of claw through the green
things. We felt fear and hunger and fatigue but still we followed, up and down
and up. Followed up until we were higher than we had even gone. Until we were
almost close enough to touch the tail of the great beast. Using hand talk, so
Misi-Maskwa would not know their plans, we cousins separated to get ready.
Each cousin moved stealthily - forming a circle around
Misi-Maskwa. As we waited for Grandfather Sun to arise and signal the moment of
resolution, we each worked our medicines. From the East a cousin lit Semah and
Misi-Maskwa turned to see the source of the aroma. As the smoke circled Bear’s
eyes were blinded by the rapidly rising sun. From the South another cousin lit
their medicines. These wafted around Bear, calming their anger until they lay
down on the earth. From the East, my cousin lit medicines to help open
Misi-Maskwa’s heart. Finally from the North, my cousin raised their medicines
and songs so that Misi-Maskwa could see how its hunger was hurting Turtle and
everyone who lived on Turtle’s back. “There is enough Misi-Maskwa. Enough for
everyone when we come together as equal.” All day, the cousin voices blended in
great strength and sent healing to that ever hungry tummy so it could know
enough.
Eventually our songs got tired and we fell into slumber. When we awoke it was night, and when we looked around to see that we had chased Bear into the sky just below the stars. And where that enormous Bear body had lain in rest were twinkling stars. So now you know and if you can see, on clear nights, you can observe Misi-Maskwa above us. A reminder of hard journeys, using our gifts and the power of cousins. Ho
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| A moment with Baby and dog: Data Bear |
As part of my thinking on experiential policy I tried to think through the life of a mother on the move. I was inspired by watching many episodes of "Time Team": a show where they have three days to understand the history of a place. They would often try to recreate a relevant historical food, feelings and experience to understand and connect to these ancestors.
This is the Wiki overview of experimental archeology Experimental archaeology - Wikipedia. Over the past 10 years this kind of practical physical inquiry has spread to other disciplines. I think this is an important element underpinning the Bear work - from the early days we had the teachings of Elder Solomon Wawatie (Anishnabe) that the answers would be found in doing the thing. Bear has returned many times to that teaching over the past years. Elder Barb Brant (Mohawk) also embodies this teaching in how she shares and guides this work
More recently I have noticed that many younger makers on youtube are contributing in this space, recreating things from available information, sharing their thinking about it and how to do it better, and sharing their learning with others. There are a number of really thoughtful folks working in this area – but this was the first video that really pulled this approach all together for me Make it Goth(ic). Sewing a gown based on modern, vintage, and historical ideas of the gothic. - YouTube . It is active and practical engagement with the past(s), to learn in the present for the future.
Through the act of creating this piece I was able to see the home, ask new questions and better understand the historical descriptions I was reading. Nia'wen to all our Grandmothers for all their hard work to keep homes and communities safe. I will write up some of my other efforts to explore this area from a policy perspective soon, but overall I think this has the potential to be a fruitful area of inquiry especially in areas where written records are limited and/or obviously biased.
Mother is just out of frame but baby is safe as Mouse Woman watches from the grass. She is a respected Grandmother from traditional Haida stories who watches over children. I highly recommend these stories if you have young ones around. "Mouse Woman and the Vanished Princesses"
Trouble with a Rougarou, unless you meet them in the light you might not notice what they are – not at first. At most, they might seem a little off. Maybe they are having a bad day or carry a heavy burden - so you give them a pass. Maybe they seem like the stories of the Old Ones. Maybe you just got other things heavy on your mind.
But one day, you gotta take a path late at night, maybe it
is a known path so you hurry, footsteps sure, without a worry. Maybe it is a
new path, winding high into a mountain, so you tread careful – your lamp held high
to guide your way. Doesn’t matter which.
One moment, late at night, you think you hear a cry ahead. A
hurt animal or child? Doesn’t matter whom.
We are wired to stop, to offer care. And for one moment you
forget the teachings to remain vigilant around the Rougarou. Doesn’t matter why.
But you are then transfixed in the glowing grotesque beauty
eyes of temptation. How easy the Rougarou can infect with their endless hungers.
Under dark skies, they catch your eyes, lighting fires for more. Kindling coals
better left to slumber…
It even happened to us. One day we was out wandering.
Following trails. Gathering knowledges. It was a glorious day – the sun strong
and the wind gentle. Caught in the thrill of the moment we stayed out too late
tracking a clever little Thinker that was eluding us. We followed the Thinker
to a river where they hid their scent in the water. The trail was lost. As we
reset our thoughts for the home journey, our heart replaying the thrill of the
chase, we failed to watch for night dangers.
Hearing a cry, we thought the Thinker had stumbled and our
moment of capture was near. So we softened our footfalls and proceeded ever so
slowly. Our ears pricked as we heard a whimpering of pain…a little quicker we
proceeded towards the sound. Around a small bush was an even smaller ball of
fur. We reached out a paw, but the shivering relation curled up even tighter
with a moan. Surely this small hurt creature could pose any danger to a grown
bear we moved our nose closer to smell for the injury. Nostrils flaring, we
took one sniff, two sniffs….. the count fell silent as we tasted our own blood dripping
down our snout. Following the river of
red, the creature across from us licks its lips and we drown in those flame
eyes …
It was many many days later that we awoke to the Grandmothers circled around. I felt my fur for injury to find that our left ear was bandaged. That is the only way eh? To draw out the Rougarou spirit eh? You gotta cut that person’s ear with sharp good metal and then let it heal with the medicines. Well we was real lucky, cause our folks knew just what to do. They knew the plants to gather and where to find them. They knew where and how to make the needed cut. But most of all, they recognized what made those claw marks across our face. They understood right away what the ravings to maximize profits and rants to minimize risk exposures through collateralized debt instruments meant. Just lucky you know. But been hearing more and more stories about how luck can be a fickle friend. Ho.
Pehiw Wandering 2024
How do you write about books that dance in your mind? Books that make your stomach turn? Truths you could have known – except we are trained not to see it – not to ask THOSE questions. I confess. I am a Desk Killer! I hoped to warrior with honor, weapons of logic, data, systems – I learned them all. Learned the rules. Learned they are lies. Learned the lies (oh the hubris!) Learned words I stamped in skin – STRUGGLE or else what? Let the chaos take us? Dying fast or slow? Either way gets the job done. The numbers don’t Lie! Which kills show on my tally sheet? No scalps in honor. I count no coup. Witigo – a shrapnel – from Shakespeare to wounds that don’t heal…. Can’t even use a lighter….CLICK – trench reflex. Must hide flame.
I
was born to this war. I stamped words in skin. “The cake is a lie.”
Didn’t
mean what I thought it did. Wasn’t said by the “person” I thought. But that’s
my life story. And the words aren’t false.
We fight over a bigger pieces of the pie* and forget to ask if we want pie or if we could make something that could feed everyone around the table. So…I also got hope etched, words of Matriarchs and stories from times before/to come. Colors applied to disguise, to signal what we already knew – unblooded – so I need the needles and sacred black from fires merged with my skin. We are their stories. We cannot forget.
Data
Bear (Mama Bear Energies) Preparing 24
*This is a teaching from Winnona LaDuke (Dakota) who is also an economist.
