The story of Malsumis

Traditional Abenaki folklore tale

Of Glooskap's Birth, and of his Brother Malsum the Wolf.

Now the great lord Glooskap, who was worshiped in after-days by all the Wabanaki, or children of light, was a twin with a brother. As he was good, this brother, whose name was Malsumsis, or Wolf the younger, was bad. Before they were born, the babes consulted to consider how they had best enter the world. And Glooskap said, "I will be born as others are." But the evil Malsumsis thought himself too great to be brought forth in such a manner, and declared that he would burst through his mother's side. 1 And as they planned it so it came to pass. Glooskapas first came quietly to light, while Malsumsis kept his word, killing his mother.

The two grew up together, and one day the younger, who knew that both had charmed lives, asked the elder what would kill him, Glooskap. Now each had his own secret as to this, and Glooskap, remembering how wantonly Malsumsis had slain their mother, thought it would be misplaced confidence to trust his life to one so fond of death, while it might prove to be well to know the bane of the other. So they agreed to exchange secrets, and Glooskap, to test his brother, told him that the only way in which he himself could be slain was by the stroke of an owl's feather, 1 though this was not true. And Malsumsis said, "I can only die by a blow from a fern-root."

It came to pass in after-days that Kwah-beet-a-sis, the son of the Great Beaver, or, as others say, Miko the Squirrel, or else the evil which was in himself, tempted Malsumsis to kill Glooskap; for in those days all men were wicked. So taking his bow he shot Ko-ko-khas the Owl, and with one of his feathers he struck Glooskap while sleeping. Then he awoke in anger, yet craftily said that it was not by an owl's feather, but by a blow from a pine-root, that his life would end.

Then the false man led his brother another day far into the forest to hunt, and, while he again slept, smote him on the head with a pine-root. But Glooskap arose unharmed, drove Malsumsis away into the woods, sat down by the brook-side, and thinking aver all that had happened, said, "Nothing but a flowering rush can kill me." But the Beaver, who was hidden among the reeds, heard this, and hastening to Malsumsis told him the secret of his brother's life. For this Malsumsis promised to bestow on Beaver whatever he should ask; but when the latter wished for wings like a pigeon, the warrior laughed, and scornfully said, "Get thee hence; thou with a tail like a file, what need hast thou of wings?"

Then the Beaver was angry, and went forth to the camp of Glooskap, to whom he told what he had done. Therefore Glooskap arose in sorrow and in anger, took a fern-root, sought Malsumsis in the deep, dark forest, and smote him so that he fell down dead. And Glooskap sang a song over him and lamented.

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The story of Gluskabe and the Wind Eagle

Traditional Abenaki folklore tale

Long ago, Gluscabi lived with his grandmother, woodchuck,

in a small lodge beside the big water.

One day Gluscabi was walking around when he looked out and saw some

ducks in the bay.

“I think it is time to go hunt some ducks,” he said. So he took his bow and

arrows and got into his canoe. He began to paddle out into the bay and as he

paddled he sang:

Ki yo wah ji neh

Yo ho hey ho

Ki yo wah ji neh

Ki yo wah ji neh

But a wind came up and it turned his canoe and blew him back to shore.

Once again Gluscabi began to paddle out and this time he sang his song a little louder

KI YO WAH JI NEH

YO HO HEY HO

KI YO WAH JI NEH

KI YO WAH JI NEH

But again the wind came and blew him back to shore.

Four times he tried to paddle out into the bay and four times he failed.

He was not happy. He went back to the lodge of his grandmother and walked right in,

even though there was a stick leaning across the door, which meant

that the person inside was doing some work and did not want to be disturbed.

“Grandmother,” Gluscabi said, “What makes the wind blow?”

Grandmother Woodchuck looked up from her work. “Gluscabi,” she said,

“Why do you want to know?”

Then Gluscabi answered her just as every child in the world

does when they are asked such a question.

“Because,” he said.

Grandmother Woodchuck looked at him. “Ah, Gluscabi,” she said.

“Whatever you ask such a questions I feel there is going to be trouble.

And perhaps I should not tell you. Bit I know that you are so stubborn you

will never stop asking until I answer you. So I shall tell you. Far from here,

on top of the tallest mountain, a great bird stands. This bird is named Wuchowsen,

and when he flaps his wings he makes the wind blow.”

“Eh-hey, Grandmother,” said Gluscabi, “I see. Now how would one find

that place where the Wind Eagle stands?”

Again Grandmother Woodchuck lookes at Gluscabi. “Ah, Gluscabi,” she said,

“Once again I feel that perhaps I should not tell you. But I know that you are very

stubborn and would never stop asking. So, I will come to the

place where Wuchowsen stands.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” said Gluscabi. He stepped out of the lodge

and faced into the wind and began to walk.

He walked across the fields and through the woods and the wind blew hard.

He walked through the valleys and into the hills and the wind blew harder still.

He came to the foothills and began to climb and the wind still blew harder.

Now the foothills were becoming mountains and the wind was very strong.

Soon there were no longer any trees and the wind was very, very strong.

The wind was so strong that it bl;ew off Gluscabi moccasins. But he was

stubborn and he kept walking, leaning into the wind. Now the wind was so

strong that it blew off his shirt, but he kept on walking. Now the wind was so

strong that it blew off all his clothes and he was naked, but he kept walking.

Now the wind was so strong that it blew off all his hair, but Gluscabi still kept walking,

facing the wind. The wind was so strong that it blew off his eyebrows, but still,

he continued to walk. Now the wind was so strong that he could hardly stand.

He had to pull himself along by grabbing hold of boulders. But there, on the peck

ahead of him, he could see a great bird slowly flapping its wings.

It was Wuchowsen, the Wind Eagle.

Gluscabi took a deep breath. “Grandfather!” he shouted.

The Wind Eagle stopped flapping his wings and looked around.

“Who calls me Grandfather?” he said.

Gluscabi stood up. “It’s me, Grandfather. I just came up here to tell

you that you do a very good job making the wind blow.”

The Wind Eagle puffed out his chest with pride. “You mean like this?”

he said and flapped his wings even harder. The wind which he made was

so strong that it lifted Gluscabi right off his feet, and he would have been

blown right off the mountain had he not reached out and grabbed a boulder again.

“Grandfather!!!” Gluscabi shouted again.

The Wind Eagle stopped flapping his wings.” Yesss?” he said.

Gluscabi stood up and came closer to Wuchowsen. “You do a very good

job of making the wind blow, Grandfather. This is so. But it seems to me that

you could do even better job if you were on that peak over there.”

The Wind Eagle looked toward the other peak. “That may be so,” he said,

“ but how would I get from here to there?”

Gluscabi smiled. “Grandfather,” he said, “I will carry you. Wait here.”

Then Gluscabi ran back down the mountain until he came to a big basswood tree.

He stripped off the outer bark and from the inner bark he braided a strong carrying

strap which he took back up the mountain to the Wind Eagle. “Here, Grandfather,”

he said. “Let me wrap this around you so I can lift you more easily.”

Then he wrapped the carrying strap so tightly around Wuchoswsen that his

wings were pulled in to his sides and he could hardly breathe. “Now Grandfather,”

Gluscabi said, picking the Wind Eagle up, “I will take you to a better place.”

He began to walk toward the other peak, but as he walked he came to a place where

there was a large crevice, and as he steppes over it he let go of the carrying strap

and the Wind Eagle slid down into the crevice, upside down, and was stuck.

“Now,” Gluscabi said, “It is time to hunt some ducks.”

He walked back down the mountain and there was no wind at all. He walked till he

came to the tree line and still no wind blew. He walked down to the foothills and

down to the hills and valleys and still there was no wind. He walked through the

forest and through the fields, and the wind did not blow at all. He walked and walked

until he came back to the lodge by the water, and by now his hair had grown back.

He put on some fine new clothing and a new pair of moccasins and took his bow and

arrows and went down to the bay and climbed into his boat to hunt ducks.

He paddles out into the water and sang his canoeing song:

Ki yo wah ji neh

Yo ho hey ho

Ki yo wah ji neh

Ki yo wah ji neh

But the air was very hot and still and he began to sweat.

The air was so still and hot that it wad hard to breathe.

Soon the water began to grow dirty and smell bad and there was so

much foam on the water he could hardly paddle. He was not pleased at all

and returned to the shore and went straight to his grandmother’s lodge and walked in.

“Grandmother,” he said, “What is wrong? The air is hot and still and it

making me sweat and it is hard to breathe. The water is dirty and covered

with foam. I cannot hunt ducks at all like this.”

“Gluscabi,” she said, “What have you done now?”

And Gluscabi answered just as every child in the world answers

when asked that question, “Oh, nothing,” he said.

“Gluscabi,” said Grandmother Woodchuck again,

“Tell me what you have done.”

Then Gluscabi told her about going to visit the Wind Eagle and

what he had done to stop the wind.

“Oh Gluscabi,” said Grandmother Woodchuck, “will you never learn?

Tabaldak, The Owner, set the Wind Eagle on that mountain to make the

wind because we need wind. The wind keeps the air cool and clean. The wind brings

the clouds which gives up rain to wash the Earth. The wind moves the waters

and keeps them fresh and sweet. Without the wind, life will not be good for us,

for our children or our children’s children.”

Gluscabi nodded his head. “Kaamoji, Grandmother,” he said. “I understand.”

Then he went outside. He faced in the direction from which the wind had once

came and began to walk. He walked through the fields and through the forest the

valleys and up the hills and there was no wind and it was hard for him to breathe.

He came to the foothills and began to climb and he was very hot and sweaty indeed.

At last he came to the mountain where the Wind Eagle once stood and he went and

looked down into the crevice. There was Wuchowsen, The Wind Eagle, wedged

upside down.

“Uncle?” Gluscabi called.

The Wind Eagle looked up as best he could.

“Who calls me uncle? He said.

“It is Gluscabi, Uncle. I’m up here. But what are you doing down there?”

“Oh, Gluscabi,” said the Wind Eagle, “a very ugly naked man with no hair told me that

he would take me to the other peak so that I could do a better job of making the

wind blow. He tied my wings and picked me up, but as he stepped over this crevice

he dropped me in and I am stuck. And I am not comfortable here at all.”

“Ah, Grandfath…er, Uncle, I will get you out.”

Then Gluscabi climbed down into the crevice. He pulled the Wind Eagle

free and placed him back on his mountain and untied his wings.

“Uncle,” Gluscabi said, “It is good that the wind should blow sometimes and

other times it is good that it should be still.”

The Wind Eagle looked at Gluscabi and then nodded his head. “Grandson,”

he said, “I hear what you say.”

So it is that sometimes there is wind and sometimes it is still to this very day.

And so the story goes.

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The story of Azeban

Traditional Abenaki folklore tale

RACCOON LEARNS A LESSON

As retold by Elder: Margaret Labillois and Luke Simon

This is a story of how raccoon first got those circles around his eyes and tail.

At one time, there were two blind men who lived in a village. They were unhappy because they could not see and they could not help themselves. So they sat on a log. That is where they decided they were going to stay.

Glooscap found them there one day. He said, “What is wrong?”

They said, “Nobody wants us around. We can’t take care of ourselves and we can’t help anybody else, so we are just going to stay here in the woods until we die”.

Glooscap made a wigwam for them. Then he gave them a rope and said, “Take this rope down to the river. Tie one end to a tree and tie the other end to your pail. When you want to drink, just throw the pail into the water and pull it back in”.

Now raccoon saw what was going on with the two men. “I am going to have some fun with these two men,” he said.

When one of the men went for water at the edge of the river, he took the pail and threw it in the water. Raccoon was very quiet and he sneaked down to the river and moved the pail over to the sand.

When the blind man pulled the rope, there was no water in his pail, only sand. When he went back to his friend, he said, “It seems that our river has gone dry. There is only sand there. There is no water”.

But the other man didn’t believe him. He said. “I think you are just too lazy. You probably didn’t go for water at all. You just pretended to go for water”.

But the other man said, “No, I’m telling you the truth”.

By this time, Raccoon had come back and put the pail back in the water. When the second blind man went down to the river, he came back with water.

He was angry. “See, I have brought water. You are just lazy. You just didn’t want to go for water,” he said. The men started to fight.

Raccoon noticed that they were cooking supper. There were four pieces of meat in the pot. Then, Raccoon stole two pieces of the meat and went and hid himself.

When the first man went to the pot, he took out two pieces of meat, and began to eat. When the second man went to serve himself, there was no meat left for him. Once again, he became very angry.

“It is bad enough how you are lazy and you don’t want to get water, but now you even steal my supper. There is no meat here” he said.

“I only took two pieces of meat. There should still be two pieces of meat left”, the other man said.

So raccoon got the men to fight while he sat back and laughed at them.

Glooscap came along and asked them: “Why are you fighting?’

“Oh”, said the second man, “He is so lazy that he doesn’t want to go for water. He said there was no water, but when I went down to the river, there was lots of water. Not only that, but he took my supper. I have nothing to eat”.

Glooscap looked around. He saw raccoon rolling around on the ground and laughing. Glooscap knew then, what was going on.

Glooscap went to the camp where the fire was and he took out a coal. He took the coal and marked a black circle around raccoon’s eyes.

He said, “This is for the two pieces of meat you stole from the two blind men. You will always have that mark to show you are a thief. You will be known as a thief wherever you go”.

Next, Glooscap took the coal and drew four rings around raccoon’s tail.

“This is for the times you made the men fight. And you will remember, because how I have marked you will stay with you, wherever you go”.

That is why even to this day, raccoon has these marks. He looks like a bandit.

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The story of Bmola

Traditional Abenaki folklore tale

The Penobscot Indians believed that an evil spirit, called Bmola (he curses on the mountain)—resided, during the summer season, on the top of Mount Katahdin— (the greatest of mountains.) They offered sacrifices to him to appease him, so that he should not curse them, or otherwise injure them. Although they hunted and fished in the woods and lakes around Mount Katahdin, yet they never attempted to go on the top of that mountain, in the assurance that they would never be able to return from that place, but be either killed or devoured by the evil spirit Pamola. They pretended to have seen this spirit on the top of the mountain on several occasions while hunting or fishing around it. It was but till late, that they have attempted to ascend that mountain. It is not long since that a party of white people desired to go on the top of Mount Katahdin, and took some Indians to accompany them as guides. The Indians escorted them to the foot of the mountain, but they refused to go further, fearing to be either killed or devoured by Pamola. No persuasion from the party could induce them to proceed further; on the contrary, the Indians tried to dissuade the party from ascending the mountain, speaking to them of this evil spirit, and how many Indians had been killed or devoured by him, and that no man ever returned, who dared to go on Mount Katahdin. The Indians, however, were prevailed upon to wait for the descent of the party, who, in spite of the remonstrance of the Indians, ascended the mountain by themselves, without guides. They were quite surprised to see the party back, as they entertained no hope of their return, believing with certainty that they had been killed or devoured by Parnola.

It would not be improper to give here a brief episode of the Indian tradition concerning this evil spirit Pamòla, residing upon Mount Katahdin—a mountain famous amongst the Indians of Maine—a tradition, which is believed by the Indians unto this very day. They relate that several hundred years ago, while a Penobscot Indian was encamped eastward of Mount Katahdin on the autumn hunting season, a severe and unexpected fall of snow covered the whole land to the depth of several feet. Being unprovided with snow shoes, he found himself unable to return home. After remaining several days in the camp, blocked up with drifts of snow, and seeing no means of escape, he thought that he was doomed to perish; hence, as it were through despair, he called with loud voice on Pamola for several times. Finally, Pamola made his appearance on the top of the mountain. The Indian took courage, and offered to him a sacrifice of oil and fat, which he poured and consumed upon burning coals out of the camp. As the smoke was ascending, Pamola was descending. The sacrifice was consumed when this spirit got only half way down the mountain. Here the Indian took more oil and fat, and repeated the sacrifice, till Pamola arrived at the camp, and the Indian welcomed him, saying : " Yon are welcome, partner," Pamola replied : " You have done well to call me partner; because yon have called me by that name, you are saved, otherwise you would have been killed by me. No Indian has ever called on me and lived, having always being devoured by me. Now I will take you on the mountain, and you shall be happy with me." Pamola put the Indian on his shoulders, bid him close the eyes, and in few moments, with a noise like the whistling of a powerful wind, they were inside of the mountain. The Indian describes the interior of Mount Katahdin as containing a good, comfortable wigwam, furnished with abundance of venison, and with all the luxuries of life, and that Pamola had wife and children living in the mountain. Pamola gave him his daughter to wife, and told him that after one year he could return to his friends on the Penobscot, and that he might go back to the mountain to see his wife any time he pleased, and remain as long as he wished. He was warned that he could not marry again, but if he should marry again, he would be at once transported to Mount Katahdin, with no hope of ever more going out of it. After one year the Indian returned to Oldtown and related all that had happened to him in Mount Katahdin, and the circumstances through which he got into it. The Indians persuaded him to marry again, which he at first refused, but they at last prevailed on him to marry, bat the morning after his marriage, he disappeared, and nothing more was heard of him; they felt sure that he had been taken by Pamola into Mount Katahdin, as he had told them.

This fact filled the Indians with consternation, and they conceived a great fear for this evil spirit, yet a young Indian woman constantly persisted in refusing to believe even in the existence of Pamola, unless she saw him with her own eyes. It happened one day, that while she was on the shores of the lake Amboctictus,* Pamola appeared to her and reproached her with her incredulity. He took her by force, put her on his shoulders, and after a few moments' flight, with a great whistling of wind, they were in the interior of the mountain. There she remained for one year, and was well treated, but was got with child by Pamola. A few months before her confinement, Pamola told her to go back to her relations, saying that the child that was to be born of her would be great, and would perform such wonders as to amaze the nation. He would have the power to kill any person or animal by simply pointing out at the object with the fore finger of his right hand. Hence, that the child was to be watched very closely till the age of manhood, because many evils might follow from that power. But when the child grew up he would save his own nation from the hands of its enemies, and would confer many benefits to the people. If she should be in need of any assistance, she had nothing to do but to call on Pamola in any place she might be, and he would appear to her. He warned her not to marry again; because if she should marry again, both she and the child would at once be transported into Mount Katahdin for ever. He then put her on his shoulders in the same manner as he had done in taking her up to the mountain, and left her on the shore of the lake Amboctictus. She returned to Old-town, where she related all that had happened to her, and also that she had seen, in the mountain, that Indian, of whom I hare made mention above.

The child was born, and she took great care of him. She called several times on Pamola, who always made his appearance to her. When she wanted any venison, either into the woods or in the river, she had but to take the child, and holding his right hand, she stretched out his fore finger, and made it point out to a deer, or moose, and it at once fell dead. So, also, in a flock of ducks, she made the child's first finger single one out of the flock, which likewise "fell dead. The child grew, and he was the admiration and pride of all.

It happened one day, that while he was standing at the door of the wigwam, he saw a friend of his mother coming. He announced it to her, and at the same time, with the first finger of his right hand, he pointed at him, and the man immediately dropped dead. This fact caused great consternation, not only in the mother of the child, but also in the entire tribe, who looked on him as a very dangerous subject among them. Everybody fled from his company, and even from his sight. The mother called on Pamola, and related to him what had happened, and also the fear and consternation in which she and the entire tribe were. Pamola told her that he had already warned her to watch the child, because the power conferred on the child might produce serious evils. He now advised her to keep the child altogether apart from society till the age of manhood, as he might be fatal with many others. The Indians wanted her to marry, but she refused on the ground of it being forbidden by Pamola, who was her husband, and in case of marriage, she and child both would be taken up Mount Katahdin. However, the Indians prevailed upon her, and she married, but in the evening of the marriage-day, while all the Indians were gathered together in dancing and feasting for the celebration of the marriage, both she and the child disappeared for ever

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Native American Cave Paintings

Cliffside Painting and Symbols

Cave and rock painting is commonly found in many ancient cultures, including the Native American's. They can be depictions of events, ceremonies, maps or hunting grounds, amongst other things.
I particularly like this visual style. It is very simple yet unique to the culture, with a lot of the figures carrying a distinctly native american style. I am interested in using this style for my own work, as I want to show how the message behind the story I am telling transcends words and time and culture, and carries it's own universal message. Simple styles like this are perfect for showing that message, as they are almost like a pictogram, and carry relevance to the source material. 

The Lone Ranger (2013)

Johnny Depp's portrayal of a Comanche Indian

Johnny Depp played the character of Tonto in the 2013 film The Lone Ranger. The character of Tonto is an Indian of the Comanche tribe, and Depp wanted to portray this as accurately as possible, to respect the Comanche tribe and break away from the culture of stereotyping Native Americans in cinema.
Before the film was even released, there was a lot of controversy around the casting of a non-native american to play a native american role, but upon release, Depp's portrayal was praised, even by the Comanche themselves.

“I think it was a very realistic portrayal of a Native American. It’s got drama and it’s got a lot of comedy; it fits right in with Comanche culture because we are well known as a humorous people,” he says. “In some instances [at screenings], it was only the Comanches that laughed, because we could relate to it.”-Wallace Coffey, chairman for the Comanche tribe, source
Depp also spent a lot of time living with the Comanche in order to fully understand their culture in order to play the role of Tonto more accurately. He was even made an honourary member of the Comanche nation. His role has been praised for being appropriately spiritual, as a real member of the tribe would be.
His character is not shown as the aggressive, savage type that native Americans were shown as in much older cinema. He and the Comanche are shown as being misunderstood, manipulated and with good intentions in the film. The narrative of the film is even told from the perspective of Tonto, who is somehow still alive 100 years later in a museum exhibit, which shows him as the stereotypical Indian tribesman, wielding a tomahawk and stood in front of a Teepee, with the exhibit being labeled 'The Noble Savage'. Tonto tells the story how things really were, and how his people really were, showing that the person seen at first glance in the museum is very misunderstood and inaccurate, perhaps reflecting how most people's perception of Native American culture in general today are equally as wrong, with some people believing them to be a savage people of only one tribe.
I think that Depp has brought the true face of Native American culture to the forefront of the media with this role, with the lengths he went to to portray it accurately showing and encouraging that the Native American people are misunderstood. The film also shows the more accurately spiritual side of the Indians, with their beliefs governing their life and their spirituality giving them a unique cultural identity.

I feel that more media, not just films, should strive to achieve such levels of accuracy. The fact that Depp spent so long living with the Comanche in order to understand them better is a prime example of how we can learn from Native American culture.

Bunky Echo-Hawk

Acrylic Paintings

Bunky Echo-Hawk is a Native American artist who aims to show the current state of native america through his artwork. He is known for his often humorous paintings, but they also carry a deeper meaning.
These particular pieces of Shrek characters in Native American garb may seem silly at first, but the deeper meaning behind them is shown when you begin to look at the very nature of them being a fusion between an American fictitious cinema character, and a very much real culture. Shrek is a purely fictitious character of American cinema and is watched purely for entertainment, and not learning of any kind. Native Americans have become portrayed in a similar way in cinema, and through time the 'Native American' shown on screen has become just as fake and made up as Shrek is. The Indians seen in modern films are nothing like they are in reality, they are based heavily upon stereotype in order to make a more entertaining film. The fusion of Shrek and Native America creates an image that shows the lack of differentiation between the two, that both are just as unbelievable in cinema and in the public eye.
I think Echo-Hawk is trying to show how absurd this combination is, and how wrong it is that something as serious and rich as Native American culture should be distorted to the point of becoming fiction. This fusion of old and new, of seriousness and comedy, is something I would like to explore in my work.
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