Snowshoes, and a Lady

Although there was no established Cree art form, where Inuit soapstone was more established, one lone native created her own mark. A Cree lady, who lived in Moosonee, created a miniature pair of snowshoes, taking all of three days to complete. I was thankful for the gift of them, kept in my possession for 40 years.

They measure three by twelve inches, decorated in red and blue, with moose-hide strips for decoration, as well as moose-hide for strapping. There is a small crack on the side of one snowshoe surely caused by age.

I learned other interesting facts, in Moosonee in 1987, such as the most popular mode of transportation; the Ski-do, although gasoline was considered expensive. Also, Cree ladies did all family work. Ie washing, cooking, getting firewood, looking after children, etc. Those men who could afford it raced around on their machines, fished, hunted and trapped, truly a man’s world.

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In 1967 Moosonee was a Territorial jurisdiction administered by the government of Ontario. It was 180 miles from the nearest town, Cochrane, with a population of 5,000. The Cree population of approximately 500 natives originally came from many bands situated on both sides of James and Hudson Bays.

It was a great experience for me to be the Welfare Officer, representing the government of Ontario for the year I worked there. The hours were long, the town quite isolated from mainstream society, but I enjoyed it. The Cree were a proud and resilient people.

They lived in their own homemade houses, with about 10% living in 5ft x 7ft canvas tents with sawdust flooring. A hole was cut through the canvas to accommodate the stovepipe coming from a 40-gallon drum used as a stove, which sat on a sheet of metal. Within these tents, were the child/children, parents, perhaps a dog, food, clothing. Firewood was kept outside in teepee shapes.

Many natives had only a one-room 9 x 12 foot building, most having a canvas top from about waist high, with a hole cut through the ceiling for a stovepipe. There was no electricity on the native side, across Shore Creek, in Moosonee. For those who paid $1 per month, there was a small outhouse size building with a water pump, which guaranteed fresh water. Most citizens took their water from Shore Creek. Trout lived in abundance there.

In addition there were geese so plentiful they could easily knock an aircraft out of the sky if a pilot strayed in wave after wave of white geese, called—Wavies. Partridge were in large numbers and they gathered in flocks of 30 or so. And within a short distance, all of the game one could shoot was easily accomplished.

Ducks were like clouds of feathery creatures and no one I knew even hunted them. American hunters came from all over to hunt for Geese, in one of the five goose camps in the area. Canada Geese were not too plentiful. And Shipsand’s Island was a Preserve where geese could hide from noisy shotguns. Firewood was scarce since most had been cut and burned. The area was in Muskeg country and the forest around Moosonee, quite sparse.

Thus natives had to travel, many by snowshoe, into the wooded areas for firewood, which could easily be several kilometers away.

I had the greatest admiration for one lady with seven children, who garnered all her firewood without help. She would have one child. a boy of eleven stay home in the morning from school to mind the younger ones. Then in the afternoon, her ten-year old girl would remain home to baby-sit brothers and sisters, thus taking turns with her sibling. It allowed the mother to seek out firewood for her children.

Using her independence, since none of the men would help, she headed off with her sleigh and sought out wood. To this day, she and I are friends, some 38 years later. The first time I met her was when she had no one to get her firewood. The Economic Development Officer who was discouraged at being unsuccessful brought the issue to my attention. I said to him, “Why not just buy her an axe, then she can get her own firewood?”

“Do you think I’m the Welfare Department?” he answered with a snort.

Later I visited the lady in her one room, no insulation, 12 x 15 ft home a mansion by the standards of natives nearby. It had no partitions, sink, water, electricity, cupboards, washroom nor windows; but it had heart. It was her castle, and she proudly showed me around. There was only one single bed, which was hers. When I suggested I might buy her an axe, I received a giant hug; she was a stout lady.

And it was the beginning of a very long friendship even after I moved from Moosonee a year later. Today my wife, Esther, and I converse several times a year and exchange letters with her and her family, some of whom still reside in Moosonee.

Her children, now numbering twelve, live all over; with families of their own. One of her dreams came true when she showed me her new three-bedroom apartment in 1972 after I returned to Moosonee. It was a great visit.

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My year in Moosonee taught me much about life, and its fragility. In the village I saw a cemetery filled with young children under the age of five. Sadly, it was one of the reasons the life span of a native in Canada, in 1967, was 30-32 years of age.

But, take heart. Living to the fullest was very precious to a native. Life was measured by the dawn of each day, the sun’s morning rays, the cry of a Wavie (a white goose), flapping wings from a retreating partridge or shouts from a friend.

I have precious memories from that golden time, including the friendship of one dear lady who made those snowshoes.

© 2010 Richard L. Provencher
Richard’s URL: http://writers.ns.ca/Writers/rprovencher.html