Great Grandmother Whitefish

Whitefish

A couple of Sundays I go when I was out for a walk along the waterfront, I stopped to read one of the new 'history posts' that are scattered along spots on the walkway. On this one overlooking the boat slips, I read about the start of the lake fishing industry in the early days when this Traditional Territory was speeding along into a settler community and economy. I was saddened to read that huge schools of large old whitefish were quickly depleted. There are no longer any huge schools of nine kilo whitefish.

When I got home, I wrote a poem about the whitefish. The poem is still rough around the edges, but here it is.

Angling for Whitefish

By 1920

the rainforest of fish

inland sea of pale-green

brown-backed silver white

deer of the Lakes—

Whitefish,

Sister of Salmon—

was exhausted.

Yet, before the settlers,

Whitefish,

ancient underwater

understory of the forest

of water swam and swam

in a never-ending cycle, 

collecting wisdom in 

the hump on her back.

Seeking cold silence in summer,

Great Great Grandmother

Ancestor Atikamek

swam along the depths

but when Freezing Moon called

She returned to swim

closer to sky.

Sister of Salmon

swam in the underwater bountiful

Her nine kilos of silvery scales

flashed white

in a slow dance

above the dark stones.

Circling through the seasons,

Ancestor Deer

collected great age 

and animal wisdom,

stored them in the hump

on her back. 

Then, the captain

of commerce came

from Chicago

with his nets of profit

and offers of jobs –

jobs for hungry settlers.

In a language

that had no sacred grammar for

Ancestor Atikamek

newsboys on Cumberland Street

cried “Free Trade!”

before the term was even invented

by neo-cons in the 1980s.

Whatever the term,

the terms are clear:

The captains of industry

fished out the forest

cut down the 800 year old Ancestors

swimming in the glacial waters

at the bottom of the Lake.

Above,

the Thunderbirds

circled.