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On our reservation, we called our grandfathers, Mishom. The grandmothers were called, Kookum. Mishom was always happy and loved to be around the grandkids. He could tell a good story just as easy to a young person as he could to an older person. He didn't differ himself from someone who was poor or someone who was rich. He was just Mishom.

He would help Kookum during the day and be with her while she went to visit her friends. He would sit there smoking his pipe while she talked in circles sipping tea. When she struggled with the chores and tasks of daily life, he was always there helping to lend her a hand and laugh with her about stuff that would happen to them during the day. At night, he would lock all the doors and shut all the lights.

He built a one room house out of wood from a house that was torn down. He got some black tarpaper from a neighbor for her roof. The windows were found by his son-in-law, they weren’t much, but Kookum could see the church from one window and sunset from another. She would sit there each day playing solitaire as he sat by her smoking his pipe waiting for her to make their next move.

As the children and grandchildren came into their lives, he would add rooms onto the one room cabin until it resembled a maze. As they left, each room still had to stay in place and held together a loving frame of memories for them as they grew older.

It is not often the Angry Ojibwa Woman finds two people like this Mishom and Kookum in her life; a man and a woman that live as if they were one. Watching a couple that was perfectly paired in every step was a blessing for her.

As an Angry Ojibwa Woman, you knew finding the right friend or partner always took caution and care. You always knew when you have someone you could trust, laugh with, and cry with in an instant of meeting them. As a spiritual partner, that person is someone who leaned on you and you were able to lean on them. You were able to say a prayer and in the corner of your eye, see them praying just as hard with you and for you.

Your Kookum and Mishom told you the secret of happiness was to find someone that lived by the seven teachings: wisdom, love, respect, bravery, honesty, humility, and truth. That all had to be present before you knew that person was the right one.

That in finding true love, the Angry Ojibwa Woman finally understood why eagles mate for life. She understood the importance of courting and why it is important to truly understand every good and bad habit of your mate. Why, once you choose that mate, you will soar until you cannot see them in the sky and fall towards the earth with them in a locking embrace not letting them go until the very end.

She understood that building the nest large enough to hold everyone you love is only another example of how big your love will be and that the nest needs to be constantly rebuilt to strengthen it throughout the years. She also began to understand that the nest would become so heavy that it would weigh down any structure; the perfect balance of understanding and care must be taken to ensure it remains stable. And that, during her lifetime, the nest might be destroyed, and if so, they will rebuild it in the same location.

The moral of the story is to take your time in finding the right partner. Your Kookum and Mishom built a strong stable nest and they told you how to find the right mate. Once you find that right mate, stay with him or her throughout your life. Your love will bring you to the greatest heights and the deepest lows but together you can rebuild anything that comes at you.

This story is told in honor of one of the greatest couples I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life, Andy and Mary Favorite. That Andy was a perfect partner for Mary. Their love shows us how to live a good life, the one that Gitchemanitou gave us to live.

All the best,

Betsy McDougall



 
A Prisoner of Love

Every Angry Ojibwa Woman has one true love. She is taught from early on what it should look like, how it should feel, and when to throw it away. Her grandmothers, mother and aunts told her what it takes to meet their strict standards. The said, “Don’t play with it because it will get hard!” Also, that if you do it right, it will be fluffy, moist, and hard on the outside. Hard enough, they said, so when you tap on the outside it sounds hollow. Then you will know.

The Angry Ojibwe Women in your life told you over and over that, “You will fall in love early and often!” I knew the very moment I fell in love. Grandma would pull the bread pan off the wall. She would get the flour out and her apron on while talking to me about life. She would add baking powder, salt, and sugar to the flour and mix it all up. My brown little face would be resting my chin on the white enamel kitchen table. I knew, if I stayed there long enough, love was coming my way.

She would make a well with the flour. Showing me how it has to be done; never veering from the process. She would pour her milk, add her eggs, and then warm lard into the well. Taking a fork, she would mix the wet ingredients and then slowly but certainly mix it into the flour. I knew it would only be a matter of minutes until it was time and I would fall in love again.

She always sang the same song while making her bread:

Oh, I wish I had someone to love me, Someone to call me their own.

Oh, I wish I had someone to live with, 'Cause I'm tired of living alone.

Oh, meet me tonight in the moonlight, Please meet me tonight all alone.

For I have a sad story to tell you, It's a story that's never been told.

I'll be carried to the new jail tomorrow, Leaving my poor darling alone.

With the cold prison bars all around me, And my head on a pillow of stone.

Now I have a grand ship on the ocean, All mounted with silver and gold.

And before my poor darling would suffer, Oh, that ship would be anchored and sold.

Now, if I had the wings of an angel, Over these prison walls I would fly.

And I'd fly to the arms of my darling, And there I'd be willing to die.

(The Prisoner’s Song, Dalhart, 1925)

I always thought it was a sad song, even when I was a kid. What was her life like to make her so sad? She would look at me and smile as she formed the dough into a perfect ball. I thought, “Why is she saying she was in a prison and how come she wanted to be an angel?” She would take a knife and cut markings into the bread and place the bread in the wood oven. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I would be happier than I would ever be in my life.

She would sit with me by the kitchen table playing solitaire looking out the kitchen window. What was she looking at out that window? Who was she looking for so longingly? She would play another game.

As she grew older; we would have less and less times like that together. Her cards were dusty sitting on a shelf in the kitchen. The wood stove was replaced with an electric one. Commodities were being stockpiled in the pantry waiting for them to be sung into a magical moment of love which seemed to never return.

One day, my brother made a batch of love. She was sitting in the kitchen rocking in her chair. She had a big quilt wrapped around her. Mad, mad as hell. He said she could only have one slice of love. Her sugar was high and he was trying to control it. Meals on Wheels only gave her one slice of wheat bread with one pat of butter! Yes, she was mad as hell. He went into the living room and watched her. She watched him. I watched them.

Thinking she could make a break for it, she ran to the breadbox, grabbed the love and ran out the door yelling to the neighbors, “Help, I am being held prisoner!” My brother rushed out to the yard to grab her and the love fell on the ground.

Now, if I had the wings of an angel,

Over these prison walls I would fly.

And I'd fly to the arms of my darling,

And there I'd be willing to die.

The moral of the story is, you never know what people mourn for in life or whom or what they really love. That sadness can be carried a lifetime and played out daily through a deck of cards. Life sometimes holds us as prisoners through our memories. As we grow older, our memories grow weaker, but our love never wavers.

This story is written in honor of my Grandma Betsy Allard Wilkie Davis who gave me a lifetime of love.


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The Angry Ojibwa Woman and Dirty Feet
09/01/2012
 
Her fingernails were dirty.  She sat in the chair in the Welfare Woman's Office and hid them under her thighs as she sat there waiting for her caseworker.  She looked around the office and saw the degrees and certificates.  In her head, all she could think of was the chores she had to do at home and the kids she had to ask her brother to watch while she was gone.  Worried, she then looked down at her feet.  Her feet were dusty and packed with dirt in-between the toes and around the nails.  She tucked them under her chair.  How could she have forgot about her annual income renewal!  She had to show the caseworker all of her income - and to do that - she had to reach into her purse which was down by her feet!  There was absolutely no getting out of showing the dirt on her hands, nails, and feet.  She was going to have to buck up and play this like the Angry Ojbiwa Woman she was and give some "stink eye" while she was at it.  

Looking at the caseworker's piles of papers around the office, she thought, "Income!  What income!  My income comes from running the rez and collecting surplus property from others!"  In fact, she had a bunch of garden potatoes, beans,and onions in the car that were just waiting for the soup she had planned that night!

Income! She began to track her days during the last year.  Well, she ran into the woods a couple of times during the year to gather resources that is considered unaccounted income by most accountants but is eaten up by the time anyone would be able to report under most circumstances.  She was out on her boat most of the summer fishing or leaching.  She collected more resources there as well. Then she went out for a solid two weeks in the Fall to collect more resources and spent the rest of the time washing clothes and processing food for the winter.  In the spring, she ran around in the woods again and then out to berry camp.

Her friend, another Angry Ojibwe Woman, has been collecting Corelle dishes for her to make a complete set at rummage sales and thrift stores.  By the time the collection is complete, that could be counted as an asset.  The dishes that will no longer be used, by most accounting practices, would then be seen as surplus property.  The Angry Ojibwe Women smiled sitting their in the Welfare Woman's Office remembering how she picked up some great deals at rummage sales that were double their worth!  Heck, if they really took in the value of them, the sales would triple their value.  That is tricky as well when reporting her income.  Should she tell her caseworker that she picked up a leather jacket at a rummage sale for $5 dollars and sold it for $100 last month?  How about the surplus property in the basement that she is holding for her next rummage sale?  

Then she started thinking about the expenditure lines that she had to account for on her annual income report.  Well, there was no line for more than 5 people in your household so she couldn't count the grandbabies.  There wasn't a check box for pampers or for baby formula.  Summer was over and the grandkids were going back to school that meant about $200 a kid x 5 totals: $1,000.  The car broke down about 10 times, sometimes she had friends fix it, but most of the time out-of-pocket always was an assured cost in the expenditure line even if the daughter took the car and ran in-between pow-wows with it, it still was her expense.  The income reporting form just does not justify what life is really like in her household and does not have an "other" category.

The caseworker came into the room.  Smiling had a cup of coffee and sat down.  The Angry Ojibwa Woman was ready to shoot out the old stink eye to get the conversation going if it began on the wrong foot!  She needed the health care and other resources!  She had to watch her balance sheet and it just did not work without those resources.

As she sat there, the caseworker asked for her Income Reporting Sheet.  The Angry Ojibwa Woman reached down to grab her purse revealing her hands and feet covered with garden dirt.  If anything pisses an Angry Ojibwa Woman off more, it is someone taking time away from her gardening!  She found her documents and was steeling herself for the conversation as she saw it based upon her accounting practices.  As she saw it, she was running a non-profit - kind of like a boys and girls club of sorts! At the end of her year, her profits were literally eaten up and her losses were all unaccounted for and her budget always came out as zero!  

As she rose up to look at her caseworker, she looked under the caseworker's desk and saw her caseworker's feet.  They were covered with dirt and outlined with the sandals she was wearing. Looking up, the caseworker smiled at her.   

Moral of the Story: Women have a lot more in common than we think and sometimes it all revolves around a little dirt!

Your Friend, Betsy
 
To The Men of Angry Ojibwe Women:

We take good care of you because we love you. You are served fine meals. Your clothes are cleaned for you. The house is always clean and welcoming for you. We bring you items before you even know that you are going to need them. We do this because we love you.

DO NOT make the mistake of taking us for granted and EXPECT fine meals, to be cleaned up after or to have us at your beck and call...or you will find the true meaning of "Tough Love."

A. Nana Mus 
 
Ojibwe Teachings Do Have Meaning

All my life, I have tried to live by being good and that telling lies is a bad thing. So here is my dilemma: Daughter and I were walking along a gravel road. I found a diamon ring dug into the ground. Look likes several cars drove over it, a little dusty, but definitely diamonds and white gold. I put it on and it fits like it was made for me. Hmmm...
...
Mini thought...I figure, if people can get away with telling lies or with hurting someone, why is it that I still need to do the right thing? 

Reasoning thought...Cause my momma, Betty Laverdure, told me so! 

Outcome thought...my mom can still give me a whoopin'

So...If anyone lost a diamond ring in Waubun and can describe it to me or show me a picture, I want to return it. 

Moral of Story: The ring was most likely given in love and it was not meant for me. Being good and true is a good thing. Telling lies is a bad thing. It is the way the Creator and my Momma told us to be...pass it on.

Page 05/01/2012

I woke up this morning and the ring came to me in my dreams. If I put the ring on, it would give me the power and the permission to fight back for what was right. I had a renewed strength to live on, to wake up, to be the strong Ojibway woman I was meant to be.

... I came to the conclusion that the ring was thrown out the window of an old '57 bright red Chevy by an Angry Ojibway Woman!!!!!
 
1. If you are a Ojibwa woman living on the rez, you are required to own a cotton onsie housedress with two square pockets in the front that can be just right above the knee or right below the knee (For your safety: Do not refer to this as a tent dress in front of an Ojibwa woman).
2. You can wear your onsie anytime while at home, sometimes ...in the yard, and sometimes to walk to the mailbox if you are brave enough (Depends on the time of day)!
3. There are two pockets in the front. One is for your kleenix. The other is to keep your tightly clenched fist hidden and in a locked position so you do not haul off and hit someone. They are not for storing your dollars that is for the Indian purse that we will be talking about later in the course.
4. You cannot wear the onsie anywhere outside of the yard without explicit permission from your end point contact. To do this, you must get on the party line, phone, facebook, and/or email and send them a message saying, "I have my onsie on, is that alright?" If the other party confirms that it is ok, you can go over for coffee. However, there is an exception, if you are mad at the other party and are not going to give them any notice, I will always defer to the Angry Ojibwa Woman.
5. Finally, your onsie must be kept in a special place in the house, a place of honor, and a reminder of all the Angry Ojibway Women that have lived before you and given you the great memories and laughter. It is our veteran uniform!

Note: The next class will be on the Indian Purse to be held on Friday, May 11, 2012. Please sign up now.

Betsy McDougall
 
 
1. The Angry Ojibway Woman only has two hands. Count them, one on the left and one on the right.

2. In the right hand, we are most likely holding onto a toddler or carrying an infant in a car seat.

3. In the left hand, we are holding onto a toddler or carrying an infant in a car seat.
Yes, it is true we can multitask!
... 
4. We then use our teeth to hold car keys.

5. This is a point where most people need to use one of their five senses and understand that the Angry Ojibway Woman has most likely not even left the yard yet and she is 30 minutes late for wherever she is going. Do you offer to help knowing that she cannot use her lips or hands to motion for assistance? This is a question that the Angry Ojibway Woman will often reply to upon her return when her hands are not full! But this is all going to be covered in Understanding Social Cues from the Angry Ojibway Woman in Lesson Three of the course.

5. Now, understanding that the Angry Ojbway Woman's hands are full, where do we keep our money and cellphone? For those of you who don't know, all Angry Ojibway Women have an Indian Purse. You can't see it, but just know that it is there. Most Ojibway men will look away when it is being accessed or be exposed to more then what they would have liked as a result.

6. The Indian Purse is sold at most Walmarts, Kmarts, and garage sales. You usually, when trying to figure out how big of a purse you need, go once size up than usual. For example, if you wear a D you will need to get a DD. 

7. The rule of thumb is that you need enough room to fit your fist on either side, but not so big that your cellphone or dollar bills fall out. Some are lucky enought to not have change fall through the cracks, but that is not always the case so we try to spend our dollars so there is not change which is always good for the retail market.

8. The Indian Purse is one of the safest places to keep money. It is not advertised on any TV specials, but it is widely known and embraced in the Indian community. Most of the time, if you pick up an Indian Purse at a garage sale, it cost less than $1. It usually does not have rhinestones. It is always white. If you are snagging however, it might be black, but then you might not want to keep valuables in the purse during this time because it might be accessed by someone other than you. For most Angry Ojibway Women, her purse is safer than Fort Knox and everyone knows it.

9. Finally, like Annie Oakley, the Angry Ojibway Woman is quick on the draw. She can whip out her cellphone from the Indian Purse on the first ring , flip it open, and close it back up putting it back into the holtster without anyone even knowing. If standing at the checkout counter at Walmart, she will reach in her purse flip open the stack of bills, pay, and be over withit before the cashier has a change to gasp. 

10. Moral of the story: Indian Woman get by with little or nothing. They have for centuries. They are extremely innovative. They don't need rhinestones! And lastly, they have the ability to laugh at themselves and can give you the old stink eye at the same time if you even think about laughing at her. But that is another story!

Have a great day,
Betsy McDougall
 
 
Surviving the Angry Ojibwe Woman Stink Eye is the highest education degree we will ever possess. Learning the ‘degree’ of the Stink Eye and the corresponding body language and how to respond are the most vital maneuvers we will ever learn.

The following is an introductory guide to the Stink Eye. Description of what the Stink Eye looks like is unnecessary, Ojibwe have this knowledge in their DNA, all others will know it because your blood will run cold.

Upon entering into the territory of an unknown Angry Ojibwe Woman, you will automatically get the Stink Eye. Proper etiquette is to approach the woman immediately but slowly, eyes down, showing the proper respect of your intent. To approach any other way could cause severe bodily harm from any number of brothers, sons, grandchildren, nephews, friends, dogs, or even more powerful protectors of the Angry Ojibwe Woman. This automatic Stink Eye comes from the need to know who you are and what your intentions are in her territory. 

Every Angry Ojibwe Woman has her own Stink Eye Level of Tolerance, with an infinite number of reasons to give you the Eye. It is best to take cues from the Husband, children and/or others whom are close to her on how to respond. The rule of thumb is, if you have gotten the Eye twice from her and you are able to leave, do so quickly and quietly. Do not kid yourself, you know why you got it. It does not matter if you agree with it or not. If you return without adjusting your behavior, you are on your own. With out a sound the area will clear of all living things and you will be left to learn whatever lesson she's got in store for you.

From time to time you may receive what may seem like an unwarranted Stink Eye. This may be true. The Angry Ojibwe Woman may be upset with the world and you just happen to be in her line of fire. If you can time travel or have an Invisible Cloak, now would be the time to use them.

The Angry Ojibwe Woman may seem like the meanest person you have ever known. Remember this, she cares deeply about you and the community. It is the best education we will ever receive.
 
 
Etiquette Rule: If you are in the Angry Ojibwa Woman's house there are some strict etiquette rules that you must be aware of or be subjected to the Old Stink Eye or a slap behind the head with a piece of raw dough!

1. Do not say that your Mom's frybread is "the best" versus the Angry Ojibwa Woman's frybread, unless of course, she is your mother. Every Angry Ojibwa Woman has her own frybread recipe. Do not say, "Youse mom uses baking powder in her frybread!" You will be hit with the well-known Angry Ojibwa Woman's "EyeSnap" which we all know is a vicious traumatizing assault on a person - so be warned. You also hear, from the Angry Ojibwa Woman herself, that her recipe is a long held family recipe that she will NOT reveal to anyone. Most likely she adds both baking powder and yeast and often dried commodity milk, eggs, and potato flakes! But I never told you that! I also have witnessed an Angry Ojibwa Woman going to the local baker and having them sell her dough in big batches and for years no one knew (This is a smart intelligent Angry Ojibwa Woman who we all need to learn from in understanding that what The FryBread Consumer doesn't know will never hurt them!) Lastly, the rule of thumb is that the Angry Ojibwa Woman has to experience failed dough at least 50 times in her life in order to be recognized as a Frybread Expert!

2. Do not stand behind the Angry Ojibwa Woman while she is cooking hoping to grab a piece of frybread! Number one, because you are by hot oil. Number two, she will crack you really hard with her fist which is full of flour and maybe a large utensil. Both of these are hard learned lessons and if you go back for a second attempt...who are we to tell you anything different!

3. The Angry Ojibwa Woman will use anything in her reach to flatten out the frybread including lifting her Onsie and using her thigh! Do not be drinking hot coffee while observing this for obvious reasons!

4. If you attempt to touch the dough thinking you are helping the Angry Ojibwa Woman because she looks overwhelmed...get the hell out of the way! She will tell you to not play with it because it will get hard and then crack you with her fist that is full of flour or a large utensil. By the way, when she refers to "it", she means the dough!

5. Most Angry Ojibwa Woman are required to make frybread early in their lives. It is not something that they "love" to do! In fact, as soon as someone looks like they are old enough to take over the job, they will be taught to make it whether they like it or not. This includes men and they sometimes are better at it then the Angry Ojibwa Woman, unless of course, we are talking about your mother. It is always assumed that standing over bread dough making tedious small round sections to fry in hot oil on a hot day is something an Angry Ojibwa Woman "loves to do"! Wrong! Snap out of it!

6. As we get older, we the Angry Ojibwa Woman will usually get diabetes or high cholesterol! This is almost always a fact! Due to her "love" of cooking high cholesterol frybread for her loved ones, she will eventually get sick. She is then told by the ones that she is cooking for, that she can not have the frybread or even real butter! As you tell her that she can have one slice of multigrain whole wheat bread with a teaspoon of Smart Balance and that you would be willing to get that for her there is a general rule of caution: Smiling at the Angry Ojibwa Woman during this statement is not safe!.

Moral of the Story: The Angry Ojibwa Woman has to live by a set of societal rules that are not always "loved" as you think. She does however love the ones that she is cooking for and sees the happiness that the smell and taste of frybread brings to her loved ones. Her great grandmother and her grandmas before that have passed love through frybread for generations and she will continue to do the same to her children and grandchildren. That is why they put a hole in the middle of the frybread to assure that it has a future! If you are lucky enough to become a frybread student, you will have to bear the responsibility of teaching the next generation so take it seriously. Finally, give the Angry Ojibwa Woman a piece of frybread with real butter no matter what her age and see her smile!

Have a great weekend,

Betsy McDougall