I wrote this awhile back, changed the names to protect the innocent (lol). It's all the sensations that an evening in the teepee brings to me. It's about time I put a story in my blog for a change. I have a hard time letting my stories go. I know for many friends and family from the region, this story is a very familiar experience. I hope this brings you fond memories of your own. For all those who have never had their evening in the teepee, I hope I have enticed you to someday try.
Photo by J.Wash
Sitting crossed legged, staring at the fire that hypnotises with the ever changing shapes of the flames. Sara can feel the cold air of the evening hit her back, a glaring contrast to the heat emanating from the fire in the center of the teepee. Underneath her small cushion she sits on for comfort, are the branches of the local pine trees laid on the ground like a carpet. They give off the sweet smell of fresh pine that Sara relates to an evening such as this in comparison to someone else who would conjure up Christmas instead. She knows that her clothes and hair must already smell of smoke and doesn’t mind it one bit.
Sara watches her mother Jane, take a long carved stick to turn the wild goose roasting. It is hanging on hook attached to a long string which in turn is attached to the poles tied across the teepee over the fire. She then takes another stick, this time not carved for the cooking purposes that the other one offers, to simply stoke the fire and keep it hot. The geese twirl incessantly clockwise and counter clockwise as the grease from the meat drips slowly into a pan underneath. Sara knows her mother and sister are going to preserve the grease for other purposes; it is the butter or olive oil to the Cree.
Sara remembered her mother mentioning the fact that they also use goose grease for medicinal purposes. They all swear by it, including Sara’s sister Mary, who used it on her toddler this past winter as you would a topical ointment to help ease the symptoms of congestion and as a cough syrup to calm the incessant coughing that keeps a child and parent up at nights. Mary claimed the next day her little girl was better and no longer coughing. “It worked!” Mary said, and their mother just nodded with a smile.
The stick Jane used to stoke the fire has a glowing coal on its tip that she takes to light her cigarette. Mary says that the cigarette tastes better when lit by the fire. Sara will have to take her sister’s word on it since she doesn’t smoke.
Sara always enjoys these evenings with her family. They constantly tell the same old funny stories of things that happened to them as they grew up together and despite it being told over a hundred times, it never loses its humour. Her mother Jane comes in and out of the teepee constantly throughout the evening to fetch more firewood that has been chopped and left in a pile outside, missing utensils and cups. She loves to keep busy.
Sara on the other hand tries to avoid leaving as long as possible for any reason, even to the point where she can feel her bladder about to burst. She should be heading into the house to relieve herself from the many cups of the flavorful tea boiled over the fire that she's been drinking all evening. The tea always tastes better over the fire. Yet, it feels too comfy in the warmth that the family’s teepee has to offer to bother even going out on this fresh evening. She will postpone her bathroom break a little longer because it’s not only is the air that’s warm, but also the atmosphere.
There are times however, during the cooking of the geese that the air is stifling because they want keep the fire hot enough to cook the food. When this happens, all Sara has to do is lie down near the walls of the teepee, pull the canvas up a few inches from the bottom to allow some cool air to hit her hot face from outside.
Sara sighs with pleasure as she takes in the sights and scents of a familiar routine that the family has kept when they get together to cook and eat in the teepee. Her little nieces and nephews come in and out consistently and constantly throughout the evening. For the smoke to go up and out of the hole at the top of the teepee where all the poles join, everyone tells the children to close the door properly because they never fail to leave a large gap open from the door flap of the teepee.
Sara’s mother cleans and sharpens her knife in anticipation of cutting a freshly roasted goose she calls sigabon in her Cree language. The only way a goose can be called sigabon is due to the fact that it was roasted over an open fire. No one ever calls a goose roasted in the oven sigabon, because it does not have the same taste or appeal as one roasted in the teepee. Sara salivates at the thought of enjoying the flavourful tender meat that will soon be offered.
Jane carefully turns the goose on its other end over the drip pan that will spit out the juices that was trapped inside the goose in order to finish the cooking process. She jabs the hook in the crook of the neck part for the tail end to point down and closer to the flames. It never fails but Sara’s mom always winds up saying: “This part is going to cook fast. Soon it will be spitting.” Sara knows she means that her mom will eventually poke it with a knife and steam instead of pink juices will indicate that it’s ready.
The potatoes that they put across the coals on the fire in some tin foil will be the side to the fresh roasted goose. The utensils are there mainly for the salad that is being served and the potatoes but when it comes time to eat the goose, everyone will be using their hands. It’s the only way to truly enjoy what the Cree proudly call sigabon.
Sara watches her mother Jane, take a long carved stick to turn the wild goose roasting. It is hanging on hook attached to a long string which in turn is attached to the poles tied across the teepee over the fire. She then takes another stick, this time not carved for the cooking purposes that the other one offers, to simply stoke the fire and keep it hot. The geese twirl incessantly clockwise and counter clockwise as the grease from the meat drips slowly into a pan underneath. Sara knows her mother and sister are going to preserve the grease for other purposes; it is the butter or olive oil to the Cree.
Sara remembered her mother mentioning the fact that they also use goose grease for medicinal purposes. They all swear by it, including Sara’s sister Mary, who used it on her toddler this past winter as you would a topical ointment to help ease the symptoms of congestion and as a cough syrup to calm the incessant coughing that keeps a child and parent up at nights. Mary claimed the next day her little girl was better and no longer coughing. “It worked!” Mary said, and their mother just nodded with a smile.
The stick Jane used to stoke the fire has a glowing coal on its tip that she takes to light her cigarette. Mary says that the cigarette tastes better when lit by the fire. Sara will have to take her sister’s word on it since she doesn’t smoke.
Sara always enjoys these evenings with her family. They constantly tell the same old funny stories of things that happened to them as they grew up together and despite it being told over a hundred times, it never loses its humour. Her mother Jane comes in and out of the teepee constantly throughout the evening to fetch more firewood that has been chopped and left in a pile outside, missing utensils and cups. She loves to keep busy.
Sara on the other hand tries to avoid leaving as long as possible for any reason, even to the point where she can feel her bladder about to burst. She should be heading into the house to relieve herself from the many cups of the flavorful tea boiled over the fire that she's been drinking all evening. The tea always tastes better over the fire. Yet, it feels too comfy in the warmth that the family’s teepee has to offer to bother even going out on this fresh evening. She will postpone her bathroom break a little longer because it’s not only is the air that’s warm, but also the atmosphere.
There are times however, during the cooking of the geese that the air is stifling because they want keep the fire hot enough to cook the food. When this happens, all Sara has to do is lie down near the walls of the teepee, pull the canvas up a few inches from the bottom to allow some cool air to hit her hot face from outside.
Sara sighs with pleasure as she takes in the sights and scents of a familiar routine that the family has kept when they get together to cook and eat in the teepee. Her little nieces and nephews come in and out consistently and constantly throughout the evening. For the smoke to go up and out of the hole at the top of the teepee where all the poles join, everyone tells the children to close the door properly because they never fail to leave a large gap open from the door flap of the teepee.
Sara’s mother cleans and sharpens her knife in anticipation of cutting a freshly roasted goose she calls sigabon in her Cree language. The only way a goose can be called sigabon is due to the fact that it was roasted over an open fire. No one ever calls a goose roasted in the oven sigabon, because it does not have the same taste or appeal as one roasted in the teepee. Sara salivates at the thought of enjoying the flavourful tender meat that will soon be offered.
Jane carefully turns the goose on its other end over the drip pan that will spit out the juices that was trapped inside the goose in order to finish the cooking process. She jabs the hook in the crook of the neck part for the tail end to point down and closer to the flames. It never fails but Sara’s mom always winds up saying: “This part is going to cook fast. Soon it will be spitting.” Sara knows she means that her mom will eventually poke it with a knife and steam instead of pink juices will indicate that it’s ready.
The potatoes that they put across the coals on the fire in some tin foil will be the side to the fresh roasted goose. The utensils are there mainly for the salad that is being served and the potatoes but when it comes time to eat the goose, everyone will be using their hands. It’s the only way to truly enjoy what the Cree proudly call sigabon.