BY GLORIA O’KOYE
Spoke to a knowledge keeper not too many moons ago,
An old soul filled with fear and tears with every syllable
“Our youth don’t care, our language is dying!”
“Our culture is endangered, it’ll be extinct by the next generation, if we don’t keep fighting!”
Watched a hunter cut up a moose with precision
Road kills be a city hassle,
But up here,
It’ll feed families
So, it’s seen as respect and a celebration
Every part is used for something
Nothing is wasted
“But ask the youth right now, they would only dance among the bushes as long the money sings,”
“The old days, it was different, now so many things had changed!”
Many will eat their fill,
But only few will prepare
This happens worldwide,
Where traditions slowly die
One world one order,
Like invasive species tampering with the ecosystems that existed since the first grains of time trickled
The elders watch from afar,
How the grasp of residential schools
Blow cursed kisses to generations,
Suffocating the culture
Once strong and proud,
Now constant battles between school board and younger parents,
To keep the language and cultural classes
The parents had never experienced the beauty of the bush life,
Only knew about aftermath the first encounter with colonized life
These stories remind me of my suffocating culture, my loss of communication
Without language there is no culture
And I believe many will be lost in this lifetime
I bet those who read and hear this will know
Of their mother and father tongue’s
Worth and value
