Just an old Folk Song......

Folks, here is an old folk song that many singers have sung over the years....
An American folk song often categorized as children's music. It is a derivation of a Negro spiritual known as "When the Chariot Comes".
See if you can guess what the modern day title of this song is.....
It is all in Potawatomi.....
Have fun with this song....
Nin se Neaseno.


Wi-byé-wagi i azhbek’ek wa-je-byat



Wi-byé-wagi i azhbek’ek wa-je-byat,
Wi-byé-wagi i azhbek’ek wa-je-byat,
Wi-byé-wagi i azhbek’ek,
Wi-byé-wagi i azhbek’ek,
Wi-byé-wagi i azhbek’ek wa-je-byat.

Wi-zgabyénan négdoshayen wa-je-byat,
Wi-zgabyénan négdoshayen wa-je-byat,
Wi-zgabyénan négdoshayen,
Wi-zgabyénan négdoshayen,
Wi-zgabyénan négdoshayen wa-je-byat.

Jayék gwi-o-nkwéshkwamen wa-je-byat,
Jayék gwi-o-nkwéshkwamen wa-je-byat,
Jayék gwi-o-nkwéshkwamen,
Jayék gwi-o-nkwéshkwamen,
Jayék gwi-o-nkwéshkwamen wa-je-byat.

Gwi-nsamen o mskwe-nabésé wa-je-byat,
Gwi-nsamen o mskwe-nabésé wa-je-byat,
Gwi-nsamen o mskwe-nabésé,
Gwi-nsamen o mskwe-nabésé,
Gwi-nsamen o mskwe-nabésé wa-je-byat.

Jayék gwi-yemen wézhashkemdék wa-je-byat,
Jayék gwi-yemen wézhashkemdék wa-je-byat,
Jayék gwi-yemen wézhashkemdék,
Jayék gwi-yemen wézhashkemdék,
Jayék gwi-yemen wézhashkemdék wa-je-byat.

On Respect........

Good day folks....
Some information on an old familiar word among our people.....
The gift of respect and its responsibilities among our people, the Neshnabeg.
It wasn't something we merely spoke of, it was a lifestyle and something we put on, like an article of clothing......

Nin se Neaseno.




Respect

respect [rɪˈspɛkt]
n
1. an attitude of deference, admiration, or esteem; regard
2. the state of being honoured or esteemed
3. a detail, point, or characteristic; particular he differs in some respects from his son
4. reference or relation (esp in the phrases in respect of, with respect to)
5. polite or kind regard; consideration respect for people's feelings
6. (often plural) an expression of esteem or regard (esp in the phrase pay one's respects)

vb (tr)
1. to have an attitude of esteem towards; show or have respect for, to respect one's elders
2. to pay proper attention to; not violate, to respect Swiss neutrality
3. to show consideration for; treat courteously or kindly
4. Archaic to concern or refer to
[from Latin rēspicere to look back, pay attention to, from RE- + specere to look]


Mnadenmowen respect

Mnadendek to respect s.o.

Mdodadenwa speak with respect

Nchiwenmowen I hold in high regard

Nchiwendan hold in high regard (inan.)

Nchiwenma hold in high regard (anim.)

Wdetanmowen to have respect

Mnadendemwenen to have respect for s.o. or s.t.

Kejitwawenindowen to have great respect for s.o. or s.t.


Some questions to be considered.

Will a student of the Neshnabek persuasion ever surpass his/her teacher?

Should they ever cease respecting their teachers?

When will they stop following their teachers?

Will they know or will they be told?

Who will tell them?

Mnadendowen to have mutual respect for each other


The order of roles and their various duties.

Oshkabéwés
Little servitor….
Like a little janitor….
Spitoons, emptying of….
Cleaning of arbor area….

Oshkabéwes
Servitor
Fire assistant


Ceremonialist
Drummer/Singer
Altar assistant

Translator/Interpreter

*Physical
**Spiritual


*In this role, one was expected to serve the people by helping the elders and the spiritual leaders among them. In this way, the songs and the ceremonies were learned and often, a young person could become the apprentice of a recognized spiritual leader.


**In this role, one became a translator/interpreter of all the spiritual stuff he/she saw and was taught. Only your Teacher could advise you when you were ready for this responsibility though. Once you gained the trust of your Teachers, they commissioned you to go out and seek fresh vision for oneself. This is what draws the spiritual person close to the ways of the people, and causes him/her to serve so closely and faithfully.

An old Prayer......

Thought you might enjoy reading a prayer stated by one of our old Potawatomi gentlemen, recorded by Ruth Landes, and early anthropologist who visited our people in Kansas in the 1930's. Tom Topash was from Michigan originally but made his home with the Prairie Potawatomi of Kansas then. He still has relatives living in the Southwestern Michigan area.
Read and enjoy then....

Nin se Neaseno.



TOPASH PRAYER.

THUNDER:

O Jigwé Nagan’ien (énaganiyen)
Oh Thunder Leader

Mamwé mishkwezyen shote
Supreme Power here

Égi bgednegoyen éwi je
You were placed and to

Kewabmiyak I je mine
Protect us (also) and

Éwi nizhokmodwan gij
To help your other

Mishkwezimak éwi
Lesser plants under you and good

Mnogmoak éwi nizhokmodwan *(always praise the
Rains and help (bless us with) rains)

Éwi mno bmadziyak jak gégo
Good lives (that we may live good lives)

Mine éwi gsiabaudi’ek (gsiabadwiyek)
All crops, growths and every variety

Nebeshknegen jayék
All rotten things (and washes clean atop the ME
All rotten things)

Anaké tatbégwen mine mishkoyen
Along with leaves and weeds

Nebeshknegen éwi binabaud’iek (binabadwiyek)
Rotten and made clean by the rain

Édnesyak iw je pi
Where we live and when

Zhawno’enmek émnoskyag inoden
The South Winds with their nice damp air and the Great
Good Wind

Égche mnobmadji shka gwi yak
Enable us to live and able

Ije gedzhi’esk miyak jak
To continue all

Mno mikjéwiwen éwi
Variety of good work and

Jak gishkwiyak we’an meze
Variety of completed work pursuing

Mno mikjéwiyak éwi zhigojkemegon
Good work and to avoid

Mine jak nenyézanyek
Any and all danger.


NORTH SPIRIT:

Ahau Pondesé wéwéne
Greeting Coldness (One) earnestly

Genadotmonenan éwi
We ask you and

Kewabmiyak wéwénije
Protect us earnestly we ask
Genadotmonenan éwi
You to protect us and

Kewabmiyak éwi bwa zigdezhiyak
Watch over us and not to freeze us

Bénagdze éwi zak senyak
Be very mild then Cold Ones

Ije gche gdotmonenan
And we request

Débtso éwi bgeshagon
A sufficiency then of falling snow

Éwi ngwagneg se kig
So as to blanket the Earth

Éwi déb mno Otakiwak
And so sufficient a nice dampening of the Earth

Gé she je kejkadoiyag éwi
In order to help us then

Gizhgatoyag wabgonen
Raise pumpkins

Ndamneg mine penik
Corn and potatoes

Mine kojések mine
And beans and

Jak ézgak washkgbek
All variety of growing things

Mine jak ézgak bébiz wayak
And also small fruits.

THE EAST:

Kegnaswé ékche yéwak
Coming Daylight Greatest

Gebébamzawen gin
Power you

Éwedzema dzegék jak gégo
Start varieties of everything

Bamgak mshkekegé jak
Growing medicine all

Éshkek wa nadwashkag wiyak
Kinds that grow for doctoring ourselves

Ébgosén demak wéwéne éwi
We wish sincerely then

Gizgak iw je wéwéne gé je
They grow then nicely so we can

Skeksedoiyak éwi
Gather them and

Nado’owé wiyak iw pi éyaknogéyak
Cure ourselves when we fall ill

Iw je wéwéne géndotmon nag tche
And respectfully I ask you an early

Ewi Mnokmek iw je wéwéne
Spring and respectfully

Endotmonag jak ézgak
We ask you for it all kinds of growing

Washkgbeg gé je skeknemag
Fruit that we may gather

Iw pi Ponok éwi mijyak
When Winter comes and we eat

Mine éwizgek nekmek jak
And gather all kinds

Ezgek mashgeké
Of growing things.




THE SOUTH :

Zhawdesi ik she éndotmonag
Hotness now we pray

Ewi mizhyak jak gégo kazegek
Then give us varities of all that

Géte ga nak gin jayék épamzen
Grows in the fields you do have all kinds of control

Ékwabdoyen éwi mno zak ki’eg
You have charge of them and good growths


MOTHER EARTH:

Mesekmekwé ngyénan ik she
Top soil our Mother now we

Wéwéne éndotmonag gé pe
Respectfully ask you to fulfill your

Bamziwen gé gin ga wje
Responsibility that is your duty

Bgetnegoyen éwi je nizhokmowiyak
You were placed to do and help us execute

Shewénmatenejnag éwi mno
Graciously and good

Zak k’yég mine wéwéne éwi
To sprout and properly to

Gizhgag jak gégo waje’ gé’ak
Mature all everything they/we plant

Éwi mémek mikwékek
And make them grow abundantly.



THE GOOD SPIRIT:

She wén ge’en mnomneto wéwéne
Merciful Good Spirit respectfully

Gnedotmomen éwi kewabmiyak
We say to protect then (us) from

Jak gégo éje nizan wiyag
All of the dangers

Gche tche igwan n’mo jenak
Avert cyclone or

Gche wawiyasto jayék gégo
Great Whirlwind and all sorts of

Ze’angek égche mkomi
Dangers with great hail or falling storm


Biésag gé’aba éwi bwa
Also avoid excessive

Ozam wizganmek
Winds

Iw je gé she ndotmomen
Also again we pray you

Gche tche igwan jayék
Ward off all kinds

Éwi nénmoyak jak zengak
Then ward them off all danger

Éwi bwa pe gém jeka gwi yak
Then so it will not touch

Gche tche igwan nénmo jenak
Us ward off great dangers

I gé zenan dek noden
Including Hot Wind.

A poem for you today folks.....

I wrote this some time back.....
It still tells a powerful story though.....
We must not lose our language and cultural ways.....
We cannot lose them, for they are intertwined.....ya can't have one without the other.....
Read and enjoy.....and think deeply on the message therein....

Nin se Neaseno.



Look at my Horse!
By: Donald Perrot 


I was standing somewhere

Looking at the sights of this world

And they told me I was too old to stand there,

So I told someone,

Hey mister, look at my horse.

She sure is fast,

She can sure run like the wind.

Look at her mane and tail, mister,

Did you ever see anything so beautiful?

Oh, they wouldn’t even look at my horse,

So I told them I knew of many horses,

And many riders who still trusted in horses.

I told them I could still ride like the old ones,

And keep up with the people who move as ghosts

In the wind at night and in the moonlight.

I told them we were a part of the horses

Because the horses were us,

And we were the horses.

Our Ways of Life are the horses

We ride throughout eternity

And beyond when you shall see us no more,

But wonder just where we all went,

On some moonlit night when shadows grow long,

And stories grow old with not even one

Storyteller around to finish the tale.

Hey mister, look for the wheel

Which shall come around again,

Looking for the paths to finish what

We have only begun to speak and do.

No, they didn’t want to listen to my drum,

Nor my songs, nor my stories, or even brush

My horse’s back or clean her fetlocks,

Or caress her hooves from the long trails

She had traveled for me and them.

Now they cry in the moonlight,

For some of the beauty I tried to tell them of

And whimpers can be heard midst the voices of little ones,

Who ache to hear the old stories once again.

Days when I told them of my old horse

And the winningness of her gallop,

And the sureness of her hoofbeats,

Beating a staccatto on well worn buffalo paths

They didn’t even know about.

I still love my old horse,

And still ride her in the moonlight,

When no one is about.

It matters not that no one sees her

To admire the beauty of her ways.

All that matters is that I still love and trust

Her and still want to ride her,

On moonlit nights when all is calm

And full of sweetgrass memories.

I shall yet love her and go on with her

Marveling at her sureness, and steady gait,

And strength that brought me through then.

From one who knows love then!

Nin se Neaseno...
Copyright 2004

In Memory of Edwegizhgokwe.....

In memoriam of Edwegizhgokwe.....
Who was with us in this language and yearned to be able to speak hers, the language she was born with and heard as a child.....now she roams those hills of home speaking to her heart's content and visiting often, the Ones she dreamed of....
and the One who gave her the life she lived so freely and fully, and then called her home to be with those who've earned a rest, as she did.

This song/poem was written by a friend of mine.....

Nin se Neaseno.


Teachers


Last night, I dreamed of floating on deep waters,
drifting toward destinations unknown
on a raft just barely large enough
to hold me.


Yesterday I watched her sleeping
for a long, long time,
breathed her living presence
as she visited those distant lands
of buoyant transformation.


I mused about the coming time
when her sleep will be the fathomless kind,
her living presence known to other realms --
no longer here,
no longer mine.


But now, she dreams as I do,
in domains we know but do not understand,
where conversations freely flow
between the souls of man.


These enigmatic dreams of hers and mine
instruct us with the same refrain:
Let your hearts be open!

open!

open!

no matter the fear or pain.



Copyright © 7-27-08
Juli Maltagliati

Why it is Spring....

Another old story as to why it is Spring....
The old people were amazing and more interesting to listen to than watching the modern day television of today. The way they could embellish a story was truly amazing. There are several versions of this story.....

Nin se Neaseno......enjoy.





Bnewi pene shna gi bbomget, pene gi ksenyamget, gi gwtektowek bemadsetthek.
A long time ago, it was winter all the time, it was cold all the time and people had a hard time.

Ngodek shna eyawek weshgget kwe gi mkedeke, ije egi ndotthget notth na datthe abwamgek.
One time a young girl fasted, and she asked that the weather would be warmer.

I tthe ni mnedon egi widmagwet da shetthget na notth ewi abwamgek.
So the spirits told her what she could do to make the weather warmer.

Gagish mkedeket egi widmowat ni wgetzimen, “Abdek wetthksenyak nwi shya,” wdenan.
After her fast, she told her parents, “I have to go north,” she told them.

“Wiye shi etthe yet o bemendek ode pene e bbomgek ngigo,” kedo o weshgget kwe.
“That’s where he’s at, the one responsible for it being winter all the time, I was told,” said the young girl.

“Mishgoswen ngi mingo ewi o wabmek. Abdek nwi o mttenwa, gishpen pkenwek wi mnokme mine wi niben.”
“I was given power to go see him. I have to challenge him, if I beat him there will be spring and summer.”

“Nitthe gishpen pkenagwyen?” kedo ni wneneyem. “Jo mine wika ke wabmesim,” wdenan wneneymen.
“What if he beats you?” said her mother. “Then you will never see me again,” she told her mother.

I the egi wshitat, mteno shna washe bmowdek wgi matthidon.
Then she got ready, she took only what she could pack on her back.

Ah itthe ibe wetthksenyak gi gwtekto, o kewesi. Gwa shna shke ewse msen emawdonek.
Meanwhile, up north, the old man was having a hard time. He was barely able to gather firewood.

Pene shna gi mshkewakwten I zibe gabmejwek besotth i edat. Pene gi kche noden shi.
The river that ran by, close to his house was always frozen over. It was always windy there.

O wtthe kewesi gi tthibdebe tthik shkwede shi edat. Gawa gewi psakwnemget i shkwede.
The old man sat in his lodge, next to the fire, which was barely going.

Bama she wiye bey detewegenet shi shkwademek. “Ahow. Bidgek,” kedo o kewesi.
Just then, somebody was knocking on the door. “Ahow. Come in,” said the old man.

Bama she sesksiyen bye bidge’net. Aptthe she goniwe o sesksi mine bigeje.
And a young maiden came in. She was really snowy and cold.

Mine I wdep wabgonen gi wiwkwebso. Mine geshe gi kche mnowabmenagwse.
Around her head, she wore a halo of Trailing Arbutus. And she was also very pretty.

“Bosho ndanes,” kedo. “Gda bye os shote shkwedek.” Pishne atemget gewi I shkwede.
“Hello daughter,” he said. “Come warm up here, by the fire.” The fire itself, was almost going out.

“Ahow nge ske’wa o ndo pwagen, ke wdemamen,” kedo o kewezi.
“Okay, I’ll light up my pipe, we will have a smoke,” said the old man.

Epiche wdemawat, “Ezakttheseyan iw ebinek ode gon,” kedo o kewezi.
While they were smoking, the old man said, “When I go outside, I bring on the snow.”

“Ah i geni ezakttheseyan ebye mokit o gises,” kedo gewi o seski.
“Oh, when I go outside, the sun comes out,” said the maiden.

“Shpemek eshenkenwiyan i notth ektthe ksenyak,” kedo o kewezi.
“When I throw my arms towards the sky, the weather gets colder,” said the old man.

“Nin wi shpemek eshenkenwiyan i abwamget,” kedo o sesksi.
“Me, when I throw my arms up at the sky, the weather gets warmer,” said the maiden.

Bama she peneshiyek kwedbek etnemaswat. Gi nabmegon ni kewesiyen.
All of a sudden, birds were singing on the roof. The old man just glared at her.

“Ekanabdeman I zibe I emshkewakwtek,” kedo o kewezi.
“When I look at the river, it freezes up,” said the old man.

“Nin wi ekanabdeman i zibe i engezet o mkewm,” kedo o sesksi.
“Me, when I look at the river, the ice melts,” said the maiden.

I tthe zagetth egi nabet ekanabdek i zibe.
Then, she looked outside to look at the river.

Epi tangedok notth gewi ne gshedemget i shkwede.
As she spoke, the fire started getting warmer.

Bama she o kewezi enodek emdwetthwek i zibe pi enengezet o mkwem.
Then, the old man heard the sound of the river, as the ice started to melt.

“Ngotthi epamseyan i ektthe bonik,’ kedo o kewezi.
“When I walk somewhere, it really snows,” said the old man.

“Metth she bebashyayan ematthigek ni wabgonen,” kedo o sesksi.
“Whereever I walk, the Trailing Arbutus grows,” said the maiden.

I tthe ekanabmet ni kewesiyen eshkem ne gatthi ye.
As she looked at the old man, he started getting smaller.

Mine zagetth enabet I shna ene skebgamgek ni mishkosen.
And as she looked outside again, the grass was turning green.

I tthe egi kwansego mno gishgek. Nekmek dnemaswek peneshiyek.
And it turned into a beautiful day. You could hear birds singing all over the place.

Gatthe tthibdebet o kewesi shna mteno gasweksek i waboyan.
Where the old man sat, all that was there, spread out, was his blanket.

Edapnek i waboyan o sesksi. I shna mteno mbish shi ga askobisek ga tthe nmedbet o kewezi.
The maiden picked up the blanket, and all there was under it, was a puddle of water, where the old man sat.

“I she shna yedek egi ngezet o kewezi,” shede e o sesksi.
“Oh, the old man must have melted,” thought the young maiden.

I tthe shna nekmek i gi pamadset o sesksi. Metth ttheshe ga bme shyat wiye shi ngom etthe matthigek ni wabgonen.
Then, the young maiden traveled all over. Wherever she went, is where the Trailing Arbutus grows today.

Mine she wiye I mamo netem zakimgek e mnokmek.
And it is the first plant to come up in the spring.

I wtthe ode sesksi egi pkenwat ni mkwemi wnenwen ngom wetthe yemgo ode emnokmek. Iw ektownangek.
Because the young maiden overpowered the iceman, is why we have Spring now. That is the story that is told.

Another old story.......

This old story which involves my family is a true story which never gets old. Stories like this get better with each telling, for the story teller can embellish an old one like this however they may choose. Stories were told when we were kids instead of watching the television and all the modern conveniences we have today. These are the days and the stories, told in the Bodewadmi language that we lack in our lives today.
Old time stories told by a gifted story teller was a rare treat....

Nin se Neaseno.






Ode se atsokan...
A long time ago it was told by some of the elders that a certain
young woman took a white man for her husband and this man was very devoted to her and the people she grew up with. It was said that he took her ways unto himself, learning the language and he even attended the ceremonies of her people until the day she died and left him alone among her people.
After her death, some of the people wondered what he would do; would he go back to his own people, or would he stay among the people of his deceased wife?
He answered the queries of the people by continuing to show up at the ceremonies of the Neshnabek and praying with them. He also stayed on at the dwelling place they had made together during the time of her sojourn with her people and took loving care of their garden and other things they had shared as husband and wife, including a little dog she had loved.
Now this little dog was a little rascal of a fellow and he followed the man everywhere, as he missed 'the woman who was his mistress very much. One day a Neshnabe stopped by and gave the man some tobacco/sema to come to a song service that evening. He was told to make sure this dog did not follow him as the spirits didn't take kindly to animals around a ceremony. They
might think you want to sacrifice this little dog to them if you allow him to follow you, the Neshnabe told him, with a twinkle in his eye. He assured his guest the little dog would be locked up for the night inside his house where he would not be able to follow anyone.
When it was time to leave, the man locked the little dog inside the house, but he had forgotten to close the window in his bedroom, so the little pet sneaked out and followed his master to the drum doings. The song service lasted until about 10 PM and the people gathered in the kitchen of the home they had met in for some refreshments before returning to their homes. The Shkabewes of the drum also gave the men sema for the next doings and debated with one of the others as to whether or not to give the white man some. They assured him the man was all right and he gave him plenty of sema with the admonition not to give it all away to the night spirits, should they decide to follow him.
Some of the other men joked with the man and told him about one of the spirits of the forest who liked to follow folks at night just so he could get tobacco/sema from them. They cautioned him

to give any spirit an offering of tobacco whenever he heard any distinct sounds in the woods. With a final friendly warning not to give all his tobacco away to the spirits, they all departed in various directions. The man visited with his hosts for a little while before departing for his home again, not knowing his little dog was waiting in the woods for him, so he could secretly follow him again.
Upon exiting the home of his hosts, he followed his favorite trail toward his home. Presently he heard some sounds behind him which he took to be that spirit they had told him about, and he quickly squatted down and gave a small offering of sema to the forest spirit. He began to walk with a faster gait toward his home thinking of his little dog he had left there.
After walking for a few more minutes, he heard a louder noise behind him. Thinking it was the spirit of the forest the men had warned him about, he quickly squatted and put down a bigger offering of tobacco this time. He was to walk only a few more minutes and he again heard the same sound behind him. I must have done something to displease this spirit he thought, and he quickly placed a larger offering of tobacco beside the trail, this time praying even; "Oh Spirit of the Woods," he prayed, "Don't hurt me, I mean you no harm and I've given you a large offering of tobacco, as you can see." "I'll give you even a larger offering if you would like, even the whole bag of tobacco, should you insist," he further stated.
After getting back on his feet and moving as swiftly as he could, he again heard a rather loud sound coming from the woods. He quickly dumped out the remaining tobacco he had in his bag and then took off running toward his home. As he ran toward his house, the little dog sped past him in an attempt to reach the house before him. Realizing his "spirit of the woods" was none other than his own dog, he quickly stopped, puffing hard, but laughing at himself for being so foolish and becoming frightened as he had. This will make a good story to tell the others when we meet again he thought to himself as he scolded the little dog for following him yet again.
There are many stories like this among the Neshnabek which we shall be sharing with you from time to time. The period of time when they first met the white people was an especially good time with many humorous happenings among them, learning the English language.
Ahau, iw enajmoyan,