Spílexm, page 1
Spíləm
A Weaving of Recovery,
Resilience, and Resurgence
Nicola I. Campbell
© 2021 Nicola I. Campbell
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Spíləm : a weaving of recovery, resilience, and resurgence / Nicola I. Campbell.
Names: Campbell, Nicola I., author. Description: Includes index.
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200399535 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200399748 | ISBN 9781553799351
(softcover) | ISBN 9781553799702 (EPUB) | ISBN 9781553799719 (PDF)
Subjects: LCSH: Campbell, Nicola I. | LCSH: Indigenous women—British Columbia—Biography. | LCSH: Indigenous authors—British Columbia—Biography. | LCGFT: Autobiographies.
Classification: LCC PS8605.A5475 Z46 2021 | DDC C818/.603—dc23
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www.highwaterpress.com
Winnipeg, Manitoba
Treaty 1 Territory and homeland of the Métis Nation
For my cəceʔ, Steffanie Michel.
Table of Contents
Prairie Letters
February 4, 1973
April 5, 1973
July 1, 1973
July 26, 1973
Her Blood Is From Sptétkw
sptétkw
fried bologna and rice
yellow house
Speed Sew
hamburger stew
lullabies
buckle-up shoes
Little People
əlále
alpine mountains
frog whisperers
cousin cluster
Métis
Saskatchewan
La Ronge
Mooshoom
Back to Batoche, 1985
NłeɁkepmxcín Lullaby
skíxzeʔ transforms
Cəceʔ and Sínciʔ
Rockstar Hair
éceʔ Tea
University of British Columbia
Blackout
for the party
Tmíxw—This Land
Grandpa’s Corrals
Learning to Heal
i am sorry
it is okay.
the same as trees
Land Teachings
Métis
Beginnings
Prayer Warriors
gathering
gathering songs
sn’ix’wam
Coming to My Senses
The land, we are woven together like strands of light
tmíxw. temexw. temxulaxw.
Porcupine Song
snow on the mountains
Salish Dancer
The Kingfisher’s Dance
race day
quw’utsun
sorrow
September 16, 1998, 10:15 pm
deer stew
i dreamt of you last night
tracks
little brown
September 24, 1998
October 1, 1999, 10:15 pm
With Each Stroke of My Paddle
yémit and merímstn
Teapot Hill
this trail
unceded
Huckleberries Are My Weakness
medicine song
pressure canner rhythms
swúsm
Spring Chicken
going home
come inside
wildflowers
nkéxw
tmíxw
A Gathering of Stones
the riverbed is home
this body is a mountain, this body is the land
as sisters
Scéxmx
May 20, 2000
Adanac Trail
Resurgence
The Trail
Stories Are Alive
Why Am I Writing This?
Run
I Believe in the Power of Prayer
We Are Their Prayers Come to Life
Reweave the Universe
Offering
Acknowledgements
Glossary
Index
Prairie Letters
February 4, 1973
Big River, Sask
Dear Sis,
We’re renting this little house in Big River for $25. It’s a two-room place plus a porch. No running water, bathroom. We got some furniture though. So it’s all okay. At least it’s a place to stay.
That film that I took of the girls I put in to get developed. So as soon as we get it out I’ll send you a picture. That reminds me I’m learning how to crochet. It sure is easier than knitting. I’m going to crochet a throw-over for our couch, when we get a couch. No radio or television.
So far we’ve been lucky. I guess about a week before we came it was about -40 now it’s about +20.
Not much more to say except hi to everyone.
Write back.
All my love
Your sis,
& John
& Nikki
April 5, 1973
Hi Sis,
So how are you and your family. Would you believe it is Nicola’s 5th month birthday today.
Would you believe also that it is snowing again. I thought it was spring. I phoned Dad about two weeks ago. Dad was going to go to Seattle to pick up Marv’s car. Bro is working in Kitchican (spelling?) Alaska.
I sent dad two pics of Nikki. First thing he says is that she sure has a lot of hair.
It sure gets boring up here in this ¼ horse town. The most exciting thing I do during the day is take ½ block walk to the P.O. and check the mail.
Did you know that Patty lost two of her kids, including one she adopted, in a house fire. Mom is living with her now.
How do you spell Kitchican. I’d like to write to Bro.
Love your sis.
July 1, 1973
Box 818
Querel Gravel & Lumber
Hudson Bay, Sask
Dear Sis,
Thanks for the dress for Nikki. The little brat is sure getting around. She can crawl from one end of the trailer to the other and stand up by grabbing on and walk holding onto the couch. Little fart isn’t even 8 mo yet.
John shot his first moose about a week and a half ago. He sure was surprised. When he first seen it he thought it was a horse. We were on our last package of meat and if we wanted any we had 60 miles to the store. He shot it with a single shot 22. Must of shot it about 17 times after the first hit before it died. He got it right on the spine.
Our trailer has 2 bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and a living room. Right now we have no running water or sewer. We have to get a pressure pump and John has to dig a sewer.
For the first time John brought me some flowers yesterday. Some wild tiger lilies. Real pretty. Do you suppose it’s love?
I’m putting money away for a sewing machine. So far I’ve got $25. Last weekend we went to P.A. and looked at sewing machines. Whew! I was hoping for one like Moms but they are about $250– $500. So I have to settle for one that just does straight and zigzag. Which is about $100.
When you come out if you go to P.A. first, from there you go east towards Nipawin. On the same road you go towards Carrot River, 18 miles until you get to a junction. Keep going on the Shoal Lake road.
It’s gravel. You go 68 miles up the road. You see a sign about 50(?) miles up the road Shoal Lake 2. We are 15 miles past. There’s a sign outside camp, Querel Gravel & Lumber. From the road you can’t see the camp. But we’re only a 100 yds or so in. We’re the green and white trailer, beside a small silver one. If my flowers grow we’ve got flowers on the outside. After all these instructions you better come.
All my love, your sis.
Hi to Don and Suzie. Give little Suzie a kiss for me.
July 26, 1973
they are on a hillside.
baby on a blanket,
nine months old.
a thousand people,
Saskatchewan River.
this is Batoche,
july 26, 1973.
she calls when she sees two children
bobbing like buoys,
swift currents unyielding.
“John, those children are drowning!”
Daddy brought the children to shore
but he did not bring himself.
the river would not set him free.
activist
revolutionary
Woodland Cree
scottish
french
Michif
fiddles
red river jig
the Saskatchewan River
flowed through his veins.
Johnny Campbell was my daddy.
he was Métis.
Her Blood Is
From Sptétkw
sptétkw
swells of ǝłetkwu cold water
cold, cold water,
joining transforming reforming
rivers like sisters
singing, clear and cold.
synép sings coyote
through the valley
across mountains
to the prairies.
she’s a Shuta, that one. Séwtaʔ family name
her blood is from sptétkw “Springs” traditional place name
“the place where fresh water
flows up from underground.”
nłeʔkepmx Thompson Interior Salish people
syílx Okanagan Interior Salish people
scéxmx “People of the Creeks”
sagebrush and fir boughs,
juniper and wild roses
weave through her veins.
fried bologna and rice
at Auntie’s house
we soak hides in the river,
soften them
in brains until they stink.
peee-yew!
then string them up,
stretched and tanned
in smoke.
fried bologna and rice
is a feast
at Auntie’s house.
we three snúk’we scmém’iʔt friends / children (pl)
we three childhood friends
drink freshie.
freshie, fried bologna
and rice and
Auntie’s fry bread
has two holes in it,
one for me,
one for you.
Auntie always wears her hat
covered with buttons and pins,
angels, turtles, and
bingo!
she sits in the corner by her lamp,
with scissors she cuts her hide,
snip, snip, snnnip!
we three snúk’we scmém’iʔt
we work hard at Auntie’s house,
making bread,
making pies,
beading flower necklaces.
yellow house
fall and winter, spring and summer,
mommy dances on a chair as mice run around.
i sit on the potty looking down
while frogs sing from underground.
yellow house, yellow house warm and safe.
Great-Grandpa brought it piece by piece
budda-bump budda-bump on horse and wagon
from nwéyc to sptétkw place names
“a real long time ago.”
yellow house, yellow house inside and out,
a-frame roof and attic
wooden cupboards, wooden floors,
wooden ledges, wooden porch.
frame, brace, and two-by-four,
nails, screws, and paint.
root cellar, yúxkn, chicken coop, storage shed
red barns and corrals across the road.
Great-Grandpa built them all.
children be careful as you play,
be careful as you run through the doorway.
there’s a wood stove in the middle
and that fire is burning bright.
Speed Sew
“Where’d Mommy go?” I am in the doorway of my goddaddy’s bedroom. Sometimes I stay with my young mom, sometimes I stay with my aunties, and sometimes I stay with my godparents. I love staying with my godparents, but I’m only allowed to stay if they aren’t drinking. Next to my young mommy, my godmommy is my favourite person in the whole wide world.
“I don’t know where she is, Baby. Go look in her bedroom.”
“Hmph.” I turn and march back through the kitchen. One Cent, our fat old Siamese cat, is sprawled across the living room floor licking her paws, tail twitching. My godparents have four dogs: Noopy is black, Tina is light brown, and both are Chihuahuas; Lady looks like she’s from the movie Lady and the Tramp; Tiny is our lassie dog, and he stays outside. They always sit right beside my mommy, unless I’m home. But I can’t find any of them. My godmommy bought a brand-new tube of Speed Sew from the fabric store in town and I want to Speed Sew something. If you don’t know, Speed Sew is a special glue used for sewing fabric together really fast. Her bedroom door is closed. I turn the doorknob, but the door won’t move.
“Mommy? Are you in there?” Noopy yips in response. I call my godmommy “Mommy,” too. People always get confused. So everywhere we go, I have to explain that I have two moms: a young mom and a mom who is an Elder. I trace the wood grain with my finger and find the Grandmother and Grandfather faces there. I see them everywhere: in patterns on the tile floor or ceiling, in trees and dirt, in shadows, and even in my mush. Danny’s room is right next door.
I stand in his doorway with my toes and my nose inside. I’m not allowed in Danny’s room when he’s not home. Danny’s my godbrother and he’s a teenager. He wears Wrangler jeans and a western belt, and he competes in high school rodeos. He has tiny paints and soft paintbrushes, triangle banners on his ceiling, neatly organized stacks of records, and a record player. My favourite songs are “My White Bicycle” and “This Flight Tonight” by Nazareth.
My goddaddy and Danny do steer roping at Indian rodeos too. They’re fast and strong on their horses. When we travel, we pack the day before and load the horse trailer and horses right before we head out of town, leaving lonely dogs and a trail of dust at home. The rodeo grounds are a hubbub of activity: cowgirls and cowboys with their horses tied to horse trailers; the crowd cheering for the clown; anxious calves and bulls waiting in the corrals. I’m this close to painting at Danny’s desk when I hear my godmommy’s voice through the closed door.
“Yes, Babygirl.”
“What you doing?” Her dresser drawer is scraping closed.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes, go play.” I stare at the painted door.
“But I don’t want to! I want to come in there.” I shake the doorknob. She slid the butter knife under the doorframe to lock the door closed, I just know it. Noopy starts to whine.
“I’ll be out soon. Noopy, sit down.”
“Mommy! I want to come in right now!” Danny’s paints don’t matter anymore. I shake the knob again. “I wanna Speed Sew too!” I hear the tinkle of Noopy’s bell and the clickety-clack of his claws on the floor. Then he’s whining and scratching at the door too.
“Not right now, Baby. After. Mommy’s busy, go play.”
“No, I don’t want to play!” Why won’t she let me in? Since when? “Let me in!” I turn the knob, bang hard with my fist balled up tight. “Mommy!” I holler and frown at the Grandmother and Grandfather faces on the door, then slide to the floor. I start crying the blues and Noopy joins me from the other side of the door. Finally, the bed squeaks and the door swings wide and she’s standing there. My godmommy has one blue eye and one brown eye, and her auburn hair is in a long, wispy braid. She likes to wear slacks and sweaters.
“Come in, then.” I stand up and walk into her room wiping tears from my eyes. Tina and Lady, those traitors, are lying on her bed. Noopy dances at my feet, licking my hands. I wipe his tears and hug him. We’re both happy.
Mommy always keeps a clean house, but her bedroom is another story. Her dressers are overflowing. She has things stacked everywhere: coats, bras, dresses, blouses on hangers and stacked on chairs, two holy bibles and jewelry boxes on her dresser. She has a drawer loaded with tiny, mini lipsticks and jewelry: clip-on rhinestone earrings, rhinestone necklaces, and rosaries. Mary the virgin and jesus christ stand in solemn solidarity on her walls.
