"Got any Firewater?" or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Indian Humor

Question: How does an Indian tell which way is south?

Answer: He looks at his satellite dish.

Question: When do Indians know it is safe to go out on the ice.

Answer: When the white guys quit falling through.

Question: Why is America called the land of the free?

Answer: Because they never paid the original inhabitants for it.

-Jim Northrup

On Wednesday, September 29th I had the great pleasure to meet the award-winning Ojibwe author and poet Jim Northrup. He is the man behind the works Walking the Rez Road and Rez Road Follies. He also writes the long-running syndicated column Fond du Lac Follies.

Jim is best known for his dry wit, warm humor, and hilarious insights into life on the Rez. His writing pokes fun at both Indians and American society at large. Jim also speaks openly about his experience fighting in Vietnam and his struggles to overcome post traumatic stress disorder. No matter the topic however, a evening with Jim Northrup is sure to be two things: hilarious and insightful.

Jim reciting his poem "weegwas"

While listening to Jim speak, I was reminded of my own experience with Native humor.  It was the summer of 2008 and I was working at Grand Portage National Monument tucked away in the far northeast corner of Minnesota.  I both lived and worked on the Grand Portage Chippewa Reservation giving me a crash course in life on the Rez.

It was maybe my third week on the job.  I was fresh and new, still learning my way around the site.  I was stationed in the historic kitchen inside the trading post.  I had dressed in my usual period outfit of baggy front-flap pants, loose fitting shirt, sash, and moccasins.  Visitors would walk in the back door, I'd explain how the kitchen worked, and they would depart through the front door.  Standard operating procedure.

Kitchen (left) & Great Hall (right)

A few visitors had just left the kitchen when all of a sudden this young tall skinny Native guy comes strolling in the back door like he owns the place.  He gives me a little flick of the head and with a big smirk on his face he asks me "Hey man, got any firewater?"

I freeze.  My mind immediately fills with, "You're not supposed to say that."  I check to see if there are any visitors around.  There aren't any.  The guy walks up to me.  We're now face to face.  I'm standing motionless.  He exclaims, "Hey man, you gotta loosen up.  Geez look at you!"  He laughs.

Ha ha ha, I get it.  It's pick on the new guy day.  He was just having his fun and I don't blame him.  We actually get to talking and he tells me he's on leave from the army.  He was fighting in Afghanistan.  He's spending his time off with the family on the Rez.  Now I know why he's such a kidder.  With a life like his, I don't blame him for laughing a little.

Every time I see this guy the whole rest of the summer, the same question comes out of his mouth.  "Hey man, you loosened up yet?"  He will never let me live it down.

So I learned my lesson that day.  Sometimes you just gotta laugh.  It's like what another one of my co-workers once told me, "you're laughin' to keep from cryin'."  Humor is a very powerful force and if you can't laugh about life then life ain't truly worth living.

For more tales from Grand Portage check out my previous post:

Tales from Grand Portage: The Great Hall Spirits

Tales from Grand Portage: The Great Hall Spirits

During the summer of 2008, I worked at Grand Portage National Monument in the northeast corner of Minnesota on the shores of Lake Superior.  Located on the Grand Portage Chippewa reservation, the monument commemorates the historic fur trade and in particular the North West Company trading post that operated on the site for almost 25 years.  I served as a costumed interpreter, dressing like a historic voyageur and giving talks and tours about the history and culture of the area.

I learned many things during this time but the greatest lessons were not about history but real life.

The Great Hall

The showpiece of the reconstructed trading post is the Great Hall.  Built on the original foundations, it consists of a large central dining hall with four additional side rooms.  Historically, the North West Company partners would entertain guests, conduct business, and relax within the walls of this massive wooden structure.  Thousands of people, young and old, sick and healthy, native and European, passed through this very space.  They laughed, they cried, they danced, and they died.  Fortunes were made and the fates of many were sealed with the stroke of a pen or the grasp of a handshake- all within this very room.

Today, thousands of visitors stream through this magnificent building every summer.  Most learn a few historical facts and go along their merry way but on one innocuous morning, one woman experienced something beyond ordinary.

I go through my regular morning routine- open the side rooms, light a fire, stock brochures, and sit down in my chair to await the first visitors.  A few trickle in now and then.  A typical slow morning.

Two women are now standing in the doorway of the kitchen across the way, ready to walk the short distance across the wooden planks into the Great Hall.  I rise from my chair and slowly walk toward the middle, the thump of my buckled shoes echoing across the cavernous space with every step.

The first woman is middle aged and dressed like an average visitor to the monument- shorts and a top.  She takes three steps inside the Great Hall and stops dead in her tracks.  Before I can even get any words out she is already talking.

"Did you feel that?" She exclaims, "I feel like there is a presence in this room.  I feel like there are spirits in here."

The woman behind her steps in and stands still without saying anything.  I simply stare at them both not knowing how to react.

"I know my grandmother used to tell me that she was part Indian but...," her sentence trails off before she continues, "I don't feel comfortable in here, I have to leave."

The two women quickly depart.  Through the hazy panes of hand blown glass, I see two figures walking diligently toward the entry gate.  I haven't moved since they left, my mind processing the scene I just witnessed.  My mind is screaming out, "What on earth just happened?  Spirits in the Great Hall, please...  This lady must be crazy!"

The Great Hall by candlelight

I immediately have to tell someone.  Somebody has to corroborate my feelings.  With an empty Great Hall, I walk over to the kitchen where I find one of my co-workers.  I immediately start:

"The craziest thing just happened in the Great Hall.  This woman walks in and stops and is telling me that she can feel the presence of spirits.  She's telling me that her grandmother was part Indian and I just don't know what to make of all this.  Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

He looks taken aback and says, "No, that's real strange."  I am reassured that someone else thinks this is as weird as I do.

I walk back into the Great Hall and find another of my co-workers, one of the tribal maintenance staff, painting on the front porch.  I walk up to her and repeat my story, "So this crazy lady walks into the Great Hall and tells me she can feel spirits.  She says she's really uncomfortable and she might be part Indian and then she leaves without saying anything else."

My co-worker responds:

"Oh yeah, I have felt the spirits in the there too.  There are spirits all around here."

Now, I'm staring at my own co-worker not knowing what to say.  I respond with a quiet, "um okay" and head back inside.  I feel like a complete ass for having talked about the lady in such a dismissive manner and now my co-worker standing right in front of me completely agrees with her.

I spend the rest of the day reassessing the events that transpired.  It's a complete shock to my system.

To this day, I will never know what the first woman felt but my co-worker responded with such conviction and candor that I will never think about native spirituality the same way again.

Up until that point, native religion was something I read about in books.  It was a historical concept that I used to explain trading patterns and periods of warfare.  In my mind, the spirits were quaint beliefs from a time long gone.

I learned an important lesson that morning in Minnesota.  Native spirituality is alive and healthy today.  While I may not totally understand it or agree with it, I do need to respect it.

I have since had many more run-ins with living spirituality.  I listen, I learn, and I thank everyone for sharing what they do.  It may be a cliche but it is worth repeating: Never judge a book by its cover.  Especially when that book is another person and the pages within are filled with such powerful personal conviction.

Manido Giizhigance or Little Cedar Spirit Tree