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Northern Wildflower: Coming home brings great delight

During the second weekend of this month, I got to go home and visit.
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Going dog-sledding was among the many joys of being home earlier this month. I never thought my son would grow up to be a professional dog-sledder but it has come naturally to him. I am proud of him for carrying on his family legacy Katlia Lafferty photo

During the second weekend of this month, I got to go home and visit.

Even though it was for only a short time, I packed in a lot of activities. The second I walked through the door at my mom’s house down in Ndilo, she showed me the moose drymeat that she had drying on the rack, sliced so thin it cracked into pieces in my hand.

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The next day, my mom and I attended the Native Women’s AGM and I am happy that Grace Blake from Tsiigehtchic was acclaimed as president. She is a strong voice for the Indigenous women of the NWT, a matriarch who carries a lifetime of knowledge, having lived in community. I got to see my friend, Elder Celine Marlowe, and the room collectively sang happy birthday to her. She reminded me that she’ll be doing her hides in the spring and that I should come visit her in Lutsel K’e. I think I’ll take her up on that.

The room of women was brought to shared tears when listening to a story of one of our missing and murdered Indigenous girls, a reminder that we still have a lot of work to do to ensure safety in our communities. Later that day, I was brought to joy when visiting with the graduating students of Aspire Academy, who are working so hard to better their education and make a good life for themselves, their children and grandchildren. Even though I was there as a guest speaker, I look up to them, the students. They are an inspiration as they hold so much determination and perseverance despite the many barriers and struggles along their educational journey that they have had to endure in one way or another.

Into the snowbank

Then I was brought to laughter when we went out to my Papa’s old cabin just off Highway 3, where my son is helping out with an eco-tourism business. As we walked past the barking dogs on our way to go for a dog-sled ride, my mom fell off the trail and into a snowbank face first. There is so much snow this year that we could hardly find her to dig her out. It was hard not to laugh when my son and I lifted her up and out of the snow, knowing that she was OK. She was more startled than anything as she tried to blink the snow out of her eyes. We brushed her off and quickly got her to a warm wood stove, where she got her bearings while the rest of us piled into the dog sled and went for a short ride across the small lakes and trails.

I never thought my son would grow up to be a professional dog-sledder but it has come naturally to him. I am proud of him for carrying on his family legacy in a place where his great grandfather — my Papa — is looking down on him from above. My great, great Etsi was called “Grandmother of the Winds” because she was an expert dogsledder who delivered mail across the northern regions and my great grandfather also had his own dog team and used it to go trapping for weeks on end. My grandma, when she was a child, would stand at the top of the hill on a lookout point waiting for him to come home. Most Northerners in those days had their own dog teams to get them around, and I’m glad to see this tradition still in practice — most of all seeing my son pulling the reins and yelling for the dogs to go faster. He is outside every day breathing in the fresh air, one with the land, a lifestyle that is medicine for the soul.

An abundance of gifts

I then got to visit with my lovely friend Cassandra in her off-grid home, where we sat underneath the stars in her living room to save the solar power. We talked about the great transition and other metaphysical realities of quantum physics. The next day, we put all our endless theories and curiosities of the universe aside and played TV bingo with my mom, hoping to have some extra money for Christmas. Even though I didn’t win, my money was well spent on purchasing three of James Wedzin’s paintings to give away as gifts, as well as the purchase of a beaver pelt for my mom to finish the slippers she’s been working on.

Although I won’t be home for Christmas this year, I already feel like I’ve received an abundance of gifts. The night before leaving back to the south, my mom took out a moose leg given to her by the Mackenzies and savoured the rich and nutritious bone marrow, cracking it open with my Papa’s old hammer.

I already miss home and can’t wait to be back in February to visit again.