Basil Johnson, Ojibwe Ceremonies

(Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press, 1990)

Mishi-Waub-Kaikaik’s father had a drum that was encased in the finest buckskin and kept in a special place in the lodge. No one but Ogauh touched the drum. He only, by virtue of ownership and kinship, could sound the instrument. Such was the bond between man or woman and the drum that the owner did not presume to transfer the instrument during life or to bequeath it to another at death. Tribal drums, however, were attributed with special powers, and were occasionally bestowed upon another tribe in an act of goodwill.

The drum presentation ceremony was not Anishanbeg in origin. Involved in wresting a living from their land of endless lakes and forests, and preparing, during the summers, to survive the long, harsh winters, the Anisnabeg were not a warlike tribe. A man’s worth was measured, not by the number of eagle feathers in his head-dress, but by the number of deer and fish on his food racks. Success in the hunt was the result of his knowledge of the land, of the shifts of winds, and of the habits of game. It was evidence of his ability to endure in and with the seasons. For this endurance, men and women had to foster the self-reliance of both individuals and the tribe, and it was in this context that freedom and independence were valued and understood. But when the Anishnabeg had to fight, their warriors were the equal of any. It was from the Dakota, with whom they fought many battles in what is now Wisconsin and Minnesota, that the Anishabeg received the ceremony.

For both the Dakota and the Anishinabeg war was a necessity, even though it disrupted the character of their traditions. As the Anishnabeg were dispossessed of their land to the east by the White Man, they retreated westward, and they, in turn, deprived the Dakota of their homelands. For five or six generations hardly a summer went by in which there were not battles between the two tribes. Against the more numerous Anishnabeg armed with rifles obtained from the White Man, the Dakota could resist only with bows and arrows, and they were forced to fall back. Finally, weary of bloodshed, worn in spirit, and wasted in numbers, both tribes sought to restore peace. And a story was told of how the way to friendship was revealed to the Dakota.

The two tribes, with many warriors on both sides, met and fought near a river. The wife of the Dakota chief had accompanied her husband, and at the start of the battle she hid in the river, covered by a large lily-pad. There, underneath the leaf, the woman remained in terror while the battle lasted.

After four days, a voice from the skies bade her come out. When she emerged from the river, all she could hear were moans of suffering and agony from the surrounding battlefield, where the earth was covered with the bodies of the dead and wounded. Nearby, the surviving members of her tribe were preparing to head for home, and the woman was transported into their midst so that she could accompany her people.

One night, while her companions slept, the voice she had heard before summoned her to the skies. A sky deity addressed her. “If you are to have peace and friendship, you must seek it through the drum,” the deity said. “It is a sacred instrument that bears goodwill and is a symbol of goodwill. He who gives a drum will both give and gain goodwill.”

Before the woman was a drum and two drumsticks, a pipe and tobacco. As she watched they were transformed, and she saw men dancing around the drum and heard women singing.

Gawaekumoh n’meekunuh.

Gawakeumoh n’di’inaendumowin

Gawakeumoh aenigookidae/aeyaun

Gawakeumoh n’dinaudjim.

Straight is my path.

Straight is my mind.

Straight is my heart.

Straight is my speech.

N’gah zhawaenimauk n’dowaemauk, neekaunissuk

N’gah zhawaenimauk waeseehnuk, binaehnssiwuk gayae.

Kind will I be to my brothers and sisters.

Kind will I be to beast and bird.

The deities told the woman that when she returned to the village she was to select two men for the making of the drum—and that after the men had made it they were to die. Then, the songs she had heard were to be sung by the owner of the drum every fourth day, to the offering of tobacco. In this way, the drum was to be imbued with ritual.

And so it came to pass. Next, Misheen-Meegwun (Many Plumes), the Dakota chief, took possession of the drum. He appointed five keepers of the drum, a Keeper of the Drum Pipe (to be smoked by the drummers), a Keeper of the Pipe of Peace (to be smoked by the dancers), and a chief drummer and chanter. The chief also appointed four other drummers and chanters, eight women chanters, and four lead dancers. Every fourth day he visited the drum, offered tobacco, and sang the songs. At last, Misheen-Meegwun sent his courier to the Anishabeg to offer friendship. The Anishabeg accepted the offer, and a day and a place was set for the meeting of the tribes.

It was early afternoon and the sun was bright on the day when the two tribes advanced tentatively towards one another. The warriors were in their battle gear. Armed with war clubs, rifles, or bows and arrows, they uttered war cries.

Misheen-Meegwun sent his courier towards the Anishanbeg with a peace pipe. Accompanied by four women who walked back and forth singing, the courier presented the pipe to Neegaunaush (Sails in Front), the chief of the Anishnabeg. These were the Dakota songs of praise.

Ogimauh zoongigaubowih

Kauween w’dauh zhaugoodjigunaumaussee

Ogimauh zoongigaubowih.

The chief stands

He will not be struck down

The chief stands.

Ogimauhin

Bookissaenoon n’d’pigookimun

Tibishko aussimaupigauk.

Against the chief

My arrows break

As against the rock.

On receiving the pipe and hearing the songs, Neegaunaush motioned to his people to sit down. Sensing that there was something very special in the occasion, the Anishnabeg fixed their gaze upon the courier. Even the children suspended their prattling and stood still, waiting to witness whatever was about to take place.

Misheen-Meegwun advanced with deliberate, measured stride towards the assembly of Anishnabeg, the feathers in his head-dress brightened by the sunlight and swept by the wind. Lean and tall and stately, he stopped beside his courier.

“My brother!” he said, addressing Neegaunaush. “My brother! This day I wish to offer my hand and the hand of my people in friendship to you and to your people. Too long now have our people been at war. Our great grandfathers and our grandfathers fought, and you and I have fought. And what have we gained by our conflicts. It is not good for us or for our children to be constantly at war; always to be uneasy by night and ever wary by day. It was not intended by the Great Spirit that men should kill and wound one another; but rather that they should live in harmony as friends.

“The Great Spirit has given to us a drum as a symbol of brotherhood, and he has commanded us to offer you this instrument of friendship as a token of our goodwill. And the Great Spirit has instructed us in the proper custody of the drum and the manner of bestowing it upon other peoples. I now offer you this drum—and my hand—in friendship and brotherhood.” And Misheen-Meegwun extended his hand to Neegaunaush.

The keepers brought the drum to a point midway between the two seated tribes. Next to the drum were placed the pipe and the two ceremonial drumsticks, side by side. Then the drummers took their places, followed by the singers and the dancers. At the stroke of the drum the chanters sang and the dancers enacted a dance of peace and brotherhood. They stopped on a signal from the chief drummer, who presided over the ritual.

Solemnly, the Keeper of the Drum Pipe then conducted Neegaunaush towards the drum. When they reached it, the keeper handed Neegaunaush the pipe and one of the drumsticks. Three times the Anishnabeg chief tapped the drum lightly. On the fourth stroke, the drummers themselves joined, the singers’ voices carried across the sunlit meadow, and the dancers began anew. Afterwards, Neegaunaush took off his head-dress and presented it to Mishee-Meegwun. Then he, too, made a speech.

“My brothers! My sisters! Misheen-Meegwun is right. We have fought too often and for too long. Although we have gained honours from these conflicts, we have also suffered the loss of brothers and sons and fathers. It is time to hunt together, to celebrate festivals as one, to draw our meals from the same bowl, and to derive our warmth from the same fire.

“Our brother Misheen-Meegwun has never shrunk from battle, yet never has he shown greater heart than now. I accept the drum; and for as long as I have custody of the drum, my tribe will look upon the Dakota as brothers.”

When the chief had finished speaking, the warriors of both tribes jumped to their feet, striking the earth with their war clubs and uttering shrill war cries. Then, leaving their weapons on the ground, they clasped hands.

That is how the Drum Ceremony began (36-40).

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