Let me tell you a story from the old days, but also from today. For this journey is both ancient and happening right now. It is the story of Kîwêtin, a young one from Pimicikamak, whose name means “the North Wind.”
Kîwêtin was born near the shores of Missi Nipi, the great lake that holds our memories. He was quiet as a child, always listening—to the trees, to the waves, to the old ones who spoke in riddles and dreams. The community was struggling then, lost between two worlds, pulled apart by pain—colonial wounds, diabetes, grief, addiction. The songs had become faint.
One night, during a fall storm, Kîwêtin had a dream. He saw a giant turtle rising from the lake, its shell covered in ancient symbols. The turtle said, “It is time. The world is cracking. The people have forgotten. Go east, follow the rising sun, and find the seven roots of wellness.”
In the morning, Kîwêtin went to his nôhkom. She wrapped a bundle for him—maskihkîy (medicine), asemaa (tobacco), a small braid of wîhkask (sweetgrass), and a bone carving of a loon. “Follow your dream,” she said. “But remember who you are.”
And so he left. Across the forest, over rivers and muskeg, he walked. He met the first guide near the cedar grove—Môswa, the moose spirit, who taught him stillness and listening. Then came Mahihkan, the wolf, who showed him courage and the importance of family. At every stage, he faced tests—loneliness, hunger, fear. But each hardship carved wisdom into his bones.
One night, lost and weary, he stumbled into a clearing where an old man sat by a fire that never went out. It was the Keeper of the Sacred Fire, and around him were the ancestors. Kîwêtin fell to his knees.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said. “The world is too broken.”
The firekeeper didn’t speak. He simply placed kinikinik on the flames. The smoke rose high, carrying prayers. Then he said:
“The fire is not just warmth. It is memory. It is spirit. If you carry it back, not in your hands, but in your heart, your people will remember who they are.”
Kîwêtin returned home, different now. He had gathered the Seven Sacred Roots—not herbs, but teachings: Truth, Humility, Respect, Courage, Love, Wisdom, and Honesty. With these, he lit a new fire by the water. The people gathered, one by one. Some brought drums. Some brought silence. Some brought tears.
And as the fire crackled, they remembered the songs. The youth danced. The Elders smiled. And the land itself seemed to exhale.
That is the journey. That is our journey. Kîwêtin may be a story, but he is also each of us. We all leave home. We all walk through the dark. But when we walk in a sacred way, we carry fire—not just for ourselves, but for those who have forgotten they are made of light.
So wherever you are, nîtisân, keep walking. The world needs your fire.
Kanipawit Maskwa
John Gonzalez
Standing Bear Network
