Band Member Voices

April Culture Column - CARRYING THE TEACHINGS FORWARD

By Nazhike, Mille Lacs Band Member

As Anishinaabe, we are taught that life moves in cycles. Our ancestors walked this land long before us, carrying the language, ceremonies, and teachings that make us who we are. When a strong cultural leader leaves this world, the grief is deep, but their essence remains. Their voice is still in the words we speak, their lessons live in the stories we share, and their presence continues in the ceremonies they taught us to carry.

Obizaan dedicated his life to serving our people, sharing knowledge, and ensuring that Anishinaabemowin and our ways remain strong. Now, it is our responsibility to continue what he and others worked so hard to preserve. Their passing is not an ending — it is a call to action. They did not carry the language and teachings alone; they prepared others to continue the work, to speak the words, and to teach the next generation.

It is easy, in times of grief, to feel the weight of loss, to wonder how we will move forward without those who led the way. But our ancestors did not survive by dwelling in sorrow. They moved forward because they understood that our ways do not belong to one person, but to the people. The strength of our teachings is that they live not in a single leader, but in the hearts of all who learn them.

To ensure that our language and customs continue, we must speak Anishinaabemowin every day, however much you know — in our homes, with our children, in our gatherings. Language is not just words; it is our worldview, our way of understanding creation, our connection to the Manidoog. Every conversation in the language, no matter how small, is an act of preservation.

We must also live our teachings, not just remember them. The lessons of our ancestors are meant to be practiced, not just spoken about. We honor those who have passed by carrying out their work, by holding ceremonies, by gathering as a community, and by ensuring that no one is left to walk alone in grief.

There is strength in knowing that we do not carry this responsibility alone. Look around — there are others who were taught, others who listened, others who are ready to teach. We must support one another, encourage one another, and continue learning together. Our cultural leaders did not work alone, and neither must we.

The grief of losing Obizaan, and others who have changed worlds, is heavy, but it is also a reminder of what we have been given. They left us with knowledge, with language, with a path forward. It is now our turn to step up, to ensure that what they taught does not fade but grows stronger for the next generation.

Even in loss, there is hope. Even in grief, there is purpose. Our teachings did not leave with them. They remain with us, in our words, in our songs, in our ceremonies, and in the voices of those who will come after us. We are still here. We are still speaking. And we will continue.

Miigwech.

JOE’S THOUGHTS - TRIBUTE TO MY DEAR FRIEND OBIZAAN

GAA-TIBAAJIMOD (told by) JOE NAYQUONABE SR., WAABISHKIBINES GAA-TIBAAJIMOTAWAAJIN (transcribed by) JAMES CLARK, OZAAWAANAKWAD

This month I would like do a tribute to a dear friend of mine. These are the experiences and memories I have of the late Lee Obizaan Stapes. Early on, him and I didn’t see eye to eye, due to my time in Milwaukee around the non-Indigenous people who didn’t care for certain groups of people. In our early years we drank a lot, and sad to say some of those thoughts came out when I wasn’t sober and drinking with him.

Even as we grew older, I still had troubles, we would see each other every once in a while, and there was something missing in our talks. I just didn’t feel like he was my “equal” and I had a hard time shaking that due to what I had learned and witnessed in Milwaukee. Even after I was hired by the Band, I was still drinking and it took some time working together in formal spaces for my thoughts to change. I think he saw the suffering I was going through from the war. War is a terrible thing; you see a lot of tragedy, families torn apart, friends leave this earth, and innocents caught in the crossfire. I believe Obizaan saw the emotional and physical pain I was going through, and I believe he was trying to help me and get me back on the right path.

Maybe I was a little hesitant at first but at times I could see what he was doing, and he was actively trying to help me. Earlier in one of our articles we talked about Rita; she was doing similar things. Pushing me to get back on the right path, and there was another lady from East Lake, Julie Shingobe, who all were helping me try and let go of the tough things. The war things.

Here were three people doing what they could to help his wounded warrior, to almost keep my sanity. It was not a good path I was on, but they saw that once I got help, I could be a benefit for the community. Whether that was for reasons related to language, culture, community, or even all of it combined. I think all three of them were heading towards a common goal, and that was to return to the drums. With that, I was back on the right path. I didn’t need the doctor’s medication or my own medication in a bottle.

When people see me head over to the Ceremonial Dances, I head over to thank those drums for my life. I feel like I can thank the Creator for everything we’ve been given and those who are in our lives. Cause without those three people. I don’t know if I’d be here. In Wisconsin when they sing the wounded warrior song, I get up and dance. Many in our dance halls understand that war is a horror, and after I’m done dancing, I will speak for why I dance to that song.

I believe Julie and Obizaan were the reasons I was put on drums that were outside of District I. To get me out to the danc es and ignite that passion. When Rita passed away, Obizaan came to her service and stayed the whole time. I knew how he felt about the church. When he arrived and shook my hand, I thought he only came to give our family his condolences. I mentioned to him that if he was leaving quick that we were going to have a lunch at Eddy’s to which he replied “nope I am staying.” He sat through the whole service. Again, I believe that he could see the pain I was going through similar to the pain decades earlier.

Once we buried her and before we headed to Eddy’s he pulled me aside and said, “Joe, we’ll wash you up for the grief.” I told him we didn’t have a bundle and she wasn’t Anishinaabe.

He replied, “No worries, we’ll do it anyway.” That washing up helped tremendously, as said in previous articles, I for a split second lost my faith after she passed. Wondering why Creator would take such an amazing woman. Obizaan pulled me back from the edge and kept my faith strong. The help he did for me during that time — priceless. And again, when I lost my brother. Again, we gave Obizaan the bundle. To my knowledge, I was the last one they washed up before his passing. He could see the pain for a third time that I was going through.

Sometimes I wish I could take back those years that I dis agreed with him. When I look back at our conversations, I believe he was trying to help me and teach me. I would talk to him sometimes. I saw the work he was doing in the community and I could see that he was getting worn out. Sometimes I would look at him and tell him “anwebin” (rest up). And he would look back at me and say, “I got lots to do yet.” That takes a lot out on our body, I always think he put people before him, that he couldn’t rest because the community needed him. I saw one time where he skipped medication so that it didn’t cause an inconvenience; this was at Mide. I could see his legs start to balloon up. I asked, “Did you take your water pill?” He replied, “No. I would have to go to the bathroom a lot.” He didn’t want to inconvenience people.

I know sometimes he did get blunt with people, but some times people need to hear that. I will forever be grateful for him for what he's done for me. He probably saved my life — probably why I am still here. I can never do what he's done but I will do as much as he taught me. The one thing we have in common is that we both have worked with people suffering from additions and alcohol. He taught me the spiritual side too, in order to sober up we need our mind, body, and spirit. I will be forever grateful for him for getting me back on the spiritual side — that is probably what I was missing in my recovery. And yes, I cried when I heard of his passing. I felt a deep pain. I will miss my old friend but yeah, I will meet him again. He is probably up there now having a good time, probably helping them guys up there. Probably my family members came up to him and said “miigwech for helping Waabishkibines.”

Take care my old friend until we meet again. Miigwech for everything you did for me, and a lot of other people that you helped. I am grateful for being a small part of your life. I will try and carry on a small part of your teachings.