Post #9 The Story of Manabush

Long ago, after I fell from the heavens, I was living in the land on the Anishnabe people. It was the time of year where the winter months were melting away and the land was beginning to flourish to life. I was helping the land grow, overseeing it thrive, as that was what some of my powers were. Spuds of potatoes were growing in the land, as was the corn beginning to be planted. New life was happening all around us.

I was living in my wigwam home, which the native people had built for me. My daughter lived with me as well. Her name was Wenonah, and she was one of the most beautiful women in the land. Everyone was wanting to marry her, and so many of the people would come to me, begging for Wenonah to be their bride. Wenonah may have been beautiful, but she was also young and foolish and had a hard time listening to me.

In this time of spring, it was very nice out. I remember Wenonah asked me if she could go on a walk outside. I didn’t think she should have, but she insisted. She was a very stubborn one… I had a bad feeling in my stomach, but I allowed her to go out anyways.

Time passed. Minutes turned into hours… Hours turned into days…Days turned into months… I had no idea where my daughter had gone. I was so sad and afraid. I kept asking myself why I had allowed her to leave. I was constantly praying for her return home, and all the people of the village were keeping one eye open, and trying to find her.

I was heartbroken. The land was so alive and beautiful, but everything seemed so hopeless. It was not until eagle came down to see me that some hope began to form. He flew down from the sky and visited me in my wigwam. He said to me “Nokomis! Nokomis! I have seen Wenonah! She has been taken by the West Wind! He is so mean to her, Nokomis. He looks her up in his home when he is away and beats her when he comes back!” He then told me how he would try to fly down to get her, but he could not. The wind was too strong and was threatening to kill him everytime he tried.

When Eagle told me this news, I was furious at was had been happening, but I felt a bit better at knowing where my daughter was and that she was alive. However, there was still nothing that we could do about her arrival home. All we could do was wait.

We did wait. For months, I waited, hoping for Wenonah to return home. It was only when Spring turned into summer, did she arrive.

I was in my wigwam when I heard my name being called. The noise was coming from the woods and I leaped from my home and ran to the source of the sound. In the woods, I came upon my daughter. Wenonah looked so sick and frail. Over the months she was gone, she had become pregnant. She was however to weak to give birth, and when she did, she passed onto the next world. She gave birth to two children, but one of them had the same fate as their mother.

So much grief had been placed onto me. My beautiful daughter, and one of her children were to young to have died. I brought the living child back into the wigwam and placed him under a bowl, to keep him hidden from the West Wind. I then returned back to my daughter and her child.

I mourned for four days and four nights. In my culture we do not leave the bodies of our loved ones alone. We stay with them while their spirits travel to the heavens. At the end of the four days I begin to hear whining noises coming from the wigwam. I then remembered Wenonah's living child!

I had totally forgotten about the child in my period of mourning. I rushed back to the home and lifted the bowl from his body. However, instead of a small baby, I instead found a little white rabbit. My grandson, had already began to trick me. He transformed into an animal so he could shock me and eat the grass in the home. I scooped the rabbit into my arms and said to him “Manabush… Manabush… My sweet granson….” Manabush was his name and he was my little white rabbit.

All though there was much grief that came with him, Manabush would grow up to be a trickster, a transformer, but most importantly a teacher to the Native people. I would raise him, and he would become a hero. A hero his mother could be proud of.