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Nokomis
An Ojibwa Native Artist
My name is Nokomis and this is my website.
I was born in the bush north of Lake Superior at a time when the spiritual traditions of the Anishinaabe were still practised in a handful of communities.
In the old tradition, children were not named by their parents. They were named by the Elders at a naming ceremony when it was apparent who they would be - meaning, what they would contribute to the world in this lifetime. When I was three years old, the Elders named me Nokomis. Nokomis is the Great Mother of the Ojibwa - the Spirit that bore Manitou's children and created the Anishnabe in the world.
It was a bit of a trick for a little girl to figure out how to do that... but the burden was lifted when I got to school. It was a one room school in a tiny railroad hamlet not connected to the rest of the world by a road. I was the only Ojibwa child in the school. On my first day my mother walked into town to register me then left for home. As soon as she shut the door the first words out of the teacher's mouth were, "What kind of name is that? We'll call you Pat!"
That worked for me at the time! I didn't get teased at school and I didn't need to worry my little brain about how to live up to my namesake, Nokomis.
At the time, it never crossed my mind that my elders knew more about me than I did myself. It never seemed possible that I could create the Ojibwa in the world. It was clear to me where my real life's path would lead... I was going to be a mother. That's what girls did.
When I 'got big' I knew that I'd have children and it would 
be my job to cook and clean and sew, tan hides, make boots , clean fish, chop wood, pick berries , and dry the meat. That's what my mother did.
I knew that when my brother grew up he'd know how to build a house using only an axe and how to make toboggans and snowshoes, too. He would hunt and fish and trap. He would build and carry the drums. That was men's work and no one would be hungry when he was around.
Such was my life almost seventy years ago.
My family lived a traditional hunting, fishing, trapping lifestyle and because we never lived on a Reserve the spiritual traditions were also part of our lives. At that time we didn't call ourselves Ojibwa. We knew that we were Anishinaabe - the people. There was a distinct division of labour in the Ojibwa culture of my childhood... and it was necessary.
When we got up in the morning it wasn't as if the refridgerator was full of food...there was no refridgerator. If somebody didn't put on their boots, grab the gun and head out the door there was going to be a whole bunch of hungry people by nightfall. My father had big boots. It was his job to literally bring home the bacon.
It was my mother's job to literally keep the home fires burning. As a girl child I grew up at her side learning the skills that I'd need as a woman. These are the memories that I paint. It's why few men show up in my work. It isn't as if they weren't there...but they were off doing guy stuff and Mom and I were at home doing girl stuff.
By sharing these memories with you I have learned to be Nokomis... to create a vision of the humanity of the Ojibwa in your mind.
My message is simply that you've had your life and I've had mine... and it's ony been the props that have been different.
I've got lots of stories to tell and I'm not going to fret about telling them in any particular order. But this is my very favourite story... my very first trip to the dentist!
In the Anishnabe culture it tended to be the men who were in charge...but growing up at my mother's side, I learned early that her opinion counted...here's some stories about native women and pregnancy in the Ojibwa culture.
Women and children feature prominently in my work. Check out these stories about sibling rivalry and see if they might somehow relate to the relationships in your family, too.
Nowadays North American families take wheeled transportation for granted but of course it wasn't always available. In the world of my childhood Ojibwa transportation was sheer muscle power!
