17/05/2021
Smoked Fish
I'm an easy sweater you know? Yes, always have been. Sweat in the most unsual places too. Underneath my feet, just on top of the foot, behind the knees, around the neck, my lower back, behind my ears, and the other usual places everybody else sweats. That's probably the reason I never feel like sweating. You know the kind of sweats I'm talking about...medicine man, sacred place, cedar, grandfather sweats. I sweat enough, and still have powerful visions.
I come from a medicine family. Strong visions, dreams, medicine, and yes, strong sweats. It runs in the bloodline, most people don't pay attention to their six sense, but not me, thats how I was raised, and I pay attention to everything. If I see a number twice in one day, maybe on a receipt, and then maybe at bingo, that really must mean something, and if I search hard enough, I find out it's my second cousin's sister in law's birthday.
Anyways, I'm having a vision tonight at work. Maybe not a vision but more like a smell attached to memories. I keep smelling smoke fish. And Everytime I catch a waft of that smokey flavor I'm instantly transported back to the days of language camp. Back to watching Mikey Flandrew do what he does best, smoke fish. I remember it feeling alot like Christmas, sitting around pretending to sew nets just to get the first picks of Mikey's best cuts. I think my love of smoked fish is engrained somewhere deep down, stamped and printed in my DNA. It's not like my ancestors even gave me a choice in the matter, they must have all loved smoked fish.
Damn, I keep catching a good whiff of smoked fish and my mouth is just watering, and my stomach is just grumbling. My mother made the best cracker pate made out of smoked fish. Just a little horseradish was her secret.
Maybe this smell is trying to tell me something. Maybe aside from the hunger pains, and the memories, maybe this is a sign. Maybe I'm suppose to return home? Maybe the fish are in trouble? Maybe Mikey Flandrew needs my help smoking fish? Maybe the tribes considering selling our damn fishing rights!?
The smell is growing potent and stronger by the minute. I'm trying to ignore it by working harder, but the harder I work, the thicker the smell becomes. I can almost taste it! I wipe the beads of sweat off that have hatched on my forehead by lowering my head to my shoulder. It's then that the vision I am having becomes blatantly clear. I finally understand just what all this means. I need a shower. I stink