BY KEN NOSKYE

Libraries across the province have declared February as Aboriginal Storytelling Month.
Right up until the end of the month, libraries and local branches will bring in storytellers and performers to bring humour, drama and pageantry.
 Of course, storytelling in the aboriginal community happens every day of the year, like it has for thousands of years. But it’s nice to have a month set aside so others can see, hear and feel a very unique form of storytelling.
 As a First Nations person, I learned a long time ago to incorporate the English language into the art of aboriginal storytelling. Some might argue there really is no difference than any other form of storytelling. I tend to disagree.
Prepared for the Saskatchewan Library Association, Nina Wilson and Jeremy Fourhorns explain what aboriginal storytelling is: “Storytelling is both a gift, a very old custom, sanctioned by the people. It has a place (for) those who are recognized by the community.” They go on: “These are our stories. They have a rich connection to who we are, since they are an important component to aboriginal identity.” 
One of the best storytellers I know is my father. 
Even though he spent more than 12 years in a residential school, he really had no formal education. He spent most of his time at the so-called school peeling potatoes and looking after chickens. His level of education is probably at the Grade 3 level. But that didn’t stop him from developing a sense of humour that has become legendary.
He is now in his mid-80s, but people still come from all over to listen to his stories. When I stayed with him for a couple of months, people, young and old, would come on a daily basis to hear his stories.
Actually, I found out it wasn’t really the story, but it was the manner in which he presented the story. And, I think that’s the difference. He might not have much of a formal education, but he did teach me many things and one is how to tell a story.
Not all stories have to be funny, even though many are. They should also have a message at the end. Anyone can tell a story, just as anyone can write a story. The big difference is how the story is presented. Often I am asked to make presentations to schools, organizations and agencies, usually on the subject of writing. I always say anyone can write what’s in their head or what’s in their heart. The art is to get others to understand the story in a very limited amount of words.
Astum is a 12-year-old First Nations boy. He was raised traditionally by his Cree grandparents. He always wore his hair in braids, which he washed and looked after on a daily basis. His grandparents were proud of the fact that he spoke fluent Cree.
One day, Astum came home in tears. He wanted a pair scissors so he could cut his hair. He told his grandparents he wanted to cut his hair because the other students were making fun of him.
“They called me Pippy Longstockings,” he said.
His grandfather decided to take him for a walk. As they strolled along the river, the old man explained hair was an extension of the boy’s spirit.
“As long as you look after it as you would look after yourself,” he told the boy.
Then the old man looked at the sky, pointing upwards and said: “Do you see that eagle up there?”
The boy looked at the grandfather’s finger to see what direction he was pointing. The boy looked up and couldn’t see the eagle.
“You see,” the elder said, “You are like those that tease you. Instead of seeing the smart and talented boy you are, they tease you. Just like instead of finding the eagle, you looked at the finger that was pointing.”
As they walked back home, the boy looked once more at the sky and this time he saw the eagle.
 knoskye@live.com