Native American Stories

Memegwesi and nawus

"Baba how do they take our offerings?", I asked, my voice curious.

"Well, danis, when we offer any type of gift to the spirits, they wait tell we leave and then take the spirit of the gift we gave them. It's just like when we have a feast" Baba smiled at me, ruffling up my hair, making sure I understood. 

After our offerings to the memegwesi, Baba would read the tale of them every time we went and I would listen very intently but this time my attention was directed elsewhere. Behind the tale of the memegwesi was a tiny moss covered stump and a tiny creature peeked up behind it. This creature appeared to look like the stump it hid behind but its moss flowed like hair in the water. As i tried to get closer to it, it ran in the opposite direction of the stump, disappearing into the forest. 

As the years past and the older I got, the memegwesi visited me less and less. The world wasn't as innocent as I thought it was. I would only ever catch glimpses of the memegwesi in the corner of my eye. My heart saddened at the mere thought of my little friends not being around anymore. The loss of the memegwesi was short lasted as I wasn't that bothered by being alone. I was now old enough to venture into the bush with my older cousins but of course i could only go so far before i got them in trouble, unintentionally. 

It was a chilly day when my cousins had invited me to go over to explore the fort that they had made in the bush. It was mainly used for small bonfires that were allowed by their father, to hang out. It was made out of old wood found in various ditches and side streets but it was strong and sturdy like new. When we were done adventuring in the bush, we decided to go their house. As we arrived I seen my Babas truck parked in the front drive way. My uncles' house always intimidated me. Not because of him, but because of the dark painted walls. We often played in the boys' room. They had a wide variety of games for Nintendo 64. We would mainly play Pokémon and whoever died first had to let the next person play. 

Being small and the youngest, I never lasted more than five minutes. My fingers were not fast enough to press the buttons. After dying multiple times I decided I had enough and ventured into the dining room where the adults were conversing in Ojibway. They laughed and shoved at each other, the usual that happened while visiting. The men had gruff loud laughs and the women had high pitched laughs, which was always contagious. Getting bored of hearing the adults laugh non-stop I decided to walk back to my cousins' room. As I walked past my uncles' room I spotted a figure sitting on the edge of his bed. He was slumped over, with no distinct features on him. He spoke to me in whispered tones.

 I scrunched my eyes in confusion and shook my head. I ran back to the dining room and told my uncle what I had just seen. The laughter ceased abruptly and I could feel all eyes on me now. 

Baba grabbed me by the shoulders and brought me closer to him, as if to protect me. But I don't understand. Is the man in the room bad? He spoke quietly and quickly in our language to the others. The only thing I could make out was that they were talking about the man that I had mentioned. Uncle looked at me, crouching down to my height. 

"Are you sure there was someone there?" He asked, pressing on about it. I don't understand why they are making a big deal out of this. But I did not argue and continued to answer their questions. 

"Yes uncle, he was there on the bed and told me to come closer because he said couldn't speak too loudly." I said. 

"He said he needed to see you for healing, that's why I came back here. Uncle did I do something wrong?" I asked. 

I could hear my aunties and Baba looking around the house. Baba came towards me and said there was no one in the room. The night ended in worried farewells and before leaving Uncle told me that if I ever saw that man again to tell him to leave. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he told me this. Why would someone looking for healing, come to me? We said our goodbyes one last time and I walked to the door with my Baba. But my eyes remained on the dark man sitting at the table, quietly waving at me. I didn't dare tell anyone that he was there.