Indigenous Elders, Teressa and Simon Sapp talk about their Grandma

I was very lucky to interview two Elders, the late Teressa and the late Simon Sapp, about their Grandma, Maggie Soonias. It warmed my heart to meet these Cultural Workers and to know that their Grandma babysat my Grandma.

Daily Life and Midwife Work of an Indigenous Female Elder of the early 1900s.

In this video, they talk about their Grandma’s daily life and the sacred work she did as a midwife. Maggie Soonias was a traditional Medicine Woman. Click button below photo to view video.

Simon also talks about the type of work he did as a young Indigenous man.

Simon Sapp worked as a labourer, for road constructiion, fixing fences and picking rocks. Click above link to access video.

Teressa and Simon sit in their living room in front of a wall hanging of a family of bears

Rita Jasper and my new unusual friends

I’m always looking for new exeriences to write into stories. This person’s yard made me smile and I hope it does the same for you. It might go into my nexty book.
@ritajasper
https://youtu.be/sMYvx0a-ppw

My Heart — a guilty heart

I wrote this poem when I was in my 20s. The inspiration for the poem was due to someone I loved who, unbeknownst to me, was using; I knew he was suffering, but I didn’t know why. Years later, I realized the poem could be about me. In the novel, Mary and her Metis Grandma, the teenager, Mary, must deal with survivor’s guilt, as I did.

This is a reflective song with a haunting melody sung by a female vocalist (unknown). The lyrics are emotionally powerful and soul-stirring. The copyright of the words belongs to Rita Jasper. 

FYI, I am no longer an impenetrable stone. I have risen above the traumas of life, and so can you.
@Ritajasper

Please see lyrics below & check back for upcoming video.

Please check back as I will put a video to this song. Thank you for taking time to view this post.

POEM My Heart — a guilty heart

My heart  —  a guilty heart

with time…

Became poisoned in a river that bubbled bittersweet wine.

The mind and soul of my heart went through life in a drunken stupor.

I, the little one who belonged to that heart, didn’t realize the eroding, the tearing apart,

the stupid games being played with my guilt-ridden tormented heart.

My heart drifted and drifted.

It wound here and there.

It couldn’t decide where,

Eventually, it found its way to the falls.

And down the cascading falls, it fell in what was years…

of old abandoned tears.

Its mind was dead, and the soul of the heart had been washed away; so now what was left?

So now what was drifting down that river?

It was a heart, but alas the heart was only driftwood.

It seemed to have drifted forever, hoping to find a home,

Any home.

It did, but too late because this heart that changed to driftwood had by then turned to

stone.

It rests now on a forlorn shore.

Sadly, it’s not alone.

The only comfort my heart now knows is

the caressing water

and

The company of other impenetrable stones.

https://www.mureka.ai/song-detail/FYWMY1MEnpSAaU57ZprH8j?is_from_share=1