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Mitigomij

WÀGOSH SNAPPED HIS HEAD around and yelled, “Brother, stop that!”

With that, the two of us turned around and out of the forest came Mitigomij (Red Oak).

“Brothers, if I was a Haudenosaunee you both would be dead right now!”

“Mitigomij, with you around we have no fear of Haudenosaunee. We know that you would have already killed them,” said Wàgosh.

“Is that mishi-pijiw you call Makadewà Wàban (Black Dawn) with you?” I asked.

“Brother, there is only one way to find out, and that is to pretend to attack me.”

Wàgosh then said, “We are not that foolish, Mitigomij!”

Mitigomij was my third brother. He was the best archer in our tribe and his power with a wewebasinàbàn (slingshot) was second to none. Mitigomij was also accomplished with the anit (spear), mìgàdinàn pagamàgin (war club), and mòkomàn (knife). He is a great minisìnò (warrior) and kigàdjigwesì (hunter), but our brother had one major problem that kept him from going on the warpath and hunting trips with us. Mitigomij would slow the party down. Twenty-two winters ago he was born with a pagamàgin ozid (clubfoot). Our brother had trouble walking for any length of distance and could not run at all. Because of this, he honed his weaponry skills to be the finest of all the Omàmiwinini. Our family unit and Algonquins all in all treated him as a special gift and all the great warriors and hunters taught him their skills. With these teachings Mitigomij became the best of the best.

When he was young, if the other children picked on him or teased him, he was quick to settle it in a decisive way. He always stood up for anyone being bullied and gained the respect and fear of his peers.

Travel on land was Mitigomij’s biggest hindrance, but when it came to canoeing or swimming, no one in our band was his equal. As long as I could remember no one had ever beaten him in swimming, archery, or a canoeing contest. Many had tried. When the Innu and Malecite came for gatherings, they always brought their top warriors to try and defeat him in these contests. They were never successful. His upper body was the envy of all the young men. His one good leg was strong and healthy, but the leg with the clubfoot was withered. Because Mitigomij was so well treated by the warriors when he was young, he had taken it upon himself to be the self appointed teacher of all the young children for their weaponry and hunting skills.

When Mitigomij was twelve winters he came upon a panther that had a young male cub. The cub was black. A black panther is a melanistic variant and very rare. As rare as a white panther. He watched the mother and cub from a distance and the female came to accept him. Mitigomij observed as the mother killed game and brought it back to the young one. When the cub got older the mishi-pijiw took the cub on hunting trips and let him watch as she made her kill.

One early morning the mother was hunting and brought down a deer. The young male was lying in the woods watching and Mitigomij was at a distance. As the mother started to drag the kill to her cub’s hiding place, a pack of several wolves came upon the panther and attacked her for the fresh kill. She had no chance and died defending her prey and her cub’s hiding place.

Mitigomij knew that the cub now was defenseless and needed his help to survive. He got to the cub while the wolves were preoccupied with his mother. Then he grabbed him and took him back to the den.

For the next six or eight months Mitigomij brought meat for the young male. He never once brought him to the village. His thinking was that this was one of Kitchi Manitou’s special creatures, and that he must leave him wild. With the help of Mitigomij supplying him with game, the cat became big and strong and totally devoted to my brother.

The cat would never show itself unless Mitigomij called him out of hiding. Makadewà Wàban was never far from my brother, always lurking in the shadows.

Mitigomij gained his warriorhood long before he ever took the Wysoccan Journey.

He was now twenty-two winters old, but when he was sixteen he proved beyond a doubt that he and Makadewà Wàban were not ever to be underestimated.

It was during the spring running of the suckers. Mitigomij was about an hour from the village along a small stream spearing the fish to bring home. My brother never strayed too far from the confines of the band because of his struggle to walk, but this day he went beyond his own boundaries. Where it would take us an hour to get somewhere, it took him two or three times as long.

Mitigomij was spearing and bringing in the suckers and every once in a while would throw one to the edge of the forest for Makadewà Wàban. Mitigomij was so engrossed in his task that he never noticed the four Haudenosaunee on the opposite bank, until Makadewà Wàban screamed a warning. They were young and probably out on a trek to find village locations or to capture lone people off by themselves in the forest. They travelled lightly for speed and effectiveness, living off of the land.

The four warriors charged across the small stream. Mitigomij threw his fishing spear at the lead warrior, catching the young man by surprise at the speed and accuracy of the throw. The spear entered his throat and exited halfway out the other side. He died in the stream, reddening the waters where he fell. When the next warrior reached the bank he was met head on by Makadewà Wàban, who knocked him down and started tearing at his face. My brother grabbed his war club from his belt and with the third Haudenosaunee upon him, broke the man’s kneecap with one mighty swing. He then hit him in the face as the man dropped to his hands and knees. The last foe had only gotten three-quarters of the way across the stream. He was younger than the others, and he was terrified. He had just watched his three brethren killed before his eyes in less time than it had taken him to traverse the small waterway. Before Mitigomij had a chance to call him off, the panther splashed into the stream and ran toward the young warrior to make the last kill. Then with a mighty swipe of his paw, he shredded the right side of the foe’s face. With a command from my brother, Makadewà Wàban stood in the stream screaming and snarling at the last Haudenosaunee.

Mitigomij then said, “My cat and I will let you live on this day. You go back to your people and tell them what happened here. I will leave your friends for the animals to enjoy. If I ever see you again I will kill you on sight. I will know you by the scar the black one has given you. Go!”

With that, the young warrior ran off downstream, leaving a trail of blood following him in the swift flowing water.

In the coming years, the story of the Omàmiwinini warrior with only one good leg and his Panther of Death spread among the Haudenosaunee. The Iroquois, we were told, skirted these woods since then because they said it smelled of death.

They told the story that it was Michabo (the Great Hare Trickster God), inventor of fishing, who was disguised as an Algonquin warrior, but had one leg that wouldn’t change to a human appendage.

The Algonquin believe that they were made by Michabo. He also made the earth, fishing nets, water, fish, and deer. He lives where the sun rises and the souls of good Algonquins go to live with Michabo.

The Haudenosaunee also said that at that same battle Michabo was aided by Gichi-Anam’e-bizhow (The Fabulous Night Panther).

Gichi-Anam’e-bizhow was an underwater creature. To the Algonquins the underwater panther was the most powerful of the underwater beings. They believed him to be helpful and protective, but many times he was viewed as malevolent and brought death and misfortune.

The Haudenosaunee also feared that their men may have been killed by shape changers. This was an enemy who was to be feared beyond all else. Their powers were immense.

Mitigomij then awakened me from my thoughts.

“Wàgosh and Mahingan, I have not come to sneak up on you or to play games. There is something on the sìbì (river) that you must see!”