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wîhkask
Joseph Naytowhow
In my travels as a young man searching for meaning in my life I’d often go to ceremonies where I would sit with Elders, offering to help them with their work in exchange for knowledge. They would be happy to see me. In those days not many people wanted to learn. All the elders I’d meet would light a braid of what looked like common grass. I loved the sweet smell of the smoke and found comfort in it. In my language, nehiyowîwin, or Cree, I was told this was called wîhkask.