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Blueberry Festival In Sioux Lookout

Travel north off the Trans-Canada
On Highway seventy-two,
And cross the Frog Rapid Narrows
Of the English River system
To enter Sioux Lookout,
On Pelican Lake,
‘Hub of the North’
And gateway to Lac Seul.

Legend has it and told by the elders,
That in days past,
A mountain
Was used by the Ojibway as a lookout,
To scan the horizon
For approaching Sioux warriors,
And intercept them,
Before, they could storm the camp.

While I was there
During the ‘Blueberry Festival,’
Held in August
To celebrate the Creator’s abundance,
I wandered about the town:
Enjoying the sights and sounds,
And noticed the sadness
In the faces of the Anishinaabe people.

I stopped to admire a native mother;
Attired in a skirt with jeans underneath,
And who dressed her pretty little girl the same:
Both of them wearing embroidered jackets.
And thought how out-of-place they looked
In today’s world of modern technology.
The younger, with a sparkle for curiosity,
And the older, less spriteful,—melancholy.

Gone are the traditions!
Gone is the culture!
Gone is the respect due
One to another:
It is heartbreaking to know
That the Europeans are responsible;
And I cannot keep from thinking
About the residential schools.

The town begins the celebration
With a community blueberry bake-off!
Proceeded by the week’s long list
Of sport activities and music festival;
And in the mornings, blueberry pancakes,
Topped off with bacon or sausages and maple syrup
Followed by picnics of hot dogs, hamburgers,
Steaks and blueberry desserts.

The air in the North is refreshing.
Void of that smell of congestion,
And the space wide open.
Unlike the city where people are confrontational,
From the anxiety associated with daily living:
The traffic and pressure!
It was nice to get away and enjoy,
Sioux Lookout’s Blueberry Festival.
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