Tree of life

As Frank Meuse deftly weaves strips of white ash into a basket intended as a Christmas gift for his niece, he talks about the past and future of Mi’kmaq culture in Nova Scotia.

It’s his first day as former chief, having just turned over his duties. He didn’t run for election this year, and is in a reflective mood as the basket takes shape. His words find a focus in two trees—the white ash and the black ash—but they somehow also reveal the push and pull of modern life that is being felt on the reserve.

Stands of white ash can be found in the managed forest on the Bear River reserve, and he explains his ancestors used the tree’s outer layers to manufacture bows, carefully aligning the growth rings and the inner layer of the bark—the cambium—to give the weapons their power.

The white ash grows readily in well-drained soils on riverbanks and lower slopes but black ash is a slow-growing tree of boreal woodlands that border swamps and bogs.

It is black ash that goes by the common name of basket ash but its scarcity means the baskets Meuse fashions are made from white ash.

Clearcutting and land draining have reduced the black ash habitat and a count by foresters found only about a thousand of the trees remaining in Nova Scotia.

One more black ash was added to that list when Meuse planted one from seed outside his home. Now a two-year-old, the sapling raises questions for Meuse: When it reaches maturity in perhaps 40 years, will there be any Mi’kmaq still weaving baskets or following traditional paths?

“It’s why I want to bring young people from here and other First Nations to learn something about such things as the need to plant ash for the future,” Meuse explains.

He has spent recent years building and expanding his ‘camp’ on the reserve—a collection of buildings, teepees and trails—that is attracting a growing interest among non-natives as a retreat, but which Meuse also uses to reawaken interests among young members of First Nations.

As chief, Meuse encouraged the development of a medicine trail of plants used in traditional medicine. The reserve also brought in a Mi’kmaq speaker from Cape Breton to teach the language that was being lost in Bear River.

The reserve built a cultural centre a half-dozen years ago to foster activities, and the building has become a focal point in that push and pull of modern life. There is pressure to get a liquor licence for the cultural centre so dances can be held there.

It wasn’t long ago, he recalls, that a vote almost succeeded in the total ban of alcohol anywhere on the reserve, even in private homes.

“They want to keep the old ways but have all the modern conveniences they see on television,” Meuse notes.

Meuse pulls a strip of ash from the water where it has been soaking and notes that both white and black ash are slow growing trees. “Slower is better or the trees will grow too fast and the growth rings will be too thick.”

He displays a cut section of the ash that has been pounded and is splitting into strips. The strips are segments of the rings that mark a year’s growth for a tree. A tree’s history is interwoven into a basket.

Meuse shaves the strips with a knife that has a peculiarly shaped bone handle, holding the ash between knife and leather protector as curls of wood fall to a growing pile near his foot.

When the strips are ready, he carefully forms a lattice, weaving strips over and under. When the basket’s rectangular base is established, the sides seem to build up quickly with the various ‘ribs’ flopping and flailing as the other stripes are woven into place.

With the basket near completion, Meuse admits he is relieved to be free of the pressures and travel as chief. A handful of baskets—large and small—are arrayed on the wall of his shed, but he makes them not as a business but to practice the skills and activities that keep him connected to his roots.

The baskets also seem a symbolic weave of his concerns about black and white ash, the need to plant for the future, and the value of a unique culture.

The new chief in Bear River is his sister Theresa, and she stops in with her young daughter to organize his help later in the morning to take a group of visiting children for a walk along the trails of his nature camp.

For Meuse, it will be an opportunity to plant more seeds for the future.