I have a story.

My name is Peter Morin, and I am from the Tahltan Nation,

This is how the story usually starts.

My name is Peter Morin and I am a graduate of the Emily Carr institute of art and design, another story with a different ending.

My name is Peter Morin, my mother is Janell Morin from the Crow Clan, and her mother's name is Dinah Creyke, and her mother's name is Lousie Dennis, another story.

For this I want to say, My name is Peter Morin and I come from a family of Crows.

This is one good story, but why would you want to listen?

2400 AN

INDIAN

ODYSSEY

1.
(Joy Harjo, (1994) The woman who fell
from the sky, New York: W.W. Norton and Co.)

If I was a good storyteller I would tell
about an eagle, and a mountain top, and a
trail of smoke in the distance. If I was a
good storyteller you would have come from
far away, to hear how an old Indian type
can speak the good talk, to hear the words
of our creator told in funny, learned ways.

If 1 was a good storyteller, I could weave
tales, for days, for nights, for moons and
stars.

If I was a good storyteller I could
give you something in return for what you
have brought me, but I am not what I
seem, that particular eagle never could
quite reach me, and all of the mountains
tops have been distant, and I don't know
about the smoke. I am only the smallest
part of all that is, and truthfully, my stories only
sometimes include crows… crows and what
they have told me.

So, here goes…

Once, a big Crow told me
that creation is the first story,

that creation began in blackness
with the most secret of songs,

that this creation began with the hearts
of black birds wanting light to see further,

that this creation began with a woman
who fell from above,

who breathed into the space
with her love and light.

That crow told me
this creation began with a giant turtle

who lent his back
for the earth that was found.

That crow told me about people moving,
from place to place,

in a sacred manner,
in a deliberate manner.

He told me the names of places,
and ways to say them

but sometimes I'm a bit city
that crow, I think, he's forgiving.

2.

We sat together, and he told me about
the times, bout the old times,
bout how much I need to understand,
in order to understand, novels and novels
just from the way he moved his beak.

3.

(Leslie Marmon Silko, (1981) Storyteller.
Arcade Publishing: New York-
Ga Ching Kong (2002). Surviving the
Masters House. Unpublished manuscript.)

I seen him flutter his black wings, and out
fell stories about the colonizers.

When they came, he said, I left stories
about their arrival.

I left them all over,
I left them washed about on the wind.

The crow shook some more, and more stories came.

I told them to look carefully, at the weight, at the stories, at the
way
the answers had washed them with the wind.

They took,
They took,
And They took,

The colonizers came in ships,
wooden vessels, carried their own weight.

This wasn't a part of the plan.

The colonizers came,
retold the stories.

I watched.
I wait, he said,
in order to survive
the new voice of these stories,
stand offs between First Nations groups
and the crown.

We are not what we are presented on
the six o-ciock news.

Creation is honored.
Resistance is voiced.

2400 an Indian odyssey is about surviving
the wait.

How we walk is with this story,
this resistance comes from keeping that
story.

This is the major secret of our survival.

Each breathes inside of us

4.

That crow told me about
Indians on the moon
about grandmothers with plastic faces

He told me about the time,
He himself fell asleep,
but still woke up.

That crow, no more crying, he says.

I says why?

Because, he says.

I says how?

He says, Listen.

I says, huh?

Big, Black Crow, you, the bringer of good news
now tell me the truth...

Crow says: 1492 columbus sails in a ship
on the water in the wrong direction and
you people think he is me.

Crow says: Royal Proclamation, BNA ACTS,
Indian ACTs, caw caw caw, tell me to give a shit,
Land registry, Reservations, Residential schools,
Minerals, Status as what, let my children be the wards of
who? You know, the white lady with the
biggest brightest diamond in her hat.

Crow says: 1890 the white people come
and burn down the Indians at the creek,
you forgot to give me a call.

Crow says: 1969 Alcatraz is not an island,
no kidding.

Crow says: 1973 Indians tempt fate, go
back to the creek and give a press
conference. I watch from the distance…
important, my people are crying. I watched
and cried with you.

Crow says: 1971 the white paper—caw,
caw, caw

Crow says: OKA, OK

Crow says: Gustafsen take, AOK

Crow says: 2400, you've finally survived
the wait.

Crow says: FNGA, you must go away.

Crow says: The mountains are for living,
not skiing.

Crow says: I want you to listen to my stories.

Crow says: I want you to walk this world in
a good way

Crow says: I want you to listen to the
Grandmothers and Grandfathers

Crow says: Remember the first story

Crow says: the answers that you need are
right here with you, no where else. The
voice that you need is right here with
you, no where else. The vision that you
need is right here with you, no where
else.

That crow, this is what he said.

Peter Morin, 2003