Remembering my friend Ken Noskye

Ken Noskye was a good friend.

I hate having to use the word was. Ken was found deceased at his home on Feb. 17 on the Sturgeon Lake Cree Nation in northwest Alberta.

One of Ken’s nieces said the cause of death had not been determined.

His death has been hard to process. I received word of his passing in a text. I have looked at the message over and over. The message isn’t changing. Ken, after sharing so many stories with Saskatoon readers, is gone.

Ken lived a difficult life.

He was in a residential school, where he would watch joyful white children playing in their school grounds. They weren’t all wearing the same thing, like those in the residential school. They ran and they laughed. They weren’t peeling potatoes.

My friendship with Ken Noskye
goes back about 25 years.
(Photo by Sandy Hutchinson)

Members of his family were taken in the Sixties scoop. One of his siblings, as I recall, has never been reunited with Ken’s family. As a result of the scoop, Ken spent years in foster homes.

He fought health problems, and addictions for much of his life. He spent time in prison. He was a victim of racism and racial profiling.

Since he left Saskatoon more than four years ago, we talked every few weeks. Many of those calls ended with “I love you, Man” or “Bro.”

Ken wouldn’t want people to make a fuss over his death, even though he was a rock star as a columnist and person in Saskatoon. People wanted to be with him. He could be having dinner at the table of a prominent Saskatoon family while living at the Sally Ann. It happened.

In honour of Ken, I am going to share some stories that he has told in his columns and some that haven’t been told. Hopefully, some will bring a smile to your face. That’s what Ken would want.

*****

I was so happy on the day when Ken gave me a Cree name. He called me Walking Eagle. I proudly carried the name for a few days.

“Do you know what a walking eagle is?” he asked one morning.

I said no.

“It’s an eagle that is so full of s— that it can’t fly.”

*****

There was a time when there was drought in an area in the province. Ken met someone from the area and was asked if he could do a rain dance.

Ken told him he could. Of course, he did. The man asked Ken if he would come out and make it rain.

One day, Ken and some friends drove to a farm, and started to dance. Not long after they began, the clouds opened and it started to rain.

Those there couldn’t believe what they were witnessing.

Being Ken was a bit of a walking eagle himself, I asked him what he had done.

“I watched the Weather Network,” he said.

*****

There was a time years ago when Ken was driving his Jeep on the riverbank. A police car showed up on the scene. Ken was on the riverbank and the police officer was on the road above.

When it became apparent that Ken wasn’t coming up, the police officer drove down. The police officer’s car got stuck in the mud. Ken drove to the top of the hill, waved and drove away.

Years later, Ken was in a walkathon. At the end, he was talking with the police chief of the day when an officer walked up.

“Do you remember me?” the officer asked.

Ken said he didn’t. “I was the guy stuck in the mud.”

Ken was much more photogenic
than me. (Photo by Sandy Hutchinson)

*****

When Ken stayed at my house, he was an early riser. I would hear him making coffee and talking to my dog.

A couple of times, I got up.

I would look out the back window, and sitting on a rustic bench under an evergreen tree would be Ken and Dodger, side by side, like best buddies.

I look at that bench now and I can still see the two of them having a smoke. Well, just Ken was having a smoke.

Dodger never took up the habit. Have you seen the price of cigarettes these days?

*****

While Ken was in prison, he was in the position to organize a number of events for fellow prisoners. Bachman Turner Overdrive played at the P.A. Pen in the 1980s — you should be able to find the video online.

Randy Bachman was worried about playing, given he was a big man and the stage was made of plywood, sitting on blocks.

Ken got a number of prisoners to go under the stage to stabilize it. Can you image these guys grooving to Taking Care of Business while the stage bounced on them?

Terry David Mulligan, a popular video jockey in the 1980s, hosted the event. Years later Ken talked to Mulligan about the concert.

According to Ken, Mulligan told him, “I remember you. You’re the big Indian guy with long hair.”

Well, yes.

Ken also got permission to have a rodeo.

He posted a sign-up sheet. Most were regular rodeo events, but he added one: bull milking.

He laughed whenever another name appeared on the list.

*****

Given he was appointed leader of First Nations prisoners, Ken had oneon-one meetings with the warden. One time, they got into an argument. The warden got so angry he got up, slammed the door and left his office. Ken took the opportunity to light up one of the warden’s cigars.

*****

At one prison, Ken was able to get permission to have a library.

One day a riot broke out, with fires being set. Ken stood at the door of the library, ensuring no one started it on fire. Heaven help the person who tried to intrude.

*****

Ken credits an assistant warden for encouraging him to become a writer. The man gave Ken some paper and a pen. Ken wrote and wrote. One day, when he came back from the yard, his stuff was gone.

Ken was livid.

Not long after, the assistant warden came to visit, and told Ken how impressed he was with Ken’s writing. The assistant warden gave Ken a typewriter. And a wonderful storyteller emerged.

*****

Ken was among the kindest people I have ever met. He didn’t have much, but what he had, he would have given you.

I honestly don’t think he would have traded his life for my privileged one. Material things meant little to him. During his last years, he got back in touch with his culture.

He could dance like nobody’s business. Hell, he even won a moose-calling competition. I saw the video. I didn’t know moose sounded that annoying.

A story that sticks with me is one Ken told me about being in the residential school.

He would look out a window every night and see a candle burning in the window of a home near the school. Every night, his mother lit it. Every night, it gave Ken strength.

May that strength guide you to a better place, Bro.

-Cam Hutchinson

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.