When Ken died in February 2021, we had an outpouring of messages from readers, with many telling us how much his columns meant to them. In light of that, we thought we would go back through our files and re-publish some of them. Ken would be flattered by the kind words readers expressed. We miss him as a friend and as a storyteller.

The blood of thousands of warriors runs through my veins. Generations of people who have explored, conquered and survived are my direct descendants. My parents, my grandparents and great-grandparents are 100 per cent Cree. When I think about that in the context of the history of the Cree nation, it becomes overwhelming sometimes, because there are so many expectations, some beyond my limitations. Think about it as a grandson, or granddaughter, of a long line of great generals in the military. Think about it as the child of a family of legendary musicians. Or even kin to a family history of brilliant scientists. The expectations are indeed overwhelming and, in most cases. unfounded. This is the way it is to be a direct descendant of the established founders of North America.

When I was attending post-secondary in Edmonton, I decided to try my luck out in one of the city’s nightclubs. This was in the late 1970s, when many of the men wore their hair long. I wasn’t an exception as my hair was down past my lower back. I don’t know if I was trying to be a hippie or a rock star. but it certainly had little, if anything, to do with my Indian identity. A couple of buddies and I headed downtown to Jasper Avenue on a Saturday night. Two of us were going to college and the other attending university. As students, our financial situation was embarrassing, but that doesn’t matter if you’re young and filled with confidence.

We thought we would stretch our few dollars with one person having a drink and the other two having pop, which was free. All we wanted to do was to get out, dance, listen to the music. and maybe meet someone. Things were going along just fine. I couldn’t ask for better wing men as they not only mingled but they got right into the crowd. It didn’t take us long to meet people. I was sitting at our table with my friends when the server placed a drink in front of me. I asked her where that came from and she said she was instructed not to tell.

My friends started to tease me as we scoped out the place, “Maybe it’s her,” one of them said, as he pointed to beautiful blonde sitting with another woman. “No, I bet it was him,” my other buddy said, pointing to another longhaired dude. Regardless, the drinks kept coming. One of my friends finally figured out who the drinks came from – it was the beautiful blonde. Things were looking pretty good for young Ken who decided to get up and introduce himself. I thanked her for the drinks and wondered why she was being so kind. it was her friend who said she was from Germany, and came all the way to Canada to meet a “rea1 Indian.” Since I had long hair and high cheekbones, Indian Ken decided to play the part. Her name was Stephanie, around the same age as me, but her real interest was North American lndians. We got along really well and agreed to meet the next day over a coffee.

I arrived early after borrowing my friend’s car. We talked a bit and I got to know her. She told me she had a calling which was powerful enough for her to leave her family and even her country. She said as a girl she read books about Indigenous people in the United States and Canada. She also said she would cheer for the Indians in all the cowboys and Indians movies she watched. Then she wanted to know if Indian people still lived in teepees and if some were still at war. I decided to play along and answered yes to both questions. I knew there was a powwow happening close to Edmonton. I told her I would take her to the war camp, but she would have to keep it secret. She couldn’t believe it when we pulled into the pow wow grounds because there were teepees all over the place. I told her the dancers were warriors getting ready for battle. We spent the entire day and night there. The next day I told her I had to get back, but she wanted to stay. I left her there and years later I wondered what happened to her. Maybe she went back home after meeting a real Indian and sleeping in a teepee.

Those are the expectations I was writing about. There are people who think because I am a full-blooded Cree, I should be riding around on a horse – which would be cool. There are those who got all their education about Indigenous people from books and old movies which are the originators of fake news. All I know, at the end of the night and as sure as the sun will come up tomorrow, I will wake up as everyone else – a human being.

– Ken Noskye