"Take scrapings from the driest outside corner of a very stale piece of cold roastbeef, add to it lumps of tallowy rancid fat, then garnish all with long human hairs (on which string pieces, like beads upon a necklace), and short hairs of oxen, or dogs, or both, - and you have a fair imitation of common pemmican." EARL OF SOUTHESK, Saskatchewan and the Rocky Mountains, Diary, Nov. 20, 1859
The Earl, obviously unimpressed with the gastronomical traditions of the first inhabitants of our land, never took leave of his ethnocentric views. He never saw the ingenuity of this food preparation method. The lean dried meat pounded with stone hammers to a soft mass. Berries were added and melted fat poured over the mixture, to make it more palatable. He never understood that dried meat weighing six times less than fresh meat was easier to carry, sewn into leather bags that were walked upon before the contents became hard from cooling, until they were six or seven inches thick. A single sack or ‘piece’ weighed close to 90 pounds. It was ‘pieces’ such as these - traded at forts and trading posts - that the Earl must have unhappily feasted upon while voicing his disgust. Pity!
Our success as ecotourist operators depends on our ability to make our guests forget where they come from for a few seconds, a few minutes or a few hours if we are lucky. There are a number of ways to do this, but there is a common thread. We need to nurture a genuine relationship between our guests and the experience they are subjected to.
A hike into the grasslands need not be gruelling excursion of an hour and a half. It can as easily be a five or ten minute walk to a patch of undisturbed prairie, at the end of which we all sit and explore the richness within our reach: the delicate elegance of the "comb" of the blue grama grass that will take an eyelash-like appearance once it has shed its seeds; the hygroscopic ability of the needle and thread grass to absorb moisture from the air; the overwhelming colonizing qualities of the crested-wheatgrass and its implications for the ecological integrity of the native prairie. How easily an hour goes by when we stop to really look with scrutiny…and forget everything else.
To interpret, to help that relationship establish itself between our guests and the environment - whatever it is ( a museum, a path, a farm) - we must find within ourselves the essence of what motivates us to lead people to that particular destination. What is it that draws us there? Then, we have to do our homework. We have to dig for new information. That's the fun part. The ecotourism industry should attract only curious people… shouldn't it? Let us equip ourselves and grow. Let us challenge our guests and take them beyond their own expectations.
Perhaps you already do this unconsciously. Some of you may already incorporate into your experiences resource people who can lead guests into journeys of discovery. We have, at least, the good fortune of having a number of passionate and eager walking and talking knowledge banks within our midst.
At a recent powwow, I brought a number of visitors who for the first time found themselves alone as non-aboriginals. They were in awe and quite content to sit and listen to the songs and sounds, while watching the vivid colors and movements around them. They didn't ask questions. I took it upon myself to explain to them how I had gone to make a donation to the powwow committee and was offered a cordial handshake in return. I explained the meaning of the dances and songs. I bid them to get up to see for themselves that the drums and songs were not recorded. Before the advent of speaker systems, dancers would have performed around the drums. As we explored the grounds, I asked them if they wanted to try some rice and deer stew with bannock. They dipped their spoon and smiled with pleasure as they enjoyed the flavors of a meal that is savored with tastebuds that had shed their ethnocentrism.
Comments