Maple syrup: Indigenous Governance or business idea?

By Jolene Banning

My first visit to the Sugar Bush on Fort William First Nation was winter 2016—the fourth season. I went with my cousin. We hiked up the mountain, found the boss tree, laid our tobacco to give thanks and went to find out if the sap was flowing.

The sugar bush is located in a valley on top of Mount McKay or Anemki Wajew. There are rock faces on either side keeping it protected from the harsh winters. One community member recalls memories of tapping and harvesting maple sap, turning it into maple syrup. During these times there were community discussions on Anishinaabe Governance.

While collecting the sap, I’d take a taste. I loved it. It was cold, clear, sweet, delicious medicine water. I would drink this every day if I could. One member shared with me all he knew of boiling the sap, or liquid gold as he would call it. I could feel the value in listening to the land, making the most of what the land is offering, following the direction of our ancestors that tapped maple syrup for centuries.

Last winter, I heard on CBC radio Thunder Bay producers start Nor’Wester Maple Company, set to enter the maple syrup market. When I heard the piece, I couldn’t help but feel angered. From the beginning of colonization, Indigenous societies were broken up in everything they did, said and lived: lost language, ceremony, land, and children. Often replaced with a new structure on the expropriated land: language forced on us, child welfare, residential schools, Maple Company. You get the picture.

I don’t know the exact location of this company. But I know these mountains are traditional territory, and this mountain, with the Sugar Bush, we call Anemki Waajiw. We have mountain keepers hired by the Fort William First Nation band office and they follow protocols while caring for the mountain. Has this company ever thought to ask: Am I on traditional territory? Do I have a duty to consult? Should I talk to the Chief? No one asked permission. No one cared or respected us as people whose land is taken.

It pains me to see Indigenous people seen as less-than-humans in our own land, where land is our livelihood, speaking a language forced upon us.  With the Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings, our shared history couldn’t be ignored. No one can pretend that we’re on equal footing. Policy has always been set up against us and to extinguish us.

But we’re on the land gaining knowledge, guided by old principles, disengaging from the European system. Artists from across Turtle Island are flipping the lens and there is a resurgence in culture, ceremony, land and language. Local artists Christi Belcourt, Isaac Murdoch and others are building Nimkii Aazhibikong, a language immersion camp, the Sugar Bush Family is making syrup, and there are lot of people following suit.