Norseman Chief by Jason Born Read Free Book Online Page A

container that was filled with what looked like bits of small dried leaves out from a pocket of his coat, taking two pinches of the leaves and stuffing them into the short tube.  He then took a small stick from the fire, put the long end of the tube into his mouth and burnt the leaves in the small bowl at the opposite end, while inhaling deeply.  Ahanu held his breath for a moment before exhaling mountains of billowing smoke which hovered around his grey head, soon blending indistinguishably with the fire’s haze.  He then turned the tube to me saying, “Smoke.”
    I took the hollow pipe, which is what I later learned it was called, and placed it between my lips taking a timid draw before I immediately blew a small puff of smoke from my mouth.  Ahanu shook his head when I tried to give it back to him.  “Deeply, it clears the breath and soul for clearer meditation.”
    A second time I put the pipe to my mouth and inhaled a massive breath, filling my whole chest with smoke from the bowl at the far end of the tube.  However, instead of exhaling slowly with delight as my friend had done, the muscles of my stomach and chest heaved, belching the putrid air out as quickly as possible.  I coughed and hacked, sending spittle onto the fire in a hissing mess, even tipping an elbow to the ground as I barked.
    As I should have expected from my cheery companion, he roared with laughter.  Ahanu slapped his knees again and again with joy, tears soon forming at the corner of his eyes, slipping over the wrinkles and ridges, running down his prominent cheeks.  I continued my coughing fit for a long time while he settled into a gentle rolling giggle, thoroughly enjoying himself.  “That’s terrible,” I rasped, offering the pipe back to him.
    Ahanu nodded with a knowing smile, “You will learn.  In time, you will learn to appreciate the pipe.”  I didn’t think so then as I squinted tightly trying to clear the tears from my own eyes.  He continued while I cleared my throat, “My father was chief and made my brother and me try the pipe for the first time the day after we became men from the trials.”
    I sputtered, “And did you appreciate the pipe then?”
    “Of course not!  I must have turned as green as you are now.”  He giggled again while puffing lightly on the pipe.  “These men of yours that Etleloo discovered.  Who are they?”
    I grew serious while looking into my friends eyes, “Ahanu, I do not know who could be living there.  Etleloo does not believe me, I understand that, but I tell you all I know,”  He searched my eyes and perhaps heart briefly before nodding and closing his eyes, breathing in the mixture of cooking fire smoke and his pipe smoke.
    His eyes still closed, “We trade hides to the southern tribes for this tobacco that we put into the pipe.  Twice I have been successful at trading for seeds to plant so that we could raise it ourselves, but both times the plants did not live.  The southern peoples are said to raise almost all their food with their own hands by tending the soil.  It seems like a lot of work to me, but I was willing to try it to secure tobacco for the winter.  Well, for the summer too,” he smiled, wistfully thinking of one of the obvious joys in his life.  “No one I know has ever been to see the plants actually growing.”
    “I think I have seen the farming of this plant you love.”
    Ahanu narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “How could you have seen it?  You talk of coming from the north and across the sea.  Do your people cultivate it there?”
    “No.  My people farm, extensively actually, but not this tobacco.  Soon after I helped Thorfinn settle Straumsfjord, at the confluence of yours and the Mi’kmaq territories, we embarked on a great journey along the coast of the merki, which means the land beyond.  We sailed for weeks and weeks going further and further south where the air became as heavy and wet as fog, yet with intense heat.  It was