Kirstie David is a Literacy and Outreach Librarian at the Morrill Memorial Library in Norwood, MA. Look for her article in the March 26, 2020 edition of the Transcript & Bulletin.
I recently read a remarkable book. Actually, it was an audiobook narrated
by the author, and once I began, I found it hard to stop. While not all
narrators are created equally I can confirm that this one is delightful; the
soothing cadence of her voice is like a lullaby for the soul.
Robin Wall Kimmerer’s “Braiding Sweetgrass” should be required
reading. I mention this to everyone I’ve told about the book, and nobody asks
for whom it should be required. Maybe they assume I mean school children. I
actually mean it should be required reading for anyone who wants to live on the
planet. Hyperbole? Probably. Yet perhaps a universal playbook is just what we
need to heal the fragile ecology of our world.
The author is both a botanist and a member of the Citizen Potawatomi
Nation, so her writing encompasses the dual lenses of science and indigenous
wisdom. This book opens with a short retelling of the legend of Skywoman, an origin
story of how the first people came to inhabit this world when one of them falls
from the sky. Importantly, her survival is possible only through the
cooperation of the creatures already here. Then, a reciprocal relationship is
established when Skywoman cultivates seeds she brought with her. Soon plants
and trees spread everywhere, providing an abundance of food for everyone. This story
establishes the major theme of the book: that it is through reciprocity between
people and the natural world and all its inhabitants that we can seek ecological
sustainability. When Skywoman arrives here she is pregnant; caring for the
plants of the land isn’t just for her own survival but for the future of her descendants.
So there’s a lesson, here, about thinking beyond our own lifespan with respect
to our environment. Surely this is a philosophy worth spreading.
At the same time, the author observes an interesting point: that
Skywoman, the original woman, was an immigrant. She allows that some of her
ancestors are Skywoman’s people while some of her ancestors are the newer kind
of immigrant. The idea of all of us sharing the label of immigrant might prove
too provocative for some, but in this divisive age it is a generous and
encompassing idea, one that invites unity instead of discord. It also invites
connections between past, present and future.
Another idea explored by the author is that of a gift economy versus
one of commodity. She notes that unlike purchases, which conclude with the
parity of payment, gifts create an ongoing relationship. A hand-knit pair of
socks from a relative might require a note of thanks and, for instance, and wearing
them during the next visit (even if you don’t like them) plus making a gift in
return. Some gifts cannot be bought, as with ceremonial sweetgrass. Kimmerer
tells of a friend who uses it for ceremonial purposes and although he is kept
supplied by people, he may run out at larger gatherings. He would then have go
to vendors and ask them for it; it can’t be bought or sold and still retain its
essence for the ceremony. The relationships created by a gift economy adds a
level of responsibility to each other that is absent from the equation of goods
bought and sold. Although we live in a market economy, Kimmerer’s message is
clear: to a certain extent, we make the choice to participate or not. She notes,
for instance, that water is a gift not meant to be bought or sold, and we can
choose not to buy it.
Kimmerer has a talent for storytelling and she is nimble in weaving
together different accounts into a cohesive narrative. Her writing flows
seamlessly between tales from her own personal and professional life to the larger
histories of the indigenous people of America and the environment. Both of the
latter subjects necessarily address mistreatment on a massive scale, which she
is somehow able to tackle without making one feel overwhelmed and hopeless. All
of the stories are connected as, she would say, we are all connected. One delightful
example of her skill as a writer begins with the tale of an unproductive
fishing expedition made by her grandfather one evening in September of 1895 that
turns into his discovery of windfall of pecans. With nothing to carry them in,
he doffs his pants, ties the leg holes with twine and brings home an impressive
haul, despite the lack of fish. This anecdote flows into the origin of the word
pecan, requiring a brief recounting of how her ancestors were forcibly removed from
their lands three times in one generation. In their travels they encountered a
grove of nut trees of a variety unknown to them, and simply called them nuts,
or ‘pigan’ which became ‘pecan’ in English. Kimmerer then deftly steers the
narrative to botany by noting that nut trees don’t produce a crop every year
but rather follow a boom and bust cycle called mast fruiting. She explains that
concept and hypotheses about what causes this cycle but also notes that it happens
to trees as a group, not individually. Then, in the blink of an eye, she
carries the idea of the seeming solidarity of these trees back to the sad
history of how her people were divided and conquered by the offer of owning
property as individuals, when they might have taken a lesson from the pecans
and remained united.
This is but one example of many wonderful story webs spun out in
Kimmerer’s book. Her lyrical language is the spoonful of sugar that helps the
science go down, for those concerned about that aspect of the book. Her writing
is also peppered with references to everyone from Lewis Hyde to E.O. Wilson. If
you’re looking to branch out, numerous books from both of those authors are
available in the Minuteman Library Network including E.O Wilson’s ”The Origins
of Creativity.”
