Sîpihko Transcript:

[Squirrel sound]

[Alien beats undulating throughout]

I was told I was Cree at a young age. Someone told me I was Métis, and I thought, I guess I am mixed. My mom’s family is French Canadian. I thought everyone called their grandmas kokum. On a drunken night, someone said “you’re from Cold Lake, you must be dene!”. They tried to teach me some words, but I’ve since forgotten. 

My first times at Cold Lake were camping. I remember touching the cold water and proclaiming, I must belong here because it’s not that cold to me. You get used to it, fast. 

nisîmis [younger sister] and nistês [older brother] were playing with me until they shrieked, "That's a huge fish!” and they ran away. I was left behind, frozen in a tube, and I screamed until nistês came back and pulled me to the beach. 

That same camping trip I fished for the first time in notawiy's [father] aluminum boat. I almost caught my first fish that summer. The cold water splashed my arms, and there was a big pike, a foot from the surface. It looked huge to my little eyes. My arms were tired from reeling and I wanted to give up. At the last minute, the fishing line snapped and the blurry fish disappeared into the water. 

My next visits were for funerals for my dad’s auntie and uncle. Hundreds of folks showed up, and I didn’t know how many relatives we had. 

Now when I visit I ask myself; is this familiar? Am I home? Am I intruding?

[sounds of the lake gently lapping against the shore]

My cousin Margaret always brings an extra large bag of fry bread. I can hear the laughter of all my aunties around a fire. A few years ago I caught my first laker [lake trout] but I had to release it back to it’s home 80 feet below us. Now I touch the cold water, the ripples against my hands, submerging my body and I do get used to it. 

Quickly.