Latest news with #elders
Washington Post
21 hours ago
- General
- Washington Post
11 tips for becoming a columnist
So you wanna be a columnist, eh? Young aspiring journalists and wizened elders often ask how I scored this sweet gig. Truth is, I don't entirely know. There's no chance of replicating the particular mix of skill, work and (mostly) serendipity that contributed to my path here. Still, I can offer advice to other lucky pundits who land this perch. Lord knows my own track record is far from perfect, but here are 11 pointers and principles I've aspired to:
ABC News
a day ago
- General
- ABC News
‘They're the custodians of stories and skills': Why grandmothers are so important in the Pacific
This is an ABC podcast. Hilda Wayne Our stories will fade if young people don't spend time with the elders back home. You know, our history is verbal, but in this day and age, we can afford to let our grandparents die with their stories. And so we're urging young people to sit with their bubu, sit with their grandfathers or grandmothers and record those stories on the iPhone or recorder with the modern day equipments that young people have used those to record those stories. And that's the best way to preserve our stories, because we cannot go back to the village all the time to take our young ones to the village. Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Well, it seems like our grandparents foretold that we would come into a lot of environmental problems now. The way plastic was back in what, 20, 30 years ago, they were already predicting then and telling us the packaging is going to be a problem. This is going to be a problem if you, you know, if you overharvest and you don't regrow and not looking after your sea, not looking after the fish, not looking after the sea, the sea where the fish live in, how you treat your coral. It's a wonder that they didn't listen to the elders back then. Natasha Meten Our grandmothers are a great source of wisdom and play a nurturing and vital role in our lives. They don't just help bring us up, spoil us or keep us in line, but they also pass on vital knowledge to help us understand our environment and our culture. I'm Natasha Methen. Sisters, let's remember the stories our grandmothers told us. We're joined today by the host of ABC's Wantok program and our Sistas own legend, Hilda Wayne. Hilda Wayne Thank you so much for having me. And it's great to be back home, I guess. Thank you. Natasha Meten And the host of ABC's Culture Compass, Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina von Reiche. Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina It's an honour for me to be joining you ladies today. Natasha Meten So we'll get into my questions. Can we start by hearing a bit about where you ladies grew up? Hilda Wayne Well, I'm from Western Highlandsand that's where my dad is from and my mom is from the Enga province of Papua New Guinea. So I grew up in the Western Highlandsand basically lived there my whole young life until I went to university. So subsistence farming, families, gardening, anything an island child does is what I grew up knowing and lived out my life there as a young child. And then I went to university. So Western Highlandsis where I was born and raised. Natasha Meten And how about you, Sala? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina I was born in Samoa and raised here. And I think most of my childhood memories are of all my grandmothers because I have three grandmothers and my younger childhood days were spent with them going to funerals and weddings. And I was so lucky I got to grow up out in the villages as well as in the main town of Apia. So it was a very colourful bringing up for myself as well. Natasha Meten And Sala, what was one of your fondest memories with your grandmother? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Oh, I can't say one grandmother. I have to tell you, my mother had two mothers. So she had her two mothers were Aunty Sala, that was her father's sister, and Mama Tunu. So to me, those are my two grandmothers on her side. And on my father's side, my father's mother was Grandma Ains. And so I've got a whole range of experiences with these three ladies growing up. I don't know where to start. True, true. Yeah. As a child, I got to be like a bag carrier for my Aunty Sala and my Mama Tunu. So that when they go to funerals or family gatherings, they would take me along as their little bag carrier. So I'd be the little one carrying these heavy bags, sitting next to these two old ladies who would speak and were very well respected within all our families that they were connected to and wherever they took me. So we got the best of times with them. And my Grandma Ains on my dad's side, well, she was a jack of all trades. She taught me plumbing. She taught me how to shoot a rifle. She taught me how to ride a horse, how to love animals and all that kind of stuff. So I think I was really lucky to have a whole range of things going through my life as I was growing up from, say, right from the day one till I left Samoa to go to college. And I don't know whether it's because I was the oldest of my parents' children, I was the oldest of all the siblings, or whether they were just trying to give my mother and father a break by taking me with them. But I seem to have spent a lot of time with them growing up. Natasha Meten You are lucky. How about you, Hilda? Hilda Wayne I am also very blessed. And Sala is right. There's so much to, you know, you can't just pinpoint one thing, you know, that's special because it's like so special with our grandparents and especially our grandmothers as girl children. And yeah, from my mother's side, we call our grandmothers Apuri. And from Hagen is Api. And they gave me special names too. They used to call me Pundulg in Hagen and Londem in Engan. So yes, my best childhoods were running around following them into the garden. And I've recently taken up making bilumsover the Christmas holidays, last Christmas. And I had a certain nostalgia because I'm going to get emotional. Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Me too. Yeah, take your time. Yeah. Hilda Wayne I mean, you don't learn this in school. I started making a bilum, making a bilumfor myself and just twisting the rope. Just thinking of what my grandmother taught me, you know, and that's something that I didn't make for about, you know, since I came to Australia. And to start making the bilumagain, I just, you know, just thought of my grandmother's face, her lap, I used to sit by the fire and how she twist the rope. Then outside of the home, how to make a garden, you know. The woman I am today is because of these, you know, values, the skills that my Bubu Meri or grandmother taught me. So it's just a special feeling when I think of my grandmother and grandmothers. They're like the custodians of stories, skills, gardening skills, balloon skills, how to behave during a funeral, how to behave during a feast, you know. I am who I am because, I mean, I'm sure many other women in around the Pacific are thinking the same. The special connection and bond we have with our Bubu Meri and our grandmothers is what set us up for life, I guess. So it's been, yeah, wonderful, wonderful thinking of my grandmothers. And then to talk about, you know, them today is pretty special to me. Natasha Meten Thank you, Hilda. I'd like to ask Hilda, the name that your grandmother called you, did it mean anything in your language? So Hilda Wayne in the Western Highlands, I'm called Pundulg. So from what I get, I'm a bit light-skinned in the family. So Pundulgis like, she was describing my skin color. I was a bit light-skinned, so that's what she described me. And in the English, calling me Londem was somebody who came from far away. So when I go to my mother's place, which is Enga, which is, you know, about a two hours drive from Western Highlands, an hour drive from Western Highlands, my bubu would come out of her hat and she would say, oh, Londem, you know, and then she would say in language that there she comes, somebody from far away. Natasha Meten I see. Thank you for that. And Sala, how did your relationship with your grandmother change as you were growing up? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina I don't think it really changed very much, our relationship. We were very close. And then I lost my Mama Tunu at 15, which was very hard for me because she's the one who took me in as a baby, really. And I can never remember meeting them for the first time. You know, they were always in my life. After I lost my Mama Tunu, then my Auntie Sala stepped in and took over that role because AuntieSala never had children of her own. So I had become like her own granddaughter as well. But then with my Grandma Ains, the one who taught me how to ride horses and our relationship just grew stronger. And she was also telling me about her, when I became a teenager, she would tell me about how she was as a teenager and what she was going through as well. She understood teenage years very well. And that to me was a special connection because it felt at the time that nobody else understood me as a teenager, going through all these different swings in your hormones and being naughty. And I was being called, my Auntie Sala would call me Sala Pagaga, like Sala Pagaga would mean like naughty, like a cursed child or something. And I think back to it, I think I was really naughty, but these old ladies, they really helped me in life and I had so much respect for them. I didn't really want to overstep my boundaries because of that relationship that we had. Natasha Meten And how about you, Hilda? Hilda Wayne Yeah, look, that's true. I'm looking back, the grandmother was like the disciplinarian as well. And if we were, you know, stepped out of line or if we jumped over food or, you know, something that is taboo to do as a girl child, they would slap us on the end lovingly and say, oh, no, no, not like that. And then they'd throw in a few harsh words, but, you know, it comes from a place of love. So, yeah. And then also, I'd like to point out that not only is like our grandmothers just, you know, from our fathers or whether it's, you know, our dad's mom or our mom's mom, but it's extended when we call our grandparents, it's like the extended elders in the village who also lovingly share those knowledges with us as well. Natasha Meten So, Hilda, what kind of cultural stories did your grandmother tell you? Hilda Wayne Yeah, they would tell us where our origins were from, you know, they would trace back our lineages and, you know, tell us that our ancestors came from a rock or a mountain and then the, you know, where the origin of a taro is. For example, in Tsak Valley, where my mom is from, my grandmother would say that the special taro that was near the land, my grandfather's land, there's a little pond there. So, my grandmother would tell me that those are the tears from a mother who cried because the son wanted some taro and she couldn't give him all the taro because the best taro said to go to the chief. And then the son must have left the mother or something like that, and the mother started crying, something like that, and that's where the pond is. So, those beautiful stories, yeah, brings back a lot of memories. Natasha Meten And how about you, Sala? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Yes, absolutely, Hilda. Like Hilda says, there's so many stories that they did pass down to us. And they would tell us our legends. And of course, as Hilda is saying about the taro, the favorite story was how we got the coconut. And the coconut tree, they came from the head of an eel, we call them the tuna. And when you look at the coconut itself, there's the two eyes and the mouth. And so, every time we'd get a young coconut to drink, we pierce the mouth of it. And as kids listening to this legend, it goes something like, and when you drink a coconut from the mouth, that's me kissing you, whatever. So, we always used to say, oh, look, you're kissing the tuna. And it just made it so much fun. Yeah, and it did, and she did. And our genealogies as well were stories that were told and retold and just repeated so that we would understand and keep it with us. And that was another important thing that I learned from them was how they kept telling the same story over and over again until we get it. Because our traditions, we don't pass down by writing. It's all through oral. And it felt like, as we were growing up, it felt like they kept repeating themselves. And I was like, I'm the one in the background rolling my eyes, like, why do they keep talking about this? And now, as I become an adult, I understand why and how they kept repeating things so that we would carry that knowledge on with us, which was very special. And that came from all my grandmothers, yeah, in such a way that they did things. They just kept repeating it and just patiently telling us over again. And now, looking back on it, I really appreciate that. Natasha Meten Thank you. That's so true, Sala. Yeah. On that note, it's lovely how our language captures our cultures, especially when we're trying to say things that actually don't really translate very well to English. And Sola, what are some of your favorite sayings where your grandmother used to say? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina I have one thing that was always drummed into me is how to behave like how your etiquette and the protocols, especially the word tulou. When we say too low, that's excusing you in that space. When you say tulou as you walk in front of people or when you're reaching across somebody, or even if you go to hold someone's hand, someone you don't know, and we always say tulou, like, excuse me, or please excuse me while I go to hold your hand, or please excuse me while I walk in front of you. And this is something I don't notice in the Western culture as much. When I come to live in Australia, people look at me funny when I walk in front of them and I say, excuse me. Those sort of things that we keep with us wherever we go has jumped into us when we're very small. And it's something that we appreciate when we leave home, because we understand that there is that space in between us that's very sacred. And how you say that word excuses you from invading that space. And Natasha Meten Hilda, what are some of the sayings that your grandmother used to say? Hilda Wayne There's a lot, to be honest, a lot of things that our grandmother can teach us and tell us, and it's repeated over and over again, like Sala mentioned. But yeah, I think what she really instilled, you know, my grandmother's instilled in me, and I guess it lives on to this day, is respect. How we behave in the village, you know, in front of the elders, the way we treat our food, not getting much out of the ground. You know, if you're going to the kau kau garden and we don't just go and harvest anything and everything that's in the land. We just get enough. And so we are mindful of how we behave in front of the elders mostly. So we are judged as, you know, how we become a woman is judged on, you know, I mean, how we interact with the elders in the village and our parents and how we look after the home. So there's a lot of things that I can pinpoint, but to me, how to respect as a woman in the village community, I see that as earning back respect from the community. And that's one thing that I learned from my grandmother's that, yeah, I hold very dear. Natasha Meten Yeah. And Hilda, how do you stay connected with your grandmother when you moved away from home? Hilda Wayne Well, they sadly passed away before I went to uni. So I guess the best parts of my childhood, I was blessed to have grown up with them. And like I said, yeah, what they taught me, I would never learn that at school. Being a modern woman now and seeing the world, I just value so much what I learned growing up from my grandmothers. And yeah, but they have passed away and before I went to uni, so I've been blessed. Natasha Meten And how about you, Sala? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Oh, it's like Hilda says, once we left to go overseas, yeah, they passed on. But my grandma, she lived till about 90. So I was able to come and go and come and visit her and go. And our connections were always that love for animals and everything that she passed down to us about how to behave and how to be respectful, really. But every time when I came home and she was alive, it was always lovely to just sit in her presence, even though we weren't talking. Or she'd be, because by that time she had lost her hearing. So it was really hard to talk to her. You had to yell really loud. But it was always nice. And just the sitting quietly in their presence as we grew older was very special for me as well. Natasha Meten You know, so much of the cultural knowledge our grandmothers passed on to us and is connected to where we live and where we come from, our local environment. Are the changes in the environment and, you know, now with the climate change impacting the way this knowledge is shared or understood? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Well, it seems like our grandparents foretold that we would come into a lot of environmental problems now due to the way the rubbish is, the way plastic was back in, what, 20, 30 years ago. They were already predicting then and telling us the packaging is going to be a problem. This is going to be a problem if you overharvest and you don't regrow and not looking after your sea, not looking after the fish, not looking after the sea where the fish live in, how you treat your coral. All this was already predicted back then. And now as we've grown into this, what, in this past 20 years, seeing the changes that have come about and seeing the climate warriors trying to salvage what there is left of our environment, it's a wonder that they didn't listen to the elders back then. Natasha Meten Yeah, that's so true. And Hilda, what do you think? Hilda Wayne Yeah, absolutely. Look, I remember my grandfather would go to the karuka, to harvest the karuka in Enga province, and what they normally do is they don't take more than they need. And also my grandmothers, we would go into the garden and not see a big kau kau or there's another kau kau in the mountain patches she's trying to dig and she's leaving that in there. That's a way of preserving and not getting more than we need. But this has really changed. Like Sala mentioned, the turn of the century, people are just getting so much without giving back to the land and letting the land recover. So the increase in population, I guess, and the demand for more food is making it really hard to use old ways of conserving and preserving land and getting just enough of what we need. Natasha Meten Yeah. And how are you continuing the legacy of your grandmother in your lives today? I'll start with you, Hilda. Hilda Wayne Well, in my daily life and interaction with people, I still maintain who I am as a Pacific Islands woman and the way I interact with individuals who cross my path. I just have to uphold what I've learned, you know. And also I love my gardening as well, backyard gardening. Some of the skills that I continue to maintain. And I teach my son telling him why I put the seed in a certain way into the ground, what I do, why I leave the seedling to rest for a while or so on. So yeah, sadly, I try my best, but I hope that my sons would learn that, spending more time with the bubus back home. But at the moment, I try to be the best version of what my grandmother taught me. Natasha Meten Yeah. How about you, Sala? Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Oh, everything. I think most recently I was very, I was blessed with another title from, but this time is from my grandmother's, my grandmother's grandmother. So she would be my great-great-grandmother's side of the family. And it has been wonderful for me to take it on and to go back out there and to understand where she lived, my great-great-grandmother, where she came from and her family and that side of the island, which I've never sort of been to. I never understood that I was connected to that side. And it's really, I'm very excited to carry on that because of my great-great-grandmother's connection through my grandmother. And it makes me very proud. And there's a lot of learning still to be done. And hopefully I can pass all these down to my children too. And I keep encouraging my kids, you know, try and come back more often now. You've only got one nana left and she's also got many, many good stories to share with them. So it's been a very special time for me too, to spend time with my mom while I'm here in Samoa. And I'm just really grateful for a lot of things really. And really, it's just carrying on that, living the stories that they've been telling us. So this is where you come from, you know, go and visit this pool, go and see this place. And it's been really good for me to go and reconnect. Hilda Wayne Something I heard from somebody that I wanted to mention here, there was a prolific PNG writer, his name is Baka Bina. And he writes about, you know, legends and so forth, and writes about stories and, you know, the history of our genealogy and our ancestors and so forth. Now, one thing that he mentioned when I spoke to him was that he actually became, you know, he was really serious about what he was saying. And that was that our stories will fade if young people don't spend time with the elders back home. And he encouraged young people to record, you know, our history is verbal, but in this day and age, we can afford to let our grandparents die with their stories. And so he's urging young people to sit with their bubu, sit with their grandfathers or grandmothers and record those, you know, stories in the iPhone or recorder with the modern day equipments that, you know, young people have used those to record those stories. And that's, you know, the best way to preserve our stories. Because we cannot go back to the village all the time to take our young ones to the village. But if this is stored in recorded, you know, format that can be able to share with, you know, young people who are especially away from home. Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Yeah, that's so true. So true. Yeah. Natasha Meten Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you so much for making time for Sistas. Afamasaga Seiuli Salamasina Thank you very much. Ladies, thank you, Hilda. Natasha Meten That's Hilda Wayne, host of ABC's Wantok. And Afamasaga SeiluliSalamasina Von Reiche, the host of ABC's Culture Compass and our resident office auntie. Thank you so much for joining me, Natasha Meten for Sistas, Let's Talk on ABC Radio Australia, a weekly show by Pacific Island women for Pacific Island women, where we get together to talk about the issues that are important to us. If you've missed an episode of the show, catch up on our podcast. Just search for Sistas, Let's Talk wherever you get your podcasts or kiosks into your favorite search engine. Sistas, Let's Talk is presented by me, Natasha Meten. Our producer is Rachel Bonjiorno and Faleagafulu Inga Stünzneris our executive producer. Sistas,Let's Talk is produced on Darumbal, Jagera and Turrbal land and the lands of the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nation. We pay respects to elders past and present.
CTV News
a day ago
- Health
- CTV News
First of two new Elder Lodges opens in Nipissing First Nation
The first seniors are moving into new Elder Lodges on Nipissing First Nation, part of a decades-long effort to keep elders in their community. Two facilities - one in Duchesnay and another opening later in Garden Village - will offer 24/7 care, meals and basic medical support. Eric Taschner has more.
The Herald
2 days ago
- Health
- The Herald
We lose out when excluding indigenous knowledge in conservation
Where I come from, biodiversity is not separate from us. It does not belong to any government agency or board. The forests and rivers belong to the stories we share and pass down through generations. Some stories make us laugh, while others teach children to respect nature by inspiring a little fear. We gather herbs from the shrubs and forests. In my village, there are no fences marking boundaries, no ranger stations watching over the trees, and no signs declaring these places protected. Yet despite this, biodiversity continues to thrive. Animals live freely, plants grow wild, and the sounds of the rivers splash alive among us. People have lived like this for generations, quietly and respectfully coexisting with nature. That is why, when someone in the village falls ill and there is no access to a clinic's treatment, we do not turn to a pharmacy but to an elder who knows the secrets of the forest. They go into the forest and come back with a healing solution that has no price tag. Their knowledge of the land allows them to get healing directly from nature, without expense, and this method has been used for years. Sometimes I wonder, what if those forests had been closed off, declared a 'protected area' where access for the local people was restricted, and the traditional knowledge of our elders ignored as superstition? We would not have been able to get plants such as isiqhuziso to protect our cattle from infections and keep them strong. We would lose access to umhlondlo , which helps women relieve menstrual pain, and we would have nowhere to get umashiqolo for treating bile-related illnesses. While many of these remedies have not been studied or certified through formal science, they have our loyalty because of how they have helped our communities over generations. Their value lives in our continued survival. Losing that access would not just mean losing these plants; it would mean losing part of our identity, our healing traditions, and the deep relationship we have always had with the land that sustains us in so many ways. We have seen it happen in other parts of the country that were declared protected, at the cost of the community. For example, the Dwesa-Cwebe Nature Reserve, which was established in the mid-1980s and resulted in the forced relocation of residents. Even today, some of the locals still feel a deep sense of loss, believing this modern approach to scientific conservation came at the cost of their livelihoods and wellbeing. Elders who once led controlled burns or visited sacred rivers now watch from a distance. Though this may have been beneficial for natural biodiversity, it was detrimental to their everyday life. Therefore, in their exclusion and silence, there is much that we lose. We lose stories, knowledge, and the balance of interaction. This is not how conservation should be, and thankfully, it is not how SA National Parks (SANParks) sees the future either. SANParks Vision 2040 speaks of a future rooted in collaborative conservation, inclusivity, and the empowerment of communities as partners in protecting nature. It envisions parks that do not stand apart from people but stand with them. Where local voices shape environmental decisions, where indigenous knowledge is not treated as optional, but as essential. This vision gives me hope because it stands for what we have always known — that true conservation does not come from separation. It comes from a relationship and continuous learning. The plants that heal us do not need to be locked away at the risk of their extinction. They are still here because we have protected them ourselves daily with our hands, not with documents and policies. So as SANParks works towards Vision 2040, it would be important to look towards communities such as mine, not just for consultation, but for leadership. To learn from those who have conserved without any formal recognition. Let us make sure that 'protected area' never means 'people excluded'. Let it mean 'people empowered'. As we imagine new pathways for conservation that include indigenous voices and leadership, we must also rethink how people visit and experience these landscapes. This is where regenerative tourism becomes essential. Unlike traditional tourism, which is often consumer-centric, regenerative tourism seeks to give back more than it takes, to heal the land, revive local economies, and restore cultural knowledge. Imagine travellers coming not to consume an experience, but to learn from indigenous practices, to support local guides who share stories of their ancestors, and to participate in restoration activities that align with community values. This type of tourism invites people into the ecosystem of care, rather than checking off destinations. It becomes a way of keeping knowledge alive, encouraging deeper connections between visitors and the land, and supporting the communities who have always been its guardians. In the rural areas, we have learnt from walking among the trees, not from observing behind fences. But if we continue to keep people out, we risk more than separation; we risk forgetting. One day, the plants may still grow, but no-one will remember what they are for. The stories, the knowledge, and the relationship, all could vanish. And when that connection is gone, the forests may no longer help anyone at all, not because they cannot, but because no-one remembers how to connect with them any more. If the forests and rivers were never close to us, we would not have received their healing benefits for children and livestock, nor would their spiritual guidance have been passed down through generations. Uviwe Mahlanza is a SANParks communications intern based in the Garden Route National Park. She was born and bred in Mkambati Village in Bizana, Eastern Cape. The views and opinions expressed in this article are hers and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of SANParks. The Herald
CBC
17-07-2025
- General
- CBC
It's not just food for the body — traditional meals feed First Nations elders' souls
Social Sharing First Nations elders forced from their homes by wildfires are getting a little taste of home — thanks to volunteers coming together to cook traditional food for them. "You are what you eat, right? The food is life," says Grace Masse, of the Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak harvester program, as she cuts up fresh moose meat provided by Indigenous hunters. "We have got some concerns about the other foods that they're getting served, and we just want to try to give them a little bit of what they want and be as healthy as possible when you're not in your own home," Masse says. "My grandparents passed away, so I would want them to eat really well if they were taken away from their homelands, like, to be taken away from your home, not knowing if you're going to go back. So I'm doing this to help our people, to help all the elders and to take care of them." Working beside her, Lester Balfour of Food Matters Manitoba says traditional food is an important way to keep the community together. "When you're in the city so long and you're craving the wild food and the home-cooked meals … maybe give them a little bit of that taste of home." WATCH | Cooks prepare a 'taste of home' for evacuated elders: Volunteers serve up 'taste of home' for Manitoba wildfire evacuees 13 hours ago With more than 100 wildfires still burning in Manitoba, the military continues to fly people to safety while volunteers prepare and distribute traditional foods to make elders feel more at home. During the first 2025 wildfire season mass evacuation last month, MKO and Food Matters Manitoba got together to source meat, fish, poultry and vegetables. While much of the food is donated, they continue to fundraise to cover costs. "The first 20 days was funded completely by donations from Canadians," says Cynthia Neudoerffer of Food Matters Canada. "The Tragically Hip got behind us and they ran [a] T-shirt sale campaign and ... donated a significant sum of money to us to support this initiative." At first, they were cooking outside on propane stoves at the Leila soccer complex. Then Manitoba Harvest invited them to use their commercial kitchen, which is making the process more efficient and comfortable. On the menu today: fried moose, potatoes, vegetables, bannock and a special surprise — Saskatoon apple crumble with whipped cream. By early afternoon, the food is ready for delivery to hotels around the city. At one, members of the Mathias Colomb Cree Nation wait patiently in a common room. One shows photos of some of the food they've had to eat — wrinkled wieners, stale french fries, dry potatoes and wrinkled lettuce, as well as sandwiches that are impossible to eat for someone with no teeth. As the food is distributed, Theresa Bighetty's face lights up. "The moose? We eat this. That's our food. I grew up with the moose meat. I grew up in a bush. Yeah, I eat wild meat," she says, not waiting for a fork, picking up a piece of meat between her fingers. "We like their food, MKO, when they come and feed us wild food."
