By Jim Barber
One doesn’t have to be a cultural anthropologist to understand the importance of language to humans. It is not only how we communicate with one another, specific languages are indicative of unique cultures, help create a sense of belonging, build connections and community. Language can represent home, a homeland, family, heritage and deeply held connections to a land – or the land.
Mimi O’Bonsawin, like many individuals who inhabit the nation-state called Canada, belongs to a cultural background that is significantly interwoven with both the French-speaking culture of the eastern portion of the country, but also has deep familial roots in the Abenaki (sometimes spelled W8benaki) First Nations culture, being a member of the Odanak First Nation.
Raised as a Franco-Ontarian in northeastern Ontario, O’Bonsawin has always embraced these beautifully rich inheritances. But in recent years, she has felt a tug on her spirit to explore in a much more profound, deeper, more connective way with the Indigenous way of life, way of creating and, significantly, way of communicating.
The brilliantly compelling, spellbindingly evocative singer/songwriter recently released the single/video for the song ‘P8GWAS’ sung completely in the Abenaki language. The music video is also a bit of a departure, or at least a different sort of presentation for O’Bonsawin, who is normally surrounded onstage by vibrant and bright colours, including the matching dresses and shirt worn by her and her husband/accompanist, drummer/percussionist Ryan Schurman. ‘P8GWAS’ is a darker video, matching the dark sweetness of O’Bonsawin’s vocal performance. It is cinematic, ethereal, ephemeral, with hints of the portrayal of the “…all shall love me and despair!” version of the elf Queen Galadriel from Peter Jackson’s film adaptations of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings films.
The song can also be seen as sort of a mile marker for O’Bonsawin on her immersive educational journey to learning about the storied heritage and mythology, as well as the life and language of her Abenaki people.
“I’m still learning when it comes to understanding our history and what it means to be Abenaki. But I know that it’s a really old language. There’s, I think, words that are still linked to like the last Ice Age or around that time. That just gives you an idea of how old it is. And I know that we were some of the first people to welcome the settlers. So, you know, when it comes to colonization, we were colonized first. Our traditional territory, the word for which is Ndakina, which means our traditional territory, is the Montreal area. It’s a pretty wide area. And then we had a confederacy with a bunch of neighboring nations, which is why there are some other languages that are similar to ours. And we have kind of a shared history. What I would say is that I’m really proud that our people are really resilient. We still have our language, we still have our dances, we have some of our ceremonies. So even though we were colonized early, early, early on in this country’s ‘history,’ we’re still here. And we’re still learning and we’re still existing and sharing. I’m learning while doing these Abenaki language courses that some words that we use in the English language or in the French language, in this area, actually come from some of our Abenaki words. There’s just so much to learn. I’m still learning a lot,” she explained.
“My actual community is called Odanak. The other Abenaki community is called Wolinak. And these are the only two communities where our people exist. There’s a bunch of Abenaki nations in the States that our people are disagreeing with because they’re recognized by the U.S. government as being Abenaki people, but they actually have no actual lineage to Abenaki people. The only Abenaki people that exist are from Odanak and Wolinak. I’m really proud to be Abenaki. In my family it’s my dad and my grandfather who are Abenaki, and then on my mom’s side and my dad’s mom, it’s French. For me, it was always important to not just say that I’m Abenaki, just straight up, because I know that it’s important to recognize all of my ancestors. From the beginning, I’ve always been clear that I’m French and Abenaki. For me and my music, it’s important to carry all the things that make me who I am, and not just the one thing.”
It was while on tour in Australia in 2024 that the simmering desire to dig deep into her Indigenous culture was stoked into a passionate inferno, thanks to some powerful encounters with Indigenous artists during that excursion to the other side of the globe.
“It definitely had me fired up because I had all this stuff going on, you know; it was like a pressure cooker. You have all these things kind of like floating around inside you, and it totally just opened my mind because, you know, like at home, I know so many artists that sing in their language and that grew up in their communities, or who practice ceremony. For the longest time I just felt like I wasn’t allowed to have that. When I started taking the language course, and when I was invited to sing at the powwow, and, you know, all the conversations that I have with my elders in my community and the women in my community, little by little, I’m learning that I am allowed to have these things. They’re actually ours. And just because I didn’t grow up learning and hearing our language doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to learn it and share it. But it took me some time. Like most people, you know, you feel like you’re not allowed to have that,” O’Bonsawin said.
“And then I saw these two girls in Australia, they’re called Stiff Gins [from Wikipedia: Wiradjuri/Yorta Yorta woman Kaleena Briggs and Yuwaalaraay woman Nardi Simpson and are renowned as Australia’s foremost and longest-performing all-Indigenous female group.] They’re amazing. And they sing in sometimes a mix of both of their languages. They’re just such good storytellers. And, you know, being able to share the stage with them, I was really inspired. While standing side stage, I had a conversation with them about the fact that I was learning my language. And I had it in my mind that I had to learn the language and be fluent in my language in order to sing it. But during that conversation with the Stiff Gins they said, ‘no, singing is part of the learning. And you’re a singer. So sing. That’s how I learned. I sang it.’ And I was like, oh, okay. So, I brought that home and had a conversation with my teacher about it. There was another experience I had which also really got me fired up. As part of the tour of Australia we were at the Woodford Folk Festival, I met an Indigenous artist from New Zealand, and we had this like, really emotional encounter where I was probably overtired, but talking about, you know, like, the disappearance of languages and how it’s important to revitalize those things. And he kind of pointed at me and said, ‘you’re a warrior. Don’t forget that.’ And I was like, Oh, my God. But he also said, ‘the next time I see you in a few years, we’re gonna sit down, we’re gonna write a song because I learned my language and you’re learning yours. And we’re gonna keep each other accountable.’ I was so taken aback. I’d never been called a warrior ever in my life. It was really special. And I came home and really rededicated myself to learning everything I can about my people and my language and my culture.
“All I know is when I sing in my language. and this is going to sound crazy, but it feels familiar. When I was talking to my teacher, she said, ‘wow, your pronunciation is actually really good.’ I don’t know this language. If somebody came at me and started speaking Abenaki, I’d have to look through my book and really think about it, but it feels familiar and it feels like very powerful. And I know that when I’m learning this language and I’m saying the words, I just believe that our ancestors are there and they’re helping me along the way, but it does feel good. I love singing. I love singing in this language. Whenever we get to do it in a show, I’m so excited about it.”
This leads to a deeper, but in some ways, more general question about language, and why it is important to be able to speak one’s ancestral language, and in the case of O’Bonsawin, sing in the language of the grandmothers and grandfathers who have come before her. It’s also related to the notion that popular music over the last 75 years or more has had to be offered up to music ‘consumers’ in English, even if the band or artist’s first language is not English. It is the language of money, of capitalism, of commercialism, and thus it’s always been the necessary evil to have to sing in that language if one wanted to be a rock star or pop star.
“Yeah, exactly. It’s totally a colonizer mindset, if you think about it, like it’s just on the music level. If you want to play this game, you have to speak or do this thing. And I’m really not good at when somebody tells me to do something, I’m really not good at that. So yeah, it’s definitely, I think, like an act of resistance. It’s interesting, because a couple weeks ago, I spent time in Mani-utenam, which is in northern Quebec, in a studio called Makusham Music. And I sat on the porch with this singer songwriter from Quebec – an Innu singer songwriter, he’s a legend. His name is Florent Vollant [recently inducted into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame], and we had amazing conversations about the importance of having our music heard. And he’s one of those activists who are fighting for like a quota of five per cent Indigenous music in all radio, like across the board in Canada. Because he said, like in the 1980s and the 1990s, we were making pop music, we’re making credible music, but nobody wanted to play it because it’s in a strange language. So, unless you’re doing it in French or English, you’re considered a strange language. But as he said, ‘we were here first. So actually, your language is strange,’” she said.
“And even down to like the nitty gritty of it, you know, when I did all the background work and behind-the-scenes work to release this single, in the database stuff, there is no option for me to put it either in the Abenaki language or even neighboring languages, I had to put it either in French or English. And the lady I was reaching out to said, ‘just put it in French or English.’ I’m like, ‘but that’s the point.’ The point is I’m facing these barriers and it’s making me feel like this language is a stranger language, when actually it’s much older and much more interesting, you know. Also, I don’t think I had the courage and the support to do something like this before. But now that I’m doing it, and I’m doing it in a good way, I feel like I am resisting that thinking a little bit more. Even though I’m not fluent, I’m going to be a student of this language forever and ever. It’s about making sure that people know that we’re here, you know. And my teacher always talks about representation. Like I never heard our language in pop music when I was a kid. I never saw Abenaki, I never heard Abenaki words on the radio, or on TV when I was a kid, you know. So, I want to do that. And I heard, when we were having these conversations, you know, some of the feedback from like these big pop stations, commercial stations saying, well, your music is not good enough yet. And that to me, is so wrong. You look at someone like Aysanabee, you look at Elisapie, you look at all these artists, our music is good enough.
“It was really inspiring to sit on the front porch of Florent’s house, looking at the birds and talking to him. He’s this legend, you know, who has traveled all over the world. And just talking to him about that was really cool. It’s also important that we keep community radio and community publications like what you do because of that reason. We keep hearing these conversations echo in our communities about AI and about capitalism and music and all of these things. And it can be really discouraging. But when the world goes to shit, people who have the ability to write, people who have the ability to play instruments that don’t exist in a digital world, that doesn’t go away. And that’s why I love folk music because it existed before this shit and will exist after this shit. And we’re going to still be able to do what we do because we don’t rely on those tools, you know? And I, I just have to like, keep reminding myself of that because, man, the world is really something.”
‘P8GWAS’ translates to ‘the moon’ in English, or la lune in French. ‘La Lune’ was an original composition which O’Bonsawin featured on her all French-language album Boreale which came out in 2023. When deciding on a song to translate and sing in Abenaki, this tune made sense on a number of levels. As stated above it is the first of the new material that O’Bonsawin will be releasing leading up to a new album next year to perhaps lead down some unexpected musical and creative rabbit holes.
“After we started playing it live, it morphed into this, like, gnome rock song [O’Bonsawin invented her own genre!]. And then when I had the conversation about translating one of my songs with my teacher, Melanie [O’Bomsawin], this one just felt like the right one. So, the lyrics are just like, I see the moon everywhere I go. She watches over me. She watches over us all, I sing about dancing to her rhythm and how she guides all the women around the world, because we’re tied to the moon. That’s why they call it your moon time and how the moon controls all the tides in the world. I think what I wanted to do was just highlight how powerful the moon is, but also how she’s a woman to me and a grandmother to me and my eyes, my perspective, and translate that woman’s strength, that woman power, and all the work that women do behind the scenes to take care of people. I kind of just wanted to celebrate that strength,” she said.
“I’ve done that in other songs, but this one just felt more, like, pretty. And especially with the lyrics, it’s a love song to the moon, talking about the darkness and how she guides us and how she, you know, can help guide women in the world. And she’s always there watching over us. The earth is this amazing thing that we all live on. And she’s a woman. She’s our mother. And to me, I grew up in a Catholic house. I grew up having grandparents who would bring me to church and all these things. And I had such a hard time connecting to that idea of a man up in the sky. I think about what I believe in now, and it always comes down to our mother, the earth. And when there’s crazy shit happening in the world, she always has an answer. And she’s always there, and she doesn’t care who we are, you know, as long as you’re treating her nice, you know? So yeah, maybe I’m just partial to that kind of energy.”
As for the ‘dark’ imagery of the music video for ‘P8GWAS’ O’Bonsawin said the colour palette and swirling, stormy cinematography aren’t as removed from her personality as many folks would think.
“I’ve been telling people, don’t worry, the album is not a heavy metal album [truth be told, the author of this article would love to hear her give it a shot!] At first we had this lingering thought in the back of our minds, like in our show, will this be too far out? And actually, because we’re doing it in front of humans, the feedback from that one moment – I think of songs as moments – it actually kind of works in our show. And because I feel like we’re showing people bits and pieces of our world in each song. But I guess I’ve never fully showed people that side of who I am. But it’s always been there. You know what I mean? Like, I do have like a skull collection in my house. And I do like the dark stuff sometimes. And I just wanted to kind of showcase that part of who I am,” she said.
“I think like, living where we live out in the forest, I’ve just always had an understanding of death, and how it’s not something very far away; we’re very close to it most days. I’ve always just kind of appreciated that part of the land’s teaching, you know. Since I was a kid, I’ve always collected bones, I’ve always collected skulls, I’ve always collected furs, dead bugs, like I have like this little case of dead bugs. I just like being surrounded by not only like, happy, bright things, but also like, dead things and appreciating that out on the land, especially at this time of the year, everything is dying around us. I think about what Halloween means and how we like scary death and stuff. But actually, if you look at what’s happening in the world right now, it’s a reminder of how you’re not that far away from death on an average day. So how about you live your life the best way you can, knowing that. And I also like kind of dark sounding music and gritty guitars. I’ve always had that as part of my world, as part of my inspiration, but I never had an opportunity to use that as an outlet. And with this song, it just kind of happened so naturally.”
The forthcoming album is going to be a truly ambitious, adventurous and revelatory piece of creativity, something which will encapsulate O’Bonsawin’s continuing journey as an artist, as a seeker of connection, as a learner and as an unwavering voice for her culture and for the significance and resonance of Indigenous art and music.
“I’m so excited about this album, it’s ridiculous. I feel like we just put all of the good stuff people have been giving us at shows the last two years, we just put it all in there. All the happiness, all the upbeat thoughts, all the dancing, all the singing, all the joy, all the intimate moments, all of that, we just poured it into this record. So, there’s going to be obviously some very danceable songs. There is going to be some more songwriter, you know, internally focused songs. And we have some guests. This time it’s not just me and Ryan. We have some super awesome people. The guy who did that music video for ‘P*GWAS’ he’s my best friend. He’s been doing my videos since I started doing music. And he’s a heavy metal guy. So, when we did ‘P8GWAS’ I was like, this is your thing, man. You’re going to do what you do. It was so awesome to do that. But he also made some beautiful videos for the rest of the album, too. And we did some documentary stuff. It’s just so much love. And so much of all the things that we’ve collected and picked up over the last years are in this record. And I’m super pumped. I can’t wait for people to hear it,” she said.
For more information, visit https://www.mimi.ca.
- Jim Barber is a veteran award-winning journalist and author based in Napanee, Ontario, Canada, who has been writing about music and musicians for more than 30 years. Besides his journalistic endeavors, he works as a communications and marketing specialist and is an avid volunteer in his community. Contact him at bigjim1428@hotmail.com.
