1863. I will always remember this year. It was the year the white men came. Not for war, mind you, for an idea. The white men were making a country and they were going to want our land. They were setting teir eyes on our land without spoiling for a fight. They were suggesting talks and treaties and things that could be mutually beneficial. Our buffalo are slowly disappearing and my people will so begin to go hungry. We cannot fight back, for white man’s diseases and alcohol have poisoned our warriors and scouts. We are defenceless. We must believe that white men can be trusted and be held to their word. They wand our land, not only for their country, but for their “railway” what ever that is. They want to put their machines through my lands. If they protect us, I will agree to their terms. The blackfoot and blood tribes will be cooperative, as soon as they draw up the treaty. (14 years later. . .) #talonsconfed treaty #7
This week on Christopher’s sushi adventures, we have Christopher trying to make a California roll. I had all the ingredients, and I was going to do this with my tutor, but she was sick the day we were going to meet so I did it myself. The result was much better than my earlier attempt at the cucumber roll. The nori was fresher and did not tear, so the rolling process was easier. The sushi did not have too much vinegar so the flavor was not overpowering. I still need to work on rolling structure and keeping the size of the roll down, so that will be the priority during the next meeting with Makiko-san. This is all I have to report for now. See you next time! All the salutations,
There last couple week have been delayed because I broke my leg in a skiing accident, so I am combining the two posts that should have been done in this time. First, my passion for sushi has been renewed by watching a movie: Jiro Dreams of Sushi. It is a lovely movie about a man trying to get into the sushi business in Tokyo. The drive and passion inspired me to reach the same heights with my sushi skills. Nothing special on the making front. Second, I have found a mentor! She is a friend of a friend and is in a lull of work, so she has the time to apply her knowledge to my developing skills. I went shopping to find the best seaweed for rolls (harder than you think). The problem with my last batch was that it was too old, making it soft and easy to tear. Not a good look. Well, professional, good looking sushi should be on its way in the near future. Leave a comment for anything you need, and I hope to see you soon.
I am Isapo-Muxika, of the blackfoot people since I was 5 (formerly of blood tribe). It is the year of 1838. I am 18 years old. My big brother, Crow Big Foot, was murdered. I assembled a war band and tracked down the murderers, And my followers gave me my brother’s name (shortened by the police). I live in the blackfoot tribe with my mother, Attacked Toward Home, my grandfather, Scabby Bull, my little brother, Iron Shield, and my step-father, Many Names, who is chief. I am heir for chiefdom as of my older brothers death. The white men have not quite expanded to where we live, and the buffalo are still plenty. The white men are not here in great number, but their influence is spreading quickly in the forms of guns, smallpox, and alcohol. I see the alcohol destroying the great warriors of the tribe and I hope it is doing the same to the other tribes, for our sake. I hear whispers of a confederation among the white men. Something called a government, whatever that is. I have no affiliation about the white men, but the mounted police do sound like a good idea. I think the white men will come, and when they do, I will do all in my power to prevent war. Now time to prepare for winter. . . I think it will be a long one.