Mysterious tales of 'Little People' intrigue new generations of Cree, Mi'kmaq

Originally published on March 5, 2022.

As a fresh college grad, Mi'kmaw author and artist Brandon Mitchell landed a teaching job and stumbled across a library book full of Mi'kmaw stories in his search for course material.

As he thumbed through the pages of Six Micmac Stories, as retold by Ruth Holmes Whitehead, he wondered why these stories weren't used more to engage students.

He read about the Jenu, a giant hairy cannibal, that he felt begged to be animated.

Mitchell, 41, said it awakened memories of stories he'd been intrigued by as a child. His mother warned him to take care of his belongings or the "Little People" — Pugulatmu'j — would nick them.

"I was just fascinated by them. I was always kind of on the lookout when I was younger ... that's what stuck with me, that wonder and that amazement of potentially ever seeing one," Mitchell told host Rosanna Deerchild on the CBC Radio program Unreserved.

For Mitchell, that reawakening ultimately inspired a graphic novel about the storied Mi'kmaw beings who fascinated him as a boy — more than fairies and leprechauns — because they were part of his people's oral history.

Oral history preserved

Mitchell is part of a growing number of Indigenous artists and writers bringing traditional Indigenous stories to life in books and graphic novels by pinning down stories, like the Pugulatmu'j, which can be found in other First Nations but shifted and changed with each telling, becoming as ephemeral as the Little People themselves.

Mitchell's work, Adventures of the Pugulatmu'j: Giju's Gift, was released on Feb. 22.

The book, which is aimed at school-aged children, revolves around a young girl named Mali.

She loses a hair clip given to her by her grandmother and ends up on an adventure with a mysterious being. Mitchell draws from Mi'kmaw stories that captivated him as a comic-reading kid growing up in Listuguj, Que., near the New Brunswick border.

He says Mali is able to see the Pugulatmu'j — pronounced "boo-ga-la-da-mouge" — but "jaded" adults cannot.

"They are little tricksters. There's different types [of Pugulatmu'j]. In my interpretation he's wearing traditional clothing, a reflection of him trying to preserve what was forgotten," Mitchell said.

Mali calls the tiny man Puug, who turns out to be a guardian of land and culture.

The adventure ends with a battle with a Jenu — a zombie-like creature inspired by Mi'kmaw tales of cannibal-giants. The Jenu are not unlike the Wendigo of the Anishinaabe or the Wîhtikôw of the Rocky Cree.

"It's a tragic figure because they used to be us, but they've lost their way and they end up just roaming the Earth lost and consuming things around them," Mitchell said.

The animator's own "comic book journey" began when he was about 10 years old, when his mom let him buy an Incredible Hulk comic book on a road trip. He says it was rare to find Indigenous characters in video games, movies or comics who were not stereotypical or in the background or who didn't end up being killed off fast, like Marvel Comics' Thunderbird or John Proudstar characters.

The main character's perspective was never Indigenous.

Mitchell went on to found Birch Bark Comics, create the Sacred Circles comic series and write many books.

"If we don't see ourselves, then how are we supposed to feel proud about ourselves?" Mitchell said.

It was even more difficult to find Mi'kmaw stories in print, despite the fact that the storytelling is rich.

Other Indigenous traditions speak of Little People — the oral history of the Anishinaabe refers to forest beings, including some called the Bagwajwi-Anishinabek. Mohegan oral history speaks of the Makiawisug, who corn cakes and berries are left for.

Though these stories echo, the Little People stories from each tradition are unique and carry different origin stories and meanings.

"I've always been interested in our past stories," Mitchell said. "They were told to us, but in a way that I couldn't appreciate."

A life spent reclaiming stories

Fostering that appreciation has been the life work of William Dumas, a storyteller and Rocky Cree elder from Manitoba.

Dumas has been working with a Winnipeg-based academic to help preserve the oral stories he and other aging storytellers have retold for decades.

"The stories contain so much of the culture. They're the laws of the culture. They're the literature, the entertainment, but also they teach the people how to live. That's just as relevant now as it was in the days before the internet or before books," said Warren Cariou, an English professor at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg and co-leader with Dumas on the Six Seasons of the Asiniskow Īthiniwak project. The project is working on reclaiming Indigenous languages, history and knowledge.

Dumas describes the Little People as "no taller than your knee" and quite human looking, perhaps comparable to Leprechauns — except in his new book, they don't have pointy ears.

The 72-year-old Manitoba educator and administrator has been sharing "mist of time" stories for 25 years, often with Indigenous youth who have never heard about their culture and don't know their language.

Now he's written a book to pass on a story told to him by his father. He credits his wife, Margaret, for giving him the inspiration to write down the oral history in The Gift of the Little People, released on Feb. 22.

"She said it's good to tell a story, but kids love pictures. When they can see the pictures, they have a visualization of what might be happening in the story. Colours are part of their visualization of being able to understand," Dumas told his former student, Deerchild, who hosts CBC's Unreserved.

Dumas's book explains how the Little People came to help after Cree were sickened by new diseases following their first contact with settlers. He says newcomers brought diseases that Indigenous people didn't have immunity to, and the Little People — who are often described as guardians — offered people medicines that are used today to try to fight off the bugs.

"They say these gifts come from that dream world, but they also come from the spirit world, which is sometimes, I think, in modern societies hard for people to believe," Dumas said.

Although Dumas says he's never seen a Little Person, he believes their stories help connect young Indigenous people to a past that was endangered when the Canadian government banned cultural activities or forced children into residential schools.

"My mom used to say nothing is lost, you just have to look for it. And when you find it, you have reclaimed what you need to know to move forward. Reclamation, I've been doing that for years and years, reclaiming my language and my culture. I share it with my wife, with my kids, with my grandkids and with friends. We start to understand."

Dumas has used stories to help in that understanding. "In the 'mist of time' stories, often there are metaphors," he said.

Deerchild asked Dumas what it was like to watch a young Cree person who has never been exposed to the stories of their own culture connect with a past they didn't know.

Dumas described how he and his wife look around and see many past students — like Deerchild herself — now thriving and sharing Cree culture, and they feel blessed.

"We've been doing it all our lives, advocating for a good way of being able to show students that because you're native, it doesn't mean you're limited."

Written by Yvette Brend. Produced by Kate Adach.