Chumus is a word that makes me smile a great deal.
It means something that is sweet and delicious, something we look forward to tasting every year.
All of the Mothers children wait happily for the time when they ripen.
When that time comes, whenever that time comes the harvest begins.
And no, you cannot mark it on your calender, nor set your watch to it, it is for the Mother to determine. In order to discover when you must look past simple measuring devices, you must look and be patient, and wait.
So when the time comes you will be prepared to work, to harvest, before it is too late. It is best not to be lazy this time of year because if you are you will go without what it good until next year. Forced perhaps to eat imported food or unpleasant corporate concoctions, nasty surprises from brightly coloured boxes.
This is a good year, a little dry but the chumus is here, I spend much time harvesting and searching for berries to pick.
Of course since our territorries have changed since the arrival of the occupiers and now it is quite impossible to simply go out and not come across something that does not belong where it is.
I cannot go anywhere in our forests…
Or on my traditional territories without coming across the things that do not belong here…
Left by the People who do not belong here.
Poisoning and destroying all life in the vicinity, for economic gain.
Your modern world is little more than a competition for avarice, and of the sacrifice of what we need for what we do not.
And since the People show no interest in ending this absurdity what I would like to know is…
how will this competition end, what will the winner achieve but importantly what will be the cost for the rest of us?