|
Book provides a glimps into subsistence farming life
Mac Olsen
South Peace News
A black-and-white photo shows a group of women holding their babies, and they all look old. There’s a sparkle in the women’s eyes, but they’re tired and overworked.
Dutchie Rutledge-Mathison’s mother is in this photo, and she is holding her sister.
Already at 28, Rutledge-Mathison’s mother has had four babies. But there is no respite for her, as she has to carry on her maternal responsibilities and help to run the family farm.
Such was life in the Kinuso area in the 1930s and 1940s – a life of subsistence farming. Rutledge-Mathison has many memories of growing up in those years, and it was that photo which prompted her to publish Wild Roses: Memories of a Homesteader’s Daughter. In addition to writing the book, she painted a series of artworks depicting life on the farm. These artworks are also found in the book.
“I wanted to tell that story of my mom’s. From that first picture, one memory slid into another memory, and I started painting memories. It was to honour all the settlers, not just my parents.
“The only way I knew how to honour them was to tell my story, which I knew they could relate to,” she says in an interview.
Much of the writing is based on her memories, but she also used other people’s memories for the book. She’s grateful to those people.
Rutledge-Mathison read excerpts of her book at Pleasantview Lodge on Aug. 16. She was very excited to read to the residents.
Here are excerpts from the first chapter entitled “Thirties,” about how her father ended up in Kinuso, and the homestead he established.
“My father, who was of Irish descent, came ‘riding the rails.’ Simply put, he jumped on a slow train and ignored the fare. He had no particular destination in mind. The train stopped at Kinuso, filled its boilers with water, and steamed away without Dad. He found a job and decided the valley was where he wanted to stake his claim on a homestead site, improve his land, and raise a family.
“My father, as he aged, often spoke of the day he filed his homestead. Apparently the nearest land office was in the town of High Prairie, some sixty miles west of the valley. His only source of transportation was, again, a free ride on a slow train.
“His claim staked, my dad attempted to board his transportation home when a young RCMP officer stopped him and informed him that he could not allow him to take his illegal ride. As he walked away the officer turned and with a grin said, ‘I do believe the train slows for a corner about a mile east of town.’
“Dad said his legs were already heading east as the Mountie got on his horse and road off.”
In chapter 3, Rutledge-Mathison talks about how different she and her twin sister felt from the town children.
“We were country kids. The town children seemed confident and outgoing. They belonged and we didn’t. Their clothes were store bought. Their lunches were made of thin slices of ‘store’ bread.
“How I envied their dainty shoes. Because of the distance we walked our footwear was practical, made to endure and keep the bitter cold from freezing our feet. I remember poring over the Eaton’s catalogue for long hours, thinking if only I could have those red shoes I would be beautiful.”
There were also the sorrowful times, especially when a child died. But this gave her an appreciation for her own life, as found in chapter 19.
“Death is a universal and grief is no respecter of time or place. Our valley was not exempt, and had its share of sadness. I was reminded of this several years ago.
“I was trekking north of Lesser Slave Lake, enjoying the solitude and memories of childhood when I happened upon a small cross nestled among the deep underbrush. It was a small child’s grave, as rocks outlined where a mound of earth once lay.
“Too often I had passed the symbols of other people’s sadness and felt, not empathy, but gratitude for the gift of life. I could not, however, dismiss this rough-hewn cross. No name. No date. Both long since erased by time. I stood many minutes as sadness overcame me and tears filled my eyes. I knew that no matter how long ago, a mother had lovingly placed her child in this bleak wilderness and had felt the pain of all mothers when they bury their babies. I knew that beneath the silken moss of summer and barren snows of winter lay some mother’s child.”
Rutledge-Mathison painted this scene, and the artwork Some Mother’s Child is incorporated into this chapter. She started painting about six years ago.
MLA Pearl Calahasen was among those who encouraged her to publish a book about her experiences growing up in this area.Rutledge- Mathison never expected how rewarding this would be.
“What I didn’t know about being an artist is that, when you start out with something, the end result is like a gift. You never know for sure how it’s going to turn out,” she says.
Another of the paintings she created is entitled Saskatoons, depicting the harvesting of Saskatoon berries, which is also found in her book.
“We needed those berries for the winter diet. Everything that we had on the farm - everything we ate - basically, we grew.
“What we couldn’t grow, we (bartered) off our own goods like sugar and coffee. We were subsistence farmers. We lived off the land,” she said in an interview.
To Dutchie Rutledge-Mathison, it is important for posterity to understand the lifestyle that she and her family had to endure – and what women had to endure.
“This is too much of a good heritage to lose. It’s not just my heritage. It’s that generation of … women that had babies, struggled on the farm, made a home, that prepared the food and looked after the kids. All of those things. Many of them spent a lot of time alone, because the men would go away to work. That time cannot be lost.”
Rutledge-Mathison went to Kinuso last week to celebrate that town’s centennial.
She now lives in Maple Ridge, British Columbia.
Copyright © 1999-2005 South Peace News. All Rights Reserved.
No part may be reproduced without written permission.
View our Privacy Statement.
Send website suggestions to the Webmaster
|
