Oowikapun, or, How the Gospel reached the Nelson River Indians

by Egerton Ryerson Young

Of course Oowikapun and Astumastao were married. Everybody was invited, and of course everybody came to the wedding, and to the great feast that followed. Very kind and devoted was he to her, even as Memotas had been to his wife. The excitement of the arrival of the missionary after a time died away, but the good results continue to this day. Although at times slowly, yet constantly has the good work gone on, and none who at the beginning decided for the Christian life have ever gone back to the old pagan religion of their forefathers. So much had Oowikapun to say about Memotas that he resolved if possible to see that blessed man once again. And to Astumastao also there came a longing desire to visit the spot to which now, more than ever, her memory turned, where that period, all too brief, in her childhood days had been spent, where in the home of the missionary, and in the house of God she had learned the sweet lessons which had never entirely been forgotten, and which had “after many days” produced such glorious results.

The longed-for opportunity came the next summer, and was gladly accepted.

So successful had been the fur hunters in their trapping the fur-bearing animals such as the silver foxes, beavers, otters, minks, and others whose rich pelts are very valuable, that the Hudson Bay Trading Company resolved to send up to Norway House a second brigade of boats to take up the surplus cargo left by the first brigade, and also to bring down a cargo of supplies for the extra trade, which was so rapidly developing. Oowikapun was appointed steersman of one of the boats, and his wife was permitted to go with him.

With great delight were they both welcomed at Norway House Mission. They had had a long, dangerous trip. Many rapids had to be run where the greatest skill was required in safely steering the little boats, but Oowikapun was alert and watchful and did well. Twenty-five or thirty times did they have to make portages around the dangerous falls and rapids.

The joy of Astumastao on reaching the place where she had spent that eventful year, so long ago, was very great indeed. Absorbed in bringing up the memories of the past she seemed at times like one in a dream. To find the playmates of that time she had to search among those, who now, like herself, had left the years of childhood far behind. Many of them had gone into the spirit land. Still she found a goodly number after a time, and great indeed was their mutual joy to renew the friendships of their earlier days. And great indeed was the pleasure of all to meet the wife of that Indian who had visited the mission in the depth of that cold winter to plead for a missionary, especially when they learned that it was because of her earnest resolve that he had undertaken the long, cold, dangerous journey.

They were welcome visitors at the mission house. Sagastaookemou and Minnehaha seemed intuitively to love them, much to their delight, and as gravely listened as did the older people to the recital of some of the thrilling incidents of their lives. The services of the sanctuary were “seasons of sweet delight,” and in them much was to be learned to be helpful in times to come.

Of course the little home of Memotas was visited. Their hearts were saddened at finding the one, who for years had not only, as the missionary’s most efficient helper, often ministered to the mind diseased, and brought comfort to the sin-sick soul, but had often, as in the case of Oowikapun, when bitten by the savage wolf, skillfully restored to health and vigour many suffering ones, now rapidly himself hastening to the tomb.

But although he was feeble in body he was joyous in spirit, and had the happy gift of making everybody happy who came to see him. Even in his last illness this remarkable man was a “son of consolation.” For months ere he left us, he lived in an atmosphere of heaven, and longed for his eternal home. Only once after the arrival of Oowikapun and Astumastao did he have sufficient strength to go with them to the house of God. Every Indian within twenty miles of the sanctuary was there that bright Sabbath morning. Wan and pale and spiritual looked the saintly man who seemed to have just, by the strength of his will, kept the soul in the frail earthen vessel, that he might once again worship in the earthly sanctuary, ere he entered into that which is heavenly.

When with an effort he raised himself up to speak the place was indeed a Bochim, for the weepers were everywhere. One illustration used by him has lingered with me through all these years. He said: “I am in body like the old wigwam that has been shaken by many a storm. Every additional blast that now assails it only makes the rents and crevices the more numerous and larger. But the larger the breaks and openings, the more the sunshine can enter in. So with me, every pang of suffering, every trial of patience, only opens the way into my soul for more of Jesus and his love.”

How he did rejoice as they talked with him and rehearsed the story of how the Lord had so wonderfully led them out of the darkness of the old way into the blessed light of the new.