Far North Friday #91: Far More Than A Far North Mariachi Moment

I recall being treated to a musical interlude at a dinner table. The restaurant was very modest. The table was not level. The chairs had supported many rear ends. The walls were covered with old photos and nails to hang hats and coats. The entrance had no door. Just a curtain that was pulled to the side. The washroom was - well - memorable, but functional. The musical interlude was provided by a mariachi band consisting of three guitars, two trumpets, and 2 violins. The musicians took turns singing lead and providing backup vocals. My Spanish language skills were rudimentary, but it was impossible not to be moved by the energy of the room. Perhaps it was the energy of the Colombian aguardiente, but I think it was the energy from the marriage of music, people, moment, and environment. That memory was created in the city of Medellín, Colombia. I was 16 at the time. I still see the faces of people at the table. I recall the joie de vivre that filled the room. It was a mariachi moment.

Flash forward more years than I care to count - about 50. We were graced with a musical interlude at a dinner table. It was a very different restaurant. There was no mariachi band. There was no aguardiente. The restaurant was modest. It was a coffee shop (Photo 1), where dinners were prepared for visitors on request. The table was

not level. The chairs and makeshift bench had supported many rear ends. The walls were covered with a few old photos and posters, but mostly cans and foodstuffs for sale. You hung your coat on the back of the chair or laid it on the bench beside you. The entry door closed, but gaps ensured the air was constantly refreshed. Refreshed air was good on a hot summer night, but bracing on a -50C January night. But, the wood stove defeated the cold air (Photo 2). There was no washroom. But, the coffee shop was filled with good people, young and less young (Photo 3), and the joie de vivre was powerful. It was a meeting place with people coming, chatting, and going all evening. No, the music was not provided by a mariachi band. In fact, there was only one guitar and two singers: Rosalie, wife of Isiah Jacob, and Neville Jacob (Photo 4). Rosalie and Neville sang a song for us. They sang with a gentle passion and sincerity. My Oji-Cree language skills were, and are increasingly rudimentary, but it was impossible not to be moved by the moment. That memory was created in Webequie, homeland of Webequie First Nation, a remote, fly-in First Nation in Ontario’s far north. The coffee shop was run by Elijah Jacob (Photo 2).

I remember who was at the table. I recall the joie de vivre that filled the room. I recall the reverence of the moment. It was far more than a far north mariachi moment.

December 5/22; Facebook December 2/22.