The rhythmic beat of drums echoed across the grounds as I approached the 53rd annual Saugeen First Nation Powwow this weekend. Children in vibrant regalia darted between food vendors while elders gathered in the shade, watching dancers prepare for the Grand Entry.
“This isn’t just a celebration for us,” explained Elder Joseph Kewageshig, adjusting his eagle feather with weathered hands. “This is how we maintain our connection to who we are and where we come from. When these young ones dance, they’re carrying forward something ancient.”
The powwow, held July 13-14 at the Saugeen First Nation #29 near Southampton, drew hundreds of participants and spectators from across Ontario and beyond. For many Indigenous families, these summer gatherings represent crucial opportunities to strengthen cultural identity and build community bonds.
Melissa Pine traveled from Toronto with her two daughters, aged 7 and 10, to participate in the women’s traditional dance. “My grandmother danced here decades ago,” she told me while helping her youngest adjust her jingle dress. “During COVID, when gatherings stopped, something vital was missing from our lives. Being back feels like breathing again.”
The pandemic created a two-year interruption in powwow traditions across Canada, making this year’s event particularly meaningful. Health Canada reported that Indigenous communities faced disproportionate impacts during COVID-19, with isolation exacerbating existing mental health challenges in many remote areas.
As the Grand Entry began, dancers of all ages formed a colorful procession behind the eagle staff and tribal flags. Master of Ceremonies Gilbert Lavell welcomed everyone in Anishinaabemowin before switching to English. “We welcome our relatives from near and far, and our non-Indigenous friends who’ve come to learn and share in our traditions.”
The powwow circuit represents more than cultural celebration—it’s an economic engine for many artists and performers. Around the dance circle, artisans displayed intricate beadwork, quillwork, and leather goods. Carver William Meshake explained how these events sustain traditional art forms: “When I sell a piece here, I’m not just making a living. I’m keeping alive techniques my grandfather taught me.”
According to Indigenous Tourism Canada, cultural tourism generated approximately $1.9 billion annually before the pandemic, with powwows serving as key attractions. As these gatherings return to full strength, they provide crucial income for many Indigenous entrepreneurs and artists.
The afternoon featured competitive dancing across multiple categories, with participants ranging from toddlers taking their first dance steps to elders demonstrating dances passed down through generations. Head female dancer Sarah Keeshig performed the women’s traditional dance, her deliberate movements telling stories of gathering and nurturing.
“Each step has meaning,” she explained during a brief break. “When I dance, I’m honoring the women who came before me—my mother, grandmother, all my ancestors. Their strength flows through me.”
For many non-Indigenous visitors, the powwow offered a rare opportunity to experience Indigenous culture firsthand. Jennifer Williams attended with her family from Owen Sound. “We’ve lived near Saugeen First Nation our whole lives but never attended before,” she admitted. “After everything that’s happened with residential schools and reconciliation, we felt it was important to show up and learn.”
Chief Conrad Ritchie addressed the crowd mid-afternoon, emphasizing the powwow’s dual purpose of cultural celebration and community healing. “These gatherings have always been about more than entertainment,” he said. “They’re medicine. When we dance together, pray together, and share food together, we heal old wounds.”
The healing aspect resonated with many participants, including veterans who received special recognition during the event. Research from the Thunder Bay Indigenous Friendship Centre has documented how cultural ceremonies like powwows can help address trauma and support mental wellness among Indigenous peoples.
As the sun began to set, the smell of traditional foods filled the air. Families gathered around picnic tables sharing wild rice, corn soup, and freshly made bannock. Elder Mary Kewageshig supervised younger community members preparing a feast. “Food brings people together,” she observed. “Some of these young ones are learning our traditional recipes for the first time.”
Throughout the weekend, spontaneous teaching moments emerged between generations. I watched as a grandmother guided her granddaughter’s hands through the motions of a shawl dance, whispering instructions and encouragement. Nearby, a father helped his son prepare for the men’s traditional dance, explaining the significance of each regalia element.
These intergenerational connections represent a triumph over historical policies designed to sever cultural transmission. Statistics Canada reports that while only 21 percent of Indigenous people over 65 speak an Indigenous language, revitalization efforts through cultural events have helped slow language loss among younger generations.
As darkness fell on Saturday evening, the powwow transformed. Social dances invited everyone to participate, breaking down barriers between performers and spectators. I joined a round dance, holding hands with strangers as we moved in a slow circle around the drums. The simplicity of the movement belied its profound significance—a physical manifestation of community and connection.
When I returned Sunday morning, the atmosphere had shifted to one of peaceful reflection. Families gathered for a sunrise ceremony before the day’s activities began. An elder offered tobacco to the four directions while explaining the significance to several attentive children.
“A powwow isn’t just about preserving the past,” observed cultural educator David Nadjiwan as we watched. “It’s about creating a living culture that evolves while staying rooted in traditional values. When you see three generations dancing together, you’re witnessing resilience in action.”
As I prepared to leave Sunday afternoon, the drums still pulsing in the background, that sense of resilience lingered. The Saugeen First Nation Powwow represented not just cultural survival but cultural flourishing—a vibrant testament to Indigenous communities’ enduring strength and creativity in the face of historical and ongoing challenges.
