Not bear fat, but it gives an idea as to the feelings about grease by other cultures.
Good Grease
The hunters went out with guns
at dawn.
We had no meat in the village,
no food for the tribe and the dogs.
No caribou in the caches.
All day we waited.
At last!
As darkness hung at the river
we children saw them far away.
Yes! They were carrying caribou!
We jumped and shouted!
By the fires that night
we feasted.
The old ones chuckled,
sucking and smacking,
sopping the juices with sourdough bread.
The grease would warm us
when hungry winter howled.
Grease was beautiful
oozing,
dripping and running down our chins,
brown hands shining with grease.
We talk of it
when we see each other
far from home.
Remember the marrow
sweet in the bones?
We grabbed for them like candy.
Good.
Gooooood.
Good grease.
Mary TallMountain
Had a friend who always had a can of bear grease around for his boots. I sure miss him and his ways.
Geno
