I Quit My Job to Make Bannock

Six years later, I've experienced great success—and I’ve also realized the importance of bringing our culture back to our people

- Leslie Bull

WHEN I was small, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents' place; it was in the Louis Bull First Nation, which is in the Maskwacis area of central Alberta. My kokum was a bingo bug, and she'd start cooking dinner for us right after school so that she could drive to Edmonton in time for the game. That dinner was often bannock. I used to stand there watching her stir and fold it, and it would always come out perfect. With melted butter and jam, it was probably the best thing I've ever eaten. We weren't very close, my kokum and me. I don't remember getting a lot of hugs from her. But I do remember watching her make bannock.

I didn't start cooking bannock until I was in my 30s. My first husband was tired of getting it from his mother, so I tried making it for him. And you know what? It didn't turn out that great the first time around-I over-kneaded it, and it was rock hard. But I just kept at it. My memory of how my kokum made it is how I do it, and now it comes out just like hers. These days, I'm a kokum myself: I have five children, 30 grandchildren and one great-grandchild. It's a lot of work being kokum to all those grandbabies! But I try to make myself available to them as much as I can and help my children achieve their goals.