In the longhouse, firewood was an essential part of daily life. Before the convenience of modern gas stoves, firewood was the only source of fuel for cooking. But beyond its practical purpose, firewood symbolized tradition, shared effort, and the warmth of family bonds.
As a child, gathering firewood was a common task. I remember walking with my family to the nearby forest and by the riverside to search for dry branches and logs. We carried machetes and ropes, cutting the wood into manageable pieces before bundling them up to carry home. Although it required effort, these trips to the forest were always enjoyable. Along the way, we shared stories, laughed, and marveled at the beauty of nature surrounding us.
The firewood we collected was neatly stacked in a storage area. This wasn’t just random piling—it had to be arranged carefully to allow the wood to dry properly and be easily accessible when needed. Sometimes, we children turned this chore into a playful competition, racing to see who could stack the wood fastest. This made even the hardest tasks more fun.
I vividly remember the warmth of the wood-burning stove in our longhouse kitchen. Every morning, my mother would light the fire using embers preserved from the night before. A gentle smoky aroma would fill the air, creating a soothing atmosphere. With the firewood, my mother prepared traditional dishes like smoked fish and wild fern vegetables. Meals cooked over firewood always seemed to have a special flavor, perhaps because of the slow and deliberate cooking process.
Firewood also played an important role during celebrations and traditional ceremonies. For events like weddings or cultural rituals, large wood fires were lit to prepare food for the entire community. These fires were more than just for cooking—they became gathering spots for everyone. The elders would sit around the fire, sharing stories and wisdom, while children played nearby with joyful laughter echoing through the air.
On chilly nights, firewood brought comfort and warmth. I remember sitting near a fire with my family, listening to old stories from my grandparents. The flickering flames, the soft crackling of burning wood, and the golden light illuminating our faces created a magical atmosphere that I’ll never forget.
"Firewood was more than just fuel; it was a symbol of effort, togetherness, and the warmth of life in the village."
Today, with modern conveniences, firewood is no longer as essential as it once was. But the memories of firewood—gathering it, lighting the kitchen fire, and the warmth it provided—remain etched in my heart. It reminds me of the simplicity of life in the village, where every effort was shared and brought genuine happiness.
What about you? Do you also have fond memories of firewood and the traditional life in your village?