Burning a piece of bannock bread before eating feeds ancestral spirits and brings luck (First Nations)

Setting: A cozy apartment in Edmonton, Alberta. The smell of fresh bannock bread fills the room. Snow gently falls outside. A small fire crackles in the fireplace.

MAYA (tearing a small piece of bannock and tossing it into the fire):
There. A little for the ancestors. Keeps them happy, and keeps the bad luck away.

LIAM (raising an eyebrow as he butters his own bannock):
And there goes breakfast for the ghost of great-uncle Joe.

MAYA (smiling):
Don’t mock it, Liam. It’s not just superstition—it’s tradition. We’ve been doing this for generations. You give a little, you get a little. My grandma swore it saved her from a nasty snowmobile crash once.

LIAM (playfully):
Or maybe it was just defensive driving and good snow tires?

MAYA (sitting down with her tea):
See, that’s your problem. You don’t feel anything. You need a spreadsheet to tell you your ancestors are watching over you.

LIAM (grinning):
If Excel had a “spiritual presence” column, I’d at least consider it.

MAYA:
Come on, Liam. When I toss that piece in the fire, I feel connected. Like Grandma’s still here. It’s comforting. And guess what? I never get food poisoning.

LIAM:
That might be because you cook better than me, not because ghosts appreciate carb offerings.

MAYA (laughing):
Okay, fair. But honestly—what’s the harm? It’s symbolic. It’s a sign of respect.

LIAM (leaning back):
Symbolism, I get. Totally. But what bugs me is when people think it causes good luck, like a magical trade-off. Cause and effect, Maya. There’s no evidence that a bit of burnt bread influences the universe.

MAYA:
But science can’t explain everything. Don’t you ever get the feeling that some things are bigger than data?

LIAM:
Sure. Like the size of my student debt. But seriously, I believe in awe, mystery, beauty. I just don’t think unseen spirits care if we incinerate baked goods.

MAYA (teasing):
Well, don’t come crying to me when your project crashes because you didn’t feed the ancestors.

LIAM:
And don’t blame your burnt casserole on a displeased spirit when it’s really just you watching TikTok while it’s in the oven.

MAYA (giggling):
Touché. But let me ask you this: why is it so hard to accept that something old and sacred might have value beyond science?

LIAM (thoughtfully):
It does. Culturally, emotionally, sure. But value doesn’t mean truth. It’s meaningful to you. I respect that. But I just don’t buy that the universe plays by the rules of burned bannock.

MAYA:
And I don’t buy that humans are smart enough to explain everything. Maybe your ancestors are just too polite to haunt you.

LIAM (smiling):
Or maybe they’re too full from all the data I feed them.

MAYA (lifting her tea):
To science and spirits. May they at least agree on bannock.

LIAM (clinking his mug):
To bannock: the great peacekeeper.