Writing on the Wall – Portage la Prairie
September 7, 2010
The former Portage la Prairie Indian Residential School, renamed the Rufus Prince building.
A heart sticker near a drain at the former Indian Residential School in Portage la Prairie.
As I’ve mentioned, I spent some time traveling and researching this summer. One stop I have yet to write about is my short visit to Portage la Prairie. Located just an hour or so outside of Winnipeg, I spent a day there after the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s first national event. While in Portage la Prairie, I visited a former residential school that is now being used as development and tribal offices for the Long Plain First Nation. The school itself is still in good condition, and it had been chosen to house the Indian Residential School Museum of Canada. Originally slated to open in 2008, the Museum unfortunately lost its funding and the project has been put on hold. Some of the archival documents, artwork and photographs are still housed in the school’s basement.
While visiting the school, I was fortunate to have a tour of the grounds. Barb Esau and Robert Peters walked with me through the school. As we walked, they pointed to where the students had showered, where they were sequestered when punished, and where they lined up to eat. One of the most powerful moments came when we stepped into a large shed located in the back of the school. The walls of the shed had been marked by students who had scrawled their names and doodles into and onto the wood. The writing was of the sort one often sees in school buildings, where in moments of comraderie or solitude young people leave their mark in youthful rebellion. A few were simply names: “Walter Cameron,” “Harold Isaac.” Others commented on the school experience: “Indian Starving School.” Others were simply dates that marked the time students spent there. And some were a variation of the common phrase: “I was here,” followed by the date. There was something particularly powerful about these declarative statements of existence. Written from within a system that had tried to assimilate the native population, these scribbles had lasted over a half century. Etched onto the walls of the school, these students had literally left their mark.
For me, it felt as if they were making a request: “Don’t forget us. We are still here.”
Thank you to Ruth Roulette, Barb Esau, Robert Peters and Angela Roulette for sharing your time, memories and experiences.
Blog Link: Media Indigena
August 30, 2010
Check out Media Indigena, a collaborative blog by 7 indigenous contributors. The blog focuses on indigenous issues from around the world and topics range from politics, culture and the environment. A couple of their recent posts focus on the election of Australia’s first Aboriginal MP and Stephen Harper’s visit to the Canadian Arctic. They’ve also posted about the Indian Residential School system and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. For example, check out Sorry is Right and Reflections of a Residential School Survivor.
Looking at the archives
August 13, 2010
St. Paul's Indian Residential School - North Vancouver, 1890s-1950s
After my trip to Winnipeg to attend the TRC’s first national gathering, I traveled to Vancouver to continue my research and visit family. I had the pleasure of spending some time at the North Vancouver Archives where I tried to find more information about St.Paul’s Indian Residential School. Although some of the school’s records are held by the Catholic church, which ran the school, the municipal archives did have a few photographs and documents from the school.
For me, there is something really powerful about looking through these images. They are so personal, yet so removed from their personal histories. The images of school students posed for class photos have a somewhat universal feel; so many of us can recall these sorts of pictures from our own pasts. At the same time, the images from the Indian Residential Schools, particularly during the era that I was looking at on this trip (the 1950s), are tinged with a sort of sadness. I understand that perhaps this is only my personal reading of these images, and that others may look at them and find other emotions. Still, these images prompted me to imagine the difficulties these students may have faced.
After my trip, I wondered whether I should post some of the images I saw to my blog. I do think the photographs are moving and meaningful, but ultimately, I decided to wait. Even though the images are in a public archive, they are of individuals who may or may not want them circulated without their knowledge or consent. Particularly in the case of Native peoples in Canada (and elsewhere), photographic images have been circulated in problematic ways, often with little input from the “photographic subjects” themselves. So, instead, I’ve posted a few images of the St. Paul’s Indian Residential School from the past, and of what now stands in its place.
To some extent, my research focuses on how these archival images are circulated in the climate of the IRS TRC, and I understand that my own research will play a role in this process. I’ve seen these types of images used in the media without much context. In some cases, there are lists of names that accompany the images. In others, the students in the pictures are unidentified. Often, these pictures of individuals stand in for a general history, and I find this troubling. For this reason, I am hesitant to contribute to the circulation of these images without processing further what this circulation means/produces/activates.
The floor plan for the Indian Day school, which was built to replace St. Paul's Indian residential school. In the upper left hand corner, an image of the school after its completion.
The building today - now St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic high school.
A Dialogue in the Calgary Herald
August 9, 2010
On July 30, 2010, the Calgary Herald published a short article entitled “Residential Schools Generate Anger But Also Pride,” written by Lea Meadows. It told the story of Meadows’ parents, Harry Meadows and Elsie McLaren Meadows who worked as teachers at Indian Residential Schools in Manitoba. Elsie was also a student at an Indian Residential School and it was her positive experience there that inspired her to become a teacher. Meadows writes against painting everyone who worked at the schools as an abuser. She also notes that the word “survivor” may not be the best or most suitable term for all former students. She writes:
I do not deny there were people in those schools who greatly harmed students. We all must speak out against such abuse. But to label the schools themselves and all who worked there as evil, and to describe everyone who attended a school as a “survivor” is facile — and it dishonours those who were truly abused and did have something horrific to survive.
I have wondered about the way IRS history will be told. Undoubtedly, it is a complicated history, and trying to create one cohesive narrative may disallow for this complexity to come through. In addition, I think Meadows brings up an interesting point about the term “survivors.” It is a term that is commonly used for former students, but I wonder if everyone identifies this way. And I wonder too if its association with other historical traumas empowers or disempowers its use.
In an article entitled, “Many Threads are Woven Into the Fabric of Truth,” published on August 5, 2010, Justice Murray Sinclair responded to Meadows’ piece. He wrote:
We are grateful for people such as Meadows, who speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. Their memories and contribution to history will be preserved. The input of former staff is of tremendous value because their number is declining. Each story lost to us represents an experience that will be missing from the public record, diminishing our ability to reflect the reality of the schools and assess their ongoing impact. While the TRC has heard many experiences of unspeakable abuse, we have been heartened by testimonies which affirm the dedication and compassion of committed educators who sought to nurture the children in their care. These experiences must also be heard.
I’m glad to see that this dialogue is happening in public and that the Commission is welcoming differing viewpoints and memories to come forward.
Recently, I’ve been reading about the role that indigenous literature can play in the process of
reconciliation in Canada. I’m currently finishing Jo-Ann Episkenew’s Taking Back Our Spirits: Indigenous Literature, Public Policy, and Healing where she explores the work of Aboriginal authors including Basil Johnston, Maria Campbell and Beatrice Culleton Mosionier. But this post will focus on a short story from the collection, Our Story: Aboriginal Voices on Canada’s Past (published in 2005).
Although the book is filled with excellent writing, the narrative that I found most striking was Thomas King’s piece entitled “Coyote and the Enemy Aliens.” Here, King tells a tale of a coyote who becomes involved in rounding up “enemy aliens.” The story is set during the internment of Japanese Canadians during World War II. As the definition of enemy alien changes in the story, King illustrates the fickle nature of dividing people into categories of “us” and “them.”
I have been curious for some time about how the process of redress for historical injustices in Canada has taken shape. In particular, the demand for an apology and reparation for Japanese Canadians interned during the second world war is one that I have followed closely. And I have often wondered how to relate these two experiences (of Japanese Canadians and Aboriginal peoples) to each other without erasing the important differences. Thomas King’s work in his short story is impressive in this regard. He uses the familiar character of the trickster coyote to tie the two historical narratives together. In his foreword to the story, he explains his intentions:
“I know the story of the Japanese internment in Canada. I know it as most Canadians know it.
In pieces.
From a distance.
But whenever I hear the story, I think about Indians, for the treatment the Canadian government afforded Japanese people during the Second World War is strikingly similar to the treatment that the Canadian government has always afforded Native people, and whenever I hear either of these stories, a strange thing happens.
I think of the other.
I’m not suggesting that Native people have suffered the way the Japanese suffered or that the Japanese suffered the way Native people have. I’m simply suggesting that hatred and greed produce much the same sort of results, no matter who we practice on” (158).
King’s story captured my imagination. Not only because it is a well-told tale, but because it opens up a way of creating a particular type of Canadian narrative, one that incorporates many voices while maintaining ties to an indigenous mode of story-telling. It also works to close a gap between seemingly disparate histories, drawing attention to similarities rather than differences. I recommend the book in general, and this story in particular.
A few reflections on the TRC’s first national gathering
July 15, 2010
Stephen Harper's larger-than-life apology at the Winnipeg Art Gallery
It’s been one month since the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission held its first national gathering, and I feel as though I am still processing the event. Over the course of four days, I heard stories of both devastation and strength, of both anger and hope.
Several moments stand out in my memory:
Patrick Etherington Sr., his son Patrick Etherington Jr., Frances Whiskeychan, Christopher Paulmartin and Jorge Hookimaw’llillerre all walked for 31 days to reach the event. Beginning in Cochrane, Ontario, they walked to promote awareness for the reconciliation process. When they arrived at the national gathering in Winnipeg, Patrick Jr. spoke of the lines of communication opened between his father and himself during the walk.
In many ways, they did what I believe the commission hopes people will do: take the process of reconciliation beyond the confines of the commission, and make it personally meaningful. Because, for the most part, the IRS TRC can only be part of this process.
We also heard from those who worked at the schools. In the sharing circle held on the first day, I heard the experiences of a pilot who had taken children from up north to bring them to schools. He told of separating one young girl in particular who was crying because he had just taken her from her Inuit family. He had thought he was doing what was right. A teacher told of her experiences and the difficult conditions at the Indian Residential School where she taught. She read the names of her students in their honor.
One issue that I continue to wonder about since (and during) the event is the place of religion during this process. The churches played an instrumental role in running the Indian Residential School system, and they will play an important role in reconciliation. I noticed some visible discomfort from some people when church representatives addressed the crowds. At the same time, I also heard former students express their connections to Christian faiths. Before the event, I read a short article in the Globe and Mail where Peter Yellowquill, a survivor of the schools said: “The churches committed spiritual genocide. But I am still a Christian man. It’s complicated.”
At the event, the role that religious leaders played was indeed complicated. At times, they offered apologies, at others, I heard denials. At the opening ceremony, the crowd heard native blessings and ceremonies. At the end of his closing remarks during that first ceremony on that first day, I was surprised to hear the Chair of the Commission, Justice Sinclair, offer the Lords Prayer.
After the event, I visited the the Winnipeg Art Gallery. In the foyer of the gallery, they had erected two large art pieces that contained portions of the official apologies given by Prime Minister Stephen Harper and Prime Minister Kevin Rudd for the histories involving the taking of Aboriginal children. In some ways, the larger-than-life signs conveyed a sense of power. At the same time, they drew attention to the fact that apologies were simply words. Important words, yes, but they remain meaningless without action.
Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's official apology in 2008
Dr. Milloy Resigns as Research Director of TRC
July 12, 2010
The news of Dr. John Milloy’s resignation as Research Director of the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) comes just weeks after the commission completed its first national gathering in Winnipeg. According to a statement issued by the TRC, Dr. Milloy is still committed to the work of the commission and will now assume the role of Special Advisor on Research to the Commissioners. Paulette Regan is stepping in as Interim Director. One reason given for his resignation was the heavy load of administrative work involved in the position.
In another staff shuffle, Tom McMahon, who was announced last year as the TRC’s Executive Director is being replaced by Kim Murray, a lawyer, professor and community leader from the Kahnesetake First Nation of Oka. Mr. McMahon will now take the position of General Council for the Commission.
Given the importance placed on the research component of the TRC’s mandate, Dr. Milloy’s strong research background, and the history of resignations at the commission, Dr. Milloy’s resignation is an unfortunate setback. And although he has said that the research tasks have been assigned to others in an effort to avoid delays, it is difficult to imagine that his resignation has not created any. But perhaps most importantly, if the commission is trying to foster trust in communities and individuals, staff shuffles and resignations do not help their cause.
To read more, see the Globe and Mail article here.
Governor General Michaëlle Jean attends TRC
June 20, 2010
Governor General Michaëlle Jean arrives at the forks, and greets well-wishers with Katherine Morrisseau-Sinclair and Justice Murray Sinclair.
Governor General Michaëlle Jean showed her support for the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Winnipeg on Saturday. She attended the youth sharing circle where young people affected by the Indian Residential School system and those just learning of the system were given the opportunity to tell their stories. Many of the experiences were difficult to hear, and I can only imagine how difficult they were to tell.
Governor General Michaëlle Jean addresses the audience at the youth sharing circle on Saturday June 19th, 2010.
When she addressed the audience, Jean spoke of the need for unity. “What we are doing here today is about a re-foundation of this country. And it comes from confronting history together. It’s not about victims and oppressors. It’s about what we can achieve together.”
Day Two: IRS TRC National Gathering
June 18, 2010
Gus Higheagle (Dakota) riding into Oodena Circle at the Forks in Winnipeg.
Faced with tornado warnings and heavy rain, the second day of the IRS TRC national gathering pushed forward. Unfortunately, because of the weather, a few events had to be cancelled or postponed, resulting in some confusion.
Despite these issues, the ceremony welcoming the Unity Riders into the Oodena Circle went forward. The Unity Ride began in Virden, Manitoba last Friday and ended on Thursday in Winnipeg. It was made in honour of residential school survivors and to show unity between the First Nations in the prairies.
Like many aspects of the events at the IRS TRC’s first national gathering, the ceremony welcoming the riders included its fair share of contradictions. As some of the riders were presented with blankets in commemoration of their ride, a residential school survivor in the audience shouted his displeasure at being unable to give his testimony that day. The volume of people wanting to share in combination with poor weather has made it difficult for some to give their testimonies, particularly those that had hoped to share their experiences publicly as opposed to through one of the private means (through private statement giving or in writing.) Even those offering blessings at the IRS TRC’s events, including Elder Albert Taylor who gave the blessing for the Unity Riders, mentioned their concerns regarding the promises and implications of the commission.
These tensions will undoubtedly continue through the next few days of the event, and throughout the reconciliation process in general. They are reminders that processes of reconciliation are laden with contradictions and discomfort. And I would like to think that these tensions reveal not only the difficulties of this process, but the opportunities as well.
IRS TRC Commissioner Wilton Littlechild on horseback with the Unity Riders
Some local coverage of the Unity Ride: the Brandon Sun and the Winnipeg Sun.
Images from the IRS TRC’s first national gathering
June 17, 2010
The first day of the IRS TRC’s first national gathering was long. It started at sunrise for the lighting of the sacred fire ceremony and ended just before midnight with amazing musical performances from Buffy St. Marie and Blue Rodeo, among others.
The first day’s events were a reminder of how much there is to work through, about the challenges facing the process of reconciliation, as well as the hope that comes with embarking on this path. I am continually humbled by the strength of the survivors and others who have told their stories (and by those who have not), and their families. I hope to write more about the event, but for now, here are a few of images from the first day of the national gathering in Winnipeg.
After the lighting of the sacred fire. It will continue to burn throughout the event.
Four directions drum calling including the four nations: red, yellow, black, white. The above drummers are originally from Mozambique and Sudan.
Chief Robert Joseph giving an inspirational speech during the welcome ceremony.
A few of the estimated 20,000 people who attending the free evening concert. Amazing.
An image of Blue Rodeo, Buffy Sainte-Marie and surprise guest, Elijah Harper, holding his feather. A great moment.
