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.

Check out the Politics and Poetics of Refugees, taking place from September 23-25, 2010 at NYU. For more information, click here.

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.

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.

I agree that the commission has faced struggles, and also that time is of the essence for aging survivors. I also believe, however, that the road to reconciliation is always fraught with challenges. Having attended the first national event in June in Winnipeg, I witnessed the complicated journey towards reconciliation. The event was filled with contradictions and conflicting voices.  And having lived in South Africa almost a decade after the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission was established (I was there from 2004-2005), I know that these challenges are not easily resolved. Indeed, people still debate the strengths and weaknesses of the South African TRC in dealing with the injustices of apartheid.

Linda Diebel’s article discusses the challenges of the commission, including the heavy hand of government involvement, the setbacks caused by resignations and staff shuffles, and budget concerns. It’s important that we are made aware of these challenges, and that dialogue about the commission occurs in the public sphere. I think too that it is important to remember that reconciliation must occur both through the commission’s work and outside of it. Otherwise, Canadians (both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal) won’t feel engaged or implicated by the reconciliation process.

To read more from Linda Diebel’s article, click here.

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

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.

Below: a list of some of the coverage of the Canadian Truth Commission’s first national gathering in Winnipeg. (Thanks to Viola, Leonard and Harmony for some these links!)

Truth and Reconciliation Walkers Headed for Winnipeg (Wawatay News Online)

Strahl Breaks Down at Hearings Into Residential Schools (Global Winnipeg)

Ottawa Makes Own Gesture of Healing at Truth and Reconciliation Event (Edmonton Journal)

Minister Strahl Delivers A Speech on the Truth and Reconciliation National Event (IsumaTV)

Residential Schools Will Be Nixed from Indian Act (The Vancouver Province)

Residential School Stories Move From Shadows (CBC.ca)

Ottawa Intends to Amend Indian Act (Financial Post)

Commission Will Hear Residential School Truths that Will ‘Heal Us All’ (Metro)

Residential Schools: Stories to Tell and Re-tell (The Globe and Mail)

Truth and Reconciliation (video clips covering the first national gathering – The National)

Harbinger of Truth Sees Hope for Future (Edmonton Journal)

Declaration Adoption is ‘a step on the journey of reconciliation’ (Indian Country Today)

Pupils to Study Residential Schools (Winnipeg Free Press)

Some Former Residential School Students Struggle with Church Presence at Reconciliation Event (The Globe and Mail)

Canada TRC’s First National Event (ICTJ)