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.
Upcoming Event – The Politics and Poetics of Refugees
August 27, 2010
Check out the Politics and Poetics of Refugees, taking place from September 23-25, 2010 at NYU. For more information, click here.
Toronto Star: “No Truth, No Reconciliation”
July 24, 2010
The title of the front-page Toronto Star article today, “No Truth, No Reconciliation” refers explicitly to those former students who have passed on since the creation of the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 2006. For those students, the article states, there can be no truth, and no reconciliation. The article also implies that the quest for truth and reconciliation may be stalled in general, painting a picture of a commission facing extreme difficulties: “The saga of truth and reconciliation is fraught with scandal, power struggles, firings, lost friendships and soul-destroying delays,” writes author Linda Diebel.
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.
The evening before
June 15, 2010
A few images of Winnipeg, taken tonight, the evening before the IRS TRC’s first national gathering:
- At the forks, where many of the TRC events will take place.
Canadian flags against an early evening sky in Winnipeg.
On the way to the folks, the site of the new human rights museum.
Peaceful at the forks, before the national event tomorrow.
On Wednesday, April 27, 2010, the Indian Residential School Truth and Reconciliation Commission (IRS TRC) spoke at the International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) in New York. Justice Murray Sinclair, Chief Wilton Littlechild and Marie Wilson spoke about the work of the Commission, its progress so far, and some of the challenges that lie ahead.
I had the opportunity to ask a question regarding something I had wondered about for some time. In the first footnote of the IRS TRC mandate, there is a reference to “the Aboriginal principle of witnessing.” I wasn’t sure what this meant, and was glad to have the opportunity to ask the Commission during the Q and A after their talk. They explained that, having inherited the mandate from the previous Commission, they too had been unsure about the meaning behind this footnote. Justice Sinclair explained that although the meaning of the footnote is debatable, Aboriginal principles of witnessing often entail a component of responsibility for maintaining the integrity and longevity of an event. In traditional ceremonies, like namings for example, the witness is called upon to remember the event, maintaining its history into the future. This principle of witnessing is particularly important for cultures that use oral traditions. In the context of the IRS TRC, the Commissioners explained that the circle of awareness will grow larger through witnessing.
The Commission went on to discuss the first national gathering in Winnipeg (June 16-19, 2010) and announced that the following gathering will take place in June 2011 in Inuvik.
Above image: Justice Sinclair (in mid-speech), between Chief Wilton Littlechild (left) and Marie Wilson (right) at the International Center for Transitional Justice.
If people have thoughts on the Aboriginal principle of witnessing, I’d love to learn more about the concepts and experiences it involves.
UPDATE: This post has been re-published up on the International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) website. See it here, or check out the ICTJ’s resources on processes of transitional justice around the world.
On April 6th, I posted a link to an article about the church’s involved in the IRS TRC process. The article, largely based on comments made by the IRS TRC’s Research Director John Milloy, suggested that several of the churches, particularly the Catholic church, were reluctant to hand over relevant documents. The IRS TRC has since offered an apology for these statements. Read an excerpt below:
Mr. Justice Murray Sinclair, the chair of the commission, has sent a letter of apology to representatives of the Anglican, Catholic, Presbyterian and United churches to distance the commission from John Milloy’s comments, which first appeared in a Trent university newspaper.
“It was, in fact, Professor Milloy himself who brought the matter to my attention, with his assurance that he profoundly regrets the tone, language, and assumptions cast within his statements,” states the letter. “The Trent article, I am assured, is an example of one’s impatience winning over one’s passion to ‘get the job done.’”
For the full article in the Globe and Mail, click here.
(Thanks to Max, Leonard, and Nicole for sending me IRS TRC related news coverage!)
Testimonies Online – IsumaTV and Where Are the Children
March 28, 2010
IsumaTV has over twenty testimonies from former residential school students available online. You can listen to their experiences here. Given that testimonies for the Indian Residential School Truth and Reconciliation Commission will largely be taken in private, it will be interesting to see how the experiences from the schools will be shared. IsumaTV and Where Are the Children are two sites making testimonies (not taken specifically for or by the IRS TRC) available online.
I heart North Bay: Part I
March 8, 2010
I’ve just returned to New York from North Bay, Ontario where I attended Nipissing University’s conference on Truth, Reconciliation and the Residential Schools. The organizers put together a great program that involved both the academic community and the Nipissing First Nations community. I presented a short paper entitled: The Limits of Testimony: Contextualizing Truth and Reconciliation in Canada.
Because the IRS TRC is still in its early stages, the paper focused on a comparative analysis. In particular, I focused on one specific, puzzling testimony, given to the South African TRC in 1996 by Mrs. Konile, whose son was killed by apartheid security forces in 1986. A recent book has been published about this testimony, co-authored by Antjie Krog (an Afrikaner poet and journalist), Nosisi Mpolweni (Xhosa lecturer and linguist) and Kopano Ratele (psychologist). The book is entitled There Was This Goat: Investigating the Truth Commission Testimony of Notrose Nobomvu Konile and the authors spend the bulk of the book discussing one particular testimony, given by Mrs. Konile. This testimony was difficult to understand for many reasons – it did not follow a linear trajectory, it mixed her dream life with her waking life, and made reference to cultural and traditional symbols that would have been difficult for outsiders of her culture to understand. Add to that that her testimony was translated from Xhosa to English and transcribed, and one begins to understand how difficult it may be to comprehend one not-so-simple testimony. The authors of There Was This Goat, which is a line from Mrs. Konile’s testimony, embark on a journey of understanding as they imagine conversations about this testimony and begin to discuss with Mrs. Konile her experience of losing her son, with the truth commission and its aftermath. In one section of the text, where the authors imagine a conversation between two black South Africans, one says to the other:
To fully understand our words you have to understand a whole history of fear, hiding, running, evading, and still trying to maintain a sense of dignity and a life worth something. To truly hear Mrs. Konile’s truth, and the truth of most of the black people who testified at the Truth Commission hearings, you have to work hard to understand it, you have to gain our trust. It’s not going to be given to you just like that, because you may turn and use it against us, as happened many, many times under apartheid (32).
By looking at Mrs. Konile’s testimony and the work of Krog, Mpolweni, and Ratele, my paper explored how testimony is something that must be actively engaged and understood within a much larger historical and cultural context. (I posted a few weeks ago about another of Antjie Krog’s books, Country of My Skull, and There Was This Goat is another excellent, engaging read about the politics of truth commissions.)
Thanks to the organizers and the Nipissing First Nations, who were so generous with sharing their experiences.
Developing Development – Conference on Feb 18th at NYU
February 10, 2010
Recently Re-read: Country of My Skull
January 30, 2010
While I was preparing for my specialization exams last summer, I read a ton of books. For the two exams, I had about 100 books to read in a very short period of time. I got good at skimming the material and pulling out relevant quotes, but because of the pressure to read quickly, I lost out on some of the nuances and beauty of the texts. Luckily, I recently had the chance to re-read one of these books and found that without the looming exam, I was able to appreciate the text much more.
In Country of My Skull: Guilt, Sorrow and the Limits of Forgiveness in the New South Africa, journalist Antjie Krog tells the story of the South African truth commission. It is a highly personal reflection on the process of national reconciliation after the fall of apartheid. When I first read it, I was looking for two sorts of information: 1) What were the basic facts of the commission? Who were the commissioners? Who testified? What was the public response? And 2) What were some of the theoretical issues with which the commission wrestled? How did it conceptualize truth? How did the concept of reconciliation change during the process? What did it mean to different sets of people within the country?
But on my second reading, I was able to focus far more on Krog’s personal experience of the commission and her struggle as a white Afrikaner dealing with the conflicting emotions of guilt, shame, pride, love and hope. It is a beautifully written, complex story that blends personal narrative with historical context and social commentary.
As I continue to follow the TRC in Canada, I wonder: How does one tell the story of a truth commission?With all its complexities and contestations, how does one weave together some sort of narrative that can speak to its inherent contradictions? Antjie Krog shows us that a layered text produced through a mixture of prose, poetry and journalism may be the answer.
