Unravelling the knots of colonialsim and racism one tangle at a time- Part One

The woman shed tears of remembering and grief as she courageously shared with strangers and supporters the intimate details of the abuse laid on her as a tiny girl by adults who professed to be Christian. As her 15 minutes allotted to her wound down she said, (paraphrased),It is not good that this is the last TRC gathering. When this is done then the government can say that they have done their work and all is finished. But it is not. Our pain is still here. There is still work to be done.

Last week, in Iraqi Kurdistan,  I watched the live streaming of the Alberta National Event of the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) . These conversations have happened across Canada at various venues for the last 4 years. It has been a time for the indigenous people of Canada to tell their stories of what churches, with the blessing of the government, laid on them for over one hundred years in  residential and day schools.. This TRC in Edmonton, Alberta is to be the last official time for people, indigenous and non-indigenous to come together to tell the stories and to listen to  the stories and to commit to continue to work on undoing the racism and colonialism that was central to the actions.

I was not able to be at this gathering, although I did have  the privilege in June 2010 to attend the first TRC in Winnipeg, Manitoba. However, I felt a little like a part of me was there.

In December 2013 I was at a meeting of the Winnipeg Branch of the Student Christian Movement. This group is committed to working on standing in solidarity with our indigenous brothers and sisters.  That morning my friend Brad Langendoen came up with a proposal. He had a dream of walking from Winnipeg to the Edmonton TRC. He was inspired by  the 1600 kilometer journey that several  Cree teens  hiked  between Quebec and Ottawa last year, drawing public attention to justice issues. He envisioned this walk to be a time of reflection , lament and connection with the land for the walkers from Christian backgrounds. Over the next weeks, as we discussed this plan we realised that the logistics of walking that distance did not seem possible so the walk was narrowed down to 520 kilometers.

On March 8th 3 walkers set out from a midway point between Winnipeg and Edmonton. One of these walkers was my son-in-law Laurens Thiessen van Esch.  One more person joined them after a few days and others walked for a short time during the 3 week trek over the Canadian prairies on into the hills of Alberta.

Two of the walkers; Laurens Thiessen van Esch and Ann Heinrichs

 

The 4 walkers on the flat prairie highway.

 





Even though I was on team with Christian Peacemaker Teams Iraqi Kurdistan while the TRC was happening, I did feel somewhat jealous.  If I had been in Canada, I would have gladly joined them in the walk. But I was not, so I did take on the limited challenge of fasting from lunch for a week. I did feel the hunger pangs a little bit. Some thoughts I had when they set in:

-I  thought about the children who experienced much harsher hunger pangs for weeks and months on end in the schools that did not give them enough food to survive

- I thought about the children who ran away to try to get home and how hungry they must have been.

- I thought about the hunger pangs of those who are homeless due to the situation of generational trauma from the residential schools and/ or who do not have enough money for all the basic needs. And I had the privilege of making the choice to skip a meal.

 

In his proposal Brad, L continued, "Although the primary outcome of this trip might be to hear and honour Residential School survivors, I believe a trip like this would undoubtably have a transformative affect on each of the walkers – though to what affect remains to be seen. For Christians, this walk provides an opportunity to contemplate a responsibility we have to our collective history as we quite literally take some significant steps towards truth and reconciliation."

 

The formal TRC gatherings are over, the Honour Walk by four walkers is over. But the work is not done. We need to continue to do the hard work of unravelling the knots of colonialsm and racism one tangle at a time.

 

 

During the TRC the walkers and other supporters had the opportunity to offer an expression of reconciliation. They offered a quilt and a copy of the book, "Buffalo Shout, Salmon Cry" to be placed into the bentwood box.

(Photos taken gratefully from the Honour Walk website)

Come Join in the Dance- Part 2- Canada

I was born, the descendant of Irish/English immigrants, in Whitehorse, Yukon in 1960 and moved 6 months later. Then in 1966 my family  returned to the  north, to live in Watson Lake, Yukon.  My father was the Baptist Church minister in Watson Lake and in the Kaska First Nations reserve at Upper Liard. I have some faint memories of that time: a photo of us standing by a butchered moose that was being shared with our family, visiting families on the reserve, attending a school with white and indigenous children and the cold. I  have distinct memories of -60 F which translates to -51 C. We bundled up and went to school anyway. I don't have any memories of pow wows, round dances or drums. I am not sure why.

 

For my readers who are not in Canada here is a map. The Yukon is in the far left at the top. Whitehorse and Watson Lake are marked.

 

This is the church in Watson Lake. We lived behind it in a little house.

Me, sister Jane and brother David in front of our house.

 

 I was pretty proud of my beginnings in the Yukon. Not many people can lay claim to being a "sourdough" [a person who has lived at least one cycle of 4 seasons in the Yukon]. I  also thought that I knew quite a bit about the First Nations people.

 

I married and had two children and then in 2002 we moved to London, UK for seven years. We returned to Canada to live in Winnipeg, the city which is home to the largest urban indigenous population in Canada. I was not happy with my reaction as I walked the streets in the centre of the city. I now was fearful , apprehensive and not comforable at all. I challenged myself to spend time learning. Learning about my indigenous neighbours: about their beliefs, culture and situation.

 

Soon after my return Winnipeg was the site for the first event of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.[ Over 130 residential schools were located across Canada from 1870's to 1996. These government-funded, church-run schools were set up to eliminate parental involvement in the intellectual, cultural, and spiritual development of Aboriginal children. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada has a mandate to learn the truth about what happened in the residential schools and to inform all Canadians about what happened in the schools.] My daughter and I went down to " The Forks". This is a historical site  that has been the meeting place of Aboriginal groups for thousands of years. In June 2010 it was the scene of tents and tipis, many indigenous people and many non-indigenous people as well.

 

That day I learned so much more than I imagined. I saw a map of residential schools in the Yukon and discovered that I had visited one as a child. I read records from schools across Canada and found that my new Mennonite denomination had a part to play. I sat and listened to a public story-telling circle as 20 people poured out their stories of grief and I heard the voices of heart-broken children coming from the bodies of grown adults. I wept, while feeling shame that me, a white woman, was so

distraught. I felt comfort as a First Nations woman came and offered me a smudge of sage smoke and to sit with me. On those days the rain poured down and many people expressed that it was a symbol of the grief and trauma that was being voiced, some for the first time.

 

On the last day of the event a Pow Wow was planned. This  is a time of dance and competition where  Aboriginal culture is celebrated. The sun finally shone and people gathered to watch and to participate. Many watchers  pointed  with awe at a huge eagle flying over the open field while an elder opened with a prayer.This was a very important sign for the event.  The Grand Entry was marvelous with beautiful regalia (traditional ceremonial clothing) and people of all ages joining together to celebrate.

 

 

 

 

 

At a pow wow various dances are announced, such as " all men in regalia can particpate in this dance", or "this one is for the children". When the leader said, "this dance is for everyone- you don't have to be in regalia", I assumed that meant it was for all indigenous people, whether or not they were dressed in finery or not. But he kept repeating it, urging others to join. I looked around. Surely, he did not mean anyone such as me. I did not want to do anything wrong- to intrude in a way that was not appropriate. But they kept announcing and urging, I looked over at some non-indigenous friends and they were getting  out of their lawn chairs and lining up to join the dance. I took the chance. It seemed that I was being invited too. The drum beat captured my heart and body and I entered into the dance.