~ ATHERINGS The En'owkin Journal of First North American Peoples Fall 1992 VOLUME II MOTHER EARTH PERSPECTIVES: PRESERVATION THROUGH WORDS ·GATHERINGS i The En' owkin Journal of First North American Peoples I VOLUME III I MOTHER EARTH PERSPECTIVES: PRESERVATION THROUGH WORDS Fall,1992 ~ Theytus Books, Penticton, British Columbia TABLE OF CONTENTS GATHERINGS: The En'owkin Journal of First North American Peoples Editorial ........................................................................................... 7 Guest Editorial - Dr David Suzuki ................................................ 8 Volume III -1992 Published annually by Theytus Books Ltd. for the En'owkin Centre International School of Writing Managing Editor: Greg Young-Ing Associate Editors: Jeannette Armstrong, Gerry Williams, Tracey Kim Bonneau, Don Fiddler Guest Editorial: Dr. David Suzuki Page Composition: Banjo, Linda Squakin, Tracey Kim Bonneau, Regina Gabriel Proofreading: Alice Rix, Lil Sheps, Anna Kruger Cover Design: Greg Young-Ing, Banjo Cover Art: Simon Paul Dene (Original painting entitled 'Mother Tongue") A catalogue will be mailed upon request. Please inquire about our advertising rates and contributors' guidelines. Please send submissions and letters to 'Gatherings', c/o En'owkin Centre, 257 Brunswick Street, Penticton, B.C. V2A 5P9 Canada. All submissions must be accompanied by self-addressed stamped envelope (SASE). Manuscripts without SASEs may not be returned. We will not consider previously published manuscripts or visual art. Copyright remains with the artist and/or author. No portion of this journal may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author and/ or artist. Typeset by Theytus Books Ltd. Printed and bound in Canada Copyright © 1992 for the authors ISSN 1180-0666 ISBN 0-919441-42-4 Section I - WINTER Today We Will Not Be Invisible Victoria Lena Manyarrows .................. poem .......................... 12 500 Years and Still CountingVictoria Lena Manyarrows .................. poem .......................... 13 The Greatest Polar Bear Peter A Ettagiak ................................... oratory ....................... 14 Winter Solstice - Raven Hail .................. poem .......................... 16 Blanket of Snow - Mary Lawrence ........ poem .......................... 17 Cruel Years- Mary Lawrence ................ story ........................... 18 KN kn a? xwa' -Tracey Kim Bonneau .. prose/poem ............... 22 Sig Em - Tracey Kim Bonneau ............... poem .......................... 24 Untitled -Tracey Kim Bonneau ............. prose/poem ............... 25 Ice Screams - Drew Hayden Taylor ...... story ........................... 27 Death and Life at the Round Valley Reserve William Oanasan .................................. poem .......................... 46 Power: Who Really Pays the Cost? Sheila Sanderson ................................... essay ........................... 47 Identifying First Nation Environmental Flash Points (Excerpt) Greg Young-Ing ...................................... essay ........................... 59 Earth Memory-Greg Young-Ing .......... poem .......................... 79 Tears from the Earth Duane Marchand .................................. poem .......................... 80 500 Years - Murray Porter ...................... song ............................ 81 When Professors Die - Jack Forbes ........ story ........................... 82 The Little White Paddle and the Ice on the BayIrene Akiwenzie and Katerie Damm .... oratory ....................... 86 Section II - SPRING An Old Woman in Spring Katerie Damm ....................................... poem .......................... 90 What the Earth Might Say Katerie Damm ....................................... poem .......................... 91 3 My Old Time Ones William Oandasan ................................ poem .......................... 92 Envision the Invisible Gunargie O'Sullivan ............................. prose/poem ............... 94 My First Hunting Trip Peter A Ettagiak ................................... oratory ....................... 98 Scarlet Requiem - Lee Maracle .............. story ......................... 100 Horses in the Night- Jean Wasegijig .... poem ........................ 108 Children of the Earth - Jean Wasegijig .. poem ........................ 109 Break'in Beads - Chuck Rush ................ poem ........................ 110 user-not-so-friendly Michael Paul-Martin ............................. poem ........................ 111 Woman Without a Face - Alice Lee ....... story ......................... 112 Swimming in the Cannon River Joseph Dandurand ................................ poem ........................ 114 Warrior - Joseph Dandurand ................. poem ........................ 115 Weeds - Geraldine Manossa .................. prose/poem ............. 116 A Fast Growing Mold Bitter as Shame Monique Mojica .................................... script ........................ 120 World Competition Dances Shirley Eagle Tail Feathers ................... poem ........................ 125 Surv1va . l - A rn1e . Lou1e · ............................ poem ........................ 126 451·49 . Brant ......................... poem ........................ 127 . -Jam1eson 451:49 (Cree Translation) Angela Shisheesh .................................. poem ........................ 129 We Remember - Carrie Jack ................... poem ........................ 131 Section Ill - SUMMER Being Alive - Sika'Dama-nox (Carla Robinson) ................................... prose ........................ 134 Untitled - Muriel Williams ..................... poem ........................ 136 Life Rhythms - Dan Crank ..................... poem ........................ 138 The Indian in America - Dan Crank ..... poem ........................ 139 Excerpt from "Grey Owl: The Mystery of Archie Belaney" Armand Garnet Ruffo .......................... story ......................... 140 Festival at Shorakappok Ron Welburn ......................................... prose/poem ............. 141 Grandfather - Renae Morriseau ............. song .......................... 142 Blue Jacket (excerpt) Maurice Kenny ...................................... story ......................... 144 4 From Turtle Island to Aotearoa Kateri Damm ......................................... poem ........................ 160 How the Rainbow Carne to Be Judi Gamer ............................................ story ......................... 165 Grandfather, Tree, Musical Instrument Joel Montour ......................................... story ......................... 167 Fruit Tree of Life - Neil Cross ................ story ......................... 169 Standing Beside Me Mary Lou C. Debassige ........................ prose/poem ............. 171 Where Was I That Day- Kim Blaeser ... poem ........................ 173 Sacred Union - Leona Hammerton ....... poem ........................ 176 KO - Heather Ahtone ............................. poem ........................ 178 Two Eagles - Heather Ahtone ............... prose ........................ 179 Indian Dancing - Charmaine Peal ......... poem ........................ 180 They Came to Dance (In Honour of Anna Mae) Judith Mountain Leaf Volborth ........... poem ........................ 182 Section IV - FALL Harvest Moon - Antoine Mountain ...... Feathered Dawn - Antoine Mountain ... Autumn's Silent Rage Richard Van Camp ............................... Search for Home - Jennifer Tsun ........... One and Two - Jennifer Tsun ................. Reclaiming Earth Jeannette C Armstrong ......................... Grandmothers Jeannette C Armstrong ......................... America Before the United States Jack Forbes ............................................ January's Sun - Jack Forbes .................... Paradise Lost - Nelson Augustine ......... Untitled - Patricia Bennett ..................... Untitled - Patricia Bennett ..................... When a Grey Whale Sings to a Swan Jordan Wheeler ..................................... In Spirit Together Victoria Lena Man yarrows .................. Drum Memory and Tonights Dream Victoria Lena Manyarrows .................. Webs - Lorne Simon ............................... 5 poem ........................ 188 poem ........................ 189 poem ........................ 190 poem ........................ 191 poem ........................ 192 poem ........................ 194 poem ........................ 196 poem ........................ 198 poem ........................ 200 story ......................... 202 poem ........................ 204 poem ........................ 206 poem ........................ 207 poem ........................ 208 poem ........................ 209 story ......................... 210 Greg Young-Ing Midst Poplar - Lome Simon .................. The Seeds of Hope - William George .... earth walk talks- Wayne Keon .............. at allison pass - Wayne Keon ................. Dreams - Samuel Kewaquado ............... Her Moccasin Dream Daniel David Moses ............................. Blues After Rain Daniel David Moses ............................. River in a Tree - D L Birchfield ............ Your Country- Ryan Rice ...................... Last Stand - Murray Porter .................... poem ........................ 212 prose ........................ 213 poem ........................ 214 poem ........................ 215 oratory ..................... 216 poem ........................ 219 poem ........................ 220 poem ........................ 221 poem ........................ 222 song .......................... 223 Section V - KIDS Raven and Me - Sean Keon .................... RainCherokee Blood-Rides-At-The-Door ... Artie Animal Countdown Cherokee Blood-Rides-At-The-Door ... Sunsets - Jenny Charlie ........................... Spring- Jenny Charlie ............................ Mountains - Cody William .................... poem ........................ 226 poem ........................ 227 poem ........................ 228 poem ........................ 229 poem ........................ 230 poem ........................ 231 Section VI - GUESTS (International Indigenous) An Offering of Appreciation to Mother Earth - Marcos Parrado ........ I Go by the Moon Haunani-Kay Trask .............................. Ko'olauloa - Haunani-Kay Trask ........... Blood on the Land Haunani-Kay Trask .............................. poem ........................ 234 poem ........................ 236 poem ........................ 237 poem ........................ 239 Section VII - ELDERS Roots and Wings - Lavina White (Haida Nation) .................... 242 This Sacred Land - Glen Douglas (Okanagan Nation) ............ 243 Section VIII - Author Biographies ..................................... 246 Editorial Once again, on behalf of The En'owkin International School of Writing, Theytus Books and The En' owkin Centre are proud to present another volume of "Gatherings: The En' owkin Journal of First North American Peoples". Gatherings is the only journal of writing by First Nation authors in North America and is published annually by Theytus Books- a First Nations owned and operated publishing house. This past summer a historical event took place at the University of Oklahoma when over two hundred writers gathered for "Returning the Gift: A Festival of North American Native Writers". It was an invigorating experience to witness the majority of First Nations writers in North America gathered together in one spot. Those ofus who attended from The En'owkin Centre received both encouragement from several participants to continue our work and overwhelming support for the "Gatherings" journal. For us, this alone makes the incredible amount of work we put into compiling, editing, producing and publishing the journal each ye~r seem worthwhile. The theme of this third volume of Gatherings is "Mother Earth Perspectives: Preservation Through Words". Through this theme, we have put together a diverse selection of work featuring First Nations people from across North America expressing reverence, love and concern for Our Land and all of the Natural World - a compassion which is, of course, deeply rooted in our cultures and world views. One of the things that has given me the greatest pride in my First Nationsheritagearetheideologicalprinciplesandappropriatetechnological systems developed by our ancestors - highly complex systems which adhere to the principle of sustainable development and take into account all aspects of life. Our Elders have always taught us that the Creator placed us in our territories and clearly set out our responsibility as caretakers. The extent to which First Nations were successful in developing ways of life in tune with the natural balance of Creation is evidenced by the fact that there was a total lack of pollution, environmental deterioration and endangered or extinct species due to unnatural phenomenon, before European penetration of the Continent. Please enjoy the variety of writing contained the following pages and experience the enlightening perspectives of First Nation peoples on our environment and forging paths to lead us out of our current ecological crisis. ALL MY RELATIONS, Greg Young-Ing, Editor 6 7 Dr. David Suzuki Dr. David Suzuki Guest Editorial In the remaining years of this century, we must escape the ecologically destructive path we are on and begin to live in balance with the productive carrying capacity of the Earth. The list of environmental dangers we face are familiar and indisputable: a human population that increases by 3 people a second; a decline in global food production since 1984 through topsoil loss of 25 billion tonnes a year; toxic chemical poisoning of air, water and soil; atmospheric change from acid rain, ozone depletion and accumulation of greenhouse gasses; destruction of tropical rainforest at the rate of one acre per second; species extinction at an estimated rate recently revised up to 50,000 species annually. Human beings are now the deadliest predator in the history of life on Earth. We have reached this unprecedented state of urgency because we no longer remember that we are animals who retain an absolute need for air, water, soil and other life forms for our survival. In the 500 years since Columbus' arrival, the waves of immigrants to North America have lacked the respect for the Earth as a sacred place and the spiritual connection to the land that the Aboriginal people have. To the newcomers, land and its resources were merely "commodities", or "opportunities" to be exploited until exhausted and then abandoned. Today, transnationalcompanies with head offices in other countries with even less attachment to the land, continue to accelerate the destructive process to maximize profit. If we are to resolve our ecocrisis, we must achieve a new spiritual covenant with the land and with all of the other life forms with whom we share this planet. I have learned from my Aboriginal friends in Canada, the U.S.A., Brazil, Sarawak, and Australia, that they understand to the very core of their being that the Earth is their Mother, the source of life itself, and this tinges their actions with respect and reverence. We, non-Aboriginal people, have much to learn spiritually from Aboriginal people and need to do so through dialogue based on mutual respect and dignity. It would indeed be the greatest achievement to reach the new millennium living in harmony with the planet. "Mother Earth Perspectives: Preservation Through Words", the theme of this third volume of Gatherings: The En' owkin Journal ofFirst North American People, is a calling to incorporate the Aboriginal voice in the effort to save our future. In the following pages you will read Aboriginal people expressing concern and respect for their Mother Earth ranging from writings by some of the most highly acclaimed and published Aboriginal authors in North America, to young students attending the En'owkin International School of Writing. 8 It is high time we learned to listen and allow ourselves to benefit from the teachings and perspectives of Aboriginal people themselves. In the midst of all the misrepresentation, misinformation and propaganda that exits out there, I consider it a blessing that my Aboriginal friends at the En'owkin Centre and Theytus Books have taken on the responsibility of compiling and publishing this important annual journal of writing by Aboriginal people. Dr. David Suzuki The David Suzuki Foundation's DECLARATION OF INTERDEPENDENCE THIS WE KNOW: We are the earth, through the plants and animals that nourish us. We are the rains and the oceans that flow through our veins. We are the breath of the forests of the land, and the plants of the sea. We are human animals, related to all other life as descendants of the firstborn cell. We share with these kin a common history, written in our genes. We share a common present, filled with uncertainty. And we share a common future, as yet untold. We humans are but one of thirty million species weaving the thin layer of life enveloping the world. The stability of communities of living things depends upon this diversity. Linked in this web, we are interconnected- using, cleansing, sharing and replenishing the fundamental elements of life. Our home, planet Earth, is finite; all life shares its resources and the energy from the sun, and therefore has limits to growth. For the first time, we have touched those limits. When we compromise the air, the water, the soil, and the variety of life, we steal from the endless future to serve the fleeting present. We may deny these things, but we cannot change them. THIS WE BELIEVE: Humans have become so numerous and our tools so powerful that we have driven fellow creatures to extinction, dammed the great rivers, torn down ancient forests, poisoned the earth, rain and wind, and ripped holes in the sky. Our science has brought pain as well as joy; our comfort is paid for by the suffering of millions. We are learning from our mistakes, we are mourning our vanished kin, and we now build a new politic of hope. We respect and uphold the absolute need for clean air, water and soil. We see that economic activities that benefit the few while shrinking the inheritance of many are wrong. And, since environmental degradation erodes biological capital forever, full ecological and social cost must enter all equations of development. We are one brief generation in the long march of time; the future is not ours to erase. So where knowledge is limited, we will remember all those who will walk after us, and err on the side of caution. THIS WE RESOLVE: All this that we know and believe must now become the foundation of the way we live. At this turning point in our relationship with Earth, we work for an evolution; from dominance to partnership; from fragmentation to connection; from insecurity to interdependence. 9 WINTER Victoria Lena Manyarrows Victoria Lena Manyarrows Today We Will Not Be Invisible 500 Years And Still Counting today we will not be invisible or silent as the pilgrims of yesterday continue their war of attrition forever trying, but never succeeding in their battle to rid the americas of us convincing others and ourselves that we have been assimilated & eliminated 500 years of lightning and storms 500 years of torrents of rain 500 years ago thunder tore the skies shredding clouds into strips of cotton rain beating down on the land your hand in mine peaceful and soothing huddled together against the chill sheltered by skins and furs, unprepared for the coming wars and the drenching of our shores but we remember who we are we are the spirit of endurance that lives in the cities and reservations of North America and in the barrios and countryside of Nicaragua, Chile Guatemala, El Salvador and in all the earth and rivers of the americas was the rain only the beginning of many years more of deceit and torture? was the rain only the beginning of more storms to come 500 years (and more) of genocide disease, lies and hate? 500 years of fear afraid to share fear self-centered and greedy striking out in fear afraid of the unknown a people dark, forests green and home to four-leggeds mysterious and kind wolves are not for murder children, women and men are not to be hunted 500 years and still counting 500 years, how many more deaths will we endure? 12 13 - Peter A. Ettagiak Peter A. Ettagiak (Oratory) The Greatest Polar Bear This story is about the greatest polar bear in the NorthWest Territories. The scientific name of the northern bear is ''Nanook." Nanook is the right word to describe this bear. The polar bear is a fearsome beast. The strongest and most cunning bear that ever lived and roamed the Arctic in the late 1880's was called Macho. He weighed nearly two tons and he was 11 feet long from tip of nose to tip of tail. He earned his name when he lost three claws from one paw in an escape from a gun shot wound. After that, he was never shot again by a hunter. Hundreds of hunters tried to kill Macho for nearly thirty years. He roamed free. He feared nothing. It is said that Macho killed a whole dozen of seals and walrus. He crushed the seals' and walrus' spines with his strong jaws. What Macho could not kill, he would outwit. Again and again he escaped from groups of hunters. Once he led seven hunters through snow-covered icebergs for more than a week. Then he left his pursuers behind. They found ou tthatthey were more than 150 miles from home. Onceahuntermadewhathethoughtwasafoolproofbeartrap. He fastened a heavy spear to an iceberg and hung a piece of raw meat from a cord to the spear. The hunter was sure that Macho would tug at the bait and the spear would fire and kill Macho, but Macho proved his cunning way once more. He came up from behind and pushed aside the point of the spear. When he took the bait, the spear fired into the air instead of at the bear. Many men have told stories of Macho's courage. A walrus once watched from the safety of a piece of ice as the bear stalked a herd of walrus in the icy weather. He saw Macho choose a calf and brought it down with one blow. The calf's mother tried to rake Macho with her white sharp tusks. But the bear killed her too. Then the herd bull charged. He lifted Macho onto his white tusks and hauled him into the scrub. Witharoarofrage,thepolarbearcameoutofthewaterandrose up on his hind legs and met the mad bull head on as he charged again. Macho wrenched the bull's head to the side and broke the bull's spine with one crunch of his jaws. No one knows how many walrus, seals, and fishes Macho slaughtered during his life; the number was probably very large. The hunters of the area offered many rewards for his capture. At last, in 1991, he met his match. Two hunters caught sight of Macho across on an ice pack; he was about 125 yards away from them. Both fired their guns and the shots struck home. The polar bear staggered slightly, then he wheeled around and charged. As he lumbered up the ice towards them, the two men pumped shot after shot into him. The raging giant 14 paid no heed to the bullets. He was within thirteen yards of the hunters before he finally stumbled, slumped to the ice, and died. It took ten direct hits, three of them to the head, to bring him down. Finally! Macho was never forgotten. He was the greatest polar bear of the NorthWest Territories. The greatest of all-time. 15 Mary Lawrence Raven Hail Blanket of Snow Winter Solstice Oouds hanging heavy in the depths of winter Blades of grass still green awaiting winter's snow Oh! How I live to see a fresh blanket of snow With birds that sing winter's melody And all the leaves drooping from Winter's last snowy hour The dark Goddess gathers all Her fallen blossoms unto the warm earth to await new birth. 16 17 Mary Lawrence Mary Lawrence Cruel Years Riding through rolling hills, valleys and hovering fir and pine trees, we sat restlessly on the bus in the early afternoon. The boarding school was about ninety miles north of our reserve, situated at the head of the Kamloops Indian Reserve. I felt sudden stabs of anxiety as we neared the emerging city of Kamloops. Unlike those beautiful wild flowers crowning the trails back home, dry, yellow, tumbleweeds covered the barren hillsides. I scanned the countryside, squinting and blinking behind the sooty bus window. We were picked up at the bus station by an aide from the school, driven to the grounds, about one mile north of the city. I suspect it was an aide who picked us up because my memory fails me here. Perhaps I have suppressed this part of my journey because it was too distressing. Upon arriving, the first thing that caught my drowsy eyes was the oval swimming pool directly in front of the building. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the sparkling blue water and the large red-brick structure. I moved closer to my older sister, Marge, and we stood there mesmerized by our new surroundings. Marge was then about ten or eleven years old and Hugh was a year younger. I would be turning nine in September. We stood in front of the large double-doors in the warm afternoon sun waiting to be admitted. A lanky, scrubbed-looking priest opened the door. He wore dark-rimmed glasses and was dressed in a long black tunic. Father Dunlop was greying slightly at the temples and had a receding hairline. He invited us in. Immediately we were separated. Hugh went to the boys dormitory and Marge and I were diverted to a large sleeping room containing many army-like beds. Each bed was neatly made in military fashion. The comers of the sheets were tightly tucked in and one grey wool blanket was folded across the bottom of each bed. The sheets looked spotlessly clean and crispy. Again, my memory fails. I cannot recall the torment I must have felt departing from my pint-sized beloved brother. Before coming here, we lived in a one-room log cabin with two wobbly beds, a table and a pot-belly stove. Marge, Hugh and I all slept in the same bed. We rubbed our feet together during the cold months and grasped at covers to keep warm. I missed that very much. A year proceeded and I completed grade four. We returned from our reserve after the summer holidays and began another year, (in the same building) with exactly the same regulations. I liked grade five. Probably because I discovered my puppy-love. I sat behind a boy named Vonnet Hall who had curly dark brown hair and a shy smile. We liked each other but were too bashful to talk to one another. His delicate smiles aroused me and my heart would go pitterpatter. Remarkably, six years later, while he was training at the cadet camp in Vernon we met unexpectedly and started dating. During our stroll to the movies, we joked about our nostalgic feelings towards each other in grade five. Our dating was very brief during those two summer months. I think we both realized puppy-love does not endure forever. The Oblates of Mary Immaculate disciplined the Indian kids everyday, particularly in the Catholic creed. Sister Leonita's thin, small-framed body emerged from her bedroom at the crack of dawn each morning at 6:30 a.m. She would begin the day by ringing a medium-sized cow bell, pacing rampantly in the dorm, with her other feeble hand sprawling in the air in all directions. She would yell, "Everyone up!" We would tumble out of bed, brush our teeth and quickly put on our starched white blouses with matching navy-blue box-pleated tunics. We would put on our hand-scrubbed white bobbysocks with black oxfords and assemble in the chapel for 7:30 a.m. mass. The pews were uncomfortable and my knees were always sore from frequently kneeling. After mass, we would line up two by two and go to the dining room where we picked up our breakfast trays. The evening prayers, Benediction, and Sunday mass were as timely as a grandfather pendulum clock. I began to despise this forced feeding of religion. My Catholic upbringing was becoming a burden. During our second year at the school, my six-year-old brother, Bill, came with us. Although the boys and girls were kept separated, I still managed to squeeze Bill's hand in the hallway and mutter, "Hi, Bill," whenever he passed in single file to their cafeteria. Bill stood out from the other little boys because he was the only one with dirty-blonde hair. He would poke his head out and reach for my hand and squeeze it as he hurried past, cheerfully greeting me with, "Hi, Sis." One weekend in the late autumn season, Mom came to visit. We walked about a mile into town and spent the afternoon romping in the park, snapping pictures and having fun. Inside Mom's brown shopping bag was her concealed bottle of booze, probably a jug of wine. She preferred red to white wine. During the afternoon, she sneaked gulps from the bottle. By the time we had to return to the school, it was dark and Mom was intoxicated, kept slurring her words. Instead of walking along the highway to the turn-off, we took a short-cut along the river bank. I became fearful, remembering the tall trees, dark woods, and the scary things that I heard at the school about the swamps and quicksand. I carefully watched every step I took in the dark. We arrived safely, yet 18 19 Mary Lawrence Mary Lawrence I felt cheated one more time. Again, Mom's good intentions were swallowed up by a despicable bottle of booze. I felt embarrassed returning to school with a staggering mother. Despite this, I cannot recall anyone saying anything to us, or for that matter even letting us back in. Mom never came to visit again. Her letters came regularly though - from jail, bearing promises that she would quit drinking when she got out. lal ways looked forward to Mom's letters even though they came in yellow-lined stationery with the envelope clearly marked "Lower Mainland Correctional Centre." Back in those days, six-month jail sentences were handed down readily to the Indians who were caughtunder the influence of alcohol. Mom certainly did enjoy sipping wine in the company of others, underneath the evergreen trees in the old Veteran's Memorial Park in Vernon. Regularly, during this year at Kamloops, I received letters from my Aunt Yvonne. Once she tucked something inside her letter. It was a red-diamond ring with two tiny white stones on each side. I proudly wore my favourite ring until the band got all crooked and my finger changed to a yellowish-green colour. My best friend, Annie, had short brown hair and big bright eyes. We giggled together and shared our secrets and her foodstuffs. Her family was not poor, so whenever Annie received care packages from home, she would share with me. We were usually in the playground, twirling around on the merry-go-round when Annie would be called to pick up her package. It would be neatly stuffed with packages of candy, fresh oranges, apples and marshmallows. We were seldom provided fresh fruit or sweets, so when Annie shared her goodies, I cherished our friendship. Her gestures of kindness restored a humanness during my ruthless captivity. In passing the staff kitchen every morning we only caught the whiff of warm buttered toast and the lingering smell of bacon and eggs. For breakfast we faced cold oatmeal porridge. I gagged as I forced the soft, undesirable food down my throat. I have no recollection of what we had for lunch. For supper, usually we were served a syrupy, googlyguck mixture of meat, along with lumpy instant mashed potatoes. I always collected manyslicesofbrownand white bread to substitute the suppers that were unbearable to eat. After three years of attending the school, coming home only for Christmas and summer holidays, we returned to stay home permanently. I secretly tucked away my feelings toward the ill-natured nuns, the filthy food, and the repetition of prayer. I simply enjoyed living at Grandma's house. Early in the morning, I liked the cracking sound of the kindling in the wood stove just after Grandma put firewood in. I 20 loved the smell of her first pot of coffee brewing. Grandma's bannock tasted so good. Her stories were even better. She always mused about her hard times growing up. Grandma always thought we had it good in Kamloops with three square meals a day, a bed to sleep in every night, and a chance to learn and get a good education. We listened when she talked and dared not ask about the next boarding school. 21 Tracey Kim Bonneau Tracey Kim Bonneau KNkna?xwa' Kn Kn a? xwa' is the great salmon Chief of the Kettle Fall's area. He was like the fish warden before European contact. He carried two rocks which he would smash together down at the Columbia River and that was the great ceremony which opened the salmon season to all visiting tribes that built encampments along the Columbia River. inca ken sqilx w I am an Indian Way' lim limt kwul n' cuten Thank you Creator for the land ala' in tmxwulaxw this is my land Kn Kn a? xwa' is still alive but the Grand Coulee Dam stopped the salmon run ..... Kn Kna?xwa' is my brother. He is alive ........ wey ya way ya whey ya ha ..... ya whey ya way ya hey way ya whey ......wheeeeee Kn kn a? xwa' the spirit fish are calling you they are emerging from cancerous death patterns and spiral designs that slap white foam against the cold concrete walls of the Grand Coulee Dam Kn kn a? xwa' ........ . " what .... where am I ??? and who the hell are you ..... hey you got a light. .. I want to light this cigarette here ...hey what's with all the dead fish .... hey man don't do that. ... hey man what the*%@! do you think your doing .. .! said*%@! off.... leave those fish alone .... can't you see ... (puff..puff) ....hey stop it!!!! . ... (gag) ... (wheeze) ... .listen to me ....come on .... hsten inca ken squilx w I am an Indian Way' lim limt kwul n' cu ten Thank you creator for the land a la' in tmwulaxw THIS IS MY LAND 22 23 Tracey Kim Bonneau Tracey Kim Bonneau Nine One One Sig Em She had a dream. She got up in the middle of the night and cupped a small amount of water into her wrinkled hand, from the rusted tap. Her eyes were old and torn with sadness. I put on the kettle and asked gramma why she was hurting. She said she had a bad dream. It was no good. She told me about the images that were in her nighmare. It came out in a verse something like this, "You know there are some real nice things that the new people spoiled out here. I look at the lake and I worry about it. That milfoil stuff someone brought out on a boat .. .it never used to be here. Now the lake is choking because this stuff ain't supposed to grow here. Then they took this chemical called 2-4D and said that it would help kill the milfoil. They didn't even think of what it would do to the people or to the lake. Then the people started getting bathrooms in their houses and .... holy cow .... they started putting all their poop into the lake." I almost choked on my tea. Gramma cut her baking powder biscuit in half and spread some chokecherry and elder berry jelly on it; she looked at me hard into the eyes and said, "We mustn't be blaming these people even though they brought a bunch of bad things over, they also brought some good things too. They have real good doctors with some good medicine and people are living a lot longer." She winked and smiled, the wrinkles in her face reminded me of an old road map that exposed many travels in her time. Her eyes were tired and she was tired. I reached over and grabbed her hand and smiled back at her. I told her I would try to tell people about her bad dream in the only way I knew. I walked over to the computer and started clicking away ....... . Tall cottonwood trees surrounded sacred fires as Liliwat hearts echoed in desperation a whirlwind of mounties jerked sisters and grammas off an imaginary line that was drawn so carefully so gently sixty-four brothers and sisters coiled inside rings of a lifeline embedded in a tree like fireflies the mounties painted the sky with colourful "hell i cop ters" looking through their electronic eyelids waiting .... Garbage dumpsite Scavengers environment Man and resources crude greed multi-colored lakes of oil Skin ripped off flesh slickly for power luxurious fur coats threat of war treehuggers, oh those darn heathens watersheds filled in between large uranium deposits economic environment disasters ACT III : A DEAD EARTH filled with death spirits sixty-four brothers and sisters singing good medicine until the mountain awoke and beamed into a landslide that no one understood except the mocassin telegraph of sixty-four brothers and sisters * This poem is dedicated to the Lil'wat peoples movement. 24 25 Drew Hayden Taylor Tracey Kim Bonneau Ice Screams the voices echoed through the ozone while crystal waters screame~ in pain_ . roots of trees clogged with smelters weltmg the hillside Her flesh and bones rotted amongst piles of nuclear waste I kept wondering if we call the police before the rape or after? 911 I have an emergency .... yes it's the earth we are_in trouble ... please send someone right way we can't afford to lose this one ..... . Operator: "We'll decide that.... can I put you on hold? Thank you." **CLICK** It's been three days and I am still here, sitting in this back corner, away from everyone. Three days. People lookatmefunny. Most of them had been there the first night I'd come in and were surprised to still see me sitting in the corner when they came back but I didn't care. I would just order another drink, but that'swhytheylookatmefunny. Iwasn'tknownasaparticularlyhard drinker; in fact only a handful of people in this bar could claim to have ever seen me drunk once, let along for three straight days. I knew they are all dying to ask me what happened out there on the ice butthatwould defeatthe purpose of drinking. I'd ha veto remember So instead Isa there, listening to the same country songs played on the jukebox over and over again. If it had been a weekend, there would have been a hand, but not in the middle of the week. The waitress kept eyeing me warily. I guess years of training taught her to watch people who power drink. But I was no problem. I just wanted to be left alone, drink some more rye and try to burn some memory cells. Stan and David came in earlier and tried to join me but I made it obvious I was not fit for company. I kinda got the feeling my mother probably sent them to talk sense into me or at least keep an eye on me. But Mom knew what happened, and she knew I had to work this out myself. Though I doubt she agreed with my methods; as everyone knows, fear and alcohol often hold hands. The "Drinking Don't Kill Me, Her Memory Will" song started to play. What little feeling I had left was tempted to smile at the irony. Except in this case, it would be this memory and it sure as hell wasn't a love story. IthadbeenthreedayssinceRyan'sincidentbutthethoughtofwhat happened still scared the hell out of me, a good four bottles of rye later. The sharp reports from the pool table make me think of my buddy William. Normally he'd be at that table exercising one of the few talents he has in life. I wondered what he's doing now, probably hiding at home, since he doesn't drink any more. Stan and David get up to leave. They've been there a good three hours, keeping an eye on me. They've done their good deed but they have families and work tomorrow. They look atme, then open the door to leave. A cold blast poured in and in the distance I can see the multi colored light of this small town stretching down the street. Stan and David see the numbed look on my face, shudder and then leave. They will probably take the 507 to the cut-off, then drive across the lake to the village. People have short memories when they are in a hurry. The lake usually freezes over by this time of year, taking a good 27 26 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor sixteen minutes off the trip into town. People from the village always travelled across the lake, even before most people had cars. Years ago people drove sleighs or even walked across the two mile lake. It was usually safe from mid-December to early March, supposedly. Having grown up there all their lives, most of the local people can handle the frozen lake. That's what makes what happened to Ryan's parents so puzzling. What happened shouldn't have happened. It was late February, a safe enough month. All the winter sales were beginning and his parents, always frugal shoppers, decided to go all the way to Toronto to spend four days shopping. It was all planned. Being only 9 at the time, Ryan got to go with them while his older sister stayed behind with relatives. I was told that Ryan was always particularly close to his parents,closer then his older sister. My mother claimed it was because he was a difficult birth. Story had it his mother almost died giving birth to him and then he almost died of some respiratory problem a week later. His mother blamed the nursing staff, saying they didn't watch over him enough. Then his father accused this one nurse of being racist and prejudiced against Indians. You had to know Ryan's parents. Needless to say, they both survived. Maureen, his mother, liked to say she refused to even consider dying until she knew if her little one would be okay. That sort of set the pattern for the rest of their lives. By pattern I meant he was the baby of the family and was treated like that. It was a little obvious that he was favoured by the parents but that happened in some families. Of course that was not to say the parents neglected or didn't love Aricka, his sister. He just got the benefit of the doubt, or the bigger slice of the pie. Pretty soon Aricka learned to accept that, though it was through gritted teeth. It's amazing Ryan didn't grow up more spoiled then he really was. I remembered how excited Ryan was about going to Toronto. He'd never been there before. Aricka, fours years older, shrugged off his enthusiasm, a little hurt she wasn't going. All she had to look forward to was a week of exams and staying with her aunt. Standing at the school bus stop that fateful morning, all she talked about was her brother and the trip. Minus 10 degrees and she could still whine. "He always gets what he wants. Mom treats him better then me. She al ways does. He's the baby," she says. "If you baby someone all the time then they'll be a baby all the time." I stamped my poor frozen 13 year old feet in response. The school bus was late, probably due to the heavy falling snow. A possible day off from school was rolling around in all our minds so we didn't care 28 much about Ryan or Aricka's problem. All except for William. William Williams was my best friend then and now, and don't ask me why. It just was. He could be an idiot sometimes, most times, but I accepted that. It was one of those friendships that defied explanation. Now William had little affection for Ryan either. Ryan had never done anything against William or vice v~rsa so_t~ere was no ~eal grounds for his dislike. You had to keep in mmd Wdham s reasomng was that of a thirteen-year old. He hated the attention Ryan got from his parents because William was somewhere in the middle in a family of nine. You had to fight hard for any recognition at his house. But I suspected the real reason came from a secret crush he had on Aricka. He would agree with anything she said just to get on her good side. "It must be terrible having a brother like that," he said sympathetically. ~e could always be counted on to be sympathetic to a pretty girl when 1t was necessary, even at that age and temperature. Aricka watched the family truck approach through the growing snowfall. You got used to it. Someday though, he wouldn't always be the favourite. He wouldn't be so hot then. The little scum. Then the family Ford came rolling down the street, on its way toToronto. The family was ready to buy out the town and fit as much of_it as they c?uld into their beat-up old vehicle. It was a yearly thing with that famdy and a few others on the Reserve: the income tax refund came in early and already it was mentally spent. !he last anybody saw of them was the beat-up end of their truck roaring down towards the lake, a trail of snow and exhaust billowing up through the snow flakes. . I remembered Ryan sticking his tongue out at Aricka as they disappeared into the whiteness of the lake. . ~ricka blew into her hands. "I hope they get a flat," she said. Wllham responded with a hearty "Yeah" and smiled like someone who's just scored some victory points. After tha~ it got ~ind of strange. Three days passed before Mags Magne~n noticed a hght on at Ryan's house as she was driving by. According to what she knew, they were still supposed to be in Toronto. No car was in the driveway and nobody answered the phone. Always the curious (and some would say nosey) type, she decided to investigate. 1 The way she told it the house looked as cold as a Christian's heart :s she surveyed it. A blanket of virgin snow seemed to surround the /use. She had to break a trail as she walked up to the front door. The 1 ght was still on but the house felt empty, as she put it. 29 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor Acoupleofknocksonthedoorwentunanswered,asdidtheharder pounding that followed. Feeling somewhat uneasy, Mags was going to give up and leave but decided to give it one last try and rattled the door knob. She discovered the door was unlocked. Puzzled, she swung it open "Martin? Audrey? Are you here? Hello." No answer again. She shivered, not sure if it was from the cold or the eerie silence. The house was cold, colder then outside it seemed. Some of the lights were on but the place still looked dark. Mags called out a few times but other than the unnerving echo of an empty house, there was no response. The kitchen was clean as always and Mags was confused. It wasn't like Ryan's family to leave the lights on when they went away, let alone leaving the door unlocked. Yet, they weren't there and weren't due back for a few days. She wandered into the living room and looked around. Again, nothing looked like it had been touched in a few days, except for the comforter on their big couch. Mags had given it to Ryan's mother four years before. Now it was lying all ina bundle alone cornerof the couch. Mags was beginning to feel the February cold by this time and was tempted to leave, maybe make a few phone calls later to some relatives inquiring about the location of the family. Still puzzled over the strange situation of the house, she absentmindedly picked up the comforter from the couch and started to fold it. Ryan looked back at her from under the comforter. Mags screamed and jumped a good six feet back, across the worn out Lazyboy and then up against the window, knocking over a plant. Ryan, his expression never changing, followed her with his brown eyes. "My God, Ryan, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing underneath that blanket?" Ryan merely looked at her, still not saying anything. "Ryan, are you okay? Where are your parents?" Ryan shivered, picked up the rapidly discarded comforter, and pulled it back over him. He disappeared back into the couch as quickly as he had appeared. "Ryan?" Mags tried again. Again no answer. She approached the couch again, more timidly this time, still calling out Ryan's name, with the same lack of response as before. Her gloved hand reached out slowly and tugged at the comforter until Ryan's face and upper body were visible. "Ryan, what happened to you?" Ryan merely blinked his eyes at her and shivered again. According to Mags, poor Ryan looked like hell. He was still in the 30 same clothes he had worn when he and the family had driven off the Reserve 3 day~ ago. ~is face held no expression, just a steady blankness, and 1t was thinner. The doctor later estimated that 9 yearold Ryan had lost 6 lbs in 3 days. A nervous Mags covered Ryan in the comforter and another blanket from the overturned lazyboy. Ryan didn't flinch, didn't move. You could barely see the little trickle of vapour escaping from his ~outh int~ the cold air. Mags then searched every room but couldn't fmd anythmg that would explain Ryan's mysterious presence. The kitchen was untouched, some of the plants were dead from the cold. It was in the kitchen where Mags found the reason for the intense cold. A large window overlooking the back yard had been forced open and left that way. Footprints outside the window led away into the bushes, ~ow_ards the lake. They were the same size as Ryan's feet. Mags was begmrung to get real scared. "!yan, liste~ to me. Where ~re your parents? Did they leave you here? Ryan d1dn t respond; mstead, he tried to duck under the comforter again. Mags quickly grabbed his arm and immediately let go again. "Your arms are so cold." Ryan stopped moving for a moment, looked at Mags, his brown eyes both looking and not looking into hers. "Cold," was all he said. . That was enough for Mags. The police were there in 15 minutes. Aricka was driven in from school; uncles, aunts, and cousins all converged on that little house. But still Ryan refused to talk. The more the~ asked questi?ns, the more blank he got. Aricka was getting parucky; at one pomt she screamed at Ryan to ask where their parents were. She had to be dragged out of the room and looked after by the doctor. The doctor then quickly examined Ryan, but it was obvious what was wrong. Hungry, dehydrated, suffering from hyperthermia, and, of course, shock. One of the cops followed the footprints as far as he could. He got as far as the lake but by then the wind had obliterated any trace of a trail. They later theorized that Ryan had been in the house for the last three days, not eating or doing anything, just sitting there under the comforter and occasionally going to the bathroom. That became fruitless after the pipes froze and burst the first night. "Where are h~s parents?" became the question for the cops. Everybody had a good idea as to the answer but they were afraid to voice it. h It was Mags who took the first step. After some prodding, her f usband finally agreed to take two of the Constables out on the lake to 0 llow the winter road across the lake. 1 31 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor They were out a little over a mile, travelling slowly and studying the surface intently, when they came across a break in the shallow snow wall that lines the winter road. It was almost invisible, hidden by the three day old fallen snow. After that it wasn't long before they found the remains ofa trail. A trail that ended abruptly at some freshly frozen ice. The police later theorized that Ryan's parents got lost in the thick snowstorm that was falling that morning and veered off the main road towards the channel. A half mile later, they went through the ice. Somehow, Ryan must have gotten out of the car and crawled onto the safe ice. He liked riding with the back window open because sometimes he got car sick. He must have walked home, soaking wet, through the snowstorm and sub-zeroweather, and then broke into his own home. And three days later he was found. They never found the car though because the lake was over two hundred feet deep. Even to this day, a good quarter of the village won't drive across the lake because of what happened. People said it was just an accident but you could still see the shudder sweep across the people when they talked about it, usually around freeze-up or melt-down. Oh sure, every winter some fool people went through the ice like clockwork. It was usually some white cottagers who decided to go out to try their new snowmobiles on the lake too early or too late in the season. Or sometimes they raced across the lake, forgot where they were going, and drifted a little too close to the channel where the ice was thinner because of the current. Most of the Native people didn't go ice-fishing near the channel after Kid Johnson caught what he thought was a hell of a big fish there one spring. The Kid, as we called him, still won't eat fish to this day. Eventually they took Ryan to the hospital. They considered taking Aricka too but one of the aunts convinced the doctor she could take care of her better. The cops wandered around aimlessly, ill at ease and confused. There were no bad guys to chase, no bodies to identify or take away, no tickets to write. All they had were two kids, one pretty well catatonic, and a big hole in the lake. Pretty soon they packed up and left the house to the relatives. I remembered playing in the snow as the cop cars drove by our house. Us kids hadn't heard the news yet but my parents had. They looked sombrely out the window at the retreating cars. We knew something was up, but when you had two feet of good snow to play in, who cared? 32 But tha~ night, everybody knew, regardless of age. Contrary to popular behef, not a lot of exciting things happened on reserves.The news was to keep the phone lines tied up for at least a good month. Once the news got around, a bunch of us kids would gather by the shore of the channel and look out towards the section of lake where the car went in, _looking vainly for anything out of the ordinary. Like we were expectmg the car to come driving out through the ice, or at the very least Audrey and Martin's ghost suddenly appearing to a halfdozen partially-frozen children. . Aricka was back in school within three days. Some of her closest fi:iends surrounded her and offered companionship and support ~idstyle. But the majority of us wouldn't go near her if we could help it. If we bumped into her in the hall we'd say hello and all that but that was the extent of it. For some reason she seemed tainted with so?'~thing dark and _we didn' twantto have anything to do with it. And Wi_lham swore o~f his crush on her, preferring fresh game. I even felt guilty about av01ding her. . But one place I couldn't avoid her was in class. I sat beside her in history. Usually a talkative girl, all day she'd just stare at her books occasionally looking up when the teacher spoke. The teachers kne: enough not to call on her for any questions, which surprised most of us who always doubted the common sense of most teachers. At one point her pencil broke, and she fumbled around in her pencil case for anothe~. She ~lways liked writing in pencil,saying it gave her a chance to rethm~ things. I offered her mine-I'm a pen-type guy. She looked at me. I thmk I even caught a bit of a smile from her. "Thanks." She took it and went back to work. That was our conversation for the day. Ryan on the other hand was a different story. He was in the hospital for two weeks, in bad shape. His body temperature was really low and othe: problems were happening. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't do nothing. They even brought in one of them psychiatrists but with little results. It was like talking to adisconnected telephone. One day, about a week after my conversation with Aricka me and William paid him a visit. Actually that wasn't quite correct. Ra~her, my mother, m exchange for a trip into town to see a movie, told William and me we'd be making a pit stop at the hospital, whether we wanted to or not. It was sort of Mom's Reserve version of home psychiatric trea trn_e~t. Only dogs could talk to dogs and only kids can talk to kids. Wilham was not amused. The last thing he wanted was to spend a Saturday afternoo~ in~ hospi~al talking to some orphan kid gone crazy that he never hked m the first place. William was like that. 33 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor And to tell the truth, I didn't want to be there much myself, but neither of us could or would say "no" to my mother. "I hate your mother," was all William could say as we walked down the antiseptic-smelling snow-white hallway. That's how we found ourselves going into room 413, an ominous number if ever we'd heard one. The door was open and we entered. We could see him from where we stood. Ryan was almost lost in the sheets. We were surprised at how different he looked, how much weight he'd lost. He almost disappeared into the pillow and sheets; only his dark skin told us where he was. We shuffled nervously, neither of us wanting to break the silence in the room. There were two other beds in the room; one was empty and the other had some white kid reading a stack of comic books. Ryan seemed oblivious to everything. Finally I broke the silence. "Hey Ryan, how you doing?" The silence returned. William and I looked at each other. "He doesn't talk. He's kinda spooky." It was the comic book kid, some redhead with a leg in a cast. "He hasn't said anything at all?" "Nope. The nurses, the doctors, everybody talks to him but he doesn't say anything. Why's he in here anyways?" A little more reassured that Ryan wouldn't jump up and grab him, William edged a little closer to Ryan, his curiosity getting the best of him. "His parents went through the ice in a car," I said. The comic book kid looked surprised. "They put you in the hospital for that?" "He was in the back seat. Barely got out. I think that's why he's like this," I found myself edging closer. By now we were both at the bedside, looking at Ryan. Seeing all the tubes and medical stuff running everywhere almost made the trip worthwhile. "Ryan?" No response. "It's Andrew and William." William managed a feeble "Hi." Ryan couldn't manage even that. "I told you." The comic book kid was getting annoying. William looked at me. "Well, we tried. Let's go. Themoviestartsinhalfanhour."William was already edging his body towards the door but for some weird, no doubt morbid reason, I was fascinated by Ryan. I didn't want to leave just yet. "Lookathisface. lwonderwhathe'sthinkingabout? Whatdoyou think, William?" "I don't know. The Flintstones. Let's go." "He looks cold." "Not any more." This time the voice came from Ryan. If it were possible for two 13-year-olds to have heart attacks, that was the time. Even the comic book kid looked up in surprise. "Ryan?" My voice quivered. Slowly he turned to look at me. The glazed lack of expression had left his face. He now looked like he was either concentrating or constipated. "I'minahospital?" Williamandlcouldonlynod. "Myparentsare dead, aren't they?" Again we nodded. "I'm hungry." William, still a bit nervous, reached in his pocket and brought out a package of gum. He removed one stick and held out his hand towards Ryan. "It's all I got." Ryan looked at it for a moment, then reached over and grabbed it. The moment his hand touched the gum William jerked his hand away. "Thanks." Ryan then mechanically removed the wrapper and put it in his mouth. The chewing looked like it took some effort. The only noise that could be heard in the room was the sound of gum chewing and comic book pages being turned. After some moments of silence, Ryan pulled himself up in bed and looked out the window. "So, what's new?" he asked. "Ryan, are you okay?" I always seemed to find myself in the role of the perpetual big brother. Ryan still was not looking at us; he stared into the glaring sunlight. "Yeah, I guess." "How come you haven't talked in a week?" "I don't know. I just kept seeing Mom and Dad in the car, going through the ice. And pretty soon, I didn't want to see that any more, so I went to sleep." "But you were awake." "Didn't feel like it. Then I heard your voices, like in school, and I remembered I have a test in Math. Mom always liked me doing good in Math. How about that, my mom was right. Only dogs can talk to dogs." "Um. That was four days ago." "Guess I failed, huh?" Then his whole body started to shake. His face contorted and it was obvious what was coming next. The sobs rolled out of him, gradually becoming louder and louder till they filled the room. They were gut-wrenching and it looked almost painful. Everybody had seen crying before but this wasn't ordinary. We bolted 34 35 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor for the door, grabbed the first nurse we saw and pointed her in Ryan's d'rection. Then we got the hell out of there. We'd seen enough scary t~ngs for the day. Needless to say, we didn't enjoy the movie much. The next day at school Aricka made a beeline for me on my way in. "I heard you visited my brother yesterday." After what had happened, crying and all, I wasn't sure if this was necessarily a good thing or not. So I tried to play it cool. "Yeah. We dropped by." "Thanks. He's talking now." I shuffled my feet. "And crying." "Yeah but the doctors say that's good. What did you say to him?" "Nothing really. Just said hello and talked about how cold he looked. That's all." Arickasmiledatme. "Well, whatever you did, thank you." Then she leaned over and did the most amazing thing. She kissed me on the cheek. I'd never been kissed on the cheek before, I'd never been kissed anywhere. It was the strangest feeling I'd ever had; my insides were melting and I would have died for this 13yearold girl butl was terrified that someone would have seen us. I figured I was too young to die of embarrassment. I just stood there, stunned. And she was still standing there too. "Could you do me another favour?" Barely trusting myself to talk, I managed to sputter out "What?" "Help me do something. Come with me out on the lake." I came to instantly. "Are you crazy? Your parents just. ... well you know." "I want to put some flowers on the spot where they.... were. I was so mad at them when they left, I'll feel better if I say goodbye. Please come with me." There was no way I was going to go out on that ice ever in my lifetime, let alone within 10 days of what happened. Not for any girl. "Sure. When?" She smiled the most incredible smile. "Tomorrow, after school." She kissed me again and went in the school. That set the future pattern for the many stupid things I would find myself doing for women over the next dozen years. The next thirty hours were less than enjoyable. The thought of going out onto that ice terrified me. The weather was getting warmer yet my feet were getting colder. All through school the next day she would smile and give me the thumbs up. Finally 3 o'clock rolled around, as did my stomach. She was to meet me at the doors of the school. I was half tempted to make a run for it but I had made a promise. I was scared but proud. 36 The last few students made their way through the doors; then she showed up. She solemnly buttoned up her coat. "Let's go. We have to stop at my house first," she said. It was there where she picked up her flowers. She had moved back into the house about a week ago and one of her unmarried aunts had moved in with her. Somehow she had scammed her aunt into getting some flowers for her, saying they were going to the grave site. "I'll deal with my aunt later," she said as she gathered the flowers up. This was the first time I'd been in that house since it happened. It was unnerving. Nothing looked changed, except an 8 x 10 picture of the family that had once been a 5 x 7. The smiling eyes of Audrey and Martin seem to stare out at me. So did Ryan's. We retraced the same steps Ryan had used from the lake to the house. There was already a path broken in the snow: Aricka was talking on about the state of her family but I couldn't listen. I kept thinking about Ryan walking the entire distance, wet, and a zombie. I shivered from more then the cold. Aricka led the way, her arms full of roses. I followed. "Ryan's doing good. Doctors say he can come home in a few days. I saw him last night. He misses me, and the family, but he won't talk about Mom and Pop. The doctors say not to force him." I almost tripped over a buried log and stumbled off the path. In the freshly overturned snow, I saw a flash of red. I picked it up and it was a red mitten of some sort. "Aricka? What colour were Ryan's mitts?" Aricka trudged on, without even looking back. ''Red. Why?" I threw it away like it was covered in ants. "No reason." We finally made the windswept lake. I tried to see the other side but the glare from the snow made me squint. Walking on the ice was ~ lot ~asier. The constant wind had packed the snow quite well, giving It a httle padding, almost like walking on long grass. The wind howled by us as I stupidly put one foot in front of the other, wishinglwasanywherebuthere. Arickaled theway,agood two feet in front of me. I couldn't help but think that if my family knew I was out here, I might as well go through the ice. I tried to look through ~he blinding glare to make sure nobody could see us, or even just Identify me. Suddenly Aricka stopped, then I stopped. We had been walking for about twenty minutes until we came toa place where it was obvious a lot of people had been standing around. Cigarette butts littered the area, as well as the odd pee stain. The police had been here. And there, 37 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor in the centre of everything, was a refrozen jagged blot in the lake. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, knowing that somewhere beneath it, a couple of hundred feet or so, was a 1970 Ford with two overweight Indians in it. And they would probably be there forever. Aricka stood there for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and walked forward. Her foot gingerly tested the new ice but by then it had frozen solid enough to support the weight of a 13 year-old girl. She walked to the centre of the blot, and kneeled. She put the roses down gently and seemed to petthem for a moment. Freezing, but not wanting to say anything, I shuffled from one foot to another. "Good bye, Mom, Pop. I'll remember you." I think she was crying but I couldn't see because of her coat hood. In the coldness of the lake, I was worried the tears might freeze. We remained like that for a few minutes before she stood up and started walking back to the shore. Thanking God with every step, I followed. Without looking at me, she had to shout above the blowing of the wind. "It's over now. Thanks, Andrew." Even out on that frigid lake, I felt a little warmer. Then she stopped and turned around. She had been crying. "I know you didn't want to come but you did. I knew nobody else would come with me. Or they'd try and talk me out of it. Thanks so much." Then surprise number two happened. She grabbed me and hugged me. A little embarrassed but instinctively my hands went around her. She wasn't crying or anything, it just felt like she wanted to hold on to something. Out on that barren lake, I guess I was the only thing. After that, we quietly went home. Ryan came home a few days later, looking more sombre then ever. They had managed to put some weight on him but he still looked small. Hoping for another hug and kiss I went over to visit them. Ryan almost looked normal, but there was still something about him, something that hovered about him crying out that this kid has seen some seriously scary stuff. He still wouldn't talk about his parents, or what really happened that day. All the doctors were worried about that but Ryan didn't care. Neither did Aricka. She was just happy to have him back. And to think just two weeks ago, she had called him a little scum. By the summer Ryan had pretty well become his old self. He was playing with his old friends again, doing things, even laughing. There was a big party on his tenth birthday. I was there, and I even managed to bring William. It was held down at his aunt's place near the tip of the lake. After all the festivities had happened, everybody decided to go swimming. The lake was alive with the sound of splashing and laughing kids. All except for Ryan. He refused to go in the water. He just sat on the dock watching, occasionally waving. But he never went in the water that day. He blamed it on a cold he had bu tthere was something more. The fact that he never went swimming, canoeing, fishing, anything water-related ever again in his life, let me believe I was on to something. Aricka just shrugged it off. "He'll get over it. Don't worry." Aricka and I were spending a lot of time together. By the first anniversary of the accident, we were officially an item. Again she talked me into accompanying her out onto the ice, and again we putthe roses down, though we had trouble finding the exact spot. We hung out together until we were 17, and then the time came for me to go off to college. It was an amiable separation, we just grew apart. She got a new boyfriend and every time that anniversary rolled around, she'd drag that poor sucker out onto the ice with her. Same with the one after him. But eventually she married a guy from the reserve a couple years ago and moved to Peterborough, about a half hour from home. Ryan did well at school, even became a decent baseball player, but he never left the Reserve for any length of time. He never had the inclination to go anywhere or do anything. He still lives in his parents house and I'd see them occasionally when I came home. I even went out drinking with Ryan a few times. And whenever I wasn't around, William would keep me informed as to what was happening around the village. William was quite happy. He ran the local marina and living with a beautiful girl named Angela. He had everything he wanted, except a charge account at the beer store. Me? I kicked around the city a bit, doing a little of this, a little of that. I came home every couple of months, though, to recharge my batteries. I finally came home two years ago at the ripe old age of 24. Now I had a steady girlfriend, and an occasional job at the band office, whenever they threw me a contract like somebody throws a dog a bone. But in my two years back home, I realized more then ever how true that old saying was. 'The more things change, the more they stay the same.' The village had a few more houses, a little less forest. In some of the local bars, I ran into cousins I used to babysit. These little things didn't add up to much when you considered that the tone of the village was the same. To this day, most people didn't know what was going on up at the band office, and didn't really care. Old people still sat by their window looking out at the cars driving by, dogs running every- 38 39 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor where fertilizing the world. Home was home, what could you say? It was winter again and I was back staying at my mother's when Aricka called. It was the first time I'd spoken with her in almost a year or so. Teenage romances are hardly binding ten years later. Especially when you live in two different towns. "Andrew? I hate calling you like this out of the blue butl need your help." She still had that breathless quality aboutthewayshe talked. When we were young I think it came from girlish enthusiasm, her brain working faster then her mouth, but now I feared it was from too many cigarettes. "You sound serious, what's up?" "It's anniversary time." I knew it was this week. You didn't forget a thing like that butl had long ago stopped being a part of her ritual. "Yeah, I remember. I hear you still go out on the ice with them flowers of yours." "Not this year. I'm pregnant, Andrew. The doctor says I could deliver anytime. He and Richard won't allow me to go out on the ice this year." I almost dropped the phone in surprise. "Don't tell me you want me to go out there!" She was quick to respond. "Now calm down, Andrew. Richard offered to but Ryan told him no. He wants to do it." "But he never goes out on the lake, summer or winter." "Well, he is this year. I don't feel right about it. It scares me. You know he's never been right about water since the accident. Something could happen out there." I knew where this was leading. "Yeah, so?" There was a deep breath on the other end. "Go with him, Andrew. Make sure everything's all right." "Why me? You've got more cousins and relatives then you know what to do with. I don't want to sound rude but why me?" "I was thinking about that too," her voice got softer. "You brought Ryan out of what ever he was in, remember, in the hospital? And you wentoutwithmethatfirsttime. Iknewyoudidn'twanttogobutyou did. It has to be you, Andrew. Promise me you will?" I was silent for a moment. Those feelings from thirteen years ago came back to the pit of my stomach. I was cornered. "You win. I'll go." Aricka was ecstatic. She thanked me profusely but I barely heard her. I was thinking about how to handle this. I'd found that as you get older, your sense of courage tended to evaporate, disappear like the wind that blows across frozen lakes. I had promised I would go, but I wouldn't go alone. I immediately phoned up my buddy, my pal William. He was not pleased, even less than me. "I don't even like the guy. It's your promise, you deal with it." Luckily the gods had allowed me to go to a hockey tournament a few months back with William. There we met these two girls from another Reserve and, well, so on. Also as the gods would allow, I had Angela's phone number, his long-suffering girlfriend. I casually mentioned this to William. You have to do these things with William, just to keep him in line. That's what friends are for. He was flustered for a moment. "I'll tell Barb," he said. "Then you'll be in trouble." I could hear the smile growing in his voice. I wasn't going out with Barb atthe time. "See you tomorrow at five. Bye." Before he could protest, I hung up. I picked him up in my car the following day. He was glum, cranky and generally not impressed with me. ''I hope you're happy," he said. I was, sort of, as happy as I could be, under the conditions. "Let's just get this over with." Good old William, the milk of humanity overflowed in him. We arrived at Ryan's house, and it had changed little since that winter thirteen years before. Maybe a little more run down (bachelors are like that), but not much. Ryan was already sitting on the porch, his hair blowing in the stiff wind. A bouquet of half-frozen flowers on the porch beside him. You could tell he didn't want to do this, even from this distance but he had to. Something inside was going to make him do it. It was necessary. Like going to the dentist. "I really don't want to do this, Andrew," said William. "Neither do I, but we gotta." "My, aren't we plural these days?" Once our car stopped in his driveway, he got up and walked over, breath pouring out of his mouth like a little steam engine. I opened my window to talk to him. "Hey Ryan, ready to go?" Instead, he opened my door and motioned for me and William to get out. "Let's cut through the woods. It will be quicker than driving around to the lake, then walking. It's about half the distance." William looked at me with worry. We would be following the same path Ryan took coming back from the accident, and we were going to 40 41 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor the lake to remember the accident. This was becoming too much for William, almost too much for me. Ryan motioned for us to get out of the vehicle again and we did. I could hear William muttering under his breath, "You owe me big, Andrew." "Well, let's go." Ryan closed the door behind me and started walking across his yard towards the woods a hundred feet distant. He quickly grabbed the flowers and nestled them in his arms. William and I followed along like ducklings behind their mother, every once in a while William giving me a shove to remind me he was here at my insistence, or actually, threat. Nobody said anything until we reached the lake. I'd never been one for ice fishing. I always found it too cold, and the fish was never tasty enough to warrant the cold. Still, I always found myself out on the lake for one reason or another at least once a year, the same with William. But this was the first time for Ryan in all these years, winter or summer. He stopped walking just short of the ice. He looked out across the frozen expanse. I couldn't tell if he was working up nerve or lost in thought. "It'sbeensolong,Iwasn'tsurewhereitwas." Hisvoicewasalmost lost in the rushing wind. "Aricka sort of gave me directions. A little off to the right of the spit, she said." We all mentally found the spit, then the direction. "That way, I guess." Nobody moved. Again William was muttering to himself, "Oh Angela, where are you? Your arms are so warm? February on our Reserve can make you very romantic." Then suddenly Ryan was out on the ice, walking at a brisk pace. We were a good ten feet behind him before we started moving to catch up. Other than the wind, the only thing we could hear was the dry crunching of lake snow under our three sets of boots. Again we walked in a row, barely able to keep up with Ryan. There were old skidoo tracks all around us. It would have made walking a lot easier by following them but Ryan had his own course set. Approximately half way to our destination William finally said something aloud. "For God's sakes, Ryan, slow down. My sweat is freezing." Ryan stopped and looked around. "Oh sorry, I wasn't thinking. Actually, I was thinking too much." "What's the hurry?" William looked miserable, his hands shoved way down deep in his pockets. Ryan started to walk again. "No hurry, just lost in thought. It's all so familiar. Except it's not snowing." Again William muttered to himself, "Give it time." 42 We were walking again but not so fast. The shoreline was slowly drifting off behind us, and we were squinting now from the glare. William tightened his hood to keep the wind out. "Been a while,huh, Ryan?" Ryan looked like he wasn't listening but he was. "Yeah, a while." He kept walking. "You two didn't have to come with me, you know. I could have handled it myself." "I know but your sister asked me as a favour. You know I could never say no to Aricka." This was true even now, pregnant and all. "I almost wish you hadn't come, Andrew. You make it more real. I remember the two of you at the hospital, then the crying. It's like I'm 9 years old again." The wind started to pick up and we soon found ourselves shouting three feet from each other. In another few minutes we'd be there. "You know, I always told people I really couldn't remember what went on that day, when they died. Actually Ido but I never wanted to talk about it. At the time I thought it was nobody's business, not even Aricka's. She wasn't there, she didn't see anything. Now I don't know." We were approaching the channel; a couple hundred feet to the left was the other shore. The ice would still be quite safe but it was like looking over the edge of a tall building, you knew you were safe but... "I was sitting in the back, the window was open. You remember how I used to get car sick? Dad was cursing about the snow, worried that he might be lost. Mom had just told me to roll it up, it was too cold to have it open. That's when it happened." "The car just lurched, dropped and I was thrown to the floor. Mom was screaming and I heard Dad call my name. Then I felt wet, and very cold. I climbed on the back seat, and saw water coming in my open window. I don't know if it was instinct or what but I jumped through that window so fast its all a blur." William and I felt like we were being told a ghost story, in a very ghostly place, with a very ghostly person. It wasn't a very warm feeling. I was beginning to wish Angela was here too. "I was only little then," Ryan continued speaking. "So the ice could hold me up. I crawled across the broken ice to the solid stuff. It was cold, so damn cold, but it soon went away. I actually felt numb, then warm after awhile. All the time I could hear Mom and Dad behind me. They were trying to open their doors, but because of the water pressure, the doors wouldn't open." "You don't have to tell us this." William said what I was thinking. 43 Drew Hayden Taylor Drew Hayden Taylor I don't think Ryan heard, either because of the wind, or the memory. "I remember sitting on the ice, crying. The water was up to the windows, and there were bubbles everywhere. It looked like it was boiling. Morn rolled down her window and tried to crawl through but she was kinda big. She wouldn't fit, I've never seen her try so hard at anything. She actually looked wedged in the window, then she reached for me, like she wanted me to pull her out, or maybe pull me in with her. I don't know. But the look on her face ... It was then the car went under the water, withalargeploppingsound. ltwasn'tthereanyrnore. There were more bubbles then her purse floated to the surface." Ryan stopped both talking and walking. Evidently we had reached the spot, or as close to it as we were going to find, both in his memory and our reality. He was looking down at the ice about six feet ahead of him. "I just sat there for the longest time. I was nine years old, I didn't really know what was going on. I was scared, cold, in shock. After that it gets kind of blurry. I guess I found my way home." Way over on the other side of the lake, I could see a car driving across the ice, heading to the reserve. I wished I was in it. "Is this why you've never been out on the lake since?" "I guess. I just remember my Mom reaching for me. They're still out here, you know. Somewhere below us. They never found the bodies." William stamped his feet from both impatience and cold. "Can we get on with this please?" "You're right. Let's get this over with." Ryan walked ahead a bit, then kneeled down and placed the flowers quietly on the ice. Then he started to stroke the flowers, like he was afraid to leave them. "Since the accident, I've always been afraid of this place. But Jesus, I'm twenty-two years old! You've got to stop being afraid at some point. In all this time I've never been able to say goodbye to them. After all, its only water, right?" "Good bye Dad. Good bye Mom." He stood up and turned to face us, a slight smile on his face. "I was always Mom's favourite." It was then he went through the ice. It all happened so quickly. There was a sharp cracking noise, Ryan looked down, and then, like bread in a toaster, he slid straight down into the water, the ice buckling around the edge of the hole. A plume of water rushed up to take his place for a scant few seconds before falling onto the ice. Then there was silence, even the sound of our breathing had stopped. We stood there for a moment, not believing what we've just seen. I remember instinctively racing for the hole and William grabbing 44 me and wrestling me to the ground. I tried to crawl to the hole but he held me. "Forget it man, he's gone. He's under the ice somewhere. We'll never find him." William was right, there was no sign of Ryan in the three-foot hole, just the occasional bubble. "Come on, man. Lets just get the hell out of here. Tell the police." We stood up. I looked at the hole again, not knowing what to do. "Don't, Andrew, let's go." William grabbed my arm and turned me towards home. We slowly headed back to the shore. William took one last look backwards. "Like he said, he always was his mother's favourite." On the way back, it started to snow. That was three days ago. Three long days ago. We told the police; they went out with divers but never found anything. I never thought they would. The community went into mourning, and the funeral was today. Even drunk I found it mildly amusing- them burying a body they never found. Poor William. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, he doesn't drink. From what I've heard he hasn't come out of his house in the last few days, won't take calls either. The police had to practically threaten to arrest him if he didn't give them a statement. And here I sit, waiting for the waitress to walk by so I can order another drink. I keep seeing Ryan disappearing into the ice over and over and over again. I now have a new respect for alcoholics and why they drink. While I don't think this phase will last forever (I'm really a terrible alcoholic), it will hopefully last till I have new thoughts to think, and new memories. I have just enough time to make last call. I manage to flag down the waitress as she passes. She nods at me. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Double Rye and coke, no ice." The End. 45 Sheila Sanderson William Oanasan Death and Life at the Round Valley Reservation 1 across the salty distance and decades of grief since Hiroshima shadows of holocaust fall over the valley and earth 2 turn the clouds of fire and carnage toward yellow poppies, blackberries and acorns the way leaves of cherry trees and rice stalks tum sunlight in Hiroshima 46 Power: Who Really Pays the Cost? Since the dawn of capitalism, industrialized societies have expanded at unprecedented rates. One fundamental factor which has enabled this rapid expansion has been the ability to fulfill increasing energy demands. John Bodley (author of Anthropology and Contemporary Human Problems) has warned that "Resources are being consumed at a rate greater than they are being produced by natural, biological or geological processes ... " (1985:38). He has determined that this effect is not strictly due to an increase in population, but rather the result of a problem of over-consumption in industrialized societies (1985:39). Within the context of Canadian society, the relationships between overpopulation and over-consumption are easily illustrated, particularly with regard to urban centers and industry. The denser populations of Canada's southern regions tend to over-consume and thus require more and more energy to sustain themselves as time progresses. Industry promotes the consumption of goods which they produce by making them appear desirable, and even necessary. The production of many of these goods requires a significant amount of energy. As the population density of cities rises, industry grows and demands for energy increase. However, as the film The Limits of Growth has indicated, the expansion of industry and its energy requirements cannot continue very much longer wi thou trisking a total collapse of the systems which sustain us. In an effort to meet new and growing demands for energy, Canada's federal and provincial governments have sought out new sources of energy which are relatively inexpensive to tap and which are regarded as sustainable. The hydroelectric potential of Canada's many large river systems is enormous. Waldram has noted that while "small scale water power projects have (historically) been common throughout the country... .it is only in the last few decades that engineering developments have produced a dramatic change in the focus of hydro development" (1988:7). This focus has shifted to mega projects which, although capable of harnessing vast amounts of power, result in consequences which are ecologically disastrous. The cries from the economic and political spheres for affordable power to sustain high rates of growth and consumption seem to have outweighed these ecological considerations. This paper 47 Sheila Sanderson Sheila Sanderson will explore some of the reasons for the extensive government and industry support for hydro projects as well as the motivation behind the opposition which they encounter. The ecological and social consequences of these projects will be examined. The Churchill-Nelson Hydro Diversion Project, which has been in operation since the 1970's (Waldram 1988:119), will serve as the focus for this paper, however, brief references to other Canadian hydro projects will be made for the sake of comparison. In the early 1960' s the governments of Manitoba and Canada began to explore the overwhelming potential for hydro development in northern Manitoba. Preliminary cost-share studies done by the two levels of government indicated that the Churchill and Nelson rivers had, together, an enormous capacity for the production of cheap electricity (Waldram 1988:118). The only problem with the scheme proposed to harness this capacity was that it would, if carried out, result in the complete flooding of a small village known as South Indian Lake. Geography South Indian Lake is located in northern Manitoba in a shallow basin of bedrock on the Churchill River and is approximately 1200 air kilometersnorthofWinnipeg(Newbury 1984:548; Waldram 1988:115). The lake is actually part of the Churchill River and " .. .is composed of several irregularily shaped basins separated by narrow channels and islands" (Newbury 1984:551). South Indian is the tenth largest lake in Canada. It is surrounded by extensive boreal forest, but due to the thinness of the soils and the presence of discontinuous permafrost, extensive agriculture is neither practical nor suitable (Waldram 1988:116). The permafrost soils are roughly 40% water and 60% mineral and organic material (CBC files, Country Canada). Permafrost surrounds most of the lake but does not occur under the basins of the main lake or under its major tributaries because of the waters thermal influence (Newbury 1984:553). The continental climate of the South Indian lake region consists of long cold winters and short cool summers; -50 C is the annual mean temperature (Newbury 1988:552). This was the setting for the establishment of the village of South Indian Lake. 48 History: Although it has been difficult to determine the date of the establishment of the village of South Indian Lake, it is known that people have utilized the region's animal resources for food, furs and trade since the early 1800's