VOLUME 1 • ISSUE 10
Artist, activist and academic Susan Blight talks about her mission to reclaim her family’s language
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CONTENTS
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10. AUTHENTICALLY OURS:
Published by First Nations House, University of Toronto, 563 Spadina Avenue, Toronto ON, M5S 2J7 ADVISORY COUNCIL: Lee Maracle Daniel Heath Justice DIRECTOR: Jonathan Hamilton-Diabo EDITOR: Cherie Dimaline DESIGN & ART DIRECTION: David Shilling MAAIINGAN Productions www.maaiingan.com
4. FEASTING THE BONES:
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education. Graduate applications and acceptances are growing. Overall, there has been continual movement in ways that Aboriginal students engage with the university.
U of T alumnus Poet Giles Benaway celebrates his first collection published by Kegedonce Press
5. LIVING WITH DIABETES: When your body betrays you Christine McFarlane talks about learning to live (well) with diabetes
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6. NEW BEGINNING ON AN OLD PATH: Janine Manning talks about starting Law School at U of T and the family- new and oldthat motivated her
ON THE COVER:
Photographer: Robert Snache
“Many see the night as an ending. For me it is a refuge. Many things in the night sky evoke wonderment and inspiration. There are many stories in
the dark night and some I have had the pleasure to speak to my spirit and many more I have yet to understand. It is my pleasure to share what I have learned.” - R. Snache
7. RUNNING AWAY AND TOWARDS EXCELLENCE: York University scholar Jesse Thistle shares his incredible journey from the streets to the halls of academia
DIRECTOR’S WELCOME Jonathan Hamilton-Diabo Things do not change; we change. -Henry David Thoreau Over the past 20 years, First Nations House has been a place for the University and Aboriginal community to come together. Over that time, numerous changes have occurred: the people; the space and what is provided. A noticeable transformation has been the students. Not only have I have seen the difference in the number of Aboriginal students attending in my 13 years at U of T, but also in the diversity in terms of age and academic interests. The student body is getting younger; more are coming from high school or college programs. There is an increase of participation in second-entry programs, such as law, medicine and
These changes, however, must be reflected in what we offer to students. Approaches that have been in place for many years do not have the same impact today. The means that students receive information has drastically been altered through new technology and media (Facebook anyone?). To remain relevant and effective, First Nations House must become a fluid organization. To meet this challenge, FNH has established a new vision and mission. There will be a stronger emphasis on building supports for students to continue their education beyond the first degree. We will look to strengthen our working relationships within the University and the outside community to develop opportunities that will bridge academic learning to real-life teachings. We will strive to encourage students explore their own interests and to grow. What will not change is our focus being a welcoming place. First Nations House has always been referred to as a “home away from home.” I would like to share my own little upgrade to this portrayal… FNH: where the House is a Home. (Oh yeah, and we STILL have coffee.)
CONTRIBUTORS: Susan Blight Giles Benaway Jesse Thistle Janine Manning Christine McFarlane PHOTOGRAPHY: Robin Sutherland David Shilling EDITORIAL: Jessicka Loduca Brendan Martyn PRINTER: LM Print Solutions, lmprintsolutions@rogers.com Special thanks to MTCU for supporting FNH Magazine VOLUME 1, Issue 10 FNH accepts no responsibility for unsolicited materials. FNH assumes no responsibility for content or advertisements. Submissions: unsolicited manuscripts will not be returned unless accompanied by a stamped return envelope. To request your copy of FNH Magazine, contact us at: www.fnhmagazine.com. SUBMISSIONS: If you are interested in writing for FNH magazine, please contact us at: editor@fnhmagazine.com
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Indigenous women in a subtle and unexpected manner.
photo: Robin Sutherland
“The plus of being an emerging writer, is that you have a little bit more time to really hone your craft and there are still a lot of the older generation of Indigenous writers around to learn from and to build community with,” Benaway says. “And now, looking ahead, I get to continue that conversation forward in my other work and see it reflected in the work of other Indigenous writers around me.”
Feasting the Bones: Giles Benaway’s new collection Ceremonies for the Dead
between the living and the dead,” he said. “Ceremonies for the Dead was my attempt to start the conversation about re-connecting those ties.”
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He asserts that through memory, through remembering, and then speaking about it bonds can be re-built, that the answer is in the stories.
or an emerging poet, Giles Benaway has an unexpectedly frank demeanour about his first published collection of poetry, Ceremonies for the Dead. It’s the start of a conversation,” he says. “The beginning point of a larger exploration into ancestry and inheritance that many other Indigenous writers are also engaging with.” Released in May 2013, the collection is already turning heads with mediations on loss and regeneration, culture and identity. “I hear from a lot people, that when they read the title of the collection, they really expect something darker or really depressing,” Benaway adds before laughing. “But once they read it, people come back and say that they found it to be more empowering than anything else.” Empowerment is a common theme in Indigenous literature today, framing the narrative of many pivotal works of Indigenous literature, including other critically acclaimed collections from Kegedonce Press, such as Marilyn Dumont’s A Really Good Brown Girl or Gregory Scofield’s Love Medicine and One Song. Benaway’s version of empowerment is unique, as he places the focus directly on reconnection to the dead as a means to address colonization and oppression. “I think for me, one of the costs of colonization and trauma is the break down of bonds between generations,
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The pieces in the collection, about 80 individual poems in total, are far ranging but loosely tied around the process of re-connecting to ancestry. At times, the collection feels a bit disorganized, moving towards discussions of abuse, sexuality, and even one humorous piece about leaving an angry voicemail on an ex’s cell phone. Benaway defends the collection’s wide scope, saying “I wanted the collection to be more of a conversation, more of a dialogue between the reader and myself, as opposed to a really focused narrative,” he said. “It’s the difference between attending a lecture by a noted academic and getting together with some friends and gossiping about your lives.” It’s easy to engage with Benaway’s work and some of the pieces in the collection demonstrate a keen eye for using description to underplay narrative meaning with an unexpected edge that cuts finely. One piece, “Rodeos”, a description of his grandmother’s reaction to his grandfather’s death, manages to speak to the legacy of violence against
Currently working on a young adult novel and a second collection of poetry, Benaway is hopeful for the future of Indigenous writing. “I think we’re really moving forward as storytellers and as writers, really pushing out of that ‘Muskoka Pine Tree’ box that we’ve been placed into,” he said. “And our younger generation, the one behind us, are really starting to take their rightful places as premier storytellers in their own rights.” Although, future not-withstanding, Benaway says it’s still hard as an Indigenous writer to be taken seriously by the non-Indigenous mainstream literary community. “I remember being told that I couldn’t be booked in to read a venue because it was past their ‘Aboriginal’ month and so they couldn’t book me until next year,” he said. “Meanwhile, they have a poetry month coming up in December, but I guess I didn’t qualify for that because there is a difference between being an ‘Aboriginal poet’ and being a ‘poet’. Far from being discouraged, Benaway sees the prevailing attitude as a challenge to be met. “It’s motivating, really, to be so undervalued like that,” he said. “We’re not only going to break into the mainstream, we’re going to transform it; keep our culture and worldview, but succeed in all ways.” Keeping with the irreverent nature of his first collection, he adds, “And probably throw better parties.”
Living with Diabetes: When your body betrays you Alumnus Christine McFarlane talks about her own struggle with the disease so prevalent in Indigenous communities across North America. It was around 11 years ago that I came home from my doctor’s office after some routine blood work with the resounding words “you have diabetes” spinning around in my head. At first, those three words didn’t quite register and I got angry instead. I was also in major denial and refused to believe that it was up to me to reverse the diagnosis and take control of my own health. According to the Canadian Type 2 Diabetes Source Book, by M. Sara Rosenthal, “Diabetes is a disease in which your blood glucose or sugar levels are too high. Insulin is a hormone that helps the glucose get into your cells to give them energy. Insulin is made by your beta cells, the insulin producing cells within the islets of Langerhanssmall islands of cells afloat in your pancreas.” With Type 1 diabetes, your body does not make insulin. With Type 2 diabetes, which is what I was diagnosed with, your body does not make or use insulin well. Your system can end up making too much insulin, and your body does not recognize it. Without enough insulin, glucose stays in your blood, and when there is too much glucose in your blood, it can lead to serious problems. Among some of the more serious effects, diabetes can damage your eyes, kidneys and nerves, can cause heart disease, stroke and, as extreme as it seems, can lead to the amputation of a limb. Your pancreas is functioning, but your muscle, fat, and liver cells refuse to
use the insulin properly. This is called ‘insulin resistance’. Conditions that can lead to Type 2 diabetes are high cholesterol and obesity. For me, because I didn’t know my biological family’s medical history, I didn’t know if diabetes ran in my family, but after years of battling eating disorders and going from one extreme to another, it is possible that this is what caused me to get Type 2 diabetes.
a blood glucose monitor and strips to test my blood sugar levels three times a day. Part of my treatment included going over my diet to make the necessary changes for me to bring levels to a normal range, and becoming more physically active. I started walking more and I enrolled at the YMCA, and as I incorporated these activities into my every day life, it became a lot easier for me to see that living with diabetes didn’t have to be debilitating.
Other possible risk factors include being a member of a high risk group (Aboriginal, Hispanic, Asian, South Asian or African descent), you have other immediate family members with Type 2 diabetes, you already have health complications that are associated with diabetes, you have given birth to a baby that weighed more than 9lbs, gestational diabetes, impaired glucose tolerance or impaired fasting glucose etc.
It took at least five years of regular appointments with my endocrinologist, being cautionary about what I ate, and being as physically active as I could before my diabetes finally got under control. My turning point was when my blood sugar levels were reaching 27 and, despite being on the medications, I was warned that if my levels didn’t go down that I would have to go on insulin. To be told I would have to take insulin kicked me into high gear because not only was I relatively young (early 30s) but I also could not fathom sticking a needle into my arm or leg every day just because I was being stubborn about what I could do to change my health.
Treatment for my Type 2 diabetes began almost immediately. After several discussions with my family doctor, it was arranged for me to visit a specialist-an endocrinologist at St. Joseph’s Health Centre of Toronto.
This change in attitude helped me in many ways. It helped me to go off my anti-glycemic medication; it had me realize that it was within my own control that I could change how I lived with diabetes. Managing Type 2 diabetes is a regular part of my day-to-day life. I now only have to take a pill to help keep my ketone levels down, a cholesterol lowering medication and go for blood work every six months. However with my last checkup I was told that soon I will be able to go off that medication, and that makes me quite happy. I no longer have to see my endocrinologist. It is fine for me to just see my family doctor, and I know that if my diabetes ever started acting up again, that I have the choice to go back to a specialist.
At my initial appointment, I did not really want to listen when she told me, “As an Aboriginal woman, you are at a higher risk of getting Type 2 diabetes, but your weight also plays a huge factor, and you need to get it under control, with lifestyle changes to your diet and exercise.” I had to accept that despite being on medication for other health reasons, I also had to be put on preventative medications to help bring my blood sugar levels down. These medications involved taking a cholesterol lowering drug, a blood pressure-lowering drug and an anti-hyperglycemic pill which is a medication that helped my insulin to work better I also had to get
Though I would like to pretend that I don’t have diabetes anymore, I still have to be extremely careful about my food intake and physical activity. Living with diabetes, is a life altering condition, but it is something that you can regain control of.
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photo: Robin Sutherland
New Beginnings on an Old Path
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ighteen years ago, I would cry myself to sleep in my bed at the shelter for Native women. All I wanted then was a room, a minimum wage job, and to get my high school diploma. Through all those fitful nights of anger and tears, I could not imagine anything more for myself. Yet, here I am: a recent university graduate en route to law school at U of T despite prematurely leaving home at 15. Most importantly, I am a mother now and when you are a child’s everything, being more isn’t so hard to imagine.
My life seems to have always been affected by colonial law and injustice in one way or another; I suppose it isn’t much different for other Native people. Thankfully, my mother drilled it into me to “use my voice” when I didn’t agree with the actions by Janine Manning and words of others. My Great-Grandmother, a woman of few words, once pointed her lips at Kim Campbell on the TV. (Canada’s only female Prime Minister to date) and said, “That could be you, you can talk.” I have always taken this to mean that I could be a female politician, not a Conservative! These women in my family and their encouragement were foundational to my personal development even though I took the scenic route; getting a GED instead of my high school diploma, and having my son before starting university, among other things. I volunteer with at-risk youth, and when I introduce myself I always let them know that I was once where they are now and that to leave school doesn’t mean you can’t go back, it just means you probably have some personal crap to take care of first. I’m still not sure what they’ll have me do in law school or what I’ll do when I am done. But, I know it will make my voice stronger and my family and community better for it. In the meantime, I have the summer to prepare my 4 year-old for junior kindergarten and myself for a new beginning on an old path. Janine Manning, whose spirit name is Osh Kwe Ah Nung is a member of the Anishnawbe Nation from Neyaashiinigmiing. Janine holds an Honours BA in Environmental Studies from York University and will be starting the U of T Law Program in the fall. She is the proud mother of 4-year-old Tarquinius, her inner child’s best friend
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RUNNING AWAY AND TOWARDS EXCELLENCE: Jesse Thistle’s Story My story begins with my parents: my Cree/Metis mother was an alcoholic and my Metis/Scot father was an intravenous drug addict. From what I have been told, my mother suffered greatly at the hands of my abusive father who would beat her and us (my two brothers and I) whenever he was out of money or having a bad trip, which by all accounts seems to have been a very common occurrence. After more than a half decade of domestic violence my mother left. She, after all, was 16 years old when she had my oldest brother Joshua, 17 when she had Jerry, and 18 when she had me. It is little wonder why she ran when one considers that she was a child having children; this, compounded by the strain of hardcore addictions and an abusive husband, forced her to flee for her life. I do not hold any grudges toward her. It was only after I reconnected with her during my stay in a rehabilitation facility for my own addictions that I understood the degradation and personal hell that drug and alcohol abuse could bring to a person’s life. We were left in the sole custody of my father. His addiction to speed and heroin meant he was always on the hunt for money and struggling to keep the better part of his mental faculties from slipping into a paranoid psychosis. One day my father, desperately suffering from dope sickness, decided that he was going to rob the corner store with a butcher knife and get money to feed his habit. He told us as he left that morning
that he would be back in five minutes and not to worry —it was the last time I ever saw him. His plan failed. He foolishly decided to rob multiple convenience stores by way of get-away taxi. Upon running out of the second store with a fistful of money he was apprehended and brought in for processing. Out of fear of losing us, he did not inform the police that my brothers and I were unattended at the apartment during the whole ordeal. I figure that he thought if he just didn’t tell anyone about us he could post bail, get out of jail, and take us away without Children’s Aid being involved thereby preserving the nucleus of our dysfunctional family. Unfortunately, things did not turn out as planned, and regardless of his intentions, his misunderstanding of the severity of his crime left my brothers and I grossly neglected. Notwithstanding, his desire to rescue us did exhibit a twisted form of protection guided by fatherly love, and as fantastically desperate and unrealistic as his rescue plan was, it is the only love I have ever known from the man. The first couple of days after my father’s botched robbery we became very hungry, so my brothers and I, knowing there was a hockey arena across the street, went and begged in front of it for change. We bought hot dogs and shared bites, each taking our turn trying to quell our hunger. This pattern of begging, staving off starvation, and returning to an empty,
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Jesse Thistle’s Story continued... parentless, apartment continued for about three weeks until a Catholic Children’s Aid worker --who took their kid to hockey practice in the arena where we hustled-- noticed that we had been doing this for some time. Once they understood what had happened they took us into their custody immediately. In this way I was taken out of my community and adopted out. I was three years old.
family for two generations was a no-brainer. Fortunately for me, my sentence could be commuted into a one-year’s stay at a minimum security drug and alcohol treatment facility/ prison, whereby I was to complete the treatment without incident or relapse. The judge knew that I was a criminal by consequence of my addictions and situation —not by career choice. I jumped at the opportunity. That treatment was the hardest thing I ever did in my whole life, and I suspect it will remain that way for the rest of my days. From sun up to sun down I did chores, went to workshops, prayed, sang Bible hymns, took education classes, cleaned, ran 10 kilometers daily, took hygiene courses, studied, did modules, cooked meals for the whole compound, washed mountains of dishes and more. Every night I collapsed in my bed exhausted, and every day I counted as the days of my sobriety lengthened. The judge had extracted his pound of flesh with his decision; one day at the treatment facility was like ten days in federal prison and he knew it. The old fox had tricked me, but in the best possible way. As time passed I grew stronger, first my body, then followed slowly by my mind.
I do not recall most of what happened as I was much too young to remember the tragic events surrounding my transition into adoption. But my brothers do, and the records from the Catholic Children’s Aid corroborate what disturbing details they have relayed to me. It is little wonder, when I look back at the start of my life why I ended up the way I did. I was doomed from the beginning—or so it would seem. ***** Jail and the streets were where my resentments towards my parents, my Days turned culture, and my into months and lot in life ultithe treatment mately cast me. facility eventually That’s my mom, me (centre), and my two brothers in 1979 It was 2006, I offered me the a few months before we were lost. was 138 pounds chance to get my and incarcerated GED in return at Maplehurst Jail in Milton, Ontario. At 6’2” I looked like for all the hard work I was putting in. I had always wanted a walking skeleton. After more than 11 homeless years on to get an education but it was unattainable for me --living the streets I had eroded my health, my mind, and my spirit on the streets and all-- and here it was, falling into my lap. to mere shadows. My broken teeth were rotted out from I studied furiously for three months and took the test and constant crack cocaine use and my muscles had atrophied, to my surprise, I aced it! I got the highest mark in my class, eaten away by a steady diet of stolen whiskey and mouthwash. as well as the highest mark they had ever seen at the recovAddictions to alcohol and drugs had taken root within me ery center, before or since. The administrators and I were as they had taken root in my mother and father, and just like both shocked. Based on my GED performance they decided they had destroyed my nuclear family 32 years earlier, they to enroll me in the academic bridging program for mature threatened to destroy me. students at Carleton University, where again I got the highest mark in my class. The accomplishments were piling up faster Maplehurst, as treacherous a jail as it is, was the one thing and greater than I ever imagined; sustained sobriety, GED, that scared me into wanting to change and for that I am acing the bridging program, running marathons, quitting thankful. After hearing a guy beaten to death over a bag of smoking, reconnecting with my family; I even got my rotten chips a couple of ranges over, my decision to get sober and teeth fixed. Finally my year was up and I graduated from the end the cycle of addiction and crime that had dominated my program. I emerged brimming with confidence and thankful
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to have a second chance at life. I have been sober for almost five years now and my life has continued on much the same path as I have described above. I am currently enrolled at York University where I am studying Aboriginal History in the hopes that one day I will be able to pass on my people’s story and culture to future generations. As well, I am involved in the Aboriginal community at York University in the form of ASAY (Aboriginal Students Association at York): last year I was the Internal/External Relations Officer, this year I am the Vice President. I have also written multiple chapters of a book which will be published by the Homeless Hub in October 2013, based out of the York University Research Tower headed by Dr. Stephen Gaetz. The short story I wrote details my experience as an addict on the streets of Toronto, but I also helped other homeless survivors tell their story. Hopefully the book will raise public awareness about homelessness and help deconstruct the apathy that society has toward urban poverty.
history through genealogy and locate past historical trauma, then write about it. I am doing this because a lot of the history pertaining to Metis people is yet unwritten, and what has been written has been white-washed by Canadian scholars. Moreover, most of the elders who know the true, untold, history of the Metis are dying and will take the history with them if I do not write it down —I can’t let that happen. Maria Campbell and Professor Carolyn Podruchny are the co-investigators and both understand the urgency of recording this valuable history. It should be known, the project is far beyond the scope of second year undergrads, but judging by my performance thus far in academe, York University has decided that I am more than equipped to execute such a lofty endeavor, and to prove it they have funded my research. Finally, I am co-author of an academic publication (Erin Konsmo, Jessica Danforth, Dr. Kim Anderson, Jennifer Rankin, and myself) that came out this spring titled Environmental/ Land Justice for Metis Women and Youth as HIV Prevention. Spiritually speaking, I am a fire helper for Anishinaabe Professor Robin Cavanaugh at the new Tipi that was erected at York University on February 8, 2013. This is something I continue to do with bursting pride and humble honor.
Academically speaking, I have been nominated for York’s Desmond Hart Memorial Award two years in a row (best history essay at York University per grade level). I also hold an 8.86 grade point average for my major (History) and an overall grade point average of 8.50. Because of I do not feel that these grades, my marks I have won the 2013 allotments, or achievements Women’s Canadian Historical represent the full scope of my Society of Toronto Award for accomplishments. The thousands the highest grade-point average of little untold victories in my at York University in History, journey from homeless addict the Martin Krever Award for to academic are my real achieveThis photo was taken when I did a smudge to open academic excellence in History, ments and they are far greater multicultural week at York University in spring 2013. as well as the Arthur Francis in number, and value, than any Williams Award for outstanding of the scholastic accolades. To performance in Canadian Studies. To note, my marks have have come full circle from where I have been and eradicate secured me a spot on the Sessional Academic Achievement addiction, homelessness, crime, and abandonment within my List two years running (York’s highest achievement for an life, my family, and my community is to me the true measure undergrad). More importantly, they have also earned me of my worth and is the criteria which I wish to be known by. membership in York’s Circle of Scholars for a second year in a Marcee Aki. row (one of the top 55 students in a field of 50 000). As well, I am a member of both the Golden Key International Honour Society and have been nominated to be an International CONTENTS PICTURE: Scholar Laureate (fingers crossed, this is the big one). This photo was taken this summer during my research I led a historical research project in Saskatchewan this past June. The goal of the research is to trace back my family’s
and reconnection trip to Saskatchewan. That’s my Aunt Yvonne, me, and my mother Blanche.
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photos (both): Craig Tough
Susan Blight on reclamation of language
We always think we have more time. It has always been my intention to learn my language. I grew up close to my Anishinaabe family and was used to hearing Anishinaabemowin spoken by my beloved grandparents. For reasons too numerous to name here, but ones I’m sure you will know intuitively, I did not grow up speaking the language. As a teen I moved away from my home territory of Couchiching First Nation. I completed three university degrees, had my Anishinaabe name, my clan, remained close to my family, worked on behalf of Aboriginal communities, but only knew enough in the language to introduce myself. In 2011, my grandfather passed on to the ancestor world. I mourned deeply. Within my state of grieving, I felt a keen sense of panic, of urgency, that kept me from sleeping well at night. My grandfather was the last person in our family who spoke Anishinaabemowin fluently. I became acutely aware of time and the realization that I had to commit myself fully to learning the language. I have since completed my second year of language learning. The experience has been one of the most profoundly rewarding things I have ever done. As Anishinaabeg, we understand learning as a lifelong process rooted in experience, reflection, and a holistic sense of one’s self and place in the universe. In the short time that I have been a student of Anishinaabemowin, I have gathered a few thoughts on it, which I’ll relate under the headings of the 7 Grandfather Teachings. Wisdom Wisdom is given by Creator for the good of the people. There is evidence that Indigenous language learning has the
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AUTHENTICALLY OURS:
...much of our time as Indigenous peoples is spent fighting to reclaim what was lost or taken.
potential to correct the academic achievement gap between Indigenous and non-indigenous students as it gives the learner transferable skills, develops mental acuity, and increases the engagement of young people with Elders. Beyond those tangible benefits, the act of language learning strengthens the relationship of the individual to the community, to the nation, and to the ancestors. At the heart of Anishinaabemowin learning is Elders, teachers, and learners working together, transmitting knowledge firmly rooted in our ways of understanding.
strong in our ways. The past cannot be changed but we can move forward with respect for the past generations who understood the importance of land, culture, and language. Jessie Little Doe Fermino of Wampanoag Revitalization Project says, “Language is part of us and part of our genetic structure. Not to acknowledge a part of you is breaking a spiritual law.”
Love Zaagi’idiwin is a term often translated into English as love. The idi particle of zaagi’idiwin indicates that the term refers to something that is reciprocal.
There was a time when our people were criminalized, abused, and ridiculed when speaking Anishinaabemowin but our language survived. We shouldn’t forget that. Use it as strength to go forward. As a “viable” language, Anishinaabemowin may not be in as critical danger of being lost as some Indigenous languages but it still needs to be fought for and heard. , Honesty Anishinaabemowin cannot be learned in a vacuum; it is guaranteed that you will need the expertise of fluent speakers. Reach out to people to help you. Dan Jones, Dennis Jones, Martha Toulouse, Barbara Nolan, Jason Jones, Alo White, Connor Pion, and Alex McKay are among those who have helped me with the language at some point in my journey. The teachers I have known are passionate about the language, passionate about its survival, and are happy to help someone who wants to learn. Seek knowledge in a good way and the language reveals a capacity to reconnect generational and community gaps, important for all Anishinaabeg but particularly so for those that live away from their home community.
Reclaiming and renaming is a profoundly important part of the process of decolonization and the resurgence of our nations. Whether it is defending Aboriginal title or campaigns to change place names to their traditional ones, much of our time as Indigenous peoples is spent fighting to reclaim what was lost or taken. But the language has always been ours and, despite the best efforts of the residential school system, was never lost to us. It is authentically ours, developed over thousands of years in relationship to the land our people walked. Respect Speaking our languages is vital to our understanding of ourselves, our nations, and our place in the universe. Far from incidental, language shapes us culturally, spiritually, and intellectually. To paraphrase author David Treuer, the revitalization of Anishinaabemowin is not just about living on our terms, but in our own terms. Our Anishinaabeg ancestors fought and died for the survival of our nation. We are indebted to them that we are still here,
Bravery Giganoontaakomin. We will be heard.
Humility In Anishinaabemowin, there are multiple ways to say humility and the translations can encompass many different ideas from “considering yourself equal to others but not superior” to
“calmness,” “patience,” and “being of gentle temperament.” To learn the language in a successful way, you are going to have to humble yourself. This can be especially difficult for those of us who work in education, who have completed their university education, or are in the process of doing so. You have to accept that as educated, as erudite, as sublimely proficient as you may be in English, you are not so in Anishinaabemowin. I speak like a child in the language. I make mistakes and say things incorrectly, often to my own embarrassment. Our teachings tell us that strength is expressed through humility. Embrace that. Truth Although we often see debwe translated into English as ‘s/he is telling the truth’, the verb was explained to me as meaning, you know enough about it to be able to speak on it. This seemingly short word tells us so much about who we are as Anishinaabeg and how we relate to each other. The truth is the recovery of Anishinaabemowin will not be easy, it will not be convenient, and you will be faced with obstacles. As I reflect upon our language, I think about the fact that it was not that long ago that a system was designed to take us away from Anishinaabemowin. If we no longer speak the language, does it mean that system worked? The truth is I am nowhere near where I want to be in terms of my knowledge of Anishinaabemowin but I made a promise to someone special to me that as long as I am on this earth, I will not allow the language to be lost. I’ll keep that promise as long as I’m able. Mii-gikendamaan. That’s what I know. The truth is that now is the time.
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New Beginnings My niece had never been on a plane. Never been out of Ontario. Never been off of her Reserve. Now, here she is. At the beginning of the continent.
photo: Robin Sutherland
Ten wonderful days in Newfoundland. Each day we did something different. Museums, birds, foggy valleys, tea, girls with accents, fishermen, sea urchins, spider crabs, capelin, fishcakes, puffins, humpback whales with their calves, funny captains, bald eagles, garden lupin, starfish, fool’s gold, knocking on lighthouse doors, playing on pebble beaches, and sunsets over St. Johns. -Robin Sutherland