BDRSS Reunion Lightens Heavy Hearts

From the 10 th to the 14th of July, the first Beaufort Delta Residential School Society (BDRSS)

Reunion was held in Inuvik, at SAMS School. John Banksland, chairperson of the society said, “It was five days of very intense emotional upheaval and healing. We ran terrific, everything was done terrifically.”

Ellen Smith, on the Board of Directors for the BDRSS, and one of the first advocates for such a reunion (to bridge the gap between the church, government and residential school survivors), told us her experience.

“I’ve seen the change in the people who told their stories, they are no longer sad or avoiding direct eye contact. It’s a load off their shoulders. Me too, I let go of a lot of things, I feel much lighter. I told my story for the first time, and now it’s documented to help my children, my grandchildren and my great grandchildren. Children of our future will read our history and know what happened to us.”

There were apologies and recognition of the injustices of the residential school system by both church and state. John said, “Father Matthew Ihuoma gave an apology on behalf of the Catholic Church. Although it was done by a priest and not the Bishop Crouteau, who was there earlier, he made such a unique presentation that the reunion became very touching. A lot of us have attended school under the Catholic Church so it was a timely apology and allowed a certain amount of closure for those who were affected.”

There were facilitation sessions for those who wanted to tell their stories in smaller groups, and the Aboriginal Healing Foundation videotaped the survivor’s stories.

“Bea Shawana, Gerri Staples, Mike Benson, Archie Norbert, Julia Trennert; all the facilitators did terrific jobs,” said John, “We adjusted the agenda a little on the second last day because we found out many more students wanted to tell their stories. We didn’t even have a proper closing ceremony because it was so important for us to accommodate these people.”

Along the length of an entire wall in the school hall, paper had been put up so students can “write down the names of those we lost due to the residential school system.” Ellen said, “It was done because the reunion was dedicated to their memory. A lot of us have gone through the residential school system, and ended up adopting unhealthy lifestyles with drugs and alcohol to escape the pain. Some of us even tried to go the south, to run away, and they died living that lifestyle . As a facilitator, I’ve of

We burn it afterwards, instead of holding onto it, it be away gracefully by the wind. The pain might come back again, but if you repeat the exercise, the pain will lessen eventually.”

John added, “So many people have held their stories for so long that they have died. There was an old gentleman who went to a reunion in Edmonton last year, but he had a heart attack before telling his story.”

Ellen said she learnt from this experience that the next time round, more translators are needed to help elders communicate. “My heart goes out to them, we had the budget but there weren’t translators available for hire. With the elders we need to be very careful, they are not public people and they need a safe place.” She suggested that the elders be given their own space next time, and that families and youth be involved too, but in a separate area, so they can be informed to understand the impact of the residential school system, "even if they did not go through it.” said Ellen. “It was wonderful to know that they are beginning their journey of healing, although it is painful at first. I hope they will remember that they’ve a lot of gifts; they just need to look inside themselves."

“We pass the impact onto our children. This pattern has to be broken, we are trying to shut this “legacy” down by making it part of our history. The first phase is truth and reconciliation. The second is commemoration. We could have a memorial erected so it declares the residential school period as part of our history, so we can move on and develop our country and our people, with hardly any baggage to haul behind us.”

“It was unique that the reunion made sure everyone was equally important, regardless of which aboriginal group you came from. We had two Inuk from Labrador, another sixtyfive from Kitikmeot, and it didn't matter where you came from, we are all survivors!”

Attendees of the reunion filled out feedback sheets for the reunion, and judging from the number who rated it beyond excellent, and their messages of “Please do this again!”, the reunion will definitely have to happen again. John and Ellen would like to extend their gratitude to all the organizations and individuals who have made the reunion happen, through their financial support or the volunteering of their knowledge and time. “We only had $235,000 for this, and since we are a society, we’re non-profit. We were all volunteers.” John said.

375 former students came to the reunion, out of the estimated 1,000 who had attended residential school in the region. Regarding the survivors who did not make it to this reunion because they are not ready psychologically, John said, “It’s unfortunate that these people haven’t had the opportunity to understand what happened to them, because they don’t have to continue to carry the load.”

He had reconciled his issues with the Catholic Church in his early twenties, by seeking professional help. Like Ellen, his work experience in healthcare all over the Arctic and Canada makes him acutely aware of the issues faced by these former students. “I am not a healer or an elder who gives advice. At one time I was like any other survivor, I was an alcoholic, and part of my healing was to get rid of the alcoholic problem.”

As Board members of the BDRSS are from all over the Beaufort Delta, Kitikmeot, and the Sahtu region, the next reunion will be situated in another location. Ellen encourages other regions to organize their own reunions too. She said, “If you seek the information, you will find resources available, and people to help you.”

Ellen and John would like to thank:

The Gwich’in Tribal Council, IRC, ICS, Ernie Bernhart, Pauline Gordon, the Aboriginal Healing Foundation, the Indian Residential School Canada, Charlene Barrio, Laura Milonias from the Legacy of Hope, Mike Benson of the National Residential School Society, Mike Degarnier, Wayne Christianson, and especially Stephen Kawfwi, whom John said “took a weight off his shoulders” by stepping in as co-chair.

Itwas not easy for Pauline Gordon when she told her story at the Residential School Reunion, but at the end of the session, she said, “This is so therapeutic for me.” Below is an edited version of her journey, from the difficult days of being a residential school student, to her current success as Assistant Deputy Minister of Education in Yellowknife.

Pauline, whose maiden name is Tardiff, is originally from Aklavik. At the first residential school she attended in Inuvik, breakfast always began with the students being lined up by number or by size. “I was number 143 in junior girls,” said Pauline. I don’t remember the nuns ever calling me by my name. I remember sometimes wishing… that they would hold my hand or touch my shoulder, and recognize that I am human, but it never happened.” were heathens and pagans. “Even though my father was a strict Catholic, very much a churchgoer,” said Pauline.

“I remember being rounded up by the RCMP at the dock to go back to residence, and only my father was there. I recognize now that my mother couldn’t deal...I was the eighth of eleven children, and by then she had suffered too much separation anxiety. I can only imagine what they were going through, the whole community was being gutted of kids.” Her mother used detachment as a way to deal with the pain; she did not touch her children or speak kindly to them. “That was very hard to handle,” said Pauline.

Students

“weren’t supposed to have emotions.” At the age of five, Pauline’s younger sister arrived at residential school, and was punished for running across the dining hall to see her elder brother, “who had packed her around on his back just the day before.” When Pauline became upset, “the nun grabbed me by the hair and told me that my sister broke the rules, so I wasn’t allowed to cry.”

“Our life in residence had so many parallels to military life. You become almost brainwashed into thinking that first of all, you are less than a human being. Secondly, that nobody will ever like you or love you. You are only a number and you should be thankful to be a number; you should be thankful for the food given to you, although it was so foreign to your body and your system.”

Pauline felt forced to pray for a God that seemed “hateful”. “I remember us chuckling as junior girls, sharing our confessions. How many ‘Hail Marys’ did you get?” Students were told that their bodies were “ugly and sinful”; they were not allowed to interact with the opposite sex. “I remember always wanting to tell my parents how things were at school, but being scared,” said Pauline. The nuns said their parents

“My saving grace is that my father is very much a nurturer.” Instead of chastising his children, Pauline’s father reasoned with them when they made mistakes. He also encouraged her to take up opportunities to learn. When she was twelve, she was selected by the Oblates to attend a Mission School in Fort Smith.

“Grandin College gave me everything I thought I would never have. It brought out elements of leadership in me. Father Posha said that as Aboriginal people, we could accomplish anything, and that it didn’t matter if we were of a different color.” Once, when she slacked in her studies, he called her into his office and told Pauline he believed in her abilities. She had expected to be given a strapping, a common punishment at Grollier Hall.

“At that point I realized, God, this guy really does love us, so I deliberately did well.” Pauline worked hard. Her academic excellence made her feel recognized and valued as a person. Life at Grandin College was regimented, but there were lighter moments. “Ernie Bernhart and Gerry Ruben always brought me chocolates, they treated me like a little sister.” Piano classes were another “luxury”