Truth and Reconciliation Reading Challenge

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) began work in 2010 and spent six years crossing the country, listening to the testimony of over 6,750 witnesses and taking part in nearly 900 events.  Most of these witnesses were survivors of the experience of living in the residential schools for Aboriginal children.  The purpose of the commission was to reveal the complex truth about the history of these schools and their legacy and to lay a foundation for reconciliation.  The Summary of the Final Report is 338 pages plus appendices which deal with the history, legacy, challenges of reconciliation and 94 Calls to Action. The Final Report emphasizes that “reconciliation is not an Aboriginal problem; it is a Canadian one.” (vi)

In January, I decided to commit to reading this book during 2016.  I can’t keep blaming the school system for not educating me about this part of Canadian history now that this information has been brought into the light.  So imagine my delight when my daughter sent me a link for the  TRC Reading Challenge .  Set up by Canadian author and educator Jennifer Manuel of Duncan, BC, this project’s goal is to get 1000 people to pledge to read the TRC Report by June 21, 2016 which is Aboriginal Day in Canada. On that day the list of people pledging will be revealed on the website but there is no deadline for the actual reading.

Manuel states that “this is about listening deeply, which means that you are listening with the attitude that you are open to being changed by what you hear.”  She is hoping that this also sends a positive message to Aboriginal people that others are listening and willing to contribute to the improvement of the relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people in Canada.  On the website, she lists ways to access the Report by pdf, audio downloading, video and hard copies. The challenge also has a facebook page.

So far, I have read the Introduction and would like to share with you some of the quotes that represent the general thrust of the document.  You don’t have to take the pledge or read the whole book to get a sense of what it is saying.  Although, after reading some of these quotes you may find yourself wanting to read more.

                                                    TRC Commissioners unveiling the Final Report

 “To the Commission, reconciliation is about establishing and maintaining a mutually respectful relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples in this country.  In order for that to happen, there has to be awareness of the past, acknowledgement of the harm that has been inflicted, atonement for the causes, and action to change behaviour.” (p6)

“We are not there yet.  The relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples is not a mutually respectful one.  But, we believe we can get there, and we believe we can maintain it.  Our ambition is to show how we can do that.” (p7)

“Reconciliation must support Aboriginal peoples as they heal from the destructive legacies of colonization that have wreaked such havoc in their lives.  But it must do even more.  Reconciliation must inspire Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples to transform Canadian society so that our children and grandchildren can live together in dignity, peace, and prosperity on these lands we now share.” (p8)

“Too many Canadians still do not know the history of Aboriginal people’s contributions to Canada, or understand that by virtue of the historical and modern Treaties negotiated by our government, we are all Treaty people.  History plays an important role in reconciliation to build for the future, Canadians must look to, and learn from the past.”(p8)

“The Reverend Stan McKay of the United Church, who is also a Survivor, believes that reconciliation can happen only when everyone accepts responsibility for healing in ways that foster respect.  He said,

          [There must be] a change in perspective about the way in which

          Aboriginal peoples would be engaged with Canadian society in

the quest for reconciliation… [We cannot] perpetuate the paternalistic concept that only Aboriginal peoples are in need

of healing… The perpetrators are wounded and marked by

history in ways that are different from the victims, but both groups require healing… How can a conversation about reconciliation take place if all involved do not adopt an attitude of humility and respect?… We all have stories to tell and in order to grow in tolerance and understanding we must listen to the stories of others.” (9)

“Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Canadians from all walks of life spoke to us about the importance of reaching out to one another in ways that create hope for a better future.  Whether one is First Nations, Inuit, Metis, a descendant of European settlers, a member of a minority group that suffered historical discrimination in Canada, or a new Canadian, we all inherit both the benefits and obligations of Canada.  We are all Treaty people who share responsibility for taking action on reconciliation.” (12)

“As Elder Jim Dumont explained at the Traditional Knowledge Keepers Forum in June 2014, ‘in Ojibwe thinking, to speak the truth is to actually speak from the heart.’” (13)

“Another descendant of Survivors, Daniel Elliot, told the Commission,

          I think all Canadians need to stop and take a look and not look

          away.  Yeah, it`s embarrassing,, yeah, it`s an ugly part of our

history.  We don`t want to know about it.  What I want to see from the Commission is to rewrite the history books so that

other generations will understand and not go through the same

thing that we’re going through now, like it never happened.” (13)

“It is important that all Canadians understand how traditional First Nations, Inuit and Metis approaches to resolving conflict, repairing harm, and restoring relationships can inform the reconciliation process.” (p16)

“Elder Reg Crowshoe told the Commission that Indigenous peoples’ world views, oral history traditions, and practices have much to teach us about how to establish respectful relationships among peoples and with the land and all living things.  Learning how to live together in a good way happens through sharing stories and practising reconciliation in our everyday lives.” (p18)

“For non-Aboriginal Canadians who came to bear witness to Survivors’ life stories, the experience was powerful.  One woman said simply, ‘By listening to your story, my story can change.  By listening to your story, I can change.’” (p21)

“All Canadian children and youth deserve to know Canada`s honest history, including what happened in the residential schools, and to appreciate the rich history and knowledge of Indigenous nations who continue to make such a strong contribution to Canada, including our very name and collective identity as a country.  For Canadians from all walks of life, reconciliation offers a new way of living together.” (p21)

Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015) Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada Volume One: Summary. Toronto: James Lorimer & Co.

What the Turtle Taught Me

At the end of last summer, my partner found a wounded Painted turtle on the yellow line of a busy two-lane highway along the shore of Georgian Bay.  Being a turtle lover, he parked his car and scooped up the turtle who had withdrawn into his shell.  The shell was cracked in a few places so he took it home and put some tape on the shell to secure it.  Then he called the Kawartha Turtle Trauma Centre in Peterborough, ON to see what he should do next.  They advised him that there was a pick-up point in nearby Midhurst at a vet clinic that would check out the turtle and then have it transported to Peterborough by a volunteer driver.

A few months later, he got a call that the turtle was ready for pick-up before it got too cold.  So on a warm October morning, we headed out to Peterborough and easily found the turtle rescue centre.  And there was our turtle all healed and healthy.  We took a short tour of the centre and learned that injured turtles are x-rayed for fractures and to see if there are eggs.  If the turtle can’t be saved, the eggs will be harvested and incubated.  Inside plastic tubs we saw dozens of baby snapping, stinkpot, map and painted turtles.  The centre also has an education program to help promote turtle conservation and stewardship and a very large snapping turtle who is an ambassador at community events.

                                                                        Baby Snapping turtle

My partner was so taken by the work that this centre is doing that he wanted to help in some way. So we began to plan for a Turtle Benefit Concert to raise money for the centre.  As we searched for songs about turtles, we discovered that there weren’t too many so we had to write some turtle lyrics for existing songs and we were inspired to write a song as well.  A friend had also written a turtle song so he was part of the team. We found lots of poems about turtles and decided to include poems, songs and stories about turtles.  A friend let us use her house concert venue and other friends agreed to be readers. 

                                                                  Snapping turtle laying eggs

We wanted the medium to be the message.  We wanted to create a fun experience of people co-creating the event so those attending would be invited to sing along with some songs, join with percussion instruments and share turtle stories.  One friend, who is a wood carver, carved a turtle to be raffled off.  My partner auctioned off a jar of maple syrup he had made this spring.  We gave away milkweed and wild flower seeds that people could plant in their yards for butterflies and bees.

From the windows of the house where the concert took place, people could see the sun going down on Georgian Bay from where the turtles would begin coming to shore in a month or so, to lay their eggs.  Our hostess took turns reading and playing her hand drum.  One small girl had brought along her own drum and happily drummed along with most of the music.  We took turns singing songs, passing the African djembe back and forth and playing electric, acoustic and classical guitars, a cittern, banjo and a turtle shaped kalimba or thumb piano.

                                                            Nick playing the turtle shaped kalimba

As the evening progressed, it occurred to me that all the voices and music in the house mirrored the complex ecosystem out in the bay where turtles, frogs, fish, insects, geese, swans, ducks, deer, moose, beavers, otters and mink all co-exist.  We shared soup, tea, candy turtles and cheese, made some new friends, laughed and relaxed.  We raised hundreds of dollars for the turtle centre and raised awareness about protecting this important reptile. And we had fun!

I was struck by what emerged when the ground was set for co-creation.  A number of surprises occurred as people responded to the event and their creativity was released.  People suddenly made connections and ideas that they shared with the group.  Some musicians showed up on the spur of the moment to share their songs.  One woman reminded us that we were on traditional Chippewayan land and that Sky Woman fell to earth and made her home on the back of a turtle.  That is why the land we live on is called Turtle Island.

                                                                      Map turtle in Georgian Bay

We had sung songs about turtles and other animals, stars in the night sky and the moon over the prairies.  When we left late that evening, there was the moon, shining brightly overhead with Jupiter by her side and a multitude of stars twinkling in the dark sky. We stood and took it all in.  It was like the walls of the house hadn't really existed.  Our creative sharing was connected to the creativity in the lake, on the shore and above us. 

The words of poet Mary Oliver’s The Turtle still rang in my head;

Crawling up the high hill,
luminous under the sand that has packed against her skin.
she doesn't dream
she knows
she is a part of the pond she lives in,
the tall trees are her children,
the birds that swim above her
are tied to her by an unbreakable string.

And we knew, we remembered in that moment that we were and are a part of this universe we live in.

And by the way, our little Painted turtle was released in the wetland near the highway where he was found.  He is now adorned with a painted number on his shell so we may even recognize him if our path crosses again with our turtle teacher.

Bone of a Bird

One of the joys of being a grandmother is occasionally picking my grandson up from kindergarten.  One May afternoon I was needed for just such a task.  As he often does after school, my grandson wanted to play with his friends for a while.  How wonderful to be free to play after a day in school! I can still remember that feeling of freedom, from when I was a child.  And on this particular day, I was in no hurry.  I had nowhere that I had to be except right there with him.  We were free to do what we wanted. 

It was warm and sunny and spring-like and everyone was in a good mood in the school playground.  My grandson ran and climbed and jumped with his friends, then joined in a game of football with some of the parents.  Later, he took turns riding his friends’ bikes and then he ran some more.  As I watched the kids play, I imagined how good it must feel to ride a bike under the pine trees, steering around the trunks expertly, feeling the warm spring air on your face. But being the grandmother, I kept an eye on all the children, wandered around a bit, made a phone call and eventually sat on the bench beside the other grandparent in the yard, a silent Asian man of advanced age.  “Ah, it’s come to this then,” I mused.  “I’m the grandparent on the bench.”

The parents all seemed to be so young, too young really to have the responsibility of children.  I remembered being that young, feeling that light on my feet, full of energy yet weighed down by parental responsibility that never seemed to end.  The parents knew each other and shared local gossip and information as people in the same boat tend to do.  They did not speak to me or the grandfather.  We seemed to be invisible, like ghosts from another era.  The generation gap spread like a chasm between us.  I felt like someone watching from the outside. 

Every now and then my grandson would wave at me or throw me his jacket for safekeeping.  I watched two bright red cardinals fly between the grove of pine trees and the school building, calling loudly.  What a gift to see such bright colours.  They demanded my attention and I thought how lucky the children were to have these birds sharing that space in inner city Toronto.  I was also fascinated by the dynamics of the various families as children played together on the climbing frames, some lithe and carefree, others more ponderous and awkward.  Older siblings looked out for younger ones.  Parents called out warnings, encouragement, praise and occasional threats.

One by one the other children left with their parents until just one little girl remained.  My grandson played under the pine trees with her.  The play had changed from running and climbing to something more magical.  The two children moved together, knees slightly bent and arms crooked in front of them like paws. They trotted in a kind of stealthy fashion and I watched entranced, wondering what they were doing.  As if reading my mind, my grandson called out, “Grandma!  We’re being foxes!”  

Ahhh, foxes.  He knows that my daughter, his aunt’s favourite animal is a fox.  We’ve talked about foxes.  I have a painting that she did of a fox curled into the shape of a heart on my living room wall.  We have a straw fox that she puts on the Christmas tree every year called of course “the Christmas fox.”  He knew I would understand exactly what they were doing.  I just nodded in a wise grandmotherly sort of way and said,  “Ahhhh, foxes.”  

I could see that the little girl was not just pretending to be a fox.  She was a fox.  Every now and then she would stop and scoop imaginary food from the forest floor into her mouth.  My grandson, as if a fox kit learning from his mother, mimicked her.   I remembered reading a study on playground design that found that if there is a lot of asphalt and equipment, the most athletic kids lead the group but if there are trees and bushes then the most imaginative children emerge as leaders.  This playground had both and I had watched my grandson move seamlessly from one group to the other.

Suddenly he came over to the bench and announced in a loud, clear voice to me and two of the mothers standing nearby that he had found the “bone of a bird!”  He looked at the three of us expectantly.  Knowing from the tone of his voice that this was something important and being as free as a bird myself at that moment, I responded, “I’ll come and see it.” 

I followed him to the place under the trees where he pointed to the ground.  The pine trees created shade and my eyesight is not great so I bent over to look for what I imagined was the little white bone of a bird.  The only white thing I could see was a cigarette butt which I pointed out.   “No, not that Grandma ... This!”  I peered, then squinted at the poorly lit brown soil and squatted down.  Finally I could faintly see the outline of a dead little hatchling’s head and beak that was perfectly camouflaged on the dirt.  Then I made out the shape of the tiny body and feet. It had a few little chick feathers on it but looked just hatched and recently dead.  The children crouched down beside me and we looked at it carefully.  “I think it must have fallen out of its nest just after hatching,” I said.

The two mothers came over to see what we were looking at and commented in a motherly way how sad it was for the baby bird to die.  I said that we should bury it and I picked it up with two sticks thinking that close to the fence away from the general traffic of the playground would be a good place to dig.  But the little foxgirl had already selected a spot nearby and had scraped out a little hole.  “Is this a good place for it?” I asked.  “Yes,” she solemnly replied with the wisdom of an old fox in a young girl‘s body.  So I put the little bird in the hole and said, “Now it can go back to the earth.”  We scraped some dirt over the tiny body and she sprinkled it with dead pine needles.  The grave was perfectly camouflaged. 

We were for a moment in the timeless place between two worlds, between life and death, a grandmother and two little five-year-olds burying a day old baby bird in a school yard as two mothers looked on.  Very simple, very gentle, yet profound.  Birth and death snugged up against one another – a tiny little circle of life.  But no matter how tiny, we showed that life the respect it deserved and returned it to our common mother, the Earth.

The children trotted off to continue their fox adventures.  I laughed thinking that luckily they were still human enough to bury the bird and not see it as food.  I noticed the cardinals bouncing around in the trees in an agitated way just above where we found the baby bird.  The moms said that they had been sticking around there so we wondered if the bird was a baby cardinal.  I told them how the birds would probably just start again and lay more eggs because it was early in the season by way of comforting women full of mothering energy.

This all got me thinking about the stages of life.  Who but a sharp eyed five-year-old bent over being a fox would be able to spot the camouflaged body of a baby bird on the dirt?  While the boys were running and riding their bikes over the area the bird was invisible.  The moms were busy with other things.  Who but a grandmother patiently waiting while her grandson played in this tiny urban forest would bother to come over and see the “bone of a bird”?  Who better to show the children how to deal with death and to help the mothers expect more life, than a grandmother who had seen lots of both?

The two moms introduced themselves to me now that I was visible also.  It turned out that the foxgirl had two moms.  We talked about birds and kids for a while.  They had just become interested in bird watching and had a bird feeder.  They were eager to share their experiences and observations.  They had some questions that I could answer as well.  We suddenly had a common interest and spoke easily as if we were old friends. The clouds moved overhead, the foxes cavorted, the cardinals called and life went on – but none of us were quite the same.  We had gathered for a sacred moment, there under the pine trees in the playground and somehow that had changed us all.

It was children being foxes under the pine trees that found the “bones of a bird” and announced it.  It was a grandmother and mothers who responded.  Three generations gathered together in the transition space of life and death.  If you want to get to the bones of something, to the truth, a transition place is a good place to look for it.  Dawn, dusk, birth, death, change of season, transition times are also good places to find stories. The tiny bones of a bird held the story of the universe.  A life that had flickered for a few moments had drawn us together and helped us to remember that we are connected to that life, to each other, to ourselves, to the earth – an old story that many seem to have forgotten, a story that we are remembering.

The Reason You Walk

 “Reconciliation is realized when two people come together and understand that what they share unites them and that what is different about them needs to be respected.” So writes Wab Kinew in his recently released memoir The Reason You Walk (2015, Penguin Canada, p. 211).

Wab Kinew has had careers as a hip-hop artist, journalist, broadcaster, writer, aboriginal leader, university administrator and is currently running for the NDP in a Winnipeg riding in the April 19^th provincial election. He is well known for his work on Canada Reads and for hosting the CBC series 8^th Fire. His memoir tells the story of all of this but most importantly tells the story of his relationship with his father Tobasonakwut Kinew especially in the last year of his life.  Tobasonakwut Kinew was a residential school survivor who later became a respected Anishinaabe leader.

When interviewed on the CBC Wab said that his family’s journey helped shape his views on Canada’s Truth and Reconciliaiton process. He is also an Honourary Witness for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC).

In 2010, Wab did a piece for CBC for the launch of the TRC in which he returns with his father and his 5 year old son Dominik to the site of the residential school where his father was taken as a child.  Tobasonakwut talks about his time there and shows pictures to his grandson.  Together they find the grave of Wab’s grandfather. It is a very powerful piece which you can view on youtube.

Kinew reflects on it in The Reason You Walk. “The response to that piece was a powerful lesson for me in bridging gaps between communities .  Indigenous people said they felt the story did justice to their experiences.  Non-Indigenous people said it helped them relate to the residential school experience better than black-and-white photos alone did.  Seeing my son with his grandpa, they were delivered to a place where they asked themselves what they would do if their children disappeared, or what would happen if all the children in their neighbourhood vanished. To me, getting viewers to ask these questions is the beginning of building empathy, and empathy is the beginning of reconciliation.” (p94)

In an extraordinary act of reconciliation, Tobasonakwut who had with Phil Fontaine presented Pope Benedict XVI with an eagle feather in 2009, decided to adopt his good friend Catholic Archbishop James Weisgerber as his brother. “Ndede [father] described his vision for the adoption ceremony.  He wanted to forge a lasting bond between our families and our communities, demonstrating how Indigenous culture offered a way forward in overcoming the pains of the past.  If successful, it would repudiate the attempted cultural genocide in a much stronger way than words ever could.”

He goes on to write, “The adoption ceremony is also a peacemaking ceremony.  It asks families, communities, or even nations to set aside their differences and commit to a rapprochement.  It is hard to hate someone after you take them as a brother or sister.” (p127)

Wab’s father asked him to conduct the ceremony to empower him as a leader. Wab describes the ceremony including the use of the traditional pipe.  He explains that “the pipe is a model of reconciliation.  The bowl is feminine.  It is of the earth, and it receives the stem.  The stem is masculine.  It is placed into the bowl, but also grows form the earth.  Each has integrity on its own.  When we place the bowl and stem together, the two elements form a new unified entity which is stronger than each on its own.  This is how we might think of reconciliation – two disparate elements coming together to create something more powerful.” (p129)

The Reason You Walk has many such beautiful images.  The book is very readable and offers much insight into Anishinaabe culture, language and history as well as a vision of reconciliation and the way forward for the Indigenous and non-Indigenous people who live on this land. And Wab Kinew is a young man that you should know about.  He talks about all the mistakes he’s made as well as the good decisions and how his community has helped shape him into a leader.

In his eloquent epilogue Kinew writes, “Whether we are young or old, whether our skin is light or dark, whether we are man or woman, we share a common humanity and are all headed for a common destiny.  That should bind us together more strongly than divisions can push us apart.  So long as anything other than love governs our relationships with others, we have work to do.” (p268)

In upcoming blog posts I’m going to looking at how some of the TRC Calls to Action are being implemented as Canada gets to work. This could be an extraordinary time in our history with lots of new stories.

Taking Root

“I found myself not just a woman wanting to plant trees to provide food and firewood. I found myself a woman fighting for justice, a woman fighting for equity. I started planting trees and found myself in the forefront of fighting for the restoration of democracy in my country.” —Wangari Maathai

Born in 1940, Wangari Matthai grew up in a rural village in Kenya.  As a girl she collected water for her mother in the nearby stream where she played with tadpoles and fish.  Her mother taught her never to collect firewood from the giant fig tree nearby calling it a “tree of God”. She would always remember this connection with the land.  When Wangari got old enough she asked her mother if she could go to school even though girls in her village didn’t do that.  Her mother agreed and her daughter was an excellent student who eventually won a Kennedy Scholarship to study in the US in 1960. 

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She studied there for five years and earned her Master of Science during the civil rights movement.  Returning to Kenya she became the first East African woman to earn a Ph.D in Veterinary Anatomy in 1971.  She later taught at the University of Nairobi and headed a department there.  She was married for ten years and had three children.

Wangari began to work with women in the villages in Kenya.  When she asked them what problems they had, they reported having to walk long distances for firewood and water and that their children were suffering from malnutrition.  Wangari figured out that many of the problems were due to the deforestation of the land.

The British colonizers had begun this deforestation, cutting down large areas of forest for the wood to build camps in which the indigenous people were detained.  After independence, the governments had continued to cut down forests to create land for growing cash crops such as coffee resulting in streams drying up, drought and soil erosion.

Wangari could see that planting trees would solve many of these problems so she got foresters to teach the village women to do so.  Soon the women were teaching each other.  In 1977 she founded the Green Belt Movement with the National Council of Women in Kenya which quickly grew into a network of thousands of groups.  The women were investing in their own communities and making things better for their families and future generations.

The movement grew and Wangari realized that the government which had had the same leader for years with no elections, would have to change.  She became involved in a long fight for democracy which eventually resulted in elections.  She herself was elected to the government in 2002.

Over three decades, the Green Belt Movement planted 45 million trees.  The movement spread to 30 African countries.  Wangari was the first environmentalist to win the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004.  You can view excerpts of her Nobel address on youtube .  When people are struggling for food and water, peace is very difficult.  By planting trees to provide firewood, fruit, and watershed stabilization and the prevention of drought and soil erosion, people can thrive and a culture of peace is born.  That was Wangari's vision.

At the end of her life in her last book, Replenishing the Earth (2010) Wangari writes, “I have come to realize that the physical destruction of the earth extends to humanity, too… In the process of helping the earth to heal, we help ourselves" (p.16).  She goes on to write, “We can love ourselves by loving the earth; feel grateful for who we are, even as we are grateful for the earth’s bounty; better ourselves, even as we use that self-empowerment to improve the earth; offer service to ourselves, even as we practice volunteerism for the earth"(p. 17).

She passed away in 2011 at age 71 from cancer.  Her tribute by world leaders is worth hearing.

Wangari often told a story about a hummingbird that she learned in Japan.  The hummingbird tries to put out a forest fire by taking one drop of water at a time and putting it on the fire while the other animals deride it.  The hummingbird says it is "doing what it can."  Wangari said she wanted to be like the hummingbird and do what she can and that collectively if we all do what we can we can achieve great things.  You can hear her colourful telling of this story with cartoon animation that is great for children and adults on youtube.  There are two books for children about her life as well.  One of them is available at Wangari's Trees of Peace.  I decided to get these books for the grandchildren in my life.  It is a story they need to hear.

I heard about her extraordinary life from the movie Taking Root: The Vision of Wangari Matthai which I found in my library.  You can also get the DVD from the  Greenbelt Movement website   or see clips on the PBS website.

You can also hear some of her vision by listening to Planting Trees is Planting Hope.  Whichever one of these you feels drawn to, listening to Wangari Matthai speak is inspiring and motivating.  She is evidence that one person can make a difference especially when they join with others.  After listening to her you may even want to join with this movement and plant a tree.  You will make a difference!