Every child
It was an unexpected contract that left an unexpected mark on me.
The job in 2015 was to proofread reports arising out of hearings held by Canada’s Truth & Reconciliation Commission.
Proofreading means reading carefully, noticing each word, each letter, the combinations and relationships, one to the other and all together. With my ruler held beneath each line, I missed nothing, took in everything. And I could not believe what I was taking in. But believe it I did. And believe it I do.
It was the first time I learned about just what those men and women “of the cloth” did to children in residential schools. Awful. Horrific. Wicked.
The recent discovery of the remains of 215 children on the grounds of the Kamloops Indian Residential School brings me right back to those TRC reports and the words of so many witnesses.
My job then was to correct typos. My job today is to hold the spirit of those children in my heart. And to do better by them.
We are each only one, but as that one we can each do something: Learn more. See more. Give more. Do more.
If we have done nothing today, let us each do something tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteSpeechless. I know about the genocide committed by my ancestors, but I really thought it might be better in Canada. Even after reading BARKSKINS by Annie Proulx. How can these things happen without any intervention?
I met Grace Begay on the Navajo Reservation in 1979. She was a nurse manager at the hospital in Tuba City. She told me her story.
She was maybe six, living with her family in a hogan on the reservation. "They" came for the children, rounded them up to go to Indian boarding schools. Grace's grandmother tried to hide her in the desert, but she was found.
Grace and the others with her were shipped to Riverside Indian School, in California. The first thing "they" did was strip her of her clothing, shave her head, dip her in a disinfectant bath, and dress her in overalls. This was a six year old, long black braid, in a Navajo shirt and skirt. Then she was lined up with the other children. They were each named: You are Grace, you are Mary, you are Jimmy, you are Robert. And they were assigned a religious sect: You are Presbyterian, you are Catholic, you are Methodist, you are Baptist.
Is it any wonder we aren't trusted on and off the reservation?
What horrible news it was this weekend, Amanda.
ReplyDeleteI’m not proud of the behaviours during the colonization and the misguided, over-zealousness of the religious communities towards indigenous children.
When I visited Australia, I learned that there had been same behaviours towards aboriginal children.
It is too sad. Each child is so precious.
I hope that this will be further investigated and not buried further.
Too many people ignore this. I had to explain it to my daughter who didn’t know about it like so many others.
I join my voice to yours to assert that we must do more.
My sister and her husband adopted a baby, a wonderful, funny little guy, many years ago. He now has his own family and owns his own business. He's First Nations and he married a First Nations woman, they have two of the most wonderful boys. This family is much loved by so many people, the thought of trauma of any kind happening to anyone of them makes this whole issue very personal. I've been crying off and on for two days. My sister is distraught, can't eat or sleep. This hurts so much.
ReplyDelete