An Unthinkable Loss

In the shadow of 215 Indigenous children found buried in unmarked graves in Kamloops, BC, what can be done except to grieve? And be angry. And find a way, despite the absence of records — records lost as well as withheld — to listen to 215 stories.

Eight years ago this July, during the Truth and Reconciliation hearings in Hobbema, Alberta, I listened to the stories of residential school survivors. I felt shame. And I felt hopeful.

I felt shame and guilt because I had benefited from the dislocation of Indigenous people; benefited by way of a malevolent mixture of imperialist politics and conversion theology. Yet hopeful, that the Truth and Reconciliation’s almost 100 calls to action were a concrete way forward to show we desired truth and healing, and cared about Indigenous children, communities, cultures and languages.

These years later, considering that only nine of the commission’s 94 calls to action have been fully implemented, is it not worth asking if remnants of colonialism actively reside? Have we avoided looking deeply at the truth? Have we allowed ourselves to stop listening?

Today, standing at the side of this massive grave with nothing to say, with nothing I can say, I’ve gone back to my notes — stories I heard at that hearing — as a way to remember, listen and grieve this unthinkable loss.

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Raymond

I wear a hearing aid…see?
I was not born deaf.
The fluid ran out of my ears.
I was slapped very hard.
I entered into bitterness.
Intense hatred.
How close I came to destroying my own life.
I have gone for surgery.
I still can’t hear.
But my ears are drying up.
But then, I am old.
When everything dries up anyway.

Wayne

I was born in 1957, taken away at seven months.
Then when I went to the “hostel,” that’s what we called it,
I started running. I ran away many times.
I was sexually abused until I was 16.

I was always trying to be something else,
but not feeling worth it…this lead to jail, which was
a safe place: I do my time, do my chores, I get out.

But home wasn’t home anymore, I ran, and I kept running.
Many years later I learn that this man abused 29 other kids.
I am angry at my biological mother, angry at everyone.
My dreams were denied.

But today I have one thing, the support of my beautiful wife.

Roy

I made up my mind to kill each person.
But all that changed, 1987. I was hunting:
I had an experience like I was lifted off the ground, and I stood.
At that moment I forgave.
The hatred that I had in me was not an issue.
What a blessing to experience forgiveness.
For me, to know the true meaning of love, I had to truly forgive with conviction.

Ray

I had a friend, Kenny, we’d go just back here
in the bush, and he used to teach us how to sing
the cultural way. We’d sing away in the bush,
the cultural way, imagine, children singing in the bush
and then there’s a nun behind us, calling other
nuns, “The children are singing in the bush!”
They lifted me by my ears and took me back.
I got the strap…
a big piece of combine belt, for learning the cultural way.

The sexual part is hard to talk about:
I used to fear God. The Priest would tell me,
you speak a word of this, of what you done,
God’s gonna punish you, if you say anything.
But it wasn’t me that did it, it was him.
I still kind of fear God, I never forgot
what that priest said, I try to forget…but I can’t forget,
Went through sweats, still can’t forget.

I never saw my parents growing up.

What happened in school, I took that with me,
when my children did bad, I took a belt.

The government, the churches, they took away the child
these concentration camps, I call them,
you were put there and that’s where you stayed,
I used to hear the word quite a bit… “savages,”
I used to think the government was the savage,
That’s were all the evil came from.

One thing was good, I learned how to play a violin.

Raymond

I was born in 1951, in Wetaskiwin.
They said I had a bed wetting problem.
They cut me off from drinking water.
I used to find ways to drink water.
I would sneak into the toilet and drink
from the toilet bowl, just to quench my thirst.

I hated people that were white, straight.

We used to pray for hours.
The Roman Catholic God, I don’t know.
When I pray, I pray to the Creator.

Percy

I am 81 years old.
I was adopted, a native adoption, just the promise to care for the child.
Mom and dad spoke Cree, my dad was so kind, he didn’t know.

When I talked Cree the nun yelled at me.
She was talking in English, I didn’t understand.
I said “what?” in Cree…
“Shut up! Don’t you dare speak that heathen language!”
What she said was explained to me later, by another boy.

Once I wet my pants in school…I was afraid to ask to go to the washroom.
“Oh you filthy boy, come here.”
She broke the ruler over my hand.
My hand swelled up to twice the size…no medical attention.
Now my hand is like this.
Every time I wash my face I remember.

Maybe I understand the nuns and priests, it was their job.
As for Canada, I don’t know, Harper’s apology seems like an insult now.

Amos

Greetings in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.
I am 76 years old.
I was six when they took me.

They grabbed me from behind,
I went underneath ice water,
I started to get sick,
Got the double pneumonia,

Then they hit me with a 2×4,
I started to have the epilepsy,
I was strapped,
They always grabbed me,
Tripped me,
Ran my head into cement,
I lost a lung,
They threw pepper in my eyes,
I can’t see very well.

Mary

I attended this school for ten years.
I cannot use the word forgiveness.
I have come to acceptance. 
I will use that word.
I can go ahead from there.
We all need to heal.
And we need to celebrate,
put our heads up,
sing and dance,
for the children,
they will learn to be proud
of who they are.

18 Comments

  1. Thank you for sharing those quotes. The condensation of a lifetime into a brief memory. Jagged, but alive

  2. Oh Stephen, This is a hard read and one that gives me inner chills of horror. I have been thinking of those 215 children (and likely many more) all week with a deep sadness that cannot be articulated.

    Of course, we had our own “schools” to force assimilation in the U.S. – one not far from where I live. Besides the horrors of erasure, I often wonder how different the world might be if those of us with white European ancestry had assimilated more of the culture of the native/indigenous peoples – many of who lived/still live in harmony with nature and have a gentle footprint on their environment.

    Why is it that there is so much hatred in the world? Apartheid, genocide, cultural assimilation/erasure, deep-rooted racism and discrimination – from South Africa to Nazi Germany, in Gaza and the West Bank, from Myanmar to North America….I do not understand.

    But tonight, I weep for these lost children.

    https://www.nps.gov/articles/the-carlisle-indian-industrial-school-assimilation-with-education-after-the-indian-wars-teaching-with-historic-places.htm#:~:text=They%20were%20the%20first%20of,era%20and%20the%20Civil%20War.

  3. Thanks Steve. I feel sad, horrified, angry and I can’t get the images out of my head. Canada’s shame….

  4. Hi Stephen,
    Letty shared this with me today, I had seen the reporting and was just so saddened to hear how these young children were treated. To read these testimonies only makes me sadder. I am ashamed as a human to think such cruel actions would be done to innocent humans.

  5. No words, either Stephen, except to say that my heartbeat lost its rhythm as I read their horrors and didn’t refind it until I had finished 🙁

  6. There were 139 residential schools in total in Canada. 20 of those were in Saskatchewan. Children died at everyone.
    I believe that the “doctrine of original sin” invited European Christians to take a particular view of Indigenous and other peoples that led to a permission for this kind of treatment.
    I can be angry about injustices such as these. I can be even angrier if I’m the victim of injustice. But when I am the beneficiary of injustice, I can be blind to it. I was raised and now live on Treaty 4 land, “situated on the territories of the nêhiyawak, Anihšin?p?k, Dakota, Lakota, and Nakoda, and the homeland of the Métis/Michif Nation.” We were fed, housed, clothed, and we prospered. One day a team of horses pulling a wagon passed by our farm. The Indigenous man who was driving had his family on the wagon. He stopped and asked for some bread. My mother was afraid, but I think she gave him some.
    HOW DOES ONE MAKE THIS RIGHT??

  7. I continue to share with friends and family this honourable witnessing and writing of yours, these gut-wrenching stories, these beautiful faces, this call to face and feel the grief, this watershed moment of deep contemplation and action … thank you for gifting this into the fold of such delicate and crucial work ahead of us.

    Pamela

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