On Monday, I drove into Brantford by myself. The drive was straightforward until I hit the Six Nations reserve. I made it to the city in about 1 hour, 15 minutes - and then, what should have been a 5 or so minute drive, took me 40 minutes of twists and turns and revisions via Google Maps. I found my way, and I was only the 4th latest person there.
I never would have been able to accomplish this task any year but this one.
I was here for one of OTF's Summer Institutes with FNMIEAO, where the theme was reconciliation.
During the morning introductions, Nancy Rowe said: "If at any point, someone in this circle breaks down and starts crying, we stop everything we are doing to bring that person back to where we are. Western society has it all wrong, you know." Inevitably, three people cry - and I am not yet one. They stop the circle to give clean water to drink from a copper cup - Nancy says "We shed the dirty water and replace it with the clean. Crying is healthy."
It reminds me of Firekeeper Rob, whom I met not this past November, but the one before, who said "In Western society, they give you a tissue. Essentially, this says 'Stop crying'. We don't encourage people to stop crying. We give them water, to replenish."
Nancy says something along the lines of "Nothing is scripted. Sometimes I say something and I do not know why. Why was I talking about crying? Ah. The spirits sometimes come in."
In the afternoon, we participated in the KAIROS Blanket Exercise, which sort of shakes everyone to the core. Educators, I suggest that this is something you take into consideration.
Later on, we carpooled to the Woodland Cultural Centre, which is the former site of the Mohawk Residential School. I've toured this place before - but this time, it was with survivor Geronimo Henry, who stayed there for over 10 years, year-round. He talked about the importance of telling stories with interspersions of humour, even if they were not largely funny. He touched on the day-to-day experiences, as well as residual and intergenerational trauma. It really got to me. I asked if I could take a photo of his tattoo, which he said was meant to be a memorial to his survival, and how he was once only a number.
He said, "Sure, and you're not the only one to ever ask." He tells us he thinks it was in Time Magazine, or something.
My trip was cut short due to a clerical error (Edit: Mine). There was no room booked at our lodging in my name. I did not cry; I made it home in one fell swoop, and was sick for 36 hours. I'm still waiting on clarity.
No comments:
Post a Comment