Hello from Waswanipi!
After a marathon day of taxis, planes, walking, waiting, and more taxis, I've made it to my new abode on Poplar Street.
It seems weird, starting over. Part of me feels comfortable, like I'm back, and part of me feels like an intruder, alien, outsider, and tourist again.
I remember feeling like this in Wask, which somewhere over the course of the year transformed itself to a feeling of belonging and home.
With 5 weeks, I'm not here long enough for that to happen, but I'm looking forward to feeling more at home.
"I'm just in town for the day".
This is a phrase that definately gets some reactions, when you're in an isolated, Northern Quebec Cree community, which is roughly a 15 hour drive from home, and at least 6 to the next community.
I had the chance to make a super brief homecoming to Waskaganish, thanks to a 5 hour layover between flights from Val-d'Or to Chibougamau. I obviously didn't have time to do a proper walk down Memory Lane as I would have liked (I would have loved a walk through EWS especially a visit to my 1st-ever classroom, to see my old house and sit on the balcony, visit more people, watch the sunset over the Bay...), but I managed to cram in some visits, brunch at the Lodge, a walk by the water, and see a view of my old haunts in passing.
I have to admit: it felt strange being back in Waskaganish.... after I left. I kept feeling weird about it NOT feeling weird... I felt that I should have been hit by a sudden storm of emotions, notalgia, etc, walking into town from the airport. Instead, just a bit of "shouldn't this be more significant? I left two years and one day ago, and haven't been back! I never thought I'd see this place again... and I'm not reacting?!"
When did that wave of incredulity that this was my life, my community, my home, my place of work finally hit me? When I ran into the Northern store for a few minutes. Yup, that's right. Not when my flight landed, not walking into town, past my old school and home, or seeing former students and collegues... but at the damn grocery store. Hmm.
At any rate, Waskaganish, thank you for the year I spent there, and the lessons I learned. I'll stick around a few hours longer, next time. I still miss your big sky, Spruce tree horizons, auroras and sunsets, your crazy wind, pottery class, and the occasional smell of salt water at high tide.
So, to start, the big news: I'm headed back North back to Eeyou Istchee for the summer. And yes, I'll be reviving my blog to write down the adventures.
In the mean time, something big and important is happening this weekend in Mtl: Truth and Reconcilliation.
The first time I heard about Canada's residential schools legacy I was in my first semester of university, in an Intro to Historical Methods (or something like that), class at Bishop's. I heard the term come up in two more courses: a contemporary history course in my final year of my BA, and in my First Nations Education class at McGill.
That's it. And I was a grade-A history student through high school and cegep, and majored in North American History (although we all know that Geo major is more near and dear to my heart).
So, read these articles. Follow what is going on. Stop thinking Canada is this great, happy shiny paragon of human rights to hold up to the world as an example to follow.
And bear in mind the last of these schools closed in the 1980s.
