7/29/2017 0 Comments Acts of ReconciliationUniversity of Alberta PhD candidate Crystal Fraser is releasing 150 acts of reconciliation on August 4th, 2017. This wonderful initiative will provide activities that anyone can do to move forward reconciliation.
I strongly believe that for reconciliation to be successful it must take place at the individual level. Imagine how far reconciliation would go if all 36.29 million people in Canada did one act each? While many are focused on organizational culture shift, we haven't put the same onus on individuals. The work of Ms. Fraser gives me hope that reconciliation will not sit on the shelf (forever floating in policy reform), instead it will be a culture resurgence. In my opinion policy does not beget culture shift, but rather culture shift must have already began in order to influence policy. Consider the Lego movie and just swap out instructions for policies. Are we all ok being dictating to for all aspects of our lives? No, of course not! Society already has a foundation of understood laws and behaviour that pre-existed the rules of law as we know them in written form. We don't have to wait for a policy or written documentation (ahem... instructions) to begin reconciling at the individual level, we can start today (or if you want, wait until August 4th). I'm starting today, because I can't wait that long. I have shamelessly made my own list of twenty five acts (with handy dandy links) that we can do from home and some of which are specific to our region. We'll see how many, if any, will be duplicates with her list. Elena's 25 Acts of Reconciliation
What acts of reconciliation are on your list? Please share your ideas!
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7/27/2017 0 Comments Blurring the LineFurther to my last post about morphing the english language to fit Indigenous pedagogy (when possible), I saw this APTN youtube video that explains how foundational language is to Indigenous values, laws and beliefs. The languages ties together the spiritual and physical world. In English, there is a line. There is the world of the physical, that we can touch, see, feel, ect... and then there is the world we can't see and there is no intersection between the two. How can we explain the circumstances where that line is blurred? Circumstances such as experiences that remind us of our ancestors or loved ones who have left.
I had a great a conversation with friends last night about our experience with mediums and phenomenon that we attribute to our dearly departed. After I got home I started to re-reading a really great book called "I'm spiritual, dammit!" by Jen Weigel. The book has the best chapter intros (two churches are having a sign battle about whether dogs go to heaven); you have to read it to get the hilariousity of the witty exchange. Weigel talks about giving yourself permission to experience the world with an appreciation for something bigger than our ourselves, and standing up to those who try to dictate, limit or belittle that very experience. Believe in the gifts that the world around you offer and you will receive their blessings. In her words, think "rockstar parking" for the best possible spot. I promise it is a very funny book, not nearly as serious as "the secret". In my personal projects, I struggle with ethics of working from oral stories, wanting to be truthful, representative and respectful, however, also allowing myself the creative license to go where my imagination takes me. How do I become a decolonized writer and challenge myself with every word to break out of the mold of colonialism? There are a few of bold and brilliant writers out there that have found a way.
I've just started to read Helen Kara’s blog. I find it difficult to adequately communicate decolonized thought process and here Helen has succeeded in providing a pathway to cross the threshold in an accessible manner. Having read many of Indigenous research methodology books in university I am now appreciating that they have many other applications outside of academic research. I'm researching a historical phenomenon at the moment but as I ask questions I need to make sure that my research methods are appropriate, ethical and do not follow the classic colonialist practice of swipe and dash. I'll be ordering her book for a more in depth look at the applicability of her suggestions and decolonized practices to my personal writing projects. Another amazing blogger (and friend), Melissa Herman, writes with raw passion and fervour. Everything I read of hers teaches me about her Dene worldview. I really appreciated these cards (pictured below) that she sent out through her fellowship work with Alberta Social Innovation encouraging language retention of both Cree and Dene in the Wood Buffalo region. With all of her (nonexistent) spare time she runs a regional language think-tank for Cree, Dene and Michif on facebook called Denésųłiné, Cree & Michif Language Exploration/Evolution-Treaty 8 and the No More Stolen Sisters - Treaty 8/Wood Buffalo facebook page. As a English speaker, I find that the language itself is limiting in its ability to write in a decolonized space. I'm so entrenched in a particular style and habits that as I write I need to think whether what I'm writing should be written as such, choosing words extremely carefully and thoughtfully. Melissa explains that: "many English words can only be translated into an Indigenous language through creative descriptions. Our opportunity together is to explore "new" descriptions/definitions of English words to find similarities to "new" Indigenous definitions." How profound would Indigenous writing be if we challenged all of writing to fully integrate Indigenous-defined descriptions/definitions. My colonized brain thinks of English as being highly descriptive with the largest vocabulary of 1,025,109 of stand alone words. English has very few suffixes or prefixes so there are certainly competitors with more complex grammar systems such as German. I'd be very interested to know what the vocabulary counts would be for Cree (all dialects), Dene and Mitchif in comparison to the colonial language systems and if this could be a real possibility. Molding English to fit Indigenous ways of describing as Melissa suggests. As we, as a country, move reconciliation forward, I truly believe that we need to identify every action, word and thought to assess how colonialism is influencing these foundational decisions and then make an informed decision. 7/22/2017 0 Comments Day Trip to Pearson WashoutThe winter road washed out a few days ago. Ralph has a trip with the kids coming up so we needed to do some reconnaissance to see where exactly the washout was. When they say 46 miles, they actually meant 46 miles from the drop off point (which doesn't correspond at all with the km markers on our richardson backcountry maps). Any excuse to be outside really. After a week working in the office, I sure missed fresh air and sunlight, there is something really unnatural about air conditioning (unless you live out east where the air is pretty much water with all that humidity). Washouts are pretty serious for limiting access. The firebag bridge makeshift bridge was dangerous, very dangerous (at least for the uncoordinated like myself), so make sure you understand the risks prior to passing by any official warning signs. At the Pearson Washout you couldn't help but notice a certain beauty in the destruction. It is certainly at the hand of a busy beaver. A small sandbar emerged that is just big enough for Ralph and I to enjoy our lunch with our feet in the shallow creek. The water is clear and small fish passed us by every now and then. In the exposed culvert a family of swallows made a home, chirping every once and awhile. It was as though a new little world opened up because of the washout, a mini-eco system in the span of a week. Nature is simply amazing. A few clams made it through the broken dam on the north of the plugged culvert. They leave long tracks in their wake - notice in the photo below the white lines with a dark line in the middle. For those of you crossing north on the make-shift bridge please stop to check for clams first, I've named them George, Sandy and Nina. Fresh water clams are few and far between so please do you part to leave them in peace. On the way back we picked fireweed and berries. Our region has the most amazing berry picking territory - especially blueberries in late summer due to the arid sandy soil. We are fortunate to have natural raspberry patches that surround the urban service area, but to get more variety I head north to the winter road gate. There are at least five different type of edible berries (strawberries, raspberries, pin cherry, saskatoons and blueberries) as well as many inedible berries (make sure you recognize the berry before you even touch it as some can create some very serious allergic reactions or are poisonous).
I have my own small berry patch at home but am missing Saskatoon berries and cranberries. Plus there is no way my small berry patch will get us through the winter and our goal is to avoid having to buy berries. In Wood Buffalo, we are surrounded by a berry bounty and the plan is to try out a variety of berry preservation (mostly yummy jams/jellies). Berries are well worth the effort but make sure to stay safe. Here are a few safety tips:
Tip: Alberta fire dousing buckets make amazing berry containers that you can clip to your belt with a carabiner. They are soft so they don't crush the bottom berries. Remember to bring lots of plastic bags to keep line your bucket with and to store if you hit the berry jackpot! 7/18/2017 3 Comments Mark of the Metis Canoe Trip Last week Ralph and I journeyed north on the Athabasca River with the McMurray Metis on their annual canoe trip from Fort McKay to Fort Chipewyan. The trip is to teach Metis youth about the incredible history of the region and understand (even just a little) the physical tole of the fur trade.
To be clear, there was no portaging of any kind, we had delicious food, comfortable tents and even a boombox for our canoe, so our eco-tourism experience was far more comfortable than that of our ancestors. My grandfather was born at Pelican Portage, a major stop for fur traders, which is just south of the Grand Rapids. These miniature homesteads and caches of supplies and shelter were the difference between life and death for some fur traders. On this trip we were fortunate to be welcomed to stay at Embarrass Portage (aka Kathy's) and Peace Point and visit the Peace River Portage that is equipped with a winch and dolly system on train tracks for portaging boats and barges. Portaging sounds hard, really hard, you carry all the gear in the canoe, and the canoe. As I say this, Ralph decidedly rolls his eyes at me, having been on many forays overland. In the old days the scows would be pulled by men with ropes who walked the shoreline or they would pole where the water was too deep. One thing we discovered was how much harder to paddle against the strong current of the Athabasca River. This is a task that requires stamina and attitude. The voyageurs and scow men must have had great strength and even greater substance to navigate the great rivers and lakes to the north. The journey took us five days with only 6-8 hours of paddling each day. We were accompanied by three boats, Len Hansen from McKay to Kearl & Roy Vermillion and Archie Antoine for the remainder of the trip. As Athabasca just lost a young man who's canoe capsized and Fort Chipewyan tragically lost four hunters while duck hunting, it was decided to have professional guides and if needed emergency transportation. Imagine how boring it must have been for the boaters, idling at the pace of a canoe. They practically drifted faster than we paddled, 6 km hour max for days. At least in the canoe we had an activity, paddling. The rhythmic motion of paddling is surprisingly soothing, I would put my head down and paddle making a figure eight motion and finding ways to limit the drag of the wind upon my paddle when out of the water. The music helped in the last few days where the novelty of paddling wears out and you are ready to use a real toilet and sleep in a real bed. The music did not help with the horse flies or the mosquitos. Our last camp out on the river we stopped at this beautiful sandy bank of a creek just off of Embarass River. Cree Creek is Mosquito Mordor... full of blood sucking, ankle biting, hordes of flying monsters (if you don't know what Mordor is - read Lord of the Rings). In the heat, the mosquitos were limited and the black flies were as they always are (there and after your open wounds). It was in the morning the next day that trillions of mosquitos who must have been hiding in the woods covered the sandy bank. We could hardly breath without inhaling at least three mosquitos each breath. Breakfast was made hastily and everyone made record time taking their tents down. Archie, our 83 year old elder and trapper, even wore a mosquito jacket (which means something outworldly is at hand). That is when the ladies on the trip experienced ankle swelling. My ankle grew to twice the size due to the poison that the bugs inject to prevent clotting too quickly. How the boys escaped this particular experience I have no idea but starting to understand why you don't hear of many women voyageurs (due to the kankle situation... and likely the child rearing business). I won't be going into the traditional learnings of the trip - you should go on it and learn for yourself - but it was amazing. The lives of families made along the river was incredible and so attractive. Ralph and I would love one day to live in a remote area in a cabin overlooking the water completely off-grid. He would catch us delicious fish and we'd make a wonderful life for ourselves. I do have to end this post with a bit of bragging, my man caught a dozen Goldeyes and two big Northern Pikes to feed the group (with Lenny's hooks mind you). Seeing a professional commercial fisherman, Roy, fillet a pike is an experience upon itself. It must have taken him only seconds to have two clean fillets. Then Archie showed us the best ways to cook and eat the Goldeye, whole and from the spine. There wasn't a single piece of fish left at camp that night and we all went to bed, blissfully unaware of the mosquito attack to come. |
About me
I grew up in Athabasca, AB and have spent the majority of my life in Northern Alberta or Montreal, PQ. My husband has been in Fort McMurray since the 70s and continues to love this town and all that it has to offer. We are avid outdoor enthusiasts, spending our summer weekends quadding and camping. As Opimian members we thoroughly enjoy wine pairings and tastings and are working on our wine collection. Ralph is a carpenter by trade and has framed more houses in Fort McMurray than I could count and knows the city inside and out. I work all throughout the region from the NWT to Janvier for the tribal council. My passion is doodling and photography which is featured throughout the website (various mediums), writing, Indigenous studies, and learning in general. Categories |