Francine Lemay

Before the Oka crisis, I knew almost nothing about the Indians. The words “Natives” and “First Nations” were not part of my vocabulary, as was the case for many Quebecers. My knowledge was limited to what my schoolbook Histoire du Canada had taught me: that the Hurons were the “good Indians” and allied with the French, and the Iroquois, allies of the English, were the “bad Indians.” There was also the story of the Lachine massacre and Dollard des Ormeaux, who had perished with many other courageous soldiers at Fort Long Sault and the terrifying pictures of the Jesuit fathers Jogues, Lalemant, de Brébeuf and Goupil tied to a post being consumed by fire.

Tragedy in the pines

On July 11, 1990, a tragic and shattering event only reinforced my negative perception of the Iroquois. I received a phone call from a family member telling me that my younger brother Marcel, at the time a corporal at the Sûreté du Québec and member of the Groupe tactique d’intervention (SWAT team), had been killed by gunfire at Oka during a police raid. I couldn’t believe it; I was appalled. I knew nothing of what had been happening in Kanehsatake in the last months, or rather in the last centuries. All I knew was that I had lost my brother in a gunfire exchange because of barricades the Mohawks had erected and that the police were ordered to dismantle. A bold 31-year-old man, Marcel, the only one who lost his life in this confrontation, leaves a wife pregnant with their second child, his 2-year-old daughter, his mother, three brothers and two sisters, as well as colleagues in shock.

For months, the media talked only about the events surrounding the crisis that would last 78 days. Striking pictures in the papers only worsened the situation and the public’s perception of Indians, mine included. Nightmares of Indians destroying houses and killing Whites disrupted my sleep. I was unaware of the nature of the claims which was a golf course that the mayor of Oka wanted to enlarge by taking land on the Mohawk cemetery and the pine area. As a “good Christian”, I suppressed all the negative thoughts besetting me to “forgive” the one who had killed my brother. My forgiveness, however, was only intellectual, superficial. It certainly stood on a basic Christian principle, but it was not heartfelt. Besides, all kinds of racist propaganda and biased information managed to firmly implant in me prejudices which I kept to myself.

Discovery of a new world

Fourteen years passed when one day two students working for the McGill University community radio called me and wanted to meet with me for an interview on my views of the Oka crisis. Hesitant and heart pounding, I asked them to give me three days to think about it. I had thought this chapter of my life behind me. Immediately, I called Céline Bastien-Genest, a friend who was taking courses on native culture and the Mohawk language to ask her some questions concerning the “Indians” in general.

Noticing my ignorance and wanting to inform me on the specific history of the Mohawks of Kanehsatake, Céline lent me a book titled At the Woods’Edge. With a thirst to learn more about these people and all the circumstances that led to the Oka crisis, I avidly read it in just a few days. Another side to a story unfolded and I was touched and deeply moved in learning the deceptions, the exploitation, the injustice and the forced removals the people had endured. I knew there were two interpretations to the history of Canada, the one told by the English Canadians and the one told by French Canadians, but I had just discovered a third point of view, the one told by the Natives.

My First Contact with Mohawks

The next Sunday, the greeter at the church I was attending in the Montreal West Island asked me to replace her and I accepted. I knew that a group of natives had been invited to present their project of translating the Bible into Mohawk in which Céline participated. When they arrived, I inexplicably felt tightness in the chest. Despite appearances, I just greeted them like I did everyone else. When the meeting began, I sat down and the Natives in question went on the stage and introduced themselves. They explained the objective of the project and their respective roles in it.

Although it was a hot day in June 2004, during the whole presentation I was trembling all over. Two friends who noticed my shaking came and sat by my side. They knew these Mohawks woke painful memories. After the guests took their seats, I was moved by a sudden urge and desire to talk. I asked to address the audience. I went up the stage and calmly thanked the guests for having shared their project with us; then a pause. I identified myself as the sister of the policeman who had been killed during the Oka crisis and sincerely asked forgiveness to the Mohawks present for the wrongs they had endured since the arrival of the Europeans, in particular from the governments and especially the Sulpiciens. I could not hold back my tears neither could the audience.

Mavis Etienne, who was in charge of the project and one of the negotiators during the 1990 crisis, came back on the stage and offered her condolences and her apologies for not having prayed for the security of the policemen during the assault in the pines ordered by the government. Later, she invited me to participate in an event called Trail of Prayers that would take place the week after in Kanehsatake. This event consisted in a walk through the Mohawk territory covering four strategic locations where people were invited to pray and sing in Mohawk, English and French, for peace and healing of the community.

A trail of healing

Our first stop was behind the high school, on the shore of the Ottawa River. The day was beautiful and the site enchanting. About fifty people raised their voices to the heavens. The strong wind blowing gave me hope of better days to come for the little community of 1700 people who still suffered the aftermaths of the 1990 siege. The last stop was at the pines, where 95 gunshots were exchanged in 20 seconds. As we stopped there, I was overtaken by nausea and weakness. Seeing me crouching down, people came to comfort me. After 14 years, I freely wept the death of my brother and truly mourned. The real healing process started but still many questions were haunting me: Why Marcel? Why did the bullet reach this small unprotected area of the bullet-proof vest?

The Trail of Prayers ended with a Friendship circle and everyone greeted each other. Tracy Cross, the brother of the famous Lasagna, came to me and offered his condolences and embraced me. This gesture was seen by a young 25 year old native woman, who had been raised among Whites. She had been torn between the two worlds colliding during the crisis, and the gesture observed helped her to heal and find the peace she needed for so long.

During the buffet served afterwards, Mavis invited me to a church meeting in Kanehsatake for the next Sunday. Although I had inexplicable and persistent shortcomings, I accepted. Once there, I realized these are people like me, with the same need for love, the same daily worries and the same hopes. As months went by, I developed friendships and accepted another invitation from Mavis this time to go to Ottawa where a conference was organized by My People International. This group holds for mandate to help healing in Native communities in a culturally relevant way so as to respect their identity. This was where I met the man I would marry two years later, Daniel Lacasse.

Thirst to know more

It was at that moment that I started to really be interested in the North American Native culture. I bought books like People of the Pines, those of Crying Wind, of Kent Nerburn and many more. I watched two documentaries produced by the National Film Board (NFB) of Canada, Kanehsatake – 270 years of resistance and Rocks at Whiskey Trench, and the film Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee. All the while, Daniel explained to me principles of the Great Law of Peace, the Government of the Iroquois Confederacy and made me discover traditional and contemporary Native music. I noticed that my way of thinking and my worldview were slowly changing. Together, we watched another series from the NFB called Five Great First Nations Chiefs as well as one produced by Kevin Costner 500 Nations. I gradually started to appreciate their traditions, customs and ways of life. No longer did I see the earth as an object to exploit and possess; I then considered the earth as a caring mother that we must respect and learn to live in relationship with. I had a greater understanding of the opposition the Mohawks bore with the Oka project of enlarging the golf course by destroying the cemetery where their ancestors are buried.

During the 2008 Christmas season, I started reading a book written by Donald Gingras whose title Window of Hope…and Reconciliation had piqued my curiosity. This book, which had been published to coincide with the 400th anniversary of Quebec City, aroused a desire to read again At the Woods’ Edge that had been lent to me five years earlier. I requested the book from the Kanehsatake Cultural Centre, and after identifying myself to the person in charge, Hilda Nicolas, she offered it as a gift to me. As soon as I read it again, my heart was filled with the desire to share the content with the francophone community. Being a chartered translator, a few days later I proposed to Hilda Nicholas to translate the book free of charge. In spite of my loss, I considered that my contribution was in letting the losses the Mohawks had suffered be known.

The work begins

In March 2009, Hilda called a meeting with one of the two authors of the book, Arlette Kawanatatie Van den Hende, other Mohawks from the community and two Band Council Chiefs. I explained my reasons to translate the book in one year and my wish to have it published for the 20th anniversary of the Oka crisis. They accepted and I was filled with much enthusiasm and zeal, and the long and arduous work of translation during my free time began.

The Kanehsatake Cultural Centre had requested a grant from the Provincial government in order to cover the cost of revision and printing. After nine months, there was still no response and at the Federal level we already had been politely directed to address our request to other established organisations. At that point in time I got discouraged, exhausted and felt doubtful of the project coming to fruition. With the many hours spent at the computer I got acute daily attacks of fibromyalgia that also woke me during the night. More and more, I believed that I had done all this work in vain. Still, I had made a commitment to the Natives and remembered all the broken promises these people had lived through. Besides, I truly believed in the necessity to have the book available in French.

In January 2010, an answer from the Provincial government finally arrived; grant refused. A few days later, Rola Helou, learned from Hilda that the book At the Woods’ Edge was translated in French but without funds it could not be published. As a Project Manager, part of Rola’s mandate is to develop awareness among the general population of the culture and customs of the Kanehsatake Mohawks. She requested a grant from the organisation that hired her and obtained it. The book that brought me out of my ignorance is scheduled to be launched on July 11, 2010 and is titled in French À l’orée des bois. For me, it will be a great reward! The information contained in the book is but a first step towards the long-term goal of reconciliation between two peoples that know little of each other.

Reconciliation: A work in progress

Today, many people and organisations are looking into the process of reconciliation of which the first step is providing information, and the book’s translation is my contribution. The reader desiring to learn can only crossover each step of the reconciliation process—revelation, conviction and reparation—by staying open and sensitive to the conditions of First Nations who welcomed our ancestors to this land over four centuries ago and have been dispossessed of what was most precious to them: their land, their language, their heritage and their means of providing for themselves.

This well-documented book helped in changing my comprehension and softened my heart towards the people of Kanehsatake and all Natives. It was the instrument the Creator used to deeply transform my life, my views and widen my horizons. The book had incited a desire in me to know more about the First Nations, to discover the richness of their culture, traditions and provided a means to share in their joys, their sorrows and their hopes. It brought me to new friendships and even a marriage! The authors worked on the book for three years and sacrificed hundreds of hours not only in the writing but also in the compiling of the information contained. They made me discover a people rich in history but also a strong, generous and courageous people.

Bringing down the barricades

Even if the barricades were dismantled after the 78-day crisis, we must confess there are still barricades up in the hearts of both Whites and Natives. There is still pain, frustration, anger and misunderstanding on either side. Prejudices, based mainly on ignorance or misinformation, are often the cause and persist over time. We cannot love what we know not. My barricades have been brought down forever. The only way to start the reconciliation process between the two nations is by our willingness to listen and understand the others’ pain with openness and honest talk and admit our wrongs. It is not by erasing our differences but by accepting and appreciating them.

Peace is not free; it costs us our pride, our selfishness, our indifference and our prejudices. To build bridges between us, we must search honestly and actively reconciliation by varied means such as, awareness gatherings through the media, conferences on First Nations history and on the repercussions of the residential schools, workshops on reconciliation, and more importantly through personal contacts. In that way, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Canada has done excellent work since its inception in 2008.

I like the French phrase “artisan de paix” which translates the term peacemaker. The Native people are artisans recognized for their unique crafts, objects made by hand not manufactured. Peace cannot be manufactured; as in crafts, it needs time, dedication and love. Although the loss of a life always appears useless, that of Marcel, even if it is highly deplorable and still afflicting, might not be in vain. A tragedy can sometimes serve a greater good for a purpose that can surpass our limited human understanding. Skén:nen (peace)!

This article was published in a McGill student journal entitled Kanata (Volume 3). All three volumes can be found on their website : http://kanata.qpirgmcgill.org/2010/05/kanata-launches-volume-2-and-volume-3/g.