Before the English and French came, we were here. We are a pre-Confederation nation of peoples.
Prior to the coming of European immigrants, our ancestors exercised all the prerogatives of nationhood. We had our land and our own system of land-holding. We made and enforced our own laws in our own ways. The various tribal nations dealt with one another according to accepted codes. We respect our distinctive languages. We practice our own religious beliefs and customs. We develop our own set of cultural habits and practices according to our particular circumstances. We, in fact, had our own social, political, economic, educational and property systems. We exercise the rights and prerogatives of a nation and the existence as a nation.
It was as nations our forefathers dealt with the European immigrants. It is as nations we exist today. It is our desire and intent to continue to exist as a nation of Mi’kmaq people.
As nations of Indian peoples or Indian nations, our rights and entitlements to this land were inherited from our forefathers. Our rights to the ownership of the land precede and supersede the claims upon our lands by the Europeans. We have prior rights of ownership by prior occupation and rightful inheritance. Our ownership and entitlements to this land do not arise by virtue of any rights granted to us by foreign sovereigns of the Europeans or their succeeding governments; rather, the European immigrants and their descendants live in this land by virtue of the rights we granted them. The rights granted them were merely the rights to use and share the lands with us.
Vast portions of this land still remain Indian Land. Our continued ownership and rightful use of our lands has not been terminated. Even though succeeding governments of our European immigrants attempt to dispossess us by seizing and claiming all our lands, we maintain the European peoples and their succeeding governments have not, at any time or in any way, rightfully acquired these lands. We further maintain we are deserving of the recognition, restoration and compensation for the wrongful seizure of our lands and resources therein. We will continue to inhabit, occupy and use these lands for our survival and subsistence according to the rights we have inherited from our forefathers.
We have paid a very grave and exorbitant price; we face the danger of being wrongfully dispossessed of much of our other land; our religious beliefs and practices were outlawed; we were denied the use of our language; our music, dances and arts were declared barbaric; we were prohibited to live and practice according to our own cultural customs; our entire way of life, based on the land, was endangered and weakened by deliberate acts of destruction of the animals which sustained us; and our movements were restricted so that our survival was made perilous and precarious.
Yet we have survived. We have not perished. We have not vanished. We are not also merely people of the past; we are of this land today; and we will be of this land in the time yet to come. Our survival in our land today is still perilous and precarious.
If we are to survive as a people in the future, to be strong and independent as we once were, we must develop and strengthen our existence with a special relationship with the European in this land today.
Therefore, let it always be known, as it has always been known and accepted by us, that we are nations of Indian people; and that we declare and proclaim a special relationship within the Canadian federation.
This is the understanding that exists in the minds and hearts of our people today.
Helen Sylliboy
It’s only Talk
L’nu, taluwe’sipnek Ki’l?
Indian, What did you say?
Too late, I feel your pain
You will never feel again.
Too late, I hear your voice
You will never make any noise.
Too late, I see your face
You will never return my gaze.
Too late, I feel your touch
You will never be within reach.
Too late, I said “I love you”
You will never say that you do, too.
For today, your life has ended
Your suffering and soul could not be mended.
(September 23, 1993)
changes by power
raindrops that fall from the sky
insignificant at the time
have the power to change boundaries
the face of the earth
when gathered
in torrents
floods
snowflakes that fall from the sky
weighing almost nil at the time
have the power to move mountains
reshape the land
when gathered
in glaciers
avalanches
sandgrains that fall from the sky
so minuscule at the time
have the power to engulf land
shifting the terrain
when gathered
in deserts
sandstorms
all of these things can change the world
unnoticed by itself at the time
has the power to alter lives
change the events
when gathered
in havoc
disasters
a single person can change the world
unknown alone at the time
has the power to make destiny
alter people’s minds
when gathered
in ideas
revolutions
Web of Life
A gossamer web, is life
when one is alive
Victim from conception
In our struggle to survive.
One day, a helpless babe
To a carefree youth,
A happy, loving wife
Finally alive, in truth.
Unknowing death was close
Bade farewell to family, friends
Full of vigour, caring
Too soon, her life ends.
Her legacy to her heirs
A loving nature, a smile
To share in our pain
Ease our burden for awhile.
Her web of life has broken
The strands hold our tears
Hope will turn them into crystals
With the passing of the years.
(In memory of Diane Morrison, May 30, 1994)
Life and Death
(contemplation on Native suicides)
Our elders showed us the road.
There are two roads we can choose from.
We must decide on which path to follow.
But the choice is not really ours to make,
or so the elders say.
Ahay, it is a good day.
Our Creator gave us our beginning
in the shelter of our mother’s womb,
nourished by her body and blood,
delivered us by her pain.
She has given us our life.
Ahay, she is a good wife.
Our father taught us to respect all life,
the life that we have been given,
the beauty of sun, star and sky,
the animals that walk with us,
one must die, so one may live
Ahay, it is good to give.
Our children are our gift
from the maker of us all,
He decides on our life
but we choose our destiny.
If one is born, die as he will
Ahay, life hereafter, still.
(September 23, 1993)
moon story
the moon is magic
in the night
as it swathes the land
in a blanket of silver.
i see the little fish
jumping out of the water
to try and nibble
at this shiny tidbit.
the little fox skirts
along the shore
in search of a frog
or a baby clam.
the wolf howls eerily
as she tries vainly
to search for f
ood
for her den of pups.
the heron crane
balances on one leg
takes a nap
rests her other leg
and the old man
in the moon laughs
at these crazy antics
all night long
empty visions
those pounding drums sound so empty,
the chants so meaningless,
as I look around the pow wow grounds
so many empty souls that need filling
stuffing themselves full of hypocrisy
and the regalia might as well be rags
for do we know true vision?
our heads are full of pseudoisms, surreality
that we have lost the meaning of family
men loving others, not their own
women killing their unborn,
elders sitting neglected
youngsters are a bother
family is no longer sacred
needs a lot of mending
where can we begin?
our mother earth crying to be cared for
no one ever sees the stars, without a fight
rivers are empty and clogged at the same time
even animals are respected more than family
moratorium on seal hunt, but not on abortion
child abuse does not make headlines,
but a handicap’s pension can not buy dogfood
so charge him with animal cruelty
indians weren’t expected to go to university
so give them money they’ll never use
then beat up on them if they do
is this justice for all?
the government is out to get us with taxes
cutbacks to what little we get to shut us up
even then we fight amongst ourselves for a share
begging for recognition in an apartheid system
getting tried and tied in the “your honour’s” chamber
welfare line is full, unemployment cheques are few
’cause the flag is the only thing red and white at work
depression and lineups at the pharmacy go hand in hand
not many things to sing about, dance about
for what you can beg, borrow or steal for
can you do a dance?
BREAK THE SPIRIT OF THE ANIMAL AND HE WILL BE TAMED!
the spirits may be badly battered, but not broken
the time to renew and to replenish ourselves is now
starting with “one little, two little indians”
are you willing to take that risk?
Morning reverie
As I look out my eastern door,
across Lake Bras d’Or,
I see the remnant mists
of the morning fog, U’nama’ki.
I see the clear blue sky,
yes, it will be fine.
Agreeing with the blue jay
as he heralds fine weather for the day.
Thank you Creator, for a good night.
and for the fine day you bring us.
I am honoured that you remembered me.
Let me remember you throughout this day.
As the morning sun greets the wet earth,
let me bring warmth to the life of others.
No one is a lowly creature
when you are by his side.
I am comforted by your presence Lord.
knowing you are always there,
let me always be there for someone.
The warmth of your love permeates my very soul,
let me bring a glow to all who come my way.
Let us sing out in harmony and peace,
just as your birds sing out a morning chorus.
giving you praise and thanks in song.
The world market
What makes some people worth more
than any other?
Is it the colour of their skin,
the money in their bank account?
No one society, nor nation
has a monopoly on brains.
No cult, nor sect
holds the stock on faith.
No tribe, nor race
purchase investments on culture.
So what sets you out as valuable,
worth more than anyone else?
It’s the amount of time we spend on
our lives with one another.
Accepting everyone as our equal worth
without values on race, status,
sex, intellect or religion.
The way we price one another
makes all the difference
in this world we exchange
for a life in the hereafter.
That’s what makes us invaluable
to every one else.
The pricetag we put on ourselves,
That’s what we’re really worth!
(May 9, 1994)
the teaching of the mi’kmaq
as we grew up in a little indian village
along the shores of lake bras d’or
in a society that respected age
“you are special” “you are l’nu” and more
you were given love without demand
and freedom from any kind of fear
then we had to leave our native land
to go to school in a community not near
there we learned hatred of one another
no one knew our indian names
no one was in truth a sister or brother
no one was allowed to play games
we were taught we were stupid lazy
not allowed to speak our native tongue
some stayed sane others went crazy
some stayed awhile some stayed too long
we prayed from dawn till dusk
did our penance for things so small
were kept like animals in a park
fed cleaned trained no love at all
we forgot the teachings of our people
the ways of our elders the l’nu way
we learned to hate the steeple
a symbol of the abuse day by day
and now that memory fades goes away
as we sing and dance around a drum
we start to remember the forgotten way
we can’t speak the words still we hum
our bodies were broken by the pain
our spirits and hearts were still our own
we vowed that no one will ever go there again
our children will be ours till full grown
(a tribute to the survivors of residential schools)
All faces the same
I had a dream of people hugging
Our faces were same, pretty pink
Like when my babies are born,
The crying babies were everywhere
All pink, all crying, all cuddled,
We women were weeping, crying, smiling
Our babies were same
All cultures were in the maternity ward
Our babies were same.
A little aways he stood
You are all my children, he said.
I hugged somebody, I never saw the face
But the love was there
When I awoke I understood.
The wish keeps beating the heart, I care.
In the land of U’nama’ki
In the land of U’nama’ki (the land of the Fog, Cape Breton), there dwelt a magnificent and beautiful black bird, more commonly known as Ka’quwej (the crow). Now Ka’quwej was known to be a very busy bird, spending entire days running up and down the shore in search of his food. He would rush in as the tide was going out, hoping to catch the eye of a half-hidden clam, before it had a chance to bury itself deep in the still wet sands. All day long, he could be seen running up and down the beach, trying to fill his empty belly with the delectable morsels that were doing their best to avoid capture. Panting and scuttling back and forth in his eagerness to replenish h
is flagging energy, he expended more energy than he could store. He would run up to a receding wave, peck on the sand and try to capture his tidbit, before the next wave came crashing down on him. He would race back to the shore, survey the next oncoming wave, and repeat this arduous task in his everlasting quest for food.
His friends would look at him, and shake their heads, amazed at his dexterity in avoiding the surf and ending up in missing his prey, most of the time. They were also amazed at the amount of energy he expended just for a scrap of food.
Now one day, long after the scorching sun had set behind the distant horizon, and dappled on the placid waters in shades of violet, red and gold, his friends started to get concerned as they had not seen Ka’quwej since early afternoon. It was not like Ka’quwej not to turn up by the fireside, to chat and talk about his daily activities with the rest of his friends. It was a tradition with the waises (animals) to gather and chat with one another before turning in for the night. It was getting darker and the new moon was coming up over the ridge of the mountain, and still there was no sign of Ka’quwej. Their concern grew to alarm, as it was a sign that indeed something was wrong. Being part of a tribal society, it was important to keep an eye out for one another, so they decided to venture out to look for their missing friend.
It was decided to search along the shoreline, so the troupe of friends broke up into two parties, one for up and one for down the shore. They marched together in a row, rather than a line so that they could cover the breadth of the shoreline. By the pale light of the new Tepknuset (moon), they could be seen trudging along in the silvery moonlight, hopeful in their search for their missing comrade. They were not unlike an official scouting party, in the conformity of their strutting and careful observation of the surrounding terrain. Until at last, they glimpsed what seemed to be a hump by the shoreline, just above the breast of a dune. Hurriedly, they rushed towards it, in trepidation of what it may be, hoping that it was not their dear friend, Ka’quwej.
But alas! Their worst fears were realized, as they approached the still form of their friend, who had departed from this earthly plane and had ventured on to new horizons in the spirit world. Picking up his lifeless body, they began to wail and wonder on how he met his untimely demise. Saddened by the loss of a good friend, they started to make assumptions on what could have caused his death.
The Mi'kmaq Anthology Page 11
