by Nadine Neema
I don’t feel any pain tonight. I didn’t feel any last night either. Maybe the branch is working after all.
Day 9:
Where the Water Does Not Freeze
What a day! We were paddling across a very big lake when a huge storm hit us. Thunder and lightning and heavy rain fell on us. We were in the middle of the lake and far from shore. We all got soaking wet. The boat was filling up with water. Everyone paddled really hard to get to shore. Nobody spoke. I put my head down and stayed low, like I was taught to do before.
I squeezed what’s left of my branch. It’s more of a twig now. I prayed to the ancestor who had visited me in my dream. I understood what he meant about doing everything we can to be prepared but then needing to surrender to the Great Spirit. We were at the mercy of the weather. I prayed to the Great Spirit too, and to Uncle Joe. I prayed to everyone I could think of.
“Great Spirit, Creator, Uncle Joe, Tree, all the ancestors who have paddled these lakes, all of our ancestors,” I prayed silently. “Please protect us from this storm. Please help us make it through. I will always listen to my Elders. I will be patient and know that everything has its time. Please keep us safe.”
We finally made it to shore and waited under tarps for the storm to pass. Then we started a fire to warm up and have lunch.
While we were eating, Grandma told a story about the first time she heard a motor. Maybe she was thinking it would have been helpful to have a motor during that storm!
“Before, we had never heard motors,” she said. “The first time people from Behchokò˛ came to Wekweètì with Ski-Doos and we heard them, we got really scared. We thought it was strangers coming to attack us, so we blew out all the candles in the tent. When they arrived, they asked us why we had no lights on.” We all laughed.
A couple of the other Elders talked about electricity and running water coming to the community for the first time. It was in the 1980s, not even that long ago! Like twenty years. I’m amazed at how they lived without these basic things that I always take for granted.
“Remember when we got phones?” Uncle Jimmy said with a chuckle.
“How could I forget?” Grandma said. “Everybody wanted one. They never thought that they were going to get bills and things like that. So everybody hooked up their phone in their houses and made ever lots of calls. Next thing you know, one month later, the phone bill came and they had all this money to pay.” Everyone laughed again.
“It’s hard to believe that was less than twenty years ago,” Auntie Rosaline said. “So much has changed so quickly. We even have Internet now.”
After lunch, we set off again to meet on this island just outside Behchokò˛. As we were approaching the shore, Grandpa told the story of how their ancestors used to camp here.
“We call it ‘net place island where the water does not freeze.’ Near the island, a net can be set to catch fish where there will be open water throughout the winter,” Grandpa explained. “The island has a long history of hosting our ancestors that came from the bush. They would renew kinship, tell stories, and celebrate. In later years, they would go to the trading post and use the island as a place to camp. It has a rich traditional fishing history. It is probably the place of our ancestors that we return to the most. There are still signs of the old tent rings.”
In the afternoon, all the canoes from Whatì, Gamètì, and Behchokò˛ arrived. We sought out our friends from the other communities. Everyone hugged and laughed, happy to be reunited.
Our new village is gigantic. There are so many different camps. I heard there are sixty canoes altogether, with several hundred people and a couple hundred tents. I helped set up our camp, and then I helped Grandma make bannock. It was ever delicious.
Hide and seek was the best! There were ever lots of people playing, and there were lots of places to hide. Kyle was following a cousin from Whatì, so I was spared him trailing after me.
Later, we hung out by the water. I motioned to Layla and Alice to follow me. I led them to a tree not far from the lake. We stood close together. “Thank you for the branch,” I told them, and I showed them the little twig. “There isn’t much left of it anymore. I feel better.”
“So it helped you?” Layla asked.
“I think so,” I answered. “I think Uncle Joe is a part of me, like all of our ancestors are. I think we are all a part of each other, all cultures, all people.” Layla looked at me with that intrigued expression on her face. “Even though this isn’t my culture,” I continued, “in a way it is. We all come from the same place. I think the same about the wind and the rain and the tree. Everything is connected. I want to leave what’s left of this branch here where the water does not freeze. It can protect everyone who comes through.”
“Good idea,” Alice said.
“I’m so happy it helped.” Layla nodded.
We hugged then huddled together. “Creator, Prophet, Uncle Joe, all of our ancestors, and all who guide us on this journey,” I whispered. “Mahsì for your guidance. Please continue to watch over us and to guide us as we travel on these trails and through our lives.” I laid the twig down by the tree. “We release this branch here, where the water never freezes, where the people always come. May it heal all who are in need.” We put our heads down in silent prayer.
In the evening, everyone gathered in a huge circle and did a tea dance. We stood shoulder to shoulder, moving clockwise, and singing traditional songs. I was next to Grandpa. I could have danced all night. I don’t want this trip to end.
Later, as we sat by the fire, Grandpa said the tea dance reminded him of last December, when he went to Ottawa.
“There were many stages our Agreement had to go through to come into effect once the negotiations were done,” he said. “A bill is the name of something before it becomes law. For the Tłı˛cho˛ Agreement to become law, the Tłı˛cho˛ Bill had to pass. Passing the bill was the last stage the Agreement had to go through so that it could take effect.”
I tried my best to follow everything, but it was hard. There were all these new words to keep track of—and words I thought I knew the meaning of, like “bill,” which turned out to have a completely different meaning when talking about laws. Then he started adding dates. It was a lot of information.
“We went to Ottawa last December for the third reading of the Tłı˛cho˛ Bill in the House of Commons. It takes three readings for a bill to pass. That means a bill needs to be presented three times before it becomes law. Then we went back again in February for the third reading in the Senate. It was very special. Many of us Tłı˛cho˛ that were there had never left the North. We sat in the galleries watching Canada’s democracy at work.”
I know I’ll need someone to explain it all again, but I still tried to understand as much as I could. I know democracy means that the people vote for their leaders. I know the House of Commons and the Senate have to do with the way the Canadian government works. But I don’t really know what they are.
He went on. “After the Senate reading, we all stood in the Senate lobby, shoulder to shoulder in a circle, just like we did today. Everyone danced, and we sang our traditional songs. It was a very big tea dance in the lobby of the Canadian Parliament. Government people were part of the circle. That is how we celebrated the final passage of the Tłı˛cho˛ Bill.”
I remember my mom telling me about that dance. She had gone to Ottawa with them, and I had slept at Layla’s house. I really wish I’d been there too!
“Tomorrow we will paddle to Behchokò˛,” Grandpa continued with his arm in the air and hand pointing towards the community, while Grandma cooked bannock over the fire. “There, we will celebrate the day we officially have our own self-government and become owners of our land.”
That’s when it hit me. That’s when I realized what an important moment in history this is.
Day 10 :
/> Behchoko
We arrived in Behchokò˛ this morning! I could hardly sit still. Guns fired as we approached the land. Thousands of people were lined up to meet us on the shore. The line went up the hill and through the community as far as I could see.
The closer we got to land, the more excited I was. I couldn’t stop laughing. As soon as we beached our canoes, I spotted my mom in the crowd and ran over to her. We hugged for a long time. I didn’t want to let her go.
Then we began shaking hands with everyone waiting on land. It’s a tradition at the end of a trip that all travellers shake hands with every person waiting to greet them and say Mahsì, or “thank you.” Once in a while someone, usually an Elder, would hold my hand a little longer, a little more tightly, and say Mahsì cho, or “thank you very much.” It felt ever good. It went on for a long time. I must have shaken over a thousand hands today!
When the greetings were over, I carried my bag up to my mom’s friend’s house where we’re staying. There are about twenty people sleeping here this week. I talked nonstop about the trip. There was so much I wanted to tell Mom: the story of the Prophet’s Grave and the branch, my dream of the ancestor, getting lost on my way back from the waterfall, the abandoned prospector’s cabin, learning how to paddle with such speed, getting over my fear of the Big Animal...
“Wow!” said Mom. “Sounds like a very eventful trip! Did you have time to write in your journal?”
“Every day! I drew a lot too,” I said proudly. “Thanks, Mom, for everything.”
“I’m so happy you enjoyed it, sweetie.” She smiled at me and stroked my hair.
“I loved it!” I exclaimed. “Can I go back next year?”
“Of course,” she answered. “Maybe we can go together.”
She looked at me for a moment without saying anything. I could see so much love in her eyes. “You have grown remarkably in the last ten days, Jules. I can tell this journey has been a rite of passage for you. I’m sure Uncle Joe would be very proud of you.”
“I miss him a lot, Mom.”
“Me too.” She hugged me and held me for a while. I was crying. I didn’t pull away this time. It felt good to cry in my mama’s arms.
I took a shower for the first time in ten days. It felt ever good. I couldn’t believe how much I missed hot water. After I got dressed, Mom told me she was going to the community hall for the final Dogrib Treaty 11 Council annual gathering ever.
“Why is it the last one ever?” I asked, confused.
“This is the last Assembly of the Council,” she explained. “Tomorrow is the effective date of the Tłı˛cho˛ Agreement, so it will be the first day of the Tłı˛cho˛ Assembly and the first annual gathering of the Tłı˛cho˛ Government.”
“What exactly does effective date mean?” I asked.
“It means the day the Tłı˛cho˛ Agreement comes into being.”
I still don’t know exactly what everything means, but I do know this is huge! And it’s so exciting to be a part of it. I asked Mom what they were going to do at the meeting.“Regular business,” she replied. “Reviewing financial statements and awarding scholarships to Tłı˛cho˛ students.”
In the evening, we gathered for a wedding, feast, and dagawo, or drum dance. When someone gets married in the communities, everybody goes. Long tables filled the cultural centre. Every seat was taken. I sat at a table with my mom, Layla, and her family. Many of the men wore their traditional beaded vests, and many of the older women were dressed in blue and purple with scarves tied around their necks. The foreman went to each table serving everyone, as is the tradition in their feasts. We ate caribou, bannock, rice pudding, hot dogs, apples, and cookies. So yummy. Then the countdown to midnight... the countdown to the effective date!
At midnight there were dazzling fireworks.
“Wow! Look at that!” Alice said.
“Ever cool!” I was fascinated. I had never seen fireworks before, except on TV. Most people there had never seen them in real life either.
“So many colours,” Layla added, “and shapes.”
“E-v-e-r.” Alice dragged out the word a long time.
I heard a few Elders beside us saying they weren’t happy that the noise of the fireworks sounded like war, not like celebration. “This noise is not good for the fish,” one Elder said, shaking his head. I guess it might scare them.
The drum dance followed after the fireworks, and the evening ended with an ever-huge tea dance. I could hear the echoes of the ancestors singing.
There’s so much more I want to write, but I’m too tired. I have to go to sleep. Tomorrow is the big day!
Day 11:
The Effective Date
When I woke up this morning, everyone in the house was already having breakfast. Mom made all my favourites—scrambled eggs with cheese, caribou ribs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes. And there was ever lots of fresh fruit.
Mom told me about the effective date. “Two years ago, the prime minister of Canada, the premier of the Northwest Territories, the Grand Chief, and four community Chiefs signed the Tłı˛cho˛ Agreement. Today, it becomes a reality.”
After breakfast, all the adults went to the community hall, where the meetings were taking place. I went with them. I wanted to see how the Agreement would become effective.
The drummers walked into the room dressed in their beaded hide vests. I love the smell of freshly tanned hide. Behind them followed the members of the Tłı˛cho˛ Assembly. Grandpa told me, “There is the Grand Chief, the four Tłı˛cho˛ community government Chiefs, two councillors from each community, and the speaker.”
He turned to look at me. “The 14th Dogrib Treaty 11 annual gathering is over. The first Tłı˛cho˛ annual gathering now begins.” I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I wanted to sing and dance, I was so excited.
The bishop and drummers led the opening prayer. Then the priest swore in the Tłı˛cho˛ Assembly members. After that, they passed the first Tłı˛cho˛ laws, and the Grand Chief and other Assembly members made speeches. Grandpa repeated, “This is the first Tłı˛cho˛ annual gathering and the first sitting of the Tłı˛cho˛ Assembly.”
When the speeches were over, we went outside and gathered in front of the community hall for the flag-raising ceremony. A group of children sang “O Canada” in Tłı˛cho˛. It was so beautiful. I wished I knew it and could sing with them. People laughed and cheered.
I saw Grandma crying and ran up to her. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We have waited so long for this, my girl,” she answered. “I can’t believe I am seeing it in my lifetime. It is a huge moment in our history.” Her tears were joyful, not sad.
A Tłı˛cho˛ Elder took down the old Dogrib Treaty 11 Council flag. And the new Tłı˛cho˛ Government flag was presented. Everyone cheered.
The new flag was raised. A man started explaining the symbols on the flag. “He was one of the negotiators for the Tłı˛cho˛ Agreement, and he designed the new flag,” Mom told me.
“The royal blue background represents the Tłı˛cho˛ Nation territory,” the man said. “The four tipis represent the four Tłı˛cho˛ communities, which together form the Tłı˛cho˛ Nation, Government, and Assembly. The sun and river represent the words of the great Chief Monfwi, who signed Treaty 11 in 1921. As long as the sun rises and sets and the river flows forward and not backward, the Tłı˛cho˛ People will honour the Treaty. Finally, the North Star represents direction and a new era for the Tłı˛cho˛ Nation, which moves united into the future.”
“What a cool flag!” I told my mom. “It has so much meaning.”
Afterwards, there were some flag and gift presentations and more speeches. Mom said the people giving speeches had helped get the Tłı˛cho˛ Bill passed.
One of the speakers said something I keep thinking about: “The Tł
ı˛cho˛ have always been self-governing. Today is really a symbol of the government’s recognition of these rights.” The drummers made a prayer to close the ceremony.
In the early evening, we went to the cultural centre for another delicious feast. There was ever lots of dry fish that people brought from Whatì. More gifts were given. More speeches were made. Then we had the best drum dance ever!
All the tables were cleared. First the drummers began hitting their drums slowly and solemnly, singing the opening prayer and making the cultural centre a sacred space. Everyone stood around, bowing their heads. I did too, and closed my eyes. When the prayer was over, everyone did the sign of the cross three times.
Then the drummers started drumming and singing with so much power and passion. Layla, Alice, and I danced and danced and danced. We took turns following each other into the circle. When we would get to the side of the circle where the drummers were, I would close my eyes for a moment and feel the drum beating in my chest.
There were so many people dancing that sometimes there were four or five circles around each other. Little kids were bouncing around, and many Elders were dancing too, some with their canes. There was a live band nearby and some two-step and jigging, but we didn’t go anywhere else. Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Gordie, Auntie Rosaline, Mom, little Kyle, and hundreds of other people were dancing with us. We spent the whole night at the dagawo. My cheeks still hurt from all the smiling and laughter. I’m sure the ancestors were dancing too.
Day 14:
Flying Home
I was so busy the last few nights, I had no time to write. Drum dances, feasts, hand games, and all kinds of other celebrations continued throughout the weekend. It was ever fun.
The morning after the effective date, we all gathered to feed the fire. It’s a ceremony to give thanks, to pray to the Creator and those who have passed away. Food and tobacco offerings are thrown into the fire, and many prayers are made.
