Well, it isn’t Christmas or in any way nice. It’s wildfire season and it’s scary. As a former firefighter and as the son of one, I know just how bad it can get. In Moosonee, my father fought a huge fire that almost took out the town, let alone the men and women trying to stop it.
I fought a forest fire just a few kilometres from Mistissini and another one near the southeastern part of Lake Mistassini. One time, another forest fire nearly surrounded the fire truck and all of us firefighters, which could have ended in tragedy.
In those days, we had water bombers coming deep into Eeyou Istchee. Something that no longer happens and I wonder why.
If you claim effective control over Eeyou Istchee, as the Quebec government does, the raging fires that ran all last summer into autumn prove you wrong.
In 2019, the International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction found that 80% of Indigenous communities are in areas that are likely to have fires. The study went
on to say wildfire responses are problematic as many of the communities are isolated compared to the south, lie outside of firefighters’ jurisdiction and there is a lack of infrastructure to fight them.
Statistics Canada recorded more than 6,000 wildfires last year – Canada’s worst wildfire season ever. Another season is upon us. A worried call I received told of feeling panic because of seeing lightning strikes around their community.
Don’t panic but be ready. Have a grab-and-go bag near the door with essential documents (like passports, birth certificates, driver’s licenses), treasured family memories and other items you would like to have with you in case of evacuation.
When on the land, tend to your fires. Build small fires rather than large ones. If you are fishing, a shore meal on a small island would be a prudent choice.
Anyhow, be prudent and check with the local fire department on what is advisable.
Be safe, for ’tis the season.
Tis the season
by Will Nicholls
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS M. Labrecque-Saganash S. Orr, P. Quinn, J. Janke, A. Niambar
THANKS TO: Air Creebec
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Celebrating the summer solstice
NIPD makes a statement in Montreal
by Joshua Janke
National Indigenous Peoples Day (NIPD) is celebrated on June 21, the summer solstice, and this is no coincidence – the longest day of the year is spiritually significant in many Indigenous traditions and cultures.
At 5am, nestled in a beautifully decorated alleyway beside Montreal’s McCord Stewart Museum, the Kanien’kehá:ka community of Kahnawà:ke was already celebrating the day in full force, with a large bonfire being lit before a traditional sunrise ceremony welcomed the beginning of the year’s longest day.
“We light a fire at five in the morning for the sunrise,” said André Dudemaine, the Innu director of Land InSights. “This allows our inner and physical fires on the ground to be connected with the sun’s fire in the sky.”
As sage burned and tobacco smoke filled the sunrise circle, Dudemaine said that NIPD is a message to everyone that Indigenous cultures are still alive and have always been here to share, create dialogue and celebrate.
The day-long event that filled the surrounding streets with music, art and lively conversation was dedicated to the woodland caribou, or atiku in Innu. “Atiku is the soul of the forest,” said Dudemaine. “If the atiku cannot survive in the forest it means the forest itself, the nature itself, Mother Earth herself is now in danger.”
For over 25 years, Dudemaine says, Indigenous groups in Quebec have been asking for the protection of the caribou, which has been listed as threatened since 2003. While the summer solstice is
always a special opportunity to celebrate, he says that today was made especially important by “this display of solidarity with nature and cooperative political will.”
“We are a part of this society, and this year our concern is directed towards the caribou. The caribou is a traditional animal whose spirit has accompanied us for millennia,” said Dudemaine in the presence of federal Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault.
The ceremony came a day after Guilbeault announced an emergency order to protect the woodland caribou habitat in Quebec. “We were preparing this ceremony when the announcement was made that the federal government is finally starting to protect the land and let the caribou live,” Dudemaine concluded.
Ray Deer, a Mohawk Elder and dance troupe leader, says he returns to downtown Montreal every year to celebrate, dance and make his and his people’s presence known. “We come back to re-establish our foothold on the island of Montreal just to have them recognize that this is ours and they need to acknowledge that,” said Deer, who is from Kahnawake.
Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante was in attendance and agreed that taking concrete actions towards reconciliation must be emphasized in the city’s plans. “There’s action in the cultural field, economic field as well, so we’re always moving forward,” she said.
“I invite all Montrealers to come on Peel Street and see the cultural installation that was put there to remind us of
the presence of the Indigenous community here in Montreal before we came around.”
However, many pointed out that Plante and the Quebec government have been quick to speak yet slow to act when dealing with the inequalities faced by Indigenous communities in the city and province. Elders voiced their concerns over the lack of resources for Indigenous people living in urban areas, where art installations appear to be favoured over affordable housing solutions. Above all, discussions centred on problems of dialogue and miscommunication which stifle Indigenous voices and sidelines their issues.
“Listen to us, we know what we’re talking about,” said Mohawk Elder Sedalia Kawennotas. “So many times we pass messages and people pretend they’re listening, but they’re not hearing. They’re not hearing that Mother Earth is in crisis.”
Kawennotas pointed to systemic inequalities that disproportionately affect urban Indigenous populations. “Our people who are living on the streets, find them,” she said. “There are buildings that are abandoned. Refurbish those and let the homeless have them.”
Then she added, “I tell you this today because it cannot be done today, but it can be done tomorrow, in the future. Today we celebrate, and then we must act, so we that we can come back next year and celebrate the progress we have started.”
Department of Commerce and Industry
Taking the problem
by the horns
by Joshua Janke |
Photo by Sylvain Paquin
It appears that steps are finally being taken to increase protection for caribou herds in Eeyou Istchee.
In April, federal Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault called for an emergency decree, warning Quebec that it must come up with a provincial plan to adequately protect the woodland caribou and their natural habitat by April 20. Now, after months of unsuccessful negotiations with Quebec Premier François Legault, Ottawa is implementing a first-of-its-kind emergency protection plan for the province’s caribou.
“Environment and Climate Change of Canada has updated the caribou protection assessment for Quebec, allowing me to form an opinion on the protection of this critical habitat,” Guilbeault said in a statement. Guilbeault now points to the forestry industry, saying logging and the network of multi-use roads are among the activities that, to date, have “contributed most to habitat disturbance.”
Researchers at the University of Toronto and Université du Québec à Montréal found that more than 140,000 square kilometres of forest had been logged in parts of Quebec and Ontario from 1976 to 2020. Researchers noted older forest areas are crucial habitats and affirmed that caribou populations should be met with a “restoration” response rather than a “conservation” approach.
Legault, for his part, is steadfast in saying that the federal move infringes on provincial jurisdiction.
However, the Society for Nature and Parks (SNAP Québec) has been pleading for months for Ottawa to intervene. According to data the organization has gathered, there are about 20 areas in need of immediate protection. They cover at least 35,000 square kilometres, or 2.3% of Quebec territory. The Val-d’Or and Charlevoix herds, which currently live only captivity, each have under 10 breeding females and over the next decade, the Pipmuacan herd could also be in a similarly threatened state.
Federal government to make emergency decree for woodland caribou
Some herds in Quebec are close to “crossing the threshold of near disappearance,” Guilbeault underlined, recommending federal intervention before the end of July. This means that the Pipmuacan, Val-d’Or and Charlevoix woodland caribou herds could soon be subject to federally imposed protection measures.
This provision in the Species at Risk Act (SARA) has never been used, although it is similar to Ottawa’s decree to protect Quebec’s chorus frog population. Once in effect, the caribou protection act could remain in force for five years.
“We are in uncharted territory,” said Guilbeault, noting the order would mean federally imposed protections on thousands of square kilometres of old-growth forest. He emphasized that it is his “legal obligation as environment minister to act” in accordance with SARA.
The Assembly of First Nations Quebec–Labrador (AFNQL) have long decried Quebec’s failure to consider the rights and interests of First Nations in relation to its commission, calling it a “glaring lack of consideration.”
The AFNQL says that “the provincial commission’s mandate is to assess the economic impacts of caribou protection measures on the forest industry, rather than to take into account the impacts of logging on caribou and the rights of First Nations.”
Waswanipi forest activist Allan Saganash says that for the protection act to succeed, Indigenous leaders and tallymen must be at the forefront of discussions and decisions.
“Consultation is all about protecting our rights and trying to find a balance in development in the territory,” Saganash told the Nation. “It can be done but right now everything is so lopsided because everything leads towards the forestry industry. We signed these agreements with Quebec, not the forestry industry, but they are still always invited to the discussion table.”
When Indigenous representatives are outnumbered and their knowledge undermined, Saganash says progress is immediately stalled. “You end up having nine people all from forestry and logging companies or government positions. And they are all sitting across the table from one tallyman.”
Too many identified wildlife areas are fragmented by logging, say Cree tallymen. They say that cutting and road construction in past years has been excessive, especially within the context of the 2023 forest fires.
“The birch, aspen and shrubbery that sprouts up naturally after a forest fire, that is all considered weeds and plowed over,” tallyman Paul Dixon explained to The Nation. “This just shows that the Ministry of Energy and Natural Resources
and forestry companies do not understand the Cree way of life. They don’t understand that forestry causes a lot of kill zones. They are not only killing the trees, but also the roots that were there thousands of years underground. The animals don’t go there, they won’t come back until the natural forest returns.”
Dixon says that while this obviously pushes caribou out of their natural habitat, it is an act that attacks Cree livelihood in multiple ways, like when logging companies only plant the highly flammable coniferous woods that sawmills demand.
“For wildlife, there is no difference between a spruce sapling and a plastic tree. They are extremely flammable, and they’re even planted in unnatural rows so it’s always windy there. It’s a dead zone that can become destructive force with a single spark. They are cutting down Cadillacs and replacing them with cars like the one Mr. Bean drives.”
Dixon says that one thing he notices after logging companies leave are distraught seasonal birds. “They nest in the conifer stands of jack pines and spruce but that’s the first thing the sawmills take away. They are killing lots of birds with this unsustainable and unchecked forestry development. You’ve got to realize that the industrialized world is destroying hunting societies that rely on these natural ecosystems.”
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All eyes on Mattmac’s star-studded collaborative new album
by Patrick Quinn, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter
For Mattmac’s highly collaborative third album, All Eyes on Us, the award-winning Oji-Cree trap-pop musician worked with 15 Indigenous artists from across Turtle Island to create a powerful statement that spans the spectrum of hip-hop and its numerous sub-genres.
Blind since birth, Mattmac (aka Matthew Monias) used music to help overcome hardships growing up in Garden Hill First Nation, a fly-in community nearly 500 km north of Winnipeg. Since his debut album 20/20 in 2020, his music has amassed over 30 million streams as he’s won prestigious awards like the CBC Searchlight Contest and Canada’s Walk of Fame RBC’s Emerging Musician Award.
“All Eyes on Us is about accepting where I’m at,” said Mattmac. “It took me a long time to get comfortable in the industry, and I’m proud to be able to stand with my community and say look at us. I’m never going far from where I came from.”
While he moved to Winnipeg a few years ago, his music continues to communi cate relatable struggles with hardship and mental health, ultimately celebrating the power of community. As his stages grow bigger, hearing from his audience how much his music means to them makes it all feel worthwhile.
“Putting yourself to music is a bit more personal and hopefully in one or two lines someone can relate,” Mattmac told from the rez to the city. I’m not straying too far from the lessons I learned growing up on reserve.”
All Eyes on Us sets the scene with its opening words from the late Cayden Carfrae: “I want to provide for this community because this community’s taken care of me.”
The 24-year-old Winnipegger known as Caid Jones, Mattmac’s close friend and col laborator, was fatally injured during an altercation in Thunder Bay in February.
Surrounded by his collaborators on the colourful album artwork, which includes braille and was designed by Nehiyaw artist Chris Chipak, All Eyes on Us seems to signify that as Mattmac’s popularity soars he’s bringing the Indigenous community up with him. This mutual respect is demonstrated in the uplifting verses of “Give It Time” from Rex Smallboy, known as one of the founding fathers of Native rap.
“It’s such a powerful blessing to see how his music has the ability to touch people’s souls,” said Smallboy. “I tried to empower people with my verse. In between negative comments about my appear ance [on social media], people said this is what they needed to hear in their life. That really touched me.”
The album reveals Mattmac’s increasingly confident beatmaking and lyrical flow. With more beats accumulat ed than he could realistically write to, sending them out to other artists he admired became almost a necessity
Turtle Island
Island Beat
for the prolific musician. He’s excited about online collaborations formed with US rising stars like Rezcoast Grizz and Stella Standingbear.
“Some beats I had a specific sound in mind, so I thought why don’t I hit up some Indigenous artists and that’s basically how it started,” explained Mattmac. “I know Rezcoast Grizz has been blowing up – I can’t wait to see how people react to it. Everything is levelling up constantly.”
Mattmac’s collaborations with Cree artists CJAY GRiZ and Mariame stemmed from their shared roots with N’we Jinan, a mobile production studio formerly helmed by David Hodges that enables Indigenous youth to produce professional songs and videos. In 2016, N’we Jinan visited Garden Hill when Mattmac was 16 and just starting to explore music production.
Immediately recognizing Mattmac’s natural talent and eventually becoming his manager, Hodges introduced him to CJAY GRiZ, aka Chisasibi’s CJ Monias. It turned out the two are distant family relations and they hit it off right away, trading ideas back and forth before finishing “Come Thru” in 2019.
“I’d send him some loops and he made a beat out of one of them,” recalled Monias. “I started writing and recording. One day he said I really like what you did
– I turned it into a full song. When he sent it back, I was like ‘oh man.’”
While their song was created before Mattmac’s debut was released, Monias said it’s been worth the wait to have a proper album release. Since the single and video was released last year, he’s gotten accolades from radio play on Ottawa’s Indigenous station ELMNT FM and new opportunities in the industry.
“He became the glue that’s bringing all these Indigenous artists together,” asserted Monias. “This album is getting quite a bit of buzz everywhere. It’s sparked some motivation to get back to releasing stuff. There are so many different sides to this – it’s like a 10-sided coin.”
Hodges also made the connection with Chisasibi R&B singer Mariame, the first artist to be signed to N’we Jinan Records. Her silky yet punchy vocals make “Find My Love” one of the album’s highlights. After recording tracks separately, they first met each other when shooting the music video in Winnipeg, which was released last September.
“This project was all online, but it was cool I got to meet both of them in person for shows and filming,” Mattmac said of Monias and Mariame. “To vibe with them, they’re fire and such amazing artists
and people. Hey, Eeyou Istchee, the Cree Nation represents!”
Naskapi hip-hop duo Violent Ground similarly met Mattmac when he visited to shoot the “Capture the Flag” video for their album. As brothers Chris and Allan Nabinacaboo are accustomed to long-distance collaborations on their own work, connecting with Mattmac for multiple songs wasn’t a stretch – “The Greatest” is their joint effort on the new album.
“When people ask us to jump on their songs, they send it over and we’re used to it,” said Violent Ground. “That’s the new age anyways. We feel honoured to be part of a project like that – it’s next level when it’s everybody from Turtle Island.”
Mixing live instrumentation with studio trap elements to take the ambitious album on the road, Mattmac’s star seems destined to rise with no end in sight. However, Garden Hill will remain with him, as he raps on lead track “Still Got Love”: “I just want to come back home and show all my cousins we made it.”
Mattmac with Jessa Sky, Photo by Dillan Lavalle
Uncovering
Janine Windolph makes films to connect the past, present and future
Memories
Tby Avanti Niambar
he theme of roots is ever-present in the work of documentary filmmaker Janine Windolph. Roots tie Windolph’s family to their land, their Indigenous heritage, their ancestry, and one another. Through cataloguing the experiences of her kin, her intensely personal documentaries speak to the collective memory of Indigenous peoples. Film becomes her conduit for remembrance.
Having worked in filmmaking for almost two decades, Windolph is currently the director of Indigenous Arts at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity. Born in La Ronge, Saskatchewan, she is also a member of Waswanipi Cree Nation, her maternal homeland.
Growing up in La Ronge, Windolph was raised in a hunting community. “I was taught that the land is living, and its own entity,” she says.
This intimate relationship with nature would shape the core of her identity, and eventually, her documentaries. “In each of my films, I’ve made sure that the land is its own character in that way,” she explains.
In her films, Windolph presents nature, and traditional Indigenous practices, in a cinema verité fashion. Activities such as fishing and foraging are recorded matter-of-factly. In her most recent production, Our Maternal Home (2023), the story’s flow is interspersed with meditative shots of rivers or swaying trees, while sounds of the landscape reverberate through the soundtrack. Windolph encourages her cinematographers and sound technicians to spend hours taking in B-roll and ambient noise. “We were thinking of land as just as important as we were thinking about the people in it,” she notes.
At age 11, Windolph moved to Saskatoon, an urban environment, where food came from the grocery store and parks equated to nature. She recalls that the representations of Indigenous people in the media didn’t reflect her own culture or upbringing. She discovered that the rules for survival had shifted, and that education was her path to success. To this day, she associates this transition with a sense of “disconnection.”
However, Windolph acknowledges that this move is part of a wider trend, of Indigenous diaspora. She points out that her own ancestors had spread across various territories. Her Native identity is not static, but kinetic. She continues to build bridges in different places, which could be called “home” to her. Even so, she feels a need to keep cir-
Janine Windolph, Irene Otter and Annie Charles in Chiiwetau (Old Waswanipi), Courtesy of the National Film Board of Canada
cling back and to return to Waswanipi, where land-based knowledge may be passed down.
As a youth, Windolph didn’t see a pathway to enter the movie industry, so she chose to study business. It was only later that she opted to pursue her childhood dream and learn about film. Her first focus was intergenerational trauma. Like many young artists, she was trying to establish what she wanted to achieve with her storytelling. As her time at film school was ending, an incident occurred, which marked a seismic shift in how she viewed her art – she became a mother.
Motherhood propelled Windolph to shift away from the theme of trauma and towards intergenerational healing. This attitude is reflected in First Stories - Life Givers: Honouring Our Elders and Children (2007). This short film covers the passing of her unborn daughter, after 21 weeks of pregnancy. Though the film stems from what many parents may consider an inconceivable tragedy, there is a sweetness to its delivery. The piece is defined by warm lighting, candles and gentle music.
Windolph explains that growing up, she’d learned that death was part of the natural cycle, and not to be feared. At a young age, her grandmother would take her to graveyards, and teach her to clean the graves. This activity became normal and peaceful. “When people do pass, they become your helpers, and people we call upon when we are in need.”
Rather than hiding from the pain of losing a child, Windolph opted to produce First Stories, which features her preparing a feast in tribute to her daughter. For her two teenage sons, she states, “I want them to know, they had a sister between them.”
She also pays tribute to Elders who have passed on. Paying respect to the dead persists in Our Maternal Home, where the family visits the graves of their relatives in Waswanipi. The sequences are calm, characterized by togetherness.
An extraordinary aspect of Windolph’s family background is that her grandmother, Caroline, suffered from an incident of amnesia, and subsequently lost her identity. The absence of memory caused her to become severed from her family, home and origins. Caroline was separated from her parents for over 20 years, reuniting with them during Windolph’s childhood. Her father, Windolph’s great-grandfather, purportedly never stopped searching for her.
In Our Maternal Home, Windolph wonders how her grandmother may have felt returning “home”, only to discover that her community had relocated. She recalls her grandmother as a loving woman, who did not discuss her past. It is an incident stranger than fiction – a maternal presence, with an internal void, stemming from missing information.
Perhaps this is the root of Windolph’s fascination with reconnection. She recalls that there was little discussion of familial legacy in her upbringing, especially of residential schools. “That silence that permeates families was quite potent in ours.” She became the historian of her family, discovering that there were “gaps on knowledge she could never fill.”
Nonetheless, Windolph became a collector of fragments – gathering stories, documents, photographs to piece together a portrait of her grandmother. Our Maternal Home is, indirectly, such a portrait. Her sons return to the place their great-grandmother came from – by paying tribute to her legacy, they restore her identity. “Even though they passed, we still care for them,” Windolph says, referring to her ancestors.
Vulnerable moments within Windolph’s family aren’t staged in her films but captured in candid fashion. She claims she had an internal struggle: wondering if such personal scenes were really meant for an audience. Ultimately, she concluded that these
“honest moments” needed to be “put into the world.”
Windolph’s film projects require building relationships and fostering community. Stories aren’t instantaneously granted to her – it takes years for her to earn trust, to uncover the layers of her family’s past.
In her films, Windolph’s sons (Dawlari, 17, and Corwyn, 19) appear as recurring sources of inspiration, subjects and collaborators. Though the family currently lives in Banff, during the events of Our Maternal Home, they return to Waswanipi. They meet relatives, gather food and learn to live off the land. It is a story of homecoming, the passing on of knowledge, and the building of bridges.
Nourishment is a running theme in her work. “Food, family and ceremony are all interconnected,” Windolph claims. In the short film Stories Are in Our Bones (2019), her sons learn to fish. As they experience surviving on the land, they in turn educate the viewers about sustainable living. Windolph explains that she felt a duty to connect her sons with the lifestyle she had grown up with. Such familial contacts, and traditional education, she considers vital to their identity. Documentaries became a way for her to capture this personal journey, one she felt many other families could connect with.
When it comes to target audience for her work, Windolph states, “This is for my kids.” She sees a value in capturing these stories for her sons, “as they become adults.”
As for upcoming projects, Windolph is collaborating in a documentary called Healing Hearts, about fathers reconnecting with their families. She is also pitching a new film to the NFB, about taking her children to experience trapline living. “I realized that the past, present and future were all interconnected in my storytelling,” she explains.
Janine Windolph, Courtesy of the National Film Board of Canada
Dare to dream
Get ready for the Eeyou Istchee Summer Games
by Patrick Quinn, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter
Anticipation is building for the Eeyou Istchee Summer Games, returning this year for the first time since 2011. Mistissini will host the EISG July 14-21, which will include competitive sports for youth aged 9 to 18, cultural activities and nightly entertainment.
While the Eeyou Istchee Sports and Recreation Association (EISRA) has led organizational efforts, partnership with the community and other Cree entities will enable the Games to operate on an unprecedented scale, which will be livestreamed on the JBCCS Cree radio network.
“It’s through collaboration with all these partners we’re able to make this a reality for the Cree Nation,” said Clifford Loon, EISRA operations manager. “We’re trying to encourage the social, mental and physical wellbeing of the youth, interaction with peers, hopefully making lifelong connections.”
The athletic festival will welcome delegations from all Cree communities, including Washaw Sibi and MoCreebec, for over 40 track, field and aquatic events and team competitions in softball, basketball and volleyball. Approximately 800 youth delegates are expected, to be accommodated in Mistissini’s elementary and secondary schools.
Portage is featured on the newly designed EISG logo and is one of its main events, according to EISRA president Charles J. Hester. A traditional games component for adults will include cultural activities such as canoe racing, leg wrestling, teepee erecting and the
foxtrot, a traditional tug-of-war contest between two people.
Youth Grand Chief Adrian N. Gunner has fond memories of participating in the 2011 EISG, making friends from other communities and improving fitness through training for 5 km races, short distance sprints and leg wrestling. One of the major motivations of bringing back the Games is reuniting people following the Covid pandemic and last summer’s wildfires.
“Sports and culture can be powerful paths to healing for our youth,” stated Gunner. “The sense of pride you earn as a participating athlete is something that sticks with you and can positively shape the person you become.”
While the Games have been held sporadically since the 1970s, organizers hope to secure funding to make this a regular event occurring every two years. The steering committee said its $1.5 million budget supports expenses like equipment, transportation and lodging to promote the longer-term objective of active living and healthy lifestyles among Cree youth.
Kickstarting funding through the Cree Health Board, chairperson Bertie Wapachee recalled the sheer strength of Cree men like his father, who had competed in portage. The health board will be launching its mobile hospital at
the event, a non-surgical unit designed for light transportation and rapid set-up developed with the Canadian Red Cross.
“Cree people are known for our strength,” said Wapachee. “The power of our people is something to be celebrated. It was a project waiting for support – I thought our youth deserve as big an event as any other.”
Noting the increase of bullying and violence since the pandemic, Cree School Board chairperson Sarah Pash said the EISG is an opportunity to promote pro-social behaviour and the Cree concept of healthy living, or Miyupimaatisiiun. League sports like basketball and volleyball have seen a resurgence of interest this year, yielding positive impacts in classrooms.
“We’ve focused on encouraging healthy relationship development, promoting lateral kindness among our students,” Pash said. “To be a part of team-building activities and engage in extracurricular sports and clubs to develop those connections with their peers.”
Families of the participants are invited to follow the EISG through the livestreams and the creegames.ca website. Ahead of the Games, its Facebook page has been hyping the entertainment lineup and sharing inspirational videos featuring Israel Mianscum,
Miranda Blacksmith and her daughter
Mistissini’s hockey phenom recently signed to the Montreal Canadiens, former Games standout Miranda Blacksmith and 13-year-old swimming prospect Abighail Petawabano.
“The aquatic sport is exciting and very new,” explained Loon, noting that most Cree communities now have pool facilities. “I know Mistissini participates in swim meets across the province, taking their team to competitions in the Lac Saint-Jean area. It will be interesting to see how the other communities compare.”
Blacksmith competed twice in the EISG before being selected to join Quebec’s team for the North American Indigenous Games as a 17-year-old in 2014. In the under-19 category, Blacksmith won silver in the 800-metre race and gold medals for the 1500metre race, the 3000-metre race and the 6k cross-country races, in which she broke the NAIG record.
“The Games promote a sense of unity and friendship among the Cree communities,” Blacksmith told the Nation. “It provides a platform to showcase their talents and abilities, fostering their sense of pride and confidence in their own skills. I want to encourage all Cree youth to come out and experience what it’s like to have fun and create good memories.”
Blacksmith explored sprinting, long jump, high jump, javelin and discus to push her limits and discover where she most
excelled. Before training in Mistissini with coach Patrice Dominique, her uncle Alfred Blacksmith would take her out for daily runs and steer her towards a healthier lifestyle.
“A lot of Cree youth today deal with drugs and alcohol,” Blacksmith asserted. “Exposure to sports will help align their personal discoveries and stay out of trouble. Through sports, Cree youth can connect with their traditions, language and values, strengthening their cultural identity.”
EISG programming developed by the Cree Native Arts and Crafts Association will celebrate cultural elements including storytelling, traditional drumming and snowshoe making. Various activities are planned for the evenings, such as a fiddle dance, a DJ night and a series of concerts.
Performers will include Mistissini’s award-winning singer-songwriter Siibii and Cree hip-hop trio the North Stars. Plains Cree rapper Drezus will stick around to provide workshops after playing the opening ceremonies while everyone in Mistissini is invited to see the closing ceremonies with Dank Aspects and Illiyah Rose.
“We’re hoping youth in all the Cree communities walk away with an experience they’ll cherish and tell their grandchildren they were part of,” said Loon. “We’re hoping this project will maybe produce participants for the Jeux du Québec or other events on a higher stage.
Events
Let
our love show
by Patrick Quinn, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter
Pride events in Cree communities held special significance this year, serving as healing gatherings following recent tragic incidents involving youth. Chisasibi’s youth council decided to host a beach party on June 23, welcoming people of any age, gender or sexuality.
“We usually have a walk but this year we couldn’t do it,” said Chisasibi Youth Chief Corrina Napash. “In all honesty, our youth council members have been affected by the recent suicide –there were two different losses in our community. We tried to keep the Pride positive.”
In that spirit, one event poster read “Wâptîwatau Sachîwewin,” which translates as “Let our love show.”
The beach at Km 20 was redeveloped last summer with fresh sod, picnic tables, barbecues, a volleyball net and change room. Before the rains eventually came, several people went swimming and enjoyed contests and activities. Donations from the Cree Health Board helped volunteers give away over 300 plates of barbecued food.
“We picked random people from the crowd to be judges for the ‘dress your pride’ contest and they did a catwalk,” recalled Napash. “It was fun. I was happy to see families supporting their children. I’m happy they’re able to express themselves openly and be whoever they want to be.”
A supportive message from Cree School Board chairperson Sarah Pash set the tone.
“We need to think about inclusivity around these events and making sure all our young people feel loved and valued,” Pash asserted. “So many of our people who belong to the two-spirit
community live a life questioning why they are the way are or feeling like they don’t fit in. These Pride events are important to show them God doesn’t make mistakes and that we’re all here for a purpose.”
Cree schools raised the Pride flag throughout June as a gesture of support. Following other Pride events in Wemindji and Whapmagoostui, Mistissini held a Pride parade on June 27 with a community dinner, karaoke, board games and a bonfire. Since local activist and author Mathias (Maloose) Jolly organized Mistissini’s first Pride walk in 2020, the event has grown every year.
“The whole purpose is to love one another,” said Mistissini Youth Chief Justice Debassige. “One of the goals is creating that safe space for our LGBTQ members, a form of harm reduction. The point is having fun, creating connections and having that dialogue about identity and recognizing one’s own sexuality.”
These events came in the wake of violent incidents in several communities. Within the space of about five days, there were stabbings in Waswanipi, Chisasibi, Waskaganish and Nemaska.
In collaboration with the Sûreté du Québec’s Major Crimes Unit, the Eeyou Eenou Police Force reported that five youths and one adult, 19-year-old Lennox Longchap, are facing murder charges for their alleged involvement with a stabbing that claimed the life of a youth on June 15 in Chisasibi.
“I think we need to address the attacks as a community,” said Chisasibi Chief Daisy House. “It’s actually a crisis. As soon as we have a loss, we all feel it. It’s alarming that our kids are carrying knives unnecessarily. Families need to sit down with their kids and take the time to talk with them.”
At a community meeting held following the incidents, participants were asked to brainstorm what services are available for youth to identify potential gaps. There were suggestions to expand the availability of sports equipment in green spaces, extend the youth centre’s hours, offer workshops or dance lessons, and organize family counselling trips.
“Everybody has homework to see where we can fill the gaps,” explained Chief House. “The key is awareness education and prevention. Nishiiyuu said McLean’s camp in Waskaganish is going to have a youth detox, a seven-day family therapy session.”
While Chisasibi has had six stabbings since November, Chief House emphasized that all Eeyou Istchee is grappling with similar challenges. Conversations highlighted the ubiquitous distractions of cellphones and that parents are too busy. Some suggested the age range of 13 to 35 served by youth councils is too large. Healthcare professionals suggested expanding telephone helplines, perhaps encouraging youth to talk with trustworthy counsellors from outside the communities.
Chisasibi youth council hosts a healing Pride beach party
by Margie E. Burke
Here’s another edition of the Nation’s puzzle page. Try your hand at Sudoku or Str8ts or our Crossword, or better yet, solve all three and send us a photo!* As always, the answers from last issue are here for you to check your work. Happy hunting.
ABest-laid plans
by Sonny Orr
s summer officially starts warming up the northern hemisphere and school ends, the days become a little lazier. The need to wake up early dissipates slowly in the minds of many a student and the long daylight hours take its toll on those who still have to work for a living. Sometimes, it’s a bit too much looking out the window at four in the afternoon and seeing everyone going about their summer pleasures.
Now, if vacation time could only coincide with vacation plans, it would be perfect. But as Murphy’s Law kicks in, those summer plans are delayed for a month. At least it will still be summer. The only problem is that those holidays also coincide with everyone else’s holiday plans, and given the way things go, there’s no real place to stay while on the road. Just about every hotel is booked solid and based on that, the cost of rooms soars higher with the demand from vacationers.
As I carefully plan our annual summer escape it becomes clear that the major hotel chains aren’t available. So, the search goes on for the family-based motels that scatter the backroads off the main highways.
It does seem to be a lot friendlier at check-in time and I will admit that sometimes the first look can be deceiving. Some little inns off the beaten track have a distinct aura of the Bates Motel and can be a little spooky.
If vacation time could only coincide with vacation plans, it would be perfect
But as the first night passes by, I notice the background sound of birds and crickets chirping away with a few frogs chiming in. It’s more pleasant, audibly speaking, than the noise of passing traffic and trucks using Jake brakes to gear down into the slower pace of a small town. I guess that having an urban population of less than 10,000 has its benefits.
I usually travel with a sturdy GPS that’s taped to one of my vents in my vehicle. The mounts that are available have quite a few different attachments which I discard immediately and regret a few thousand kilometres later when the cell service is not available to guide you and keep the passengers happy.
It’s these times when I look in the back seats and see everyone napping away. I keep my silence as the trusty guidance system keeps pace with my totally legal speed limit.
I also prefer the GPS over a cellphone because it has the actual phone number of the establishment to call when in range. I can’t wait for the new satellite system that will work anywhere, even while drifting away on some raft without oars
to propel it to land or wandering around some vast piece of land that doesn’t seem to have any connecting roads.
Back in the day, we would have to stop and use our two-kilo satellite phone and point it to the heavens just to get a signal. Often it wouldn’t work unless you were on top of some hill or mountain peak to get through. On occasion, only an answering service would be on the other end, advising you to pay another hundred bucks for an extra 10 minutes. The clock started ticking right after you dialed the number and not when someone answered. I knew a few folks who used up their data while checking to see if they had enough money to cover the expensive hookup.
Today, cellular service is just about everywhere, and the only real problem is the arguments over who is the best provider. Oh, bring me back to the days when letter writing was still good as putting off a disgruntled phone company by stating that the cheque is in the mail and won’t get there for a few weeks.
Today, it’s pay up in the next millisecond or else get disconnec…
Iwill be celebrating my sixth year of sobriety at the end of July. I had my last beer on some random afternoon of what feels like two lifetimes ago without a clear plan of how I would implement these changes in my life – or if it would last at all. But here I am.
To say I’ve changed would be an understatement. The discipline needed to maintain sobriety is demanding and forced me to face the worst parts of myself to get better. You get accustomed to it, but each year without alcohol and drugs brings its challenges. Here’s what I learned this past year.
1. City sobriety is tough.
I was able to get sober when I moved north. I was close to my family, my Cree kin, my language, my traditions and my land. Besides the community care I could finally access, drinking habits are different back home.
In the city, alcohol is served or is normal in most social settings, even at brunch or at children’s birthday parties. Back home, I could enjoy most community events and a lot of family functions without being in the presence of alcohol.
Having moved back down south because of the housing crisis in Waswanipi, I am now constantly exposed to alcohol everywhere I go. People ask me why I don’t drink.
Even though there are now more sober options in restaurants (and studies show that Gen Zers down south drink way less than us Millennials), the difference in booze culture is still striking.
2. At some point, you will have to face your triggers.
Being back full-time in a city where people knew me at my worst and saw me in all kinds of predicaments really sucks at times. Nothing humbles you as much or forces you to own your past like the shame that comes with running into people or places you frequented in active addiction.
Six years sober
by Maïtée Labrecque-Saganash
The fear of being recognized and judged every time I left my house kept me inside a lot this past year. It brought my already problematic anxiety to new levels.
Unpacking that shame in therapy on my own dime is adding to the frustration of not being able to live in my community where I feel safe. However, doing that work is necessary to start living a somewhat normal life again.
3. Don’t project on your friends.
Seeing some of my sober friends relapsing or start using casually again stirred up unpleasant feelings. Having some of my Day Ones not doing the sober thing by my side anymore left me disappointed, lonely and feeling almost betrayed at times. It’s much easier to hold other people accountable than yourself. Having to rely only on your discipline is frustrating at times.
It is tempting to slack because your friend made their own decisions. You start
to wonder whether you can also use casually without ruining your life all over again.
But I need to remind myself that I was not a good person when I used. It’s not because my friends can do it in moderation that I necessarily can. In any case, I don’t want to test that theory again.
I quit to have a better life and other people don’t owe me anything. Don’t weaponize your own life choices against your loved ones.
So let’s be honest – sobriety is not easy. It’s the outcome that makes it worth the struggle. Without it, I wouldn’t have a good job and career or have been able to climb out of poverty. I wouldn’t have become a homeowner, nor would I have been able to provide life-changing opportunities to people I love.
I cannot stress it enough: self-discipline (and therapy) is crucial. I hope I will see many more sober years.
