April Raintree

We just got back from our yearly family vacation in Whiteshell Park. We had a great time!! This year was a bit different, we added a new cabin to the mix and couldn't really plan in advance for the ways it changed the dynamic of our time there. As always, we were all sad when Sunday morning arrived and packing up started.

On the long drive to Manitoba, I read April Raintree aloud to the family (well, mostly Brendan, the kids think my reading is dumb now that they are so old! - but Owen did listen to the last third or so of the story...)

Have you read this Canadian classic? If not, or if its been a while, you should pick it up again this summer. Beatrice Mosionier is the author. It is a fictional (but entirely plausible) account of two biological sisters and their journey as women of Aboriginal ancestry, as they reconcile personal and cultural realities. It is an easy but profound read.

Here is an excerpt from book, written by one of the sisters:

White Man, to you my voice is like the unheard call in the wilderness. It is there, although you do not hear.
But, this once, take the time to listen to what I have to say.
Your history is highlighted by wars. Why is it alright for nations to conquer one another in an attempt at dominion?
When you sailed to our lands, you came with your advanced weapons. You claimed you were a progressive, civilized people....
White Man, when you came, most of our tribes began with peace and trust in dealing with you. We showed you how to survive in our homelands. We were willing to share with you our vast wealth. Instead of repaying us with gratitude, White Man, you turned on us....
When we, the Indian People, realized your intentions, we rose to do battle, to defend our nations, our homes, our food, our lives. And for our efforts, we are labelled savages. Our battles are called massacres.
When our primitive weapons could not match those that you had perfected through centuries of war, we realized that peace could not be won, unless our mass destruction took place. And so we turned to treaties.. and ran into your cunning trickery. We lost our lands, our freedom, and were confined to reservations. And WE are held in contempt.
White Man, there is much deep, simple wisdom from our forefathers. We were here for centuries. We kept the land, the waters, the air, clean and pure, for our children and for our children's children.
Now that you are here, White Man, the rivers bleed with contamination. The winds moan with the heavy weight of pollution. The land vomits up the poisons that have been fed into it. Our Mother Earth is no longer clean and healthy; she is dying.
White Man, in your greedy rush for money and power, you are destroying. Why must you have power over everything? Why can't you live in peace and harmony? Why can't you share the beauty and the wealth given to us by Mother Earth?...
White Man, you say that we are a people without dignity. But when we are sick, weak, hungry, poor, when there is nothing for us but death, what are we to do? We cannot accept the life that has been imposed upon us.
You say that we are drunkards, that we live for drinking. But drinking is a way of dying. Dying without enjoying life. You have given us many diseases... the worst disease, for which there is not immunity, is alcoholism. And you condemn us for being its easy victims. And if you don't condemn us, you weep for us and pity us.
We, the Indian People, are dying. The land we lost, it is dying too.
Weep not for us; weep for yourselves.
Weep for your children.
Because you are taking everything today.
And tomorrow, nothing will be left for them.


I found so many parallels to scripture in this little essay. Can you hear Mark's admonition to have eyes that see? Can you envision one of the prophets delivering a stern, profound message like this? Can you see Jesus reaching toward, offering dignity that had been unjustly robbed?

Might is NOT right. I pray that someday, we, the powerful will get that.