The One About Akwesasne

Excited foreigners.

Since as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to visit an Indian reserve. (Please note, I am using Indian as the correct, legal term and not as the racist ethnic term.) On Wednesday, I was fortunate enough to finally get to visit one, thanks to my Introduction to Aboriginal Societies and Cultures class. Prof Sioui did choose what must have been the coldest day of the year to go, admittedly I didn't help matters by not drying my hair before leaving the house and some horrendously early time in the morning, and ended up with actual, tangible icicles in my hair, which Yvet and Prod Sioui found hilarious.

Please let us in!

What can I say about Prof Sioui? I can tell you that he is from the Huron-Wendat, he's forever getting arrested by the Quebec government even though he's in the right and he is a phenomenal writer and advocate of First Nations rights. Moreover, he is the kindest, gentlest soul you will ever meet, who is deeply moved by his students showing an interest in his people. But he does speak like an injured person, the very tone of his voice and his eyes are a testament to the appalling treatment meted out to him in his life. He was brought up on a poor reservation, taught degrading and inaccurate history of his relatives and is forced to carry a card to prove his DNA. The more I learn about the indigenous people of the world, the more I am sickened by the actions of the people whose skin colour I have inherited. When did the white man lose our compassion?

Hey Akwesasne.

Aside from Prof, the other hero of the day was our bus driver, Darlene, this amazing older woman who is like a foul-mouthed yet loving grandmother. One thing the journey demonstrated, was that Canada sure does need to invest more in its roads as the sheer number of potholes on our two-hour trip nearly reaquainted me with my breakfast. The trip involved crossing the US/Canada border, and, as a result, myself, Yvet and Angelique had to play the role of the irritating forgeigners who held the entire class up as we were interrogated by US border officials. I have never seen my passport be so violently stamped.

Road signs in Mohawk.

Akwesasne is tangible proof of this idiocy and inhumanity of white people. Despite the fact there was an enormous patch of Indian land in the way, Canada and US drew the border right through Indian territory, thinking that the people who lived there would die out pretty quickly. Consequently, the people of Akwesasne are torn between New York State and the provinces of Ontario and Quebec. This means that whilst your next door neighbour can send their kid to a New York school board, they can't get free healthcare. And you may have a Quebec postcode, but an Ontario phone number. It also means that you can walk five minutes down the street and incur the most extortionate roaming charges from your cell phone company because you have to cross into a different country, despite staying in the same town. Other knock on effects are the sheer amount of time it takes to actually get anywhere, because you have to factor in going to each new place via the border control office. This means that a five year old from Akwesasne will have done more international travelling than a Canadian will do in their entire long lifetime. It is actually absurd.

Revealing tensions.

Yet, it is how they have to live. It is hard to do justice to the people of Akwesasne without coming across as condescening, and yet, I have to be honest and admit that the problems most commonly associated with the indigenous peoples of North America, are prevelant in Akwesasne. It is common to see signs which prohibit drugs and alcohol, and signs which beg people to try to raise a smoke-free generation. However, you turn a corner and there is billboard after billboard promoting tabacco. HIV-AIDS is a huge problem, and whilst there may be jokes made out Indians and gambling, it is actually no laughing matter. It is a huge social problem in Akwesasne. In fact, the director of education for some of the schools in Askwesasne is not allowed to schedule anything for Tuesdays after school because it is Radio Bingo night, and he knows that he will get  no parents to any meeting or event when there is gambling to be done. It is a sorry state of affairs.

Dream catchers.

A few weeks back, the Daily Fail, also known as that piece of gekko excrement, the Daily Mail, ran an article about a reservation in Wisconsin, I think, where its members had been banned from drinking by their chiefs, only to travel several miles beyond the border of their land to buy alcohol. The reader comments were abhorrent to look at; effectively, they were all blaming the Native Americans themselves for their social predicament. Let me tell you, Daily Mail readers, it was your gross ancestors who brought the AIDS and the alcohol to the Americas. How do you like them apples?

The great story teller!

The reserve bears the marks of its poverty. Many of the buildings are pretty basic and quite a few of the houses are in various delapedated states. But, the tour guides and speakers we had just go to show the dedication within the community to turn their fortunes around and to dispell the damaging myths of the Disney-fied portrayal of the indigenous Americas we have been spoon-fed. The director of education who gave us a talk is an amazing man, who should be commended for the work he is doing for the young people of Akwesasne, including having a program designed to get people back into education.

The scarily high bridge the people of Akwesasne hate.

One of the highlights of the day was the aforementioned director of education teaching us how to say 'shit' and 'genitals' in Mohawk, as well as informing us that if you don't accent a word properly, you end up saying the wrong thing. You must be very careful how you pronounce 'groceries' because otherwise you will tell people to put their 'arse' in the fridge. You have been warned! Another highlight was being told the Mohawk creation story by a man in traditional Mohawk atire. I think he embelleshed the story somewhat, but the effects were hilarious. We finished the day by holding hands in a circle and dancing around. I say dancing, in actual fact we just awkwardly walked whilst the people who knew what they were doing did the proper shuffle dance.

It was days like this that made me want to study abroad, and that make me so passionate about the third year abroad experience. I know that many language learning abroaders will scoff at me for going abroad to an English-speaking country, but Canada really is such a different place, such a different culture and the opportunity to engage with people from its First Nations has been my utter privilege. My trip to Akwesasne was an opportunity to have an intimate insight into one of the oldest civilisations in the world, and I feel so unbelievably lucky to have had such an experience.

I love my life out here. I love the people I've met and the things I've seen and I just feel so lucky to be here.