Memory Of My People and Other Stories

"Frozen ground gave way, pools of deep water grew around me. Weed and mud pulled at my legs. Mouse, who'd been marching beside me, had disappeared. Down in my shirt, Pup stopped wiggling and I thought him drowned. Boss and Sister found a dead limb, broken from a cottonwood tree, and pushed it out to where I was thrashing in the water, but I was frozen and my strength was soon gone. I couldn't hold on. "Entangled in thick pond weed, I gasped for air, but got only mud and water. I could feel myself losing consciousness, slipping beneath the surface, when I was shocked by a flash of light. It was my cousin, Mouse! He was beside me; we hugged as we had so many times before when growing up. Slimy tendrils of pond grass wrapped around my legs and pulling me down had somehow become my cousin. A voice in my head said, 'Fight back, fight the water, save you both! I reached out and clutched that image to me, and I fought with my free arm to reach the surface. "My clothing caught on the tree limb Boss and Sister had pushed out. I grasped it and they drew me to the shore. I was certain Mouse and I had been pulled to shore together. I cried out for him, but there was only three of us —three people with Bojo and her half-drowned pup. "Our bundles were gone, the two blankets. Frozen, stomachs empty, we huddled together to keep up our spirits. Now we were just three, but I wasn't the only one who swore there was a fourth voice. All that terrible night seemed filled with sounds of Mouse, Memory of Our People, uttering the old songs, and chanting prayers for mercy. "Just before sunup, Bojo brought help. We were picked up by the police, who returned us to the school. My sister Sable was not as lucky as Boss and I. Her lungs developed an infection. Someday I hope to find her grave in that uncharted burial ground behind the ruins of the old school. "But what about Mouse?" Janice begged. "Didn't they find Mouse?" Nate spread his fingers open upon each knee, lowering his eyes in a gesture of acceptance. "I couldn't understand," he said. "We had all sung and prayed together, but he was gone. Really gone. The policemen searched the shore of the pond, but found nothing Sister tried to comfort us. She said it was Mouse's spirit, his spirit had kept us alive, frozen on the shore of the pond." On the morning after the wake, Nate prepared to return home. Janice thought he looked shaken, but perhaps it was simply lack of sleep. "I’ve submitted our application for reparations," she said. "I'll let you know when the government replies." "No," the old man replied. "I won't be seeking reparations for my family." Janice stopped. They had not spoken about this before. She had copied down meeting times for the Great Reconciliation and the Conference on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. She had hoped that Uncle Nate would go, that they could go together. She waited for him to say more, but Nate was silent. She blurted out, "I thought you might go with me to the ceremony, to the Great Reconciliation in Alberta." Nate replied, his voice low, "Please do not ask me." "But why, Uncle?" she said. "We're all encouraged to come. The Traditional Knowledge Keepers, the Anishinabe Elders, are urging all Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people to work together!' "I know," Nate replied. "I've heard so many speak of this. That we must repair the damage and regain the trust that once existed between the settlers, the colonizers, and indigenous peoples. But, in fact, that trust never existed." Janice stood, speechless. She knew he could read the disappointment on her face, but she couldn't help it. She'd counted on the both of them traveling to Alberta together, having time to get to know her great-uncle better. "They say that reparations are one of the steps to heal those wounds, but I do not seek healing." Nate spoke very softly. Janice thought he might be trying to be gentle with her. "No, Niece. I do not seek peace or reconciliation. The schools may be shut, but loud voices still deny the genocide of our children, of our people. They would demand assimilation, challenging our people's right to exist, and wipe out memory of our people. "My memory will never be as strong as my cousin, Mouse. I don't remember many traditional Nehilawe stories and chants, but I do remember facts, the long history of our people and the faces of my family. To forgive and to pardon others is not my job-the job of the Nehilawe. Our task is to claim our lands, to search for our families, and bring our families together."