The Medicine Walk

—by Jeff Monague

On September 30, 2024, once more we will observe a National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, otherwise known as Orange Shirt Day.

It will be especially important for the Anishinaabeg (Ah-nish-in-aw-behg) of Christian Island as they are set to unveil a monument dedicated to those who attended Residential Schools in far off places across Ontario.

Many of those who attended and endured years of abuse within the walls of these institutions, such as my own mother (who was taken from her family when she was just 6 years of age), have passed away into the spirit world. The day will be especially poignant for those who remain with us. Also present will be those whose family members never returned home at all. And years of exhaustive search and research of school records turned up no trace of those children, that young member of their family. It’s as though they never existed.

The Canadian government may deny their existence but we will not ever forget them.

On that day, I will go to the ceremonial unveiling of the monument to stand with the survivors, to honour them, and to assure them that their stories shall not ever be forgotten. Through the dedication of this monument, we will ensure that this tragedy shall not ever be repeated ever again in Canada or in our First Nation community for that matter.

Indian Residential Schools were boarding schools funded and operated by the Canadian government under the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs Canada. These institutions first began their mission to assimilate Indian children into the larger society in the 1870’s. These institutions were operated by religious factions such as the Catholic Church and the United Church and they operated for decades. The last one closed in 1996.

In these places, children taken far from their homelands, and far from the protection of their families, were subject to emotional, physical, spiritual, and sexual abuse as well as the loss of language and culture. The trauma and anguish experienced by the children who survived these institutes can be felt today, as the pain and hurt continues to reverberate through the generations that followed.  

I personally knew all of the people whose names are etched into this monument. They were real people, living real lives. Many of them are no longer here. And as I reflect on who these survivors were, their experience helps me to understand who they became, while living with the trauma they experienced.

Through this monument, we will now be able to speak their names, and their voices will no longer go unheard. They will help to guide us back as we, their descendants, can become who they were, before Residential School. They were speakers of their language who lived their culture and were proud of their Anishinaabeg ancestry. And so, with that knowing, with that understanding, we will pick up what they left behind because that is what they would want us to do.