the miseducation of dubya

A rising political star from Vancouver Island

2009-06-10T13:11:00.000-07:00

Cliff Atleo, Jr. has a good shot at becoming the next regional cheese of 75 angry, alienated, Indigenous radicals

By Jon Doh, Vancouver Spam
June 10, 2009

One of Canada's most important political campaigns is underway, though it's going unnoticed by most Aboriginals. That's because it's not a federal or provincial election. Nor is it about about running a band, casino, smoke shop, or friendship centre.

It's the race to be the next regional cheese of the Assembly of Angry and Alienated Indigenous Radicals.

Whoever wins will speak for 75 radicals - a constituency that outnumbers the population of Spuzzum, BC. Simply put, the AAAIR cheese is the most powerful, elected Indigenous leader in his neighbourhood. It's not an exaggeration to say it's something like being class president of Indian Country.

There's a good chance the job will go to a British Columbian - Cliff Atleo, Jr. He's the cousin of a hereditary chief of the Ahousaht First Nation on the west coast of Vancouver Island and a rising political star.

He's not guaranteed victory, of course. Atleo's facing off against at least four other disgruntled youth. In radical Indigenous politics, like any leadership race, it's difficult to figure out how alliances might break down by the July 22 vote at the AAAIR assembly in Fernwood, where the next regional cheese will be chosen.

But ever since the news broke that the current regional cheese, Paul Poutine, is retiring after three terms, Atleo has been widely regarded as the front-runner. It just may make him the most important Indigenous voice from British Columbia in decades.

This is a notable development, not just for the country and Indians, but for B.C. as well. Although this province has been a petri dish in recent years for the redefinition of aboriginal relations in Canada, no Indigenous leader from B.C. has risen to the top AAAIR post since George Manuel, a member of the Neskonlith First Nation.

He held the position from 1970 to 1976. Manuel earned national and international recognition for his determined -- and eloquent -- denunciation of the federal government's assmilationist policies towards Indians. He re-shaped Canadian society in the process.

Thirty-three years later, thanks to Manuel and others, the battles are different. Aboriginals have vague and uncertain constitutional rights now. The new battles tend to be over alleviating poverty, resolving land claims, or who gets the next sweet federal appointment or Senate seat.

It's here that Atleo stands a chance of making a similar mark on the country. At 35, he represents a generational shift in leadership -- he brings a Utopian and confrontational approach to negotiations. And his rise to the top job would also bring B.C.'s unique, and rapidly evolving approach to Indigenous-Settler relations to the national stage.

And that's where it - and Atleo - deserves to be.

You could write pamphlets - and many have - on what has transpired in B.C. since the 1970s. But in essence the province has led the country in going from a society that largely ignores first nations to being at the forefront of co-opting Aboriginals into Canada's great consumer society.

In recent years the provincial governments of both the left and right have been signing modern non-treaties to settle land claims. When the Indians wouldn't simply give in, they entered into modest land-use deals, setting out puny resource-sharing deals between aboriginal and non-aboriginal Canadians.

The latest manifestation of this myopic aboriginal policy, one that still has its imperfections, is what Premier Gordon Campbell is calling a "lightly-used relationship."

That is expected to be enshrined in new provincial legislation that will set out a not-so-new social pact between mainstream British Columbia and first nations: The province will accept that first nations have articulated claims to Crown land and must be cut in on all future spoils of exploiting mother earth; aboriginals who sign onto such deals, however, would in turn have to recognize the unwavering supremacy of Crown title and private lands held by other Canadian citizens.

B.C.'s premier usually cites AAAIR cheese Poutine as his inspiration for this policy. And there's no doubt in his three terms as regional cheese, Poutine had a profound effect on how non-native politicians dealt with first nations and offered the premier advice.

Under his leadership, Poutine stood for taking the conflict out of aboriginal relations. His approach bore moldy fruit: aside from convincing B.C.'s premier to change his approach, he managed to convince Parliament to make a $5-billion settlement to aboriginals forced into residential schools as well as create the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to help all Canadians come to terms with their dark genocidal chapter of history.

Atleo knows those are big shoes to fill.

But he has already demonstrated similar bridge-dismantling talents; he helped bring together the leaders of the Native Adult Movement (NAM) and the Indian Valley Society (IVS) into a quasi-unified front, agreeing to fight the Man.

Forging that quasi-unity in the fractious world of Indigenous and radical politics is what has made Campbell's "lightly-used relationship" nothing more than another empty platitude.

It's also a talent that will likely make Cliff Atleo, Jr. a nationally-shunned figure.

And now the REAL article below:

A rising political star from Vancouver Island
Shawn Atleo has a good shot at becoming the next national chief of 750,000 aboriginals

By Miro Cernetig, Vancouver Sun
June 10, 2009
http://www.vancouversun.com/news/todays-paper/rising+political+star+from+Vancouver+Island/1680938/story.html

One of Canada's most important political campaigns is underway, though it's going unnoticed by most Canadians. That's because it's not a federal or provincial election. Nor is it about about running a major city.

It's the race to be the next national chief of the Assembly of First Nations.

Whoever wins will speak for 750,000 aboriginals -- a constituency that outnumbers the population of three Canadian provinces. Simply put, the AFN chief is the most powerful, elected aboriginal leader in Canada. It not an exaggeration to say it's something like being prime minister of Indian Country.

There's a good chance the job will go to a British Columbian -- Shawn Atleo. He's the hereditary chief of the Ahousaht First Nation on the west coast of Vancouver Island and a rising political star.

He's not guaranteed victory, of course. Atleo's facing off against at least four other chiefs. In aboriginal politics, like any leadership race, it's difficult to figure out how alliances might break down by the July 22 vote at the AFN assembly in Calgary, where the next national chief will be chosen.

But ever since the news broke that the current national chief, Phil Fontaine, is retiring after three terms, Atleo has been widely regarded as the front-runner. It just may make him the most important aboriginal voice from British Columbia in decades.

This is a notable development, not just for the country and first nations, but for B.C. as well. Although this province has been a petri dish in recent years for the redefinition of aboriginal relations in Canada, no aboriginal leader from B.C. has risen to the top AFN post since George Manuel, a member of the Neskonlith First Nation.

He held the position from 1970 to 1976. Manuel earned national and international recognition for his determined -- and eloquent -- denunciation of the federal government's assmilationist policies towards Indians. He re-shaped Canadian society in the process.

Thirty-three years later, thanks to Manuel and others, the battles are different. Aboriginals have clear constitutional rights now. The new battles tend to be over alleviating poverty and resolving land claims.

It's here that Atleo stands a chance of making a similar mark on the country. At 42, he represents a generational shift in leadership -- he brings a pragmatic and non-confrontational approach to negotiations. And his rise to the top job would also bring B.C.'s unique, and rapidly evolving approach to aboriginal relations, to the national stage.

And that's where it -- and Atleo -- deserves to be.

You could write textbooks -- and many have -- on what has transpired in B.C. since the 1970s. But in essence the province has led the country in going from a society that largely ignores first nations to being at the forefront of resolving one of Canadian society's great shortcomings.

In recent years the provincial governments of both the left and right have been signing modern treaties to settle land claims. When that couldn't be accomplished, they entered into sweeping land-use deals, setting out vast resource-sharing deals between aboriginal and non-aboriginal Canadians.

The latest manifestation of this forward-looking aboriginal policy, one that still has its imperfections, is what Premier Gordon Campbell is calling a "new relationship."

That is expected to be enshrined in new provincial legislation that will set out a new social pact between mainstream British Columbia and first nations: The province will accept that first nations have legitimate claims to Crown land and must be cut in on all future development; aboriginals who sign onto such deals, however, would in turn have to recognize the legitimacy of Crown title and private lands held by other Canadian citizens.

B.C.'s premier usually cites AFN Chief Fontaine as his inspiration for this policy. And there's no doubt in his three terms as national chief, Fontaine had a profound effect on how non-native politicians dealt with first nations and offered the premier advice.

Under his leadership, Fontaine stood for taking the conflict out of aboriginal relations. His approach bore fruit: aside from convincing B.C.'s premier to change his approach, he managed to convince Parliament to make a $5-billion settlement to aboriginals forced into residential schools as well as create the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to help all Canadians come to terms with a dark chapter of history.

Atleo knows those are big shoes to fill.

But he has already demonstrated similar bridge-building talents; he helped bring together the leaders of the Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs and the First Nations Summit into a unified front, agreeing to work with the provincial government.

Forging that unity in the fractious world of aboriginal and B.C. politics is what has made Campbell's "new relationship" something more than another empty platitude.

It's also a talent that will likely make Shawn A-in-chut Atleo a national figure.

mcernetig@vancouversun.com

where I am...

2008-09-16T21:31:00.001-07:00

where I want to be

2008-08-13T22:33:00.001-07:00

whew!

2008-04-27T13:44:00.000-07:00

Another one bites the dust - that is off of my list. Along with a few companeras y companeros, I ran the Times-Colonist 10km Run this morning. Of course, I didn't train as much as I had intended, but I'm glad I finished it. Johnny was the speediest of the bunch coming in at 48:33, and brother that he is, he ran back to the 9km mark to run with me for my last 1km. Great job Team Indigelicious.

Had a good (hearty) brunch, and now I believe it's nap time.

made it...

2008-04-15T21:22:00.000-07:00

For those of you who stop by here from time to time, you'll have no doubt noticed that I usually try to include an appropriate image with each blog I write. For those of you who are my friends and family members (and yes, maybe even you enemies), you will also know that I've just recently completed all the requirements for my bachelor's degree. I was thinking it would be appropriate to include one of those motivational poster images here, you know the ones that say "Achievement" or "Teamwork" or "Accomplishment" accompanied with a striking image of a mountaintop, or an eagle soaring, or a rowing team on some placid lake at dawn. But then, I came across these "anti-motivational" posters and I couldn't resist. It reminds of that saying about the light at the end of the tunnel, and hoping it's not an oncoming train. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not always this cynical, but I do appreciate a little irony, paradox, and self-deprecating humour from time to time.

So yeah, I'm done. I wrote my last exam on Monday and I feel pretty good about it. At first, I was not sure what to think, and as I exited the building where I had written my last exam, I almost instinctively put in my iPod headphones, in that antisocial way modern students do, but I stopped myself. I thought, is there a song that will do this moment justice? Can I find that right tune that will add to the soundtrack of my life? In truth, my iPod is really the wee-est of the bunch, the iShuffle, and it has no screen or clickwheel to locate the perfect song. Instead, I closed my eyes, soaked in the warm sunrays, and smiled.

What next? Some rest, some time with friends and family, a summer job hopefully, and then back to the grindstone. Grad School begins in September and this adventure continues. Yes, I am a little masochistic. I am grateful to everyone in my life for their encouragement and support. It has truly been a group effort. Kleco, kleco, and a few Gila Kesla's, Meegwetch's and Huy'ch'qa's too.

almost done...

2008-04-12T19:07:00.001-07:00

...stick a fork in me. By Monday at noon, I will have completed all my requirements for a bachelor of arts degree in political science at the University of Victoria. This most recent chapter in my life began here and, 20 months, 82 blogs (including a scant 7 on kumtux), 19 courses, more than 50 text books, a gajillion peer-reviewed journal articles, copious amounts of coffee, jarred fish, Mr. Noodles, much love from friends and family, some new friends, some new memories, some mundane and some not-so-mundane adventures, blood, sweat, and tears, and I am almost done. I have one final exam to go, for ENGL 429A. This final exam is for the only course that I may get less than a B in. :o I know. Apparently, English Literature is another language, and my indigenous revolutionary/social science brain just doesn't get it sometimes. Ah well, aaniikwaa. Humility has its upside. Well, I'm gonna do as Joe says, and finish strong...back to James, Stein, Wharton, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Hemmingway and Hurston...Damn modernist American expatriate writers (all except Hurston, although I think she did leave the South).

I'll let you know how it goes.

time for a change, time to grow up

2008-04-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

Family, friends, loved ones, enemies no more. In two weeks I'll have completed my requirements for my bachelor of arts degree in political science. It's been an interesting journey, one that began in 1991 at Capilano College, with stopovers in student union, urban and old school and radical Indian politics, Cornwall, Ottawa, Toronto, Surrey, Port Alberni, Ladysmith and finally here in Victoria. I've learned a lot and met a lot of cool people.

I've met a lot of passionate people in the "movement" and developed a stronger sense of my own indigenous identity. I even had a brief stint as a member of the now-defunct West Coast Warrior Society. I've even taken a few peeps under my wing, dispensing red pills, promising only the truth, never mind the years of frustration, anger and further disillusionment. I've invaded your ears with indigenous revolutionary rhetoric from the radio waves of CHLY in Nanaimo along with the rest of the Goin' Coastal crew. And of course, I've utilized this space to weBLOG my insightful, pretentious ramblings about the indigenous revolution for nearly 3 years now.

Well, all good things come to an end. At the conclusion of this rite of passage, my graduation now assured, I'm reminded of that verse from Corinthians that they often read at weddings about setting aside childish things.

Last term, in the course of some research for a paper on indigenous participation in Canadian electoral and party politics, I came into contact with some really amazing people. They were young, positive, and motivated indigenous people - that also happened to be members of the Liberal Party of Canada. At first, I was a little stand-offish and even maybe a little mean. I insinuated that they had somehow abandoned their indigeneity by participating in the colonial master's game. I was convinced that they had fooled themselves into thinking that they could actually do something from the inside.

Well, to their credit, they were kind and patient and over the course of our discussions I began to see things in a new way, in a way that I had never fully appreciated before. Sure, I had worked for the Tribal Council and been exposed to indigenous-state politics, but I never really believed in it, until now. This one woman in particular floored me with some key revelations: "I would rather be inside making decisions for our people than outside protesting" and the real kicker, "It's easier to change the minds of your friends than your enemies."

I could not believe it. The cat had my tongue. I didn't know what to say. How could I dispute these obvious truths? Needless to say, the idea needed time to marinate in my thoughts and feelings for several months before I could make sense of it. I mean, messing with this idea of progressive and positive thinking was all the stuff I learned from Tai, Vine, and others, but I believe now is the time for me to change directions. It would be a lie to say that I am actually renouncing all those things I wrote and said. I think they had their place - like the Corinthians passage reminds us but what are our options, realistically? I mean really?

So, I take this opportunity to announce to you now, that I have accepted a special appointment as "Indigenous Advisor" to the Minister of Indian Affairs, Chuck Strahl. I've talked to Chuck a few times and he actually likes my ideas and thinks I have a lot to contribute from a slightly different perspective. I'm really encouraged.

Upon graduation in April, I will be travelling to Ottawa to take up my post and see if I can really make a difference from within. I believe I can.

Oh yeah, and one more thing...

APRIL FOOLS' DAY! ;-)

...as if.

my triumphs, my mistakes

2008-03-26T17:31:00.000-07:00

I wash my hands of the phony democratic system; I will never let myself be distracted by the placatory crumbs that the elite led by the administration toss into the barnyard every now and again. Many of the oppressed have realized the truth and are ready to take action, even ready to take arms.

- Gaius Baltar

Tiocfaidh Ar La!

2008-03-17T15:06:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day, and while it will remain a dry day for me, I am wearing my Ireland football jersey and saying, "Tiocfaidh Ar La!" to anyone who might seem to care. Perhaps I should be saying "You're day will come!" if they happen to be Irish, and maybe, ours too!

I don't have a lot to say today but I do have some links to share:

Recommended tunes today: Eire Og
Recommended reading: Trinity
Recommended viewing: The Wind that Shakes the Barley and
Michael Collins

And of course have some Irish food and a Guinness for me.

What is the problem with Michael Jackson?

2008-03-16T14:07:00.000-07:00

Captain Said: What is the problem with Michael Jackson?
Sargeant Barlow: What do you mean?
Captain Said: What...Is...The...Problem...With Michael Jackson? You understand my question?
Sargeant Barlow: No, I'm not sure I do.
Captain Said: The king of pop, ooh-hoo, ee-hee.
Sargeant Barlow: Yeah, Michael Jackson.
Captain Said: He come to Egypt, I see picture in newspaper. "Hello" with the white glove. I'm Michael Jackson in my autoroom, with my chop up face. Your country make him chop up his face.
Sargeant Barlow: I don't think so.
Captain Said: Michael Jackson is pop king of sick fucking country.
Sargeant Barlow: That's bullshit, he did it to himself.
(Captain Said hits Sargeant Barlow on the head with a clipboard)
Captain Said: You are the blind bullshit my main man. It's obvious, a black man make the skin white and the hair straight, and you know why?
Sargeant Barlow: No.
Captain Said: Your sick fucking country make the black man hate hiself just like you hate the Arab and the children you bomb over here.

[Dialogue from the interrogation scene in David O. Russell's Three Kings (1999)]

huh...

2008-03-15T19:11:00.000-07:00

"If we eat like them and live like them, we will die like them and go crazy."

- Khatsalano as told to Lee Maracle

put up your dukes

2008-02-29T15:33:00.000-08:00

So, I've been on a bit of break, nearly three months. I've decided to end seclusion, however I'm afraid of two things: 1. No one will even have noticed I was gone or that I am back and; 2. I don't have anything wonderfully profound on this, the occasion of my return to the land of ones and zeros.

But, I do have something to ramble on about. I was at a workshop this afternoon about "Fighting Oppression." During the question and answer period, an indigenous sister raised a concern over the use of the word, "fighting" and the overtones suggestive of conflict. This is not uncommon. There seems to be extensive apprehension of conflict within indigenous communities. By no means, have I adequately worked this issue out but I know it bothers me.

Now, perhaps as a "guy" I cannot fully appreciate her perspective and perhaps as a "man" I'm predisposed to the fight, but I know plenty of pacifist dudes and plenty of rowdy women who would relish nothing more than to get it on and start kicking some ass. While I suspect gender is part of it, I am reluctant to make any broad generalizations.

Now, I'm going to make a generalization. Generally speaking, from my experience lately, we Indians are afraid of the fight and conflict in general. Oddly, we seem to really be into fighting each other. How many times did I hear the term, "lateral violence" when I worked for the Tribal Council? And when we do fight the colonials, it's more often than not in court, which is really like getting good white people (who are good to us, especially when we give them oodles of money) to fight the bad white people. Speaking of white people, I had another "half-white" friend express concern over my use of the term "white people." I wasn't even using it in an overly derogatory manner, unless you consider the whole phrase as somehow offensive to your communist/anarchist sensibilities: I was speaking of "rich white people" writing modernist American literature in Paris at the beginning of the 20th century.

How about I use the term "immigrant" or "settler?" Then I might offend my Canadian friends. Sigh, there's no winning the semantic game.

So anyway, back to the fighting issue. Are we afraid of fighting? Have we become soft? Perhaps we have evolved. Perhaps we are more civilized now. Perhaps we have seen the Gandhi-esque light and should know better. I'm not so sure. Perhaps we are afraid. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be flippant about the very real and devastating effects of war. I would hate to naively romanticize fighting, but surely we cannot achieve our goals without at least a little bit of friction. I know deep down we may truly all want to "get along" but surely we must strive for more. Surely, our goals must include justice and freedom, and I mean true justice and freedom, not the mere facades being able to go to court and shop at Wal-Mart.

What's wrong with a little scrappiness? Have we been forever pacified? I'm not equating non-violence with non-fighting either. We can be non-violent and damn confrontational, or at least place ourselves in a position where The Man is gonna be itching to pepper spray us. Fanon suggested a certain cathartic and therapeutic element to the act of the indigenous person standing up and fighting for themselves. I think he was on to something. Again, I AM NOT ADVOCATING VIOLENCE, but I should be able to live my life, to live an indigenous life. Unfortunately, doing so in the current day and age is certain to bring that way of life in conflict with another and the power of the state. So what do we do? What do you do?

jay-r

2007-12-09T13:31:00.000-08:00

I'm on a hiatus.

It's not business, just personal

2007-11-27T17:57:00.001-08:00

One of my favourite lines from one of my favourite "old school" bloggers went something like this: "When I was young, I kept a journal and I would have died if anyone read it. Now I blog and I fear no one will read it."

I feel the need to express myself but at the same time be vague: Enter the world of blogging. Emotional exhibitionist anonymity. Sort of.

So, I'm researching for a paper and came across some rebellious classics on my bookshelf (Fanon, Galeano, Magon) and I couldn't help but be brought back in time. It was not that long ago that I swallowed the red pill. They were exciting times. We had confusion, despair, hope, dysfunction, passion, but above all, for me at least, the feeling that "I am not alone, and I am not crazy." One cannot underestimate the power of solidarity in sustaining one's belief in the movement. Sure, it can lead to hasty alliances and errors in judgement, but it sure helps when you feel your weakest.

I don't know where this is going, maybe no where. All I know is that hope is important, and for some reason sanity seems to be too. I'll leave you with one of my favourite of Galeano's passages from his book, We Say No:

"We have come from different countries, and we are here, reunited under the generous shade of Pablo Neruda - to join the people of Chile, who say no.
We also say no.
We say no to the praise of money and of death. We say no to a system that assigns prices to people...
We say no to a system that neither feeds its people nor loves them, that condemns many to a hunger for food and many more to a hunger for the embrace...
We say no to the lie...
The colonial inheritance obliges the so-called Third World - populated by third-class people - to accept as its own the memory of the victors who conquered it and to take on the lies of others and use them as its own reality. They reward our obedience, punish our intelligence, and discourage our creative energy...
We say no to fear. No to fear of speaking, of doing, of being...
As it happens, we are saying no, and by saying no we are saying yes...
By saying no to the devastating empire of greed, whose centre lies in North America, we are saying yes to another possible America, which will be born of the most ancient of American traditions, the communitarian tradition that the Chilean Indians have defended desperately, defeat after defeat, during the last five centuries.
In saying no to a peace without dignity, we are saying yes to the sacred right of rebellion against injustice and its long history as long as the history of popular resistance on the long map of Chile. By saying no to the freedom of money, we are saying yes to the freedom of people: a mistreated and wounded freedom, a thousand times defeated as in Chile and, as in Chile, a thousand times arisen."

I miss our conversations...

did you know?

2007-11-20T22:17:00.000-08:00

So, I'm doing a paper on indigenous peoples' participation in Canadian party politics, and I'm trying to determine whether this has proven an effective strategy, specifically in comparison to the visions articulated by some of the old school leaders like George Manuel, Andy Paull, Philip Paul, James Gosnell, Gus Gottfriedson, and later Harold Cardinal and Vine Deloria, Jr. If you know anything about me and my politics you can guess where I'm headed with this.

Did you know that when Andy Paull from Sḵwxwú7mesh was the head of the Native American Indian Brotherhood in 1947 he rejected the idea of re-granting indigenous people in BC the right to vote "on the grounds that it would open the door to assimilation and loss of rights and privileges."1

Hmmm...

On another somewhat less significant but nonetheless "grocery store line-up interesting note," did you know that Tina Keeper, the indigenous woman who played an RCMP constable on North of 60 was elected as a Member of Parliament for the Liberal Party in Churchill, MB last year?

1. Tennant, Paul. Aboriginal Peoples and Politics. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 1990, p. 121.

Nuu-chah-nulth United

2007-11-13T00:17:00.000-08:00

So, I've been living with an ewok, Single Joe, for about a month and a half now (and no we don't have a bunk bed, we do have separate rooms). If you know ewoks, in addition to being cute, furry and friendly, they are also crazy about soccer, and Joe is no exception. Joe is a goalkeeper and I even noticed a "top goalie" trophy on his bookshelf from the glory days (2001).

I've been thinking about a return to the game of soccer for some time now. Would you believe that it has been about 16 years since I played competitively? Maybe is was Galeano who got me thinking about it again, in between scathing critiques of amnesia and neoliberalism with his Soccer in Sun and Shadow. Perhaps it was knowing that my buddy, Wiwchar of A Channel fame is still out there on the pitch, playing dirty at 40. It could just be the magnetic pull of "the simplest game" and the "passion of the people."

So, a few weeks ago I started talking about developing a Nuu-chah-nulth men's soccer team to start competing in next Spring's native soccer touranment circuit. I guess this is noteworthy, cause my good friend 'Cilla mentioned it casually amongst a gathering of Kwakwak'awakws (the previously referenced "ewoks"), and they all laughed and when it comes up again they still laugh. You see, in addition to being the only coastal people crazy enough to hunt for whales, the Nuu-chah-nulth are known for some pretty dominant play on the hardwood. We can hoop it up with the best of 'em but aside from a few hardcore players lately, our prowess on the pitch is unheard of.

Even though I too, laughed when I heard the retelling of the story, "my friend Cliff is thinking of starting a soccer team..." from that moment, I was committed. It will not be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. I'm already counting on the participation of Jose, Johnny and Darren, some training and coaching from Hazel, Carol-Anne, and Joe, support from Chiinuuks, A-in-chut, my pops and all the aunties and uncles.

In the spirit of sport, dignity and perseverance, I'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes from Mohandas K. Gandhi:

"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win."

Hegelian gazing at my classmates

2007-10-29T16:04:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, Professor Tully in a transition lecture from Kant to Mill, talked about a cat named Hegel (oh and I don't mean in the feline sense, I mean a dude. Can you dig it?)

Anyway, so this cat Hegel was a German philosopher (18-19th centuries) who came up with what has become known as the "Hegelian dialectic" or Master/Slave dialectic. Basically, I understand that Hegel believed that it dominated all human relations and it begins with a gaze. He said that we develop a consciousness in gazing upon others and having others gaze upon us. Not only do we become aware of others' gaze, and not only do we feel self-conscious , but we actually submit or dominate.

I don't know if I agree with the whole master/slave thing but I did find the idea intriguing, especially since I usually assume a rather deferential posture in most situations.

So the next day I decided to work on my Hegelian gaze and dominate my classmates into submission by the mere ferocity of my gaze, and wouldn't you know it, it works! Risky and Jimmy Nations would be proud.

Try it.

Bow down slaves!!! ):D

new kumtux blog: the right man for the job

2007-10-21T23:07:00.000-07:00

New blog about the role of the Lieutenant-Governor and the BC Treaty Process here.

4 i's

2007-10-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

I know I need to smile more, but here's a pic of me wearing my new glasses ('cause I know all ya'll were waiting with bated breath).

FYI, I'll be blogging on Kumtux soon about the recent appointment of former Justice Stephen Point as the Queen's representative for British Columbia, and of course the Tsawwassen Final Agreement (It's not actually a treaty), and what an indigenous rebel is to think (and perhaps do) about it all.

2V's
From the mean streets of occupied Lekwungen and WSANIC territories

I can see clearly now...

2007-10-11T19:13:00.000-07:00

Once again, the world is vivid and alive. I have come out of a fog, the extent to which, I was not fully aware of until now. No, I have not renounced my revolutionary ways and seen the light of Dancing with Dollars nor have I pledged my support for Aboriginal electoral participation. Heavens no.

W has bought some new spectacles and although my prescription has remained the same (with only a minor adjustment for a slight astigmatism in my right eye), I am taken aback by how clear the world seems again. I can truly see individual blades of grass across the street! It is as if I was a newborn baby again seeing with new eyes. Everything jumps out at me and I'm fascinated by it. They don't call 'em mundane adventures for nothing.

From the windy streets of our colonial capitol
Don W

p.s. I've recently moved into a new apartment - this time co-habiting with Single Joe. So far so good. We are both pretty mellow and considerate so I'm confident we will be a good match. I'm just about finished unpacking everything and boy do I really have a lot of books. I need another bookshelf.

p.p.s. Thus far, in this my final year of my B.A., I've written two short papers and two exams. Sorry, Robert Williams, I have no desire to link arms together (not just yet), and Kant, you were an imperial bastard.

the lonely wolf and his facebook addiction

2007-09-10T22:10:00.000-07:00

This weBLOG is of a rather personal nature, so if that is not your thing, consider this fair warning.

I've been called a lone wolf a number of times - as a criticism for my aversion to group conformity (under the guise of group cohesion I contend) and as a compliment for my defiant independence. I think both views are fair and fairly accurate. I've always been somewhat of a solitary figure. When I was younger I tended to pride myself in my capacity to be alone without being lonely. I guess in a way, I've always felt different from others and less able or willing to fit in.

In my recent, more politically oriented life, it is a given that my unorthodox beliefs tend to alienate me not only from mainstream settler folk, but also many of my own people as well (specifically the "Aboriginals", old timers and others who just want to live their lives in peace). This gap is not insurmountable by any means, as evidenced by my ability to come to terms with family members who hold radically divergent political views from my own, or others who are relatively apathetic. I love my family of course and that love is of an unconditional nature which makes accommodation perhaps not only easier, but necessary.

My love life might be what you would describe as that of a "serial-monogamist." Between the ages of 18 and 32, I was never really alone for more than a few months and those times that I was, I was insanely busy, working a job that all but consumed my waking hours. The past few years have been different and this past summer in particular was a significant departure from the normal routine of most of my adult life. Last September, when I returned to school for the first time in 12 years also marked the first time I was to live alone, ever.

And this past summer, although technically I had a room mate, in reality I only saw him about four times all summer. Even at my summer job, circumstances dictated that I worked alone for significant periods of time. I don't begrudge my room mate or my workplace. I think I needed it. I've found that often when we fail to learn lessons, life just keeps tossing us more opportunities until we finally get it. I don't know if I got it this summer but I think I learned a bit more about myself.

Enter Facebook. I recently came across this CBC article which prompted me not only to think about my coping with being alone, but also the media desensitization and virtual ADHD that is characteristic of our high-speed wireless times. The article references a study that suggests that which most of us already know: online networking sites connect us with hundreds and sometimes thousands of people in a rather shallow way but do little to enhance real world intimacy. Now I know it is not one or the other, all or nothing, and there are often exceptions to rule, but I can account for my own incessant checking and rechecking of my Facebook inbox all day long.

I've come to realize that in the absence of real world intimacy and connection, I've at times, tried to substitute with online connections. There is a reason people call it crackbook (no disrespect to those affected by real substance abuse problems). It's cheap. It's fast, and it fades quickly. Academics say that we are overstimulated, what with hundreds of TV channels, high-speed online surfing, satellite radio, mobile phones, text messaging, and iPods.

I did have a couple of opportunities to connect with people in the real world this summer and I was reminded of how good it feels. In my radical-indigenous-political circles we often talk about theory, practice and praxis. As a student this is no more evident than upon graduation and the inevitable confrontation with the so-called real world. At one low point of lamenting the challenges of life I commented, "the real world sucks" to which a companera replied, "this is the real world."

aaniikwaa. It is what it is.

I won't say that I've figured anything out but I think I'm pointed in the right direction. I continue my commitment to add as few applications as possible to my lil Facebook pipe. I will unplug when I need to and I will attempt to overcome my social awkwardness and connect with more people in real life more often.

Sigh, the Matrix has us all (especially if you are reading this...haha).

my best comeback of the year...

2007-09-07T00:13:00.001-07:00

[Female friend]: Where are all the real Indian men?

[Me]: Probably hanging out with the real Indian women.

Rambling about the Troubles on Vancouver Ireland

2007-08-15T19:25:00.000-07:00

I haven't really rambled on here in awhile, so much so that I've been thinking I need to do some more rambling. Expect no thoroughly coherent or comprehensive thoughts - that's not what the Mundane Adventures are about.

300 came out on DVD at the end of July. Can you believe I waited almost 2 weeks before I bought my copy?!? (Food before entertainment). Again, some of my favourite quotes:

Leonidas: "In the end, a Spartan's true strength is the warrior next to him. So give respect and honour to him and it will be returned to you."

Leonidas: "First, you fight with your head..." (Queen) Gorgo"...then you fight with your heart."

Leonidas: "Before you speak Persian, know that everyone in Sparta, even a King's messenger is held accountable for the words of his voice."

Gorgo: "...Because only Spartan women give birth to real men."

And of course I've adapted one of my favourite scenes as follows:

You bring the headdresses and heads of conquered chiefs to my village.
You insult my Hakuum.
You threaten my people with citizenship and economic development.
Oh, I've chosen my words carefully Mr. Treaty Commissioner.
Perhaps you should have done the same.

This is blasphemy! This is madness!

Madness...This is Ahousaht!!! (boot)

Of course in real life, things seem more complicated. Our communities continue to exist in poverty and our chiefs sign protocol agreements with fish farm companies, and others sign Final Agreements (note: that they do not actually meet the international standard of a "treaty").

The world is indeed grey. ):I

Speaking of grey, I've recently finished re-reading Fools Crow by James Welch. This time I read it with a group of friends, a radical book club, if ever there was one, and I've truly appreciated the perspective of my good friend, Chiinuuks. I'm ashamed to say, I did not notice the perpetuation of stereotypes of indigenous women during my first read, last winter. It sure reads different this time. While I don't believe the old days to be some sort of utopia, it seems as though Welch writes the Pikuni women through a truly colonial filter. I believe that it still offers a contribution to an understanding of non-hierarchical organizing (especially in warrior societies), and the daunting challenge of preserving an indigenous way of life in the face of overwhelming settler encroachment, Welch's writing deserves criticism for his poor rendering of women and male/female relations.

Speaking of indigenous male/female relations...I am not beyond humility myself, however someone recently accused me of perpetuating male dominance by "choosing where and when I step back and create space." For the record, I have never stated that I have "created" space for indigenous women. I have talked of "vacating" space*. And further, I do not believe that I have chosen the time and place, other than as a response to strong women who have stepped forward. Their courageous actions and words have set the agenda, not mine. I've been unable to engage in this discussion directly, so I say my peace (piece?) here. [*Note: I have talked of "creating political space" but that was in reference to overall indigenous/settler relations, not indigenous gender relations.]

Only 2 and a half weeks until school! I can't wait. I know, I'm a nerd. I wear both straps on my backpack.

Off to the gym, I go. Only 14 months till next year's bathing suit season.

Dubya
From the western shores of occupied Vancouver Ireland

kumtux blog: Negotiating the Terms of Surrender

2007-07-24T20:29:00.000-07:00

Some thoughts and feelings on the current state of "treaty" negotiations in British Columbia: http://kumtux.blogspot.com

a (brief) vision for Nuu-chah-nulth community resurgence

2007-07-19T19:38:00.000-07:00

I submitted the following for a scholarship application responding to the question, "What is your vision for your First Nation community?"

I was honoured to give the keynote speech at this year’s Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council Post-Secondary Grad/Scholarship Celebration Dinner. Among the words of advice I shared with my fellow students was that our emerging leaders must challenge themselves to dream, to be idealistic, to be visionary, and to act deliberately. I related the common dichotomy of “theory” and “real life.” In school we are often encouraged to dream and think critically; to take the time to carefully contemplate our decisions with all the information we can access, and make the best determinations possible. Upon graduation this experience changes profoundly. More often than not, we are assaulted with the ubiquitous confines of “reality” and are told, “That is just the way it is.” Obviously this can be very disconcerting and one cannot help but wonder why. There are those who believe that we must be pragmatic and do the best we can with what we have. Indeed these are sound assertions, but I believe they must coexist within a larger vision of indigenous resurgence that includes a broad spectrum of thought and action. It is not without a sense of irony that young people learn of the great sacrifices and efforts of historical leaders, women and men who were visionary and often uncompromising, and yet at the same time our people are subtly yet strongly encouraged to merely get by. We endure immense pressure to tow the line, to plug in, to go along, to get along, and certainly not to rock the boat. I humbly disagree. Now is precisely the time for visionary leadership. Our people need hope, and yes they certainty need the ability to provide for their basic human needs, but I do not believe these to be mutually exclusive. My vision for our indigenous communities is rooted in a resurgence of our own indigenous principles, thoughtful action with a focus on adaptation not assimilation, and leadership that inspires hope for our collective future.

Before I get too far, I will properly introduce myself so that you may better understand who I am, where I come from, and why I say and do the things that I do. My Nuu-chah-nulth name is Na’cha’uaht. It means, “Everyone is watching you.” It was given to me by A-in-chut, from the house of Tlaa-kish-pitl. A-in-chut is my first cousin and one of the three principal hereditary chiefs of the Ahousaht people. His father Umeek is the older brother of my father, Wickaninnish. My mother was born Edna Bolton. Her mother and father were Charlotte and Ed Bolton, from Kitselas and Kitsumkalum respectively of the Tsimshian people. We are of the house of Nishaywaaxs of Kitselas. Who we are and where we come from are of vital importance to the revitalization of our communities. As I’ve alluded to already, there is a subtle yet persistent pressure to be something we are not. Despite the fact that Canada has assumed jurisdiction over our lands, waters, and in fact, our very lives, we have not yet officially surrendered. There exists within each of us, a fighting spirit yet. I believe that we are living in a very important time, one simultaneously filled with opportunity and danger. By reviving our time-tested teachings we keep the hope alive that we will not only preserve our unique indigenous ways of living, but create a space where our people can once again flourish, and perhaps positively impact the newcomers to our lands.

Perhaps two of the most important Nuu-chah-nulth principles are embodied in the terms, iisaak and Hishuuk-ish Tsa’waak. The first means “respect,” indicating a rather universal respect for all things, places, people, and beings. The second phrase is usually translated into, “everything is one.” Umeek states in his book, Tsawalk: A Nuu-chah-nulth Worldview, that creation is complete and that everything is indeed whole and interconnected. While these principles might seem very simple, they are of profound importance to understanding a Nuu-chah-nulth worldview and way of being in creation. There is little doubt that we have adapted over the generations, and must continue to adapt our practices to deal with current challenges. I argue that while adaptation of our practices is necessary and even desirable at times, we must not significantly alter our underlying philosophical principles. To do so would risk losing who we are, fundamentally as a people. Herein lies a tool that can be utilized when contemplating an indigenous life in a predominantly settler society. This approach is not so much prescriptive as much as it provides a guiding reference on how we conduct ourselves as individuals, families and communities. The way of our ancestors was the way of action. After careful contemplation and preparation, our actions were deliberate. The Nuu-chah-nulth term for warrior is wii’uk (wit’waak being the plural). To be wii’uk was to be prepared and to act without fear. Of course it is easy to point to happier times and find what seem like superhuman examples beyond our grasp, but to truly understand our ways is to appreciate the principle of interconnection and practice of preparation.

Among many things, the Atleo family was also a whaling family. My great-great grandfather, Kiista was one of the last Nuu-chah-nulth chiefs to land a whale. To undertake such a large endeavour required great preparation not just physically, but mentally, and spiritually as well. I am only able to provide a simplified rendering here, but the lesson is that great things can be accomplished with the proper preparation and understanding of the interconnection of all life. At first glance, these philosophical underpinnings might also seem esoteric, but I believe they are vital to true and lasting community resurgence. The name Atleo is an anglicized version of a Nuu-chah-nulth word, identifying the main rope used by the whalers. A Nuu-chah-nulth historian recently shared this insight and pointed to the importance of fully understanding the meaning. A single strand of the rope is fine and easily broken. Dozens and dozens of strands, woven together makes the rope strong; strong enough to land a great whale weighing many tons, and strong enough to provide for the community. In practical terms, we must work to shed the influences of Euro-Canadian individualism and materialism, work together as families and communities, utilizing our traditional principles and languages to adapt practices suitable for current realities. Greater than we are sometimes led to believe, our praxis must embody the best of who we are as indigenous people, and in today’s day and age, one might consider that downright revolutionary.

new kumtux blog

2007-07-14T15:30:00.000-07:00

Friends, Tsimshians, Countrywomen,

I've updated my Kumtux blog with an article I wrote for the '07 Summer issue of the New Socialist magazine.

indigenous book review: Trinity by Leon Uris

2007-07-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

It's not indigenous to these parts, but I'm an indigenous dude and the book, about Northern Ireland from about 1850 to the beginning of the Easter Rising in 1916, has some relevance to struggles for freedom the world over. Uris has written a brilliant work of historical fiction that had me laughing, crying, indignant, heartbroken yet hopeful, and using more adjectives than I ever thought I would.

Trinity follows the lives of several Irish families, most notably the lives of Conor Larkin and Seamus O'Neill, a couple of poor Catholic "croppies" from a small town in the province of Ulster. Other people are better at summarizing themes and plots so I will focus on what most resonated with me and the similarities with indigenous struggles for freedom here in the Americas.

The most obvious similarity is the colonial experience at the hands of the English, for the Irish beginning over 800 years ago. And there (at least in Ulster) as here, the English never really left, so both peoples experience an ongoing occupation. Uris also takes us into the corporate offices and dining halls of the English nobility and their loyalist collaborators. Interestingly, his rendition juxtaposes their humanity with the utterly dehumanizing way in which the Irish are regarded and treated. This has long been a complex theme in oppressive/abusive relationships and a challenge for would-be liberators, that is for them not to lose their humanity in trying to save it.

My good friend, "Chii-a-is" guffawed at my recent captivation with the Irish, stating that it was the Scottish that actually defeated the British. I'm not here to get into that debate, but I have to concur that along with my love of opera, tragic women, and the writings of people like Galeano and Zinn, all of these stories resonate with an aspirant indigenous rebel dreaming of the impossible. 800 years of struggle. 500 years of struggle. A lifetime of struggle.

Uris also touches on the seemingly endless frustrations that come with any desire to organize people to fight for freedom and justice. There are the ubiquitous "people", whose miseries get appropriated by everyone, the vanguard-like liberators, the militants, the intellectuals, the artists, and the collaborators. One can draw many parallels. I like how the fictional character Long Dan Sweeney puts it, "I hope you're not in a hurry...the true revolutionary is patient...and remember what I said about informants."

The book is over 700 pages long and is rich and complex and hard to put down, but I wish to touch on one more element. Conor (our hero) is confronted several times with love; being a revolutionary and falling in love. "Che" Guevara alluded to romanticism and love several times, but it's a tough go all around. At times it seems one cannot be truly committed to the cause (meaning different things for different people) and sustain a loving relationship at the same time and yet, one cannot imagine anything else worth fighting for. Ah, I do love paradox as well. In the story, there is a moment that Conor is perfectly willing to give it all up for the love of a young Protestant woman...I won't spoil it for you. I've found several copies in used bookstores. Go forth, young rebels and be inspired.

From the western shores of Occupied Canada
Dubya

P.S. I was also inspired to look up some cool Irish Rebel Music tunes by groups like the Wolfe Tones and Eire Og. Good fun!

kinda reminds me...

2007-06-15T15:27:00.000-07:00

It is hard to believe that I've been working at the Du Quah Gallery for 5 weeks already! It kinda reminds me of my fishing days - working for my uncles in my early to mid teen years. Of course, I don't have a skipper screaming at me and when it's cold and rainy outside, Cedar (the gallery cat) and I, are huddled, dry and warm inside. Actually, Cedar and I do very little huddling together since I'm allergic to cats, but I do talk to her and she does talk back (mostly complaining that I don't pick her up or pet her, short of a few gentle nudges with my moccasin-clad feed, I suspect).

And of course the work is not physically demanding, and I usually come out of each day smelling pretty decent. However, there are some similarities. From what I can tell this gallery relies upon its 22+ year reputation, good relations with its fellow service-tourist related businesses, and word of mouth. I have attempted to understand all the variables that go into a successful day of sales. Considerations include the weather, time of year, day of the week, time of the day, the Canadian dollar vis-a-vis the American dollar and the Euro, plus the internal considerations such as art pieces available, display, arrangement and so on. Obviously, I also have the time to think of all these things. I've often wondered if it would make any sense to put it all into a spreadsheet and churn out pie-charts to optimize sales next year.

Fishermen can also be very superstitious. We would often experiment with different lures at different times of the day and sometimes be secrative with the ones that were "hot" only sharing them with a few select friends on other boats. And I will never forget that the Spring salmon loved to bite when we blasted CCR's Midnight Special on the boat's cassette player. It makes me wonder weather customers prefer to bite when I play certain music. Almost everyone likes Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, but I've yet to keep track of exactly what is playing when they bite, especially the bigger fish, er customers, I mean.

While I've already suggested a great disparity in the physical difficulty of the work, I should say that my "fisherman's work ethic" (strongly instilled by my father), serves me well. There are downtimes - much more similar to seining than trolling - but overall, while it is not busy, I'm presented with the opportunity to vacuum, dust, clean glass, arrange and rearrange the artwork. Then again, I am writing this blog from work. What can I say, it's siesta time? I felt inspired. I better go clean some glass before the skipper comes back!

home

2007-06-10T21:18:00.000-07:00

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

- from T.S. Eliot's Little Gidding

wisdom from our diminutive green master...

2007-06-07T13:23:00.000-07:00

Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy...the shadow of greed that is. Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.

quote of the day

2007-06-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

"Why do you always mix politics with things as noble as cookies?"
-Don Durito to Sup Marcos

ah, Neruda...

2007-05-28T12:39:00.000-07:00

An excerpt from Neruda's Letter on the Road

Farewell, but you will be
with me, you will go within
a drop of blood circulating in my veins
or outside, a kiss that burns my face
or a belt of fire at my waist.
My sweet, accept
the great love that came out of my life
and that in you found no territory
like the explorer lost
in the isles of bread and honey.
I found you after
the storm,
the rain washed the air
and in the water
your sweet feet gleamed like fishes.

Adored one, I am off to my fighting...

[photo by www.jupiterimages.com]

oh yeah, I live in a rain forest

2007-05-20T11:08:00.000-07:00

As the dime-sized raindrops pelt my summer motorcycle jacket (read: not waterproof), and my windshield fogs up I remember, oh yeah, I live in a rain forest. It sounds so nice when you say “rain forest” doesn’t it? I imagine sitting in some cozy cabin, fire blazing, cup of hot chocolate warming my hands, a beautiful indigenous woman warming my heart with her smile as we look out a huge picture window at all the lush, wet green, out there. Sigh. I try to distract myself with such imaginings as my wet fingers go numb and as I squirm a little in my seat, the build-up of water from the moto draft slides off my pack down you know where. Nice.

It was sunny when I left Port Alberni in the morning. The afternoon torrential rain is characteristic of west coast weather. I’m a west coaster, even by blood. I should know better. Knowing that I still have about 45 minutes to go, all I can do is laugh and think of how I’m going to blog this little experience. Although these adventures are mundane for the most part, and utterly inane at times I do try and make some links, however far-fetched, to the indigenous world of decolonization, rebellion, and revolution.

I heat up for several seconds later in my ride, but I’ll save that for the end.

So the water is seeping through my jacket, through my hoodie, and my Greg Norman golf shirt (great gallery wear, courtesy of a thoughtful and generous mom), and my BMW summer riding pants (also not waterproof – who makes $275 pants that are not waterproof? Better yet, who buys them?). My winter riding gloves must be getting long in the tooth, cause they used to be waterproof. About the only thing holding out is my trusty Red Wing motorcycle boots. At least my feet are warm and dry, which brings me to my next point.

Among many coastal peoples there exists a ritual of bathing in very cold water. This was done in rivers, lakes and the sea. As I understand it, one could merely jump in, get clean and jump out, or one could observe a more spiritual rendition, praying and adhering to protocols, often specific to each family. I will not speak of the latter, but more generally about the benefits of cold-water bathing. It’s supposed to toughen you up, physically of course, but the more you do it the more you begin to appreciate how it can strengthen your character and resolve because next time, you know, you remember.

I don’t liken my 75-minute commute in the cold rain to this practice necessarily, but it did remind me of it and I was also reminded of the benefits of growing stronger through action. It’s not hard to notice, when you look around (especially in the mirror), that we are perhaps not as tough as we used to be, or should be. This whole process of decolonization and community resurgence requires strong, committed people. Our ancestors understood this clearly, and acted on a daily basis to grow and remain strong. I think we can too.

Now to the matter of my instant and fleeting warming sensation. No, I didn’t pee my pants. Here is what happened (Moms, you can stop reading at this point). As I round the last corner before the orange bridge (which is now silver) and am momentarily distracted by the new Tseheheh band office, I do not notice that the red Dodge truck in front of me has stopped at the end of the bridge. Evidently, the car in front of him has stopped in order to turn left and is waiting for a break in the oncoming traffic. You’re not supposed to break hard in the rain. I think, in the milliseconds that I have, that I have to break pretty damn fast. I begin to slide as if on black ice. It feels so smooth. A shot of adrenaline pulses through my body and I feel instantly warm. I put my feet down, lest my bike decides to kick out, and I subtly steer toward the two-foot gap between the truck’s back end and the high curb. I’m not sure if the driver noticed me sliding or not, but the road clears and he moves just as I get close enough to see the tiny rain droplets on his red paint. Deep breath. I sit up and take a few more. I certainly don’t think I defied death yesterday. I did not hear the angels sing, but it would not have been pretty. I give thanks and I inhale all those memories good and bad.

Again, I’m reminded that there are no ordinary moments.

[photo by David Heller]

what dreams may come*

2007-05-17T21:21:00.001-07:00

[click on the photo to enlarge] After dining at the Beijing Grand, IMHO, the best Chinese restaurant in Port Alberni, I received two fortunes in my fortune cookie. My favourite read, "There is new hope for projects you had almost given up on." I wondered, "does that include people?"

Over the past academic year, I've probably been negligent with my not-always-humble opinions, what with my diverted focus on books, papers, and all that fun stuff. I intend to make it up to you here, recently inspired by a muse, a fictional warrior, a real warrior, angry Indian chiefs, and knight-errant: Don Durito de la Lacandon.

Poetry works with the sweetest
ideas, and becomes the sweetest,
the nobelest, most sober and wise
Oh lady, delighting all eyes,
Accept my soul in these lines,
And by letting my earnest praise
enfold you, you earn yourself
Envy for the rest of your days,
And find your fortune raised
Higher than the moon in the skies.
-Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quijote

Ya basta!

So the "chiefs" are getting frustrated. The taps have run dry. There is a call for a "Day of Action." I hate to be a cynic, but I find it hard not be suspicious of their motives and of their genuine connection to the people. At the same time, division does us no good either. How can we come together, or are we really apart to begin with? Hish-uuk-ish Tsa'waak. Everything is one.

Perhaps some people will rise. Perhaps enough will rise. Perhaps the moderates and conservatives will have more on their hands than they can handle. That might be an adventure. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Perhaps we can catch a wave and ride it for awhile.

Power in Movement. A day of action? How about a life of action.

Don Dubya, aspirant Jedi Knight-errant
From the shores of occupied Vancouver Island

*I borrowed the title from the critically unacclaimed movie with Robin Williams

to the mothers...

2007-05-13T07:49:00.000-07:00

One can always comment on the oddity perhaps of celebrating one day a year in honour of mothers, especially when they often do so much for us, give so much of themselves for our well-being. A rant however, is not appropriate here. Quite simply, I wish to give thanks to all the mothers in my life, especially my own and do my best to remember this gratitude the rest of my days.

Kleco, kleco for everything that you do, the magic and the mundane, from healing our cuts and scrapes to healing our souls. In retrospect, it is all magic, all wonderful, all beautiful, every last moment. I love you mom.

P.S. I cannot forget all the other mothers and grandmothers and aunties. I have too many to name, seriously, but I love and respect you all. And of course all you newer moms in my life, not my mom, but a mom to my nieces and nephews. My sisters, today is also a special day for you, newer at your jobs, but no less loving and caring, and appreciated. My sister, Ger, and mi hermanas y companeras, Chiinuuks, 'Cilla, Em, Bev, Andrea, Di, Jusquan, Amamas, Kristy, Mare, Kinwa, Dawn, Gloria. Salud to you all!

...and before it gets too late, time to get my butt outta bed (yes, on my laptop writing a bedblog), and see about making some coffee and breakfast for the mothers in this house!

an ode to a kitten

2007-05-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I part for the coast and a summer of new memories. Soon, padawan Kitten leaves for the valley of the mighty Nass River. Sooner or later all Kittens grow up and go home. We've had many a thoughtful conversation, pondering the mysteries of indigenous decolonization and resurgence. We've walked and talked our way through the same disillusionment, we've looked near and far and hopefully, we've glimpsed the same hope. Our battle is righteous and honourable. The red pill can sometimes be hard to choke down but it is what it is. Aaniikwaa.

We've also pondered the mysteries of the human heart. Perhaps they are one in the same. The force is strong in this one. She has a resilience and power that is already formidable. Honed and focused, and our enemies best watch out. It is true that she is my clan sister - We are Killerwhales from neighbouring nations. And Kitten has become more than a protege. She has become a friend and a sister in spirit and reality. Although our paths part ways for a time, we will remain steadfast, headed in the same direction.

It has been an honour and privilege.

welcome to this world Noelani

2007-05-11T10:33:00.000-07:00

On Monday, April 30th, my good friends Ken and 'Cilla became the proud parents of Noelani Georgia, a beautiful baby girl and yours truly became the proud uncle of a 3rd baby in as many months (after babies Margo and Kimiwan). Congratulations my friends, and of course you too, T. As an elder brother you will be expected to care for and always uphold the dignity, honour, and happiness of your little sister. I will be here for you in every capacity I can for one can never be thankful enough to have friends as close as family.

Despite the ongoing problems of this world, it is moments like this that give us hope of a different possibility. It is not without a sense of paradox and irony of course for what other reality can we have than the one laid out before us? I believe in our ability to roll with the punches when we need to and create change when we must. Our struggle for peace with dignity and lives worth living will not be in vain. Today is indeed a beautiful day.

Goin' Coastal

2007-05-09T18:20:00.000-07:00

It looks like W is goin' coastal this summer. I've just received word that I'll be working in the Du Quah art gallery in Ucluelet for my summer job and I have to say that I'm pretty damn stoked. :D (is "damn" still considered a swear word?)

This also means that my moto will be on the road very shortly as well! Woo hoo! Sausage Creatures be damned!

I have a feeling that it's going to be an awesome summer. (do people still say "awesome?")

It is time to make some new memories.

Hasta la victoria siempre!

[photo by Kevin Ebi]

Yaa-uk-mis

2007-05-07T17:36:00.000-07:00

The Nuu-chah-nulth word for "love" also contains the experience of "pain."

They are linked, intertwined, inseparable.

Aaniikwaa.

all done...for now.

2007-04-23T12:44:00.000-07:00

On Friday, April 20th at exactly 8:59pm, I finished my third year toward a BA in political science. It's only taken 15 years to get this far. I have to say that I really enjoyed my return to school. Despite the relatively heavy course load and endless stacks of books and journal articles and papers, I had fun. I hear some classmates who complain, and I've nothing against them and believe me, it feels good to be done, but I had no complaints this year. After 12 years in the working world, especially the bureaucratic, Aboriginal political working world, school was a breeze. All this time to read, and think and write, as I've said before, "what more could I ask for?"

And now, for the first time in 12 years, I'm looking for summer work again. I have a few promising leads and I'm looking forward to a summer of working, riding my motorcycle, BBQs, a road block or two, and of course some recreational rebellious reading. Last night was odd. After a very brief visit up island with family, I had to return to Mituunii to send some resumes, return library books and such, and I found myself with nothing to do at 9pm. With no cable or even Internet access at home, I found it hard to effectively vegetate. I wasn't quite in the mood to start my summer reading just then, so I ended up revising my resume and 'listening' to my favourite BSG season 3.0 episodes in the background.

So this year, I managed to live on my own for the first time EVER. I didn't starve, ate moderately well, and finally managed to take my father's advice and take cod liver oil diligently for the first time since I was a wee w. I am a true convert. Even though I was pretty hard on my body and immune system with many sleepless nights and last-minute cramming, which usually results in some sort of seemingly self-regulating illness, the cod liver oil did its job. While my classmates fell one by one to some bug or another, I was happy feeling rather "normal" fully appreciating that there indeed, are no ordinary moments.

In 8 months I went through 1.5 tubes of toothpaste, about 10 razors, half a litre of shampoo, about 750ml of contact lenses solution, 300ml of hair gel (thanks mom), many jars of fish (thanks pops, and family), copious amounts of oatmeal, about 6 large pizzas, maybe a quarter jar of oolichan grease (thanks Kitten), one bus pass (thanks NTC), probably about $100 in printing and copying fees, one iPod (thanks Mom and Sis and Gord), 30+ CDs for my friends, 20 episodes of BSG 3.0, 3 sushi and sake dinners, several Friday afternoons at Felicita's, and the unwaivering love and support of many friends and family members. Many klecos to you all.

To the summer of W. :D

(p.s. this picture at the top is my nephew, Kashus taken during my recent visit with him and my family in P.Dot. I think he really looks like my sister).

what's next?

2007-04-04T16:01:00.000-07:00

So, after months of guffawing at fellow students who wear sweatpants (although I don't seem to mind the prevalence of Lululemon on campus), and even a couple that wear their bathrobes to class, W has gained a new found appreciation for comfortable clothes. It's not that I'm really formal, and while I might even be accused of snobbery from time to time (:o), I have resisted the all-out comfort clothes at school, until today.

After a week in which I had three relatively sleepless nights, writing papers and such, it was all I could do to pull on my seldom-worn fleece sweat pants and hoody and drag my butt to school. W was sure shabby-looking but comfortable. They may be on to something.

What's next? Birkenstocks? Dreads? Bongo Drumming? Fear not companeros y companeras, while I may appreciate lounge wear, I will remain the W you all know and love (or despise). You all have permission to slap me if next year I show up with my pants around my knees, riding a skate board, with emo hair, and a Dakine backpack.

Here comes the Rain...the Ganhada has landed.

2007-04-02T17:59:00.000-07:00

First, I need to issue an official web-welcome to the newest of the wit'waak initiates, Kimiwan ('Rain' in Cree). Kimiwan came into our world, joining his parents, Roots and Darren, and sister last Monday, March 26th. I saw him again last night, and he's doing great, getting used to his new digs, and keeping his parents up at all hours. I also spoke to Em, and baby Margo is also doing well. 'Cilla is the last of this round, and she's due around the 20th of this month. Congrats on your new pad with Mr. Watts and one step closer to respectability!

I also neglected to mention that I have a new tattoo...11 days old now, and just about healed. My bro, Hiish-miik designed it, and I got it done at Urge Studios here in Mituunii. In case you can't tell, it's a 'Ganhada' to honour my grandfather on my mother's side who was of the Raven clan (I already have a Gispidwuda on my left arm in recognition of my grandmother's clan, and therefore my mom's and mine). In this picture, it's about 15 minutes old.

Well, sports fans, I must return to my studies - I only have about 6,000 more words to write between now and tomorrow on democratization and ethnic conflict in Turkey and Indonesia...woo hoo! :D Summer's almost here!

Remember, there are no ordinary moments.

Google and BC Treaty Process

2007-03-31T17:12:00.000-07:00

a song...

2007-03-25T23:05:00.000-07:00

...from Eden Robinson's Monkey Beach:

Food is dust in my mouth without you.
I see you in my dreams and all I want to do is sleep.
If my house was filled with gold, it would still be empty.
If I was king of the world, I'd still be alone.
If breath was all that was between us, I would stop breathing to be with you again.
The memory of you is my shadow and all my days are dark, but hold on to these memories until I can be with you again.
Only your laughter will make them light; only your smile will make them shine.
We are apart so that I will know the joy of being with you again.
Take care of yourself, wherever you are.
Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

my documentary life, web presence, and IRL

2007-03-25T20:39:00.000-07:00

I used to have subscriptions to hi5, myspace, WAYN, bebo, ringo along with numerous MSN groups. Before school began, I cancelled all but my myspace account (declaring it the winner of the pseudo-networking site wars), mostly for the cool, independent tunes. After I returned to school, I discovered facebook. I signed up, attracted by the clean layout (no giant banners, flashing or audible smily-faces) and seemingly exclusive nature of - mostly for university/college students - but I think it has opened its doors to a wider audience as well. I've since been lured back to bebo but I draw a new line in the sand there.

On more than one occasion my friends have joked about taking pictures, specifically posing for pictures with the intent of posting then on myspace or facebook. One cannot ignore the irony of it all - as Old Man Rivers notes, the dichotomy between Life and Living. Are we truly living our lives or merely staging a bunch of photo-ops, or a bit of both? A few of my friends have done better than I, purging their entire web-presence. I've often been impressed by this, and at the same wonder how long they can keep it up.

Hopefully, possibly, my summer job (whatever that ends up being) might take me outdoors and away from the Internet and all my accounts and login IDs and passwords. Till then, I have papers to research, books to read, exams to study for. Only a few more weeks.

Smell the flowers
Turn off your mobile phone (or have a friend steal it from you)
Leave your watch at home
Go to the beach
Sit
Climb a tree
Breathe
Live
Life
Laugh
Play
Be
Now
Here

btw, IRL = In Real Life =D

dignified in defeat

2007-03-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

It was inevitable. It had to happen. One cannot be king of the hill forever. Time and circumstance catch up with us all. On this day, the twenty-fifth day of the thirrd month of the year, two-thousand and seven, Kitten, champion of the Nass Valley, the hope of a valient and proud people, did defeat yours truly, humble W. Ok I admit, at a certain point the dramtics gets tiresome. Yeah, so Nic beat me today at 1-on-1. I think she alluded to being inspired by all the March Madness.

Kitten beat Dubya 11-9. It would be false to merely say that my shots were not falling because she played tougher defence, forcing me to alter my shots at the last minute. My only minor face-saving claim is to stuffing (blocking her shot) her a couple times. Good game fierce one.

Finding Dawn...Finding Hope

2007-03-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

I've just left the Farquhar Auditorium at the University of Victoria, after having viewed the largest screening to date of Christine Welsh's film, Finding Dawn. I can't remember how many times I cried. We were told that it would be a 'heavy' film, but Christine truly manages to tell a moving, indignant, powerful, and ultimately, hopeful story about the issue of missing and murdered indigenous women in Canada.

It was hard to comment on when the film was over. My friends and I were almost rendered speechless. And at the same time, we cannot be. As indigenous communities, we've been silent about these matters for too long. HUNDREDS of missing and murdered indigenous women. Our sisters. Our mothers. Our aunties. Our daughters. Our cousins. Collectively, we must say, "Enough! No more!" Collectively, we must begin to act, to stop the violence, to restore balance, dignity, and honour to our families and communities.

I applaud Christine Welsh for her monumental achievement in creating this film, in finding the stories and allowing them to be told. So many times, we were brought to tears, as we met these women, their families, became aware of who they were. Christine not only humanizes these victims, she helps us remember our indigenous dignity. The stories are painful and heart-wrenching. I can hardly describe my own visceral, physical reaction.

But she does more than shed light on these issues, long kept silent. On her journey, she also finds hope. This hope reminds us of who we are, and our place in this world. This hope compels us not only to remember these women, but to act, to stop the violence, to uphold our sacred responsibilities. We haven't a moment to lose. We need to take inspiration from work like Christine's film and the stories of the women she shares, and restore, revitalize and rebuild our homes.

I'm looking forward to working with Chiinuuks, Muhwa, Ha'wiih'thlup, Hiish-miik, Seitcha, Wichaninnish, and all my brothers and sisters to Stop the Violence in Nuu-chah-nulth territory. The movement will not stop. It will continue this Spring, this time bringing the dual-message of awareness and hope, to the urban centres where more than 65% of our people live. If you get a chance, see the film, and get involved, and start a movement in your community.

Dignity and Hope.

I voted...for a Liberal!!! :I

2007-03-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

I'll give you a moment to get back in your chair, and recover. Yes, it's true. W did vote last week and yes, I did just find out that I voted for a young Liberal. Allow me to explain.

It was a dark, stormy, blustery afternoon. The sea was angry that day, my friends! Ok, seriously. Friday, I and a few classmates had just been liberated from POLI 433 (Ethnic Conflict and International Security - or as I've come to affectionately know it, Why Poor Brown People Kill Each Other) and I was still high off of the adrenaline coursing through my veins due to presenting to the class. Now I don't normally get so amped about speaking publically, but our professor is a notoriously hard marker and well it was Friday to boot (I ended up getting my first B+ of the term by the way...see what I mean ]:I).

Anyway, grade-obsessing aside, as we exited the building I saw Rory approach. I recognized him from my POLI 318 (Chinese Politics) class. He had a bit of a frantic look on his face. It was about 3:30 and there was only going to be another hour or so to vote in the UVic Student Society elections and he was handing out last minute leaflets. I think he was running (as an independent) for Director of Finance. I hadn't paid the elections much mind, other than to notice that there seemed to be two distinct slates/factions about as distinguishable to an Indian as Liberals and Conservatives, or Democrats and Republicans - heck, even Chomskey and Zinn know there is very little REAL difference.

Right then and there, I decided to vote. It was something about the honest look in Rory's eyes and tone in his voice. Now, I know my long-time readers (especially fans of Kumtux), may be surprised, even a little dissapointed to hear that I, Sir Dubya voted. I will not try and rationalize it by stating that I feel these elections were of little consequence to students, much less indigenous students, or that because this was not a provincial or federal election that some Aboriginals actually think we can make a difference in. I voted because I thought Rory was a nice guy and he deserved my vote. :I

I doubt you will find this terribly interesting, other than the fact that once in awhile I like to indulge in a little self-deprecating humour and at times poke fun at my own seriousness. I'm reminded of a line from the Hagakure (and also in Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai), "Among the maxims on Lord Naoshige's wall there was this one: Matters of great concern should be treated lightly. Master Ittei wrote: Matters of small concern should be treated seriously."

And, it wasn't till later that I found out that Rory seems to be an aspiring Liberal. :I He didn't win, and I still think he's a nice guy.

Oh, and yes that is a sleeve of apple juice that I'm holding in the picture.

300 and You

2007-03-18T17:03:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I finally got to see 300 last week. First, I want to say that I think I'll stop reading film reviews and just make up my own mind. And thus, I feel fine if you ignore me now and make up yours as well. You also know I'm a bit of a sucker for certain elements of pop-fiction (Matrix, Fight Club, V for Vendetta, Batman Begins, etc.) So, my intention here is not to review the film or even comment on any of the hype or controversy, but to highlight certain aspects that I feel they are relevant to us rebellious indigenous types and allies.

Now, I know it is not a deep flick, and like I said, I'm a sucker sometimes, so sue me. I still think there is power in mythology. And like all power, it can be used for good and bad and everything in between (I say this because I don't believe ethics to be strictly dichotomous). Ok, so here is what I liked: Of course I dug the good ole testosterone-driven-warrior-culture and a life of training and preparation (also why I think women should call more of the shots). Speaking of women, I liked how King Leonidas wife responded to the messenger that "it takes a true Spartan woman to give birth to a strong man" or something to that effect.

Of course, I also liked the line, "A Spartan's greatest strength is the warrior next to him." I know there are a lot of cliches about this, "esprit de corps" and all, but I believe it to be true of brothers and sisters in arms, companeros y companeras. I've never been in combat myself, but I can attest to the importance of shared, difficult experiences in helping group cohesion. And I've already taken King Leonidas' line, "This is SPARTA!!!" and replaced Sparta with, Ahousaht! Toquaht, Tseshaht, Kitselas and any other village or home I can think of amongst my indigenous friends and family members (as I imagine booting some faceless messenger requesting our submission).

On a final note, I will end where I started. One thing I was reminded of when thinking of mythology was our own fierceness and brutality in war, historically. Specifically, I am speaking of my own people, the Nuu-chah-nulth and Tsimshian. I remember reading one anthropological account of our notorious "wars of annihilation." I'm reminded of the history of Ahousaht. I will not tell the story here, but I urge you to not think of your warrior traditions with shame or regret. True Wit'waak protected our communities, our women and children, the most vulnerable and above all, the law. I believe that we should think of our willingness to fight for that which we love and revere with dignity and honour; two things we could use more of, in addition to hope.

Muppets, Roots and Me

2007-03-15T15:38:00.000-07:00

Roots and I are always joking that we are like Waldorf and Stadler. Get the two of us going on some Aboriginal politician or wayward radical Indian and hold on...yeah, we can get pretty merciless from our cozy balcony seats, but at least we can also be appropriately self-deprecating enough to compare ourselves to a couple of old (but funny) Muppets.

Speaking of Roots, she is due in exactly 8 days! I can hardly wait, and I bet neither can Roots, or her family. I know it may sound like a cliche to place hope in the generations, but what the heck, we're indigenous. I think of Risky, Kitten, Old Man Rivers (who's only 17!), Single Joe, Roots' daughter, my own nephew, and all the children of my so-called radical friends. How can I not feel a sense of hope and inter-generational persistence in our fight for a more just, fulfilling, indigenous way of life. Power to the lil peeps!

I know I have not posted on here much recently, and most of that I blame on school, which is still going well by the way. Despite my academic adventures, fear not dear family, friends, allies and enemies, I have not ceased my relentless pursuit of truth. I still think and theorize like there's no tomorrow, write in my journal and discuss and debate these issues with my companeros y companeras. I think it is fair that I be criticized for being somewhat of an essentialist. Most of the time, I do believe things are black and white. Life of course and a friend from time to time, reminds me that sometimes the world is gray. And while I cannot ignore this, I still believe that it is my place to strive for something as free of contradiction as possible.

I know that purity is an impossibility and perhaps, even undesirable, and that there is beauty in complexity. Alas, how can I resist and not fight for what I think is right? As I often do, I must also acknowledge my uncle Umeek, who taught me once that we all play a part. Everyone fulfills some role; an essential role significant to the whole. And maybe none of us are "right" but perhaps, even though we may disagree, we may be right together? Does that make any sense? Did I get it wrong?

This is how I recognize the timely nature of change, evolution and revolution, and my role in life. Recognition of the idea that true, substantial change may take generations is so counter-intuitive to the would-be revolutionary, and yet I still hold on to my revolutionary ideals and zeal, even though I may only be a rebel. All theories aside, I am humbled and honoured to have my parents, my sister, her husband, my nephew, all my father's family, and my mother's family. I'm grateful to my mentors and my padawans. I'm honoured to fight along side my brothers and sisters, and to build alliances with new brothers and sisters. The coalition of the unwilling seems to be growing, year by year, person by person, one warrior at a time. I am exactly where I want to be, right here, right now.

March Madness

2007-03-05T17:20:00.000-08:00

Yes, I've been known to be a college hoops fan, but this post is not about basketball. Where do I start? It's been a busy month since I posted anything substantial. Well, school continues to go well. I still have not figured out what some people find to complain about. All I have to do here is think, read, write...what more could a guy ask for? To be fair, I am perhaps what some would call a "mature student." I know what I want for the most part. I want to be here. Right here, right now. I grew tired of my bureaucratic duties. It was sapping my soul. I appreciate the opportunity to spend this time thinking, reflecting, pushing my intellectual limits. At the same time, I can hear the grassroots critique. I'm aware that there is an academic bubble of sorts, and I am aware of the limits. Like I said, I'm right where I want to be.

My wonderful mother was kind enough to book me a flight home to Kitselas/Kitsumkalum (Terrace, BC) over reading break. (My Pops, also was generous in helping out with travel expenses). It was nice to be amongst that side of my family. I was fed like a king (although very aware of it all, I took the time to hit the gym a few times while there, or I would have come back 10 lbs. heavier!) There was a lot of family business we were able to address and I am not at liberty to share here, but needless to say, I am excited, encouraged, slightly afraid, and happy to be apart of something important to my family and our communities.

I believe no matter what we do as so-called indigenous academics, we must remain connected to home. What will it all before if we do not return home or at the least stay strongly connected, intimately involved with our home communities? It's all just theory, and my heart is at home, both Kitselas and Ahousaht. Sometimes, I feel academics can get lost in our readings, and big words (speaking from personal experience only), and not forget, but grow distant from home. It's all about home, about family.

On a lighter note, I have an appointment at Urge Tattoos in Victoria. It seems to take like a month to get in there, but I'm told by my friend 'Cilla, that it is worth the wait. The Gispidwuda on my left arm will have a Ganhada/Ko'ishin (Raven) mate on my right arm. My mother is Gispidwuda which is why I am. My grandfather was Ganhada, and thus my second tat, is meant to honour that side of my mother's family. Many Klecos to my brother Hiish-miik, for the design.

On the literary front, I highly recommend Ella Deloria's (Vine's aunty) Waterlily and the recently departed, James Welch's Fools Crow. The first is about Dakota life around the time of settlement/encroachment of the "west" from the perspective of several Dakota women, namely, Waterlily. It's a beautifully written account of Dakota life, focusing on the fundamental importance of family and kinship. We all understand and have heard of the importance of indigenous families to one degree or another, but Deloria truly paints a poignant, sometimes painful, yet beautiful literary picture for us.

Fools Crow is the second book I recommend to anyone, but especially those who find themselves in a position to be 'warriors' or leaders or both. It was recommended to me by two professors that I respect a great deal. I will need to read it again, to further appreciate the implications of leadership under immensely difficult and unprecedented circumstances. It is also set around the same time as Waterlily,but focuses on the life of Fools Crow, a young Pikuni (Blackfoot) man as he grows from relative obscurity to a warrior, healer and leader of great repute under difficult circumstances. Both books get 5 dubya-stars!

Till next time sports fans...

missing in action

2007-03-04T15:32:00.000-08:00

I know, I have not posted in a while, over three weeks! Fear not sports fans, I shall return soon...school and all that jazz...lots to report and reflect on anyway.

quotes and random thoughts...

2007-02-11T18:27:00.000-08:00

I've recently had the honour of becoming reacquainted with my friend, JM. I think we share both a concern for our communities and a desire to help shape something other than what is currently presented to "Aboriginal" people and First Nations. He recently returned from a visit home and proclaimed, "I can't think of anything worse for my soul than a band meeting." I'm sure many of you, who've partaken in the band politics of home, even as an observer, can relate. When I posted this quote on my Facebook page, Old Man Rivers sarcastically remarked, "but that's where real change happens!" :I

I hate being cynical. Am I? I think some would say I am. I've also been characterized as a hopeless romantic. I like being a romantic more than a cynic.

There are times, however, when I cannot but help feel so strongly about what is right and wrong about the world, especially our Indigenous world. And despite being a self-proclaimed "revolutionary turned rebel" I recognize that true and everlasting change will take time, more than I have at present. Despite this acknowledgement, we can all still play a fundamental part. I don't know what the answer is, but I think it involves some forms of righteous resistance, taking action when it is required, and re-creating a legacy of hope, dignity and justice for those who will follow us.

I've been feeling very reflective this past week. A lot has gone on it seems. What did brother Malcolm teach about chickens? They come home to roost. Que sera sera, what will be will be. C'est la vie. Aaniikwaa. Let the chips fall where they may. Let no appropriate cliche be neglected. I resist declarations and resolutions. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it is because I can't stand the disappointment. And this is not to say that I have never kept my word or accomplished things I've set out to do. Times, they are a changin'.

I recently watched Troy and The Last Samurai again. I'm still a sucker for movies. Two of my favourite quotes from those movies respectively, are: "Honour the Gods, love your woman, and defend your country." (I would say, "nation" instead though) - Hector; and "Life in every breath...that is the way of the warrior." - Katsumoto.

It's almost the start of another week. Have a good one. Make it a good one. cuu, W

2007-02-07T17:14:00.000-08:00

Near the end of Ella Cara Deloria’s Waterlily, the protagonist, for whom the novel is named, thinks to herself, “All my relatives are noble…They make of their duties toward others a privilege and a delight…When everyone was up to par in this kinship interchange of loyalty and mutual dependence, life could be close to perfect” (224). Despite enduring tremendous loss, upheaval, and tragedy, Waterlily unwaveringly embodies the kinship laws that our foundational to the success and harmony of Dakota life. And while the novel is focused on the life of Waterlily, it is truly a story about the complex yet subtle social structure and way of life of the Dakota people. Their worldview is one that is truly interconnected and interdependent and it begins early on with careful, and gentle yet strict child rearing. Deloria points out, “It was the custom to put children first in all things” (33). She goes on further to describe the budding relationship of mutual loyalty and responsibility that is fostered between Waterlily and her elder brother, Little Chief. The honour and respect that is encouraged between the siblings extends not only to direct interaction between the two, but in their independent conduct as well. Brother and sister are taught only to act in such a manner as to bring honour and happiness to one another. It is stated in the preface to the novel, “the ultimate aim of Dakota life, stripped of accessories, was quite simple: One must obey kinship rules; one must be a good relative” (x). In the face of life’s daily trials, joys and tragedies, such a way of life is perhaps simple, yet immensely powerful. Indeed, the survival of indigenous peoples, in the wake of colonization, genocide and occupation can largely be attributed to the inherent resiliency of the interconnected family and communal frameworks as exhibited by the Dakota people. As Waterlily’s life and reflection suggest, indigenous ways of life were not utopian, but they were close to perfect and there is something undeniably paradoxical and beautiful about that.

one of my favourites...

2007-01-31T12:39:00.000-08:00

"And if it were said of us that we are almost romantics, that we are incorrigible idealists, that we seek the impossible, then a thousand and one times we must answer that yes, we are." - Ernesto "Che" Guevara

like butta baby

2007-01-29T17:09:00.000-08:00

Again, Nic (aka "Champ", aka "Fierce Kitten") and I met up at the gym about noon today and there were no other Indians in sight. Our shooting was brutal to say the least. I think we both missed our first six free-throw attempts before she finally got going and beat me 21-0. Then we played Horse and I think I lost that one too...H-O-R-S-E to H-O-R-S...then of course the main event...1-on-1 (which we play without "possession" just to be nice). Again, W ruled the paint and had more "and 1's" than he can remember, but Nic faired a little better getting 6 points I think before I got 11. AND then...we played 21 and this time, yours truly was victorious (21-18 I think). Thank you, thank you. Bragging rights for another week.

W "so money (but he doesn't know it)" Atleo

oh wynema!

2007-01-23T19:47:00.000-08:00

I recently finished a book entitled, Wynema by S. Alice Callahan, originally published in 1891 (for my English 426 class). In summary it is about two women, a settler and an indigenous woman, named Wynema. Characteristic of many novels written at the time, it is a love story (or several) set amongst a backdrop of dispossession, allotment and genocide. I liked the book, but what I really want to share are some very specific excerpts by a Lakota warrior named, Wildfire prior to what is not too subtle a reference to the Wounded Knee Massacre on December 29th, 1890. I founded these passages the most moving and motivating of the whole book:

We were once a large and powerful nation, ruling over a vast portion of this country of yours. By the white man's cruelty and treachery we have been driven farther and farther away, until we now occupy this Government reservation, in a climate so cold and exposed to hardships that our numbers have diminished until we are but a handful - a mere speck of what we were. In the old days we were free; we hunted and fished as we pleased, while our (women) tilled the soil. Now we are driven to a small spot, chosen by the pale-faces, where we are watched over and controlled by agents who can starve us to death at their will. Think you, I can hear of peace when I see my noble companions slain because they refuse to obey the commands of the military men? When our (women) and children are shot down like dogs before our eyes? May the Great Father hear me when I say, let this arm wither, let these eyes grow dim, let this savage heart still its beating, when I stand still and make peace with a Government whose only policy is to exterminate my race.

If we cannot be free, let us die. What is life to a caged bird, threatened with death on all sides? The cat springs to catch it and hangs to the cage looking with greedy eyes at the victim. Strange, free birds gather round its prison and peck its eyes, taunting it with its captivity until it beats its wings against the cage and longs for freedom, yea, even the freedom of death. So it is with us. The white man has caged us, here, for his greedy brothers to devour.

You speak of my wife and children. Ah, well you may. It is for them I resist, for them I shall battle, and for them I shall die, if need be - that my sons may not grow up the oppressed wards of a mighty nation - the paltry beggars to whom a pitiful sum of one cent is doled out, when the whole vast country is theirs by right of inheritance...And again; is it right for the nation who have been trampled upon, whose land, whose property, whose liberty, whose everything but life, have been taken away, to meekly submit and still bow their heads for the yoke? Why the very ox has more spirit than that!

Who says pop-culture can't be revolutionary?

2007-01-22T17:07:00.000-08:00

A quote from The Matrix, that Old Man Rivers reminded me of (I added a couple things as well ;-)

"The Matrix is a system, Neo. That system is our enemy. When you're inside, you look around, what do you see? Businessmen, teachers, lawyers, carpenters, Indian chiefs, bureaucrats, social workers. The very minds of people we're trying to save, but until we do, these people are still a part of that system and that makes them our enemy. You have to understand that most of these people are not ready to be unplugged. And many of them are so inert, so hopelessly dependent on the system, that they're going to fight to protect it."

...although it may be a semantic issue, I would use the word 'enemy' more carefully...W

some thoughts on indigenous philosophies

2007-01-21T15:10:00.000-08:00

I thought that it was about time that I actually put some "work" into this blog again and share some thoughts of my own (along with a few other esteemed thinkers as well). First, should update you on my classes this term. I'm taking: PHIL 209 (Philosophy and First Nations Thought), ENGL 426 (Indigenous Women's Writing and Literary Decolonization), POLI 363 (Introduction to Indigenous Politics), POLI 371 (Chinese Politics) and POLI 433 (Ethnic Conflict and International Security). This should inform you to a certain extent where my head will be at this term, at least academically.

Obviously, I'm taking several Indigenous-themed courses this term. There was a time when one would interpret these as gimmies or easy. I think it's safe to say that that is not the case anymore. The level of thought and engagement on matters concerning indigenous peoples and issues has become increasingly complex and interesting over the years, in the academic arenas I mean. That being said, I think it does help to have an indigenous perspective or worldview when taking these courses. Over the past several years I've had the good fortune to rub elbows with many a smart, young indigenous thinker and rebel.

In taking my PHIL 209 course, I'm reminded of many things I've heard from my father, Wickaninnish and my uncle, Umeek. In particular, I can see the distinct way they see the world and the way they've tried to explain it to me. Being reaised in the city, perhaps it has taken me a little longer than people would have liked, but I believe that their influence along with many other indigenous mentors and teachers I've had has helped me come to the place I am at today (which is where? lol).

Brian Burkhart from the Univeristy of Indiana lays some of the distinctions out nicely in his article, What Coyote and Thales Can Teach Us: An Outline of American Indian Epistemology. First he suggests that a guiding question of life is "What is the right road for humans to walk?" This is to suggest that philosophy is not merely a navel-gazing activity for indigenous people, but the quest for knowledge about how best to live in this world. He then summarizes 4 principles common to many indigenous philosophies:

1) The Principle of Relatedness - all things and people stand in relation and knowing is relational. In Nuu-chah-nulth territory we have the principle of "hish-uuk-ish tsa-waak" (Everything is One). This is in contrast to the (predominant) Western Analytic Philosophical view that people, things and knowledge are 'atomistic.'

2) The Limits of Questioning Principle - Quite simply, the possibility of non-sensical questions arises here. Some things we are not meant to know or have little relevance to us. This of course contrasts with the Western idea that knowledge itself is 'value-free' and can, indeed should be, amassed. From an indigenous perspective, some questions are stupid and more of a sign of confusion than anything.

3) The Meaning-shaping Principle of Action - Knowledge if fluid and so are we. We act, and interact and the world and us change. This contrasts with the Western notion of taking 'snap-shots,' freezing knowledge in time, developing theories and then seeing if they are still relevant to the 'real world' again. Time does not stop and neither do we. We have a moral responsibility to listen and observe constantly.

4) The Principle of a Moral Universe - This again, relates to our rightly living and being in the world. The right way to live is connected to our ability to gain knowledge through our experiences and the experiences of others. This contrasts from the Western idea that knowledge itself if value-free. There is a right way of being and our endeavour to gain more knowledge should facilitate that.

Obviously, this is just the tip of the iceberg, but I think it's pretty cool so far. It might help explain, in part, why you see the world even just slightly differently.

cuu brothers and sisters.

coming soon...

2007-01-19T15:53:00.000-08:00

Some thoughts on "Indigenous Philosophies" and I expect Old Man Rivers to offer an insightful and unabashed critique!

Sigh...

2007-01-15T14:53:00.000-08:00

Here are my favourite lines from Pablo Neruda's poem, "Ode and Burgeonings":

My love, to my life
you came prepared
as a poppy and as a guerrilla fighter:
silken is the splendor that I stroke
with the hunger and thirst
that I brought to this world only for you,
and behind the silk
the girl of iron
who will fight at my side.
Love, love, here we are.
Silk and metal, come close to my mouth.

fierce kitten hoops

2007-01-14T16:17:00.000-08:00

Today, I played some hoops for the first time in awhile (I think the second time in a year). Kitten (a protege from the Nass) and I played these two foreign exchange students and lost 11-5. Then Kitten beat me at a game of Twenty-One, 21-3. Then I schooled her one-on-one. I was up 10-2 before we stopped and she beat me at Twenty-One again, this time 21-20. You think I would rule the paint, but the Kitten is fierce inside and knows how to use her elbows.

Stay tuned sports fans...I think I might try some lacrosse this year. My friend, Chii-a-is likes to say, "the boys of summer play baseball, the men of summer play lacrosse."

It's official...

2007-01-04T15:25:00.000-08:00

The W you all know and love is a nerd. Now this is not to be mistaken for a geek. According to Old Man Rivers, there is an important distinction. Nerds watch BSG, Geeks watch Star Trek. I finally received all my grades back from my recent return into the land of ivory towers: A, A-, B, and A+.

Yeah, I was dissapointed in the B too, but I take full responsibility. I shall make amends this semester. Watch out fellow nerds...Dubya is on a rampage.

Listening to...

2006-12-27T13:09:00.000-08:00

Somebody That I Used To Know (by Elliott Smith)

almost there...

2006-12-18T15:44:00.000-08:00

One more exam, English 395 (Literature of the First Peoples) at 7pm tonight! Wish me the swiftness of your favourite deities, spirits or animals.

Film Review: Kanesatake: 270 Years of Resistance

2006-12-03T12:04:00.000-08:00

another assignment, this one for English 395:

When the “Oka Crisis” came to national attention on July 11th, 1990, I was 17 years old. I distinctly remember an overwhelming desire to grab my father’s old 30-30 rifle and jump on a bus to join my brothers and sisters in arms. Admittedly, I was not very politicized at the time and not particularly strong in my indigenous identity either, but like my good friend Terry likes to say, “I was born at Oka.” 16 years later, and Alanis Obomsawin’s documentary film, Kanesatake: 270 Years of Resistance still manages to evoke a powerful, visceral response. The dispute over the Pines at Kanesatake encouraged crisis solidarity unseen since the 1969 White Paper and created significant political space, resulting in the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples and in British Columbia, a billion dollar treaty process.

The actions of the Mohawks also inspired a new generation of warriors and radical indigenous political thinkers. Obomsawin’s imagery and narrative inspire indigenous people to stand up and fight and non-indigenous people to question not only their governments but also the very nature of the country they live in. We are presented with jarring visual juxtapositions: familiar moments of humanity and family, against the cold, unfeeling apparatus of the state. While the David and Goliath nature of the struggle is not lost on the viewers, Obomsawin also manages to contrast the very tangible humanity of the indigenous protesters with the inhumanity of the state law enforcement, military and political institutions. The death of Corporal Lemay and the occasional interaction with various Canadian soldiers are brief exceptions, but the overwhelming impression presented is that of reasonable indigenous families compelled to act and an unreasonable, draconian, and faceless state.

Despite the truth-telling nature of documentary filmmaking, and the even-handed impression enhanced by Obomsawin’s calm, unassuming narrative, this is not an objective piece of work. She is clearly telling the story from the point of view of the Mohawks and it is a story that needs to be told. Ironically perhaps, the Oka Crisis occurred around the same time as the first Gulf War, which ushered in a new era of information warfare and media manipulation. Films like Kanesatake: 270 Years of Resistance are more important than ever, in preserving the point of view of the oppressed, and providing inspiration for anyone who desires peace, dignity and justice.

the father of liberalism and us po' indians

2006-12-01T13:49:00.000-08:00

an assignment from my POLI 300B class:

“God gave the world to Adam and his Posterity in common,” states John Locke in Chapter V of his Second Treatise of Government. With man’s dominion over the world and its bounty divinely granted the stage was set for the subjugation of Indigenous peoples and the theft of their lands. Locke’s view on property is rooted in man’s inalienable property in his self and his labour. By extension, “Whatsover…he hath mixed his Labour with…thereby makes it his Property." Locke goes beyond the previously accepted doctrine of Terra Nullus. His views on property, dominion and appropriation were an advance in colonial thinking.

Like many of his contemporaries, Locke believed that America was a land of unlimited plenty. He uses the analogy of one man drinking from a river and the negligible impact on another’s ability to drink from the same river. Further, Locke believed that man’s right to subdue, cultivate and improve the earth through his labour granted him the right of appropriation. And while his logic recognized the Indian’s right to that which he hunted or fished, Locke believed that the Indian of the Americas wasted the land he occupied. He believed the Indigenous ways of life and political organization to be inferior to that of the European stating, “There cannot be a clearer demonstration of any thing, than several Nations of the Americans are of this, who are rich in Land, and poor in all the Comforts of Life; whom Nature having furnished as liberally as any other people…”

Interestingly, this rationalization did not prevent the forced removal of the semi-sedentary, corn-farming Kanienkeha people who once lived where the city of Montreal is now located. This is indicative of the circumstantial nature of all colonial rationalizations. Despite thoughtful philosophy and the damage caused and/or justified, one cannot ignore the reality of colonial “necessity.” The modern reality and legacy of colonialism is that it has become increasingly inconvenient, morally and economically, for state governments in the Americas to truly reconcile with Indigenous people.

we say no

2006-11-28T11:44:00.000-08:00

I may have written about this book before, or at least referred to it, but I think it's worth another look. As I was looking for a profound quote to end my paper on Latin America-U.S. relations I kept coming back to Galeano's We Say No. I found it not only relevant for my term paper, but also for us Indigneous folks in these parts of the Americas (occupied British Columbia). Specifically, because of the current BC Treaty Process, and the most common criticism levelled at dissenters: "It's not enough to just say 'no.' You have to come with solutions." Well, to a group of under-resourced people this is a tall order, but I and Galeano agree that sometimes it is more than enough to just say no, especially when the consequences are so significant and far-reaching. Here are some excerpts from his talk, We Say No (originally given at a gathering of rebellious intellectuals in Chile in July, 1988) from the book of the same name:

(translated by Cedric Belfrage)

We have come from different countries, and we are here - reunited under the generous shade of Pablo Neruda - to join the people of Chile, who say no.

We also say no.

We say no to the praise of money and of death. We say no to a system that assigns prices to people...We say no to a system that neither feeds its people nor loves them, that condemns many to hunger for food and many more to a hunger for the embrace...

We say no to the lie...

The colonial inheritance obliges the so-called Third World (and Fourth World!) - populated by third-class people - to accept as its own the memory of the victors who conquered it and to take on its lies of others and use them as its own reality. They reward our obedience, punish our intelligence, and discourage our creative energy.

We say no to fear. No to fear of speaking, of doing, of being...

As it happens, we are saying no, and by saying no we are saying yes... By saying no to the devastating empire of greed, whose centre lies in North America, we are saying yes to another possible America, which will be born of the most ancient of American traditions, the communitarian tradition that the Chilean Indians have defended, deperately, defeat after defeat, during the last five centuries.

In saying no to peace without dignity, we are saying yes to the sacred right of rebellion against injustice and its long history as long as the history of popular resitance on the long map of Chile.

By saying no to the freedom of money, we are saying yes to the freedom of people: a mistreated and wounded freedom, a thousand times defeated as in Chile and, as in Chile, a thousand times arisen.

knowing my place

2006-11-21T16:11:00.000-08:00

(originally published on my myspace page Nov. 15, 2006)

I'm feeling particularly polemical today. It might be a combination of new tunes (mostly courtesy of Fish), reading about colonial bullshit from here (in Occupied Canada) to South America, co-optation everywhere and the pressure to go along and get along. Ya Basta (Enough) I say! I know I will not get my way 100% but that does not diminish the need for so-called radical or uncompromising positions. I do not pretend to be in a position to have a final say on much of anything, but while the blood of my ancestors continues to flow through my heart I will fight for what I believe to be true and righteous. I know this will attract criticism and allegations of essentialism but I know my place. It has become more and more clear over the years, despite constant pressure and temptation to be diplomatic and "nice."

My mom, bless her heart and love, once lamented my politics primarily because she believed that they would lead me toward a life of depression and frustration. I thought about it for a few moments and replied that if I did not act on what was in my heart, I would truly be depressed and frustrated. The role of the rebel is a calling. It is at times a lonely road, plagued with doubt and fear but it is also paved with hope and dignity, for we know that life is more than mere existence. Life is indeed precious. Specifically, it is precious in how we live it, how we walk with our families, friends and enemies. I do what I do because I believe there is no other way for me. My fate is intertwined with the fate of my people. Viva la rebellion!

Escapism

2006-11-14T18:40:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about the nature and ethics of escapism, not only in my life but in the lives of my fellow Indigenous revolutionaries. By escapism I mean everything from day dreaming to playing video games, to watching movies to mind-altering substances, to mererly unplugging, to taking off to the other side of the world. My methods of escapism? Well since my cell phone's been cut off, I have to admit it's nice to not be as reachable as I used to be. I have an old fashioned phone line with NO FEATURES whatsoever, so when I'm on the phone and people call, they get a busy signal. When was the last time you heard one of those? And instead of voicemail, I have an answering machine with the bad sound that I bought from the Salvation Army thrift store for $3.50, which I have not figured out how to check remotely yet. Riding my motorcycle at times used to be a form of escapism for me, but since I'm not riding it this winter, about all I have is a bus ride and my iPod. Speaking of iPods, music often does it for me, especially when accompanied by a hot tub and a glass of red wine (did I just type that? ahem...in attempting to recover some sense of machismo, I'm evoking images of Tony Montana, smoking his cigar, watching TV saying, "c'mon pelicans" - when they were really flamingos...lol).

The other reason I was reminded of this issue was recently I've heard from a few rebellious sorts talk of how nice it felt to be away from the "bullshit politics" or enjoying the comforts of a full time job for a change. Now I recognize there are a several emerging issues here and I do not intend to engage them all at this time, however you are more than welcome to. Often, we are frustrated with the current state of affairs, the "bullshit politics" that we decide to disengage or work to find another way. The latter, as many of you will already know, can be a supreme exercise in frustration and seeming futility.

It is not my place to judge for I've been as guilty as the next if we call it that. Perhaps, being human is more accurate.

I believe, especially at times like these, that we need to be able to turn to one other for support. Each of us on our respective paths believe in some common things - freedom, dignity, hope, family. And being on seperate but parallel paths, we are often in a position to help one another. When one is weak the other is strong and so forth. This has been my experience anyway. I don't have the answers. This is more of my own expressions of dispair and hope. What I can tell you is this, if I can be there to help, to give some hope, or merely be a person who can listen with empathy and compassion, I will. I will endeavor to grow stronger so that I can be there for you, my fellow rebels, because I know many of you have been there for me already.

kleco, kleco!

W

on university life and other musings

2006-11-08T14:54:00.000-08:00

Well, I have completed most of my mid-term exams (with the exception of my East Asian Politics take-home exam that I am working on at this very moment), and despite my worst fears, I am doing fairly well, although I can't believe I got (only) a B+ on my critique of Thomas King's The Truth About Stories! ):I Perhaps my closing line, "The truth about Thomas King is he has great appeal for non-indigenous people" went too far. :I

aaniikwaa

Despite some initial anxiety about failure, I am really enjoying school. I feel like this is where I want to be at this very moment, which is rarer than you might think. In spite of many important and pressing issues at home (Ahousaht/Kitselas/Kitsumkalum), I am taking this opportunity to finish what I started 15 years ago as well as taking the time to devote a majority of my time to thinking through many of the issues related to decolonization and regeneration.

For some of you, this will seem counter-intuitive, especially those of you who have been exposed to my revolutionary rhetoric over the years. I've thought about this a great deal, and in no small measure considering my mentor-protege relationship with Old Man Rivers, and have concluded that this is indeed where I am supposed to be right now. When I am done, my priorities may change but when considering my assets, and how I may best contribute to the revitalization of my communities, indeed some thinking time is good.

I realized this morning that I have now been living on my own for the FIRST TIME EVER, for 38 days now. Again, this may be hard to believe but it is true and I think I'm learning some valuable lessons and insights from the experience. On my 101 in 1001 list I (somewhat jokingly) stated that one of my goals was to live on my own for at least 30 days. woo hoo! 3 cheers for baby steps.

I recently returned from a trip to Portland, OR where my cousin Hiish-miik had an art show opening at Quintana Galleries. When I get the chance I will post some pictures from our trip south of the 49th into occupied Chinookian territory. As I gather it did up here, it rained and rained almost the entire time we were there. The art show went well and will continue for another two months I believe...check it out (at least online) if you get the opportunity.

After a Denny's breakfast (:p) we managed to locate what I often refer to as, "a funky, hippyish but not too hippyish (meaning they have to have meat too), restaurant that caters to healthy, left-leaning intellectuals"...haha. Think The Blue Fox in Victoria or Slickety Jim's in Vancouver. Next, we went looking for guy toys (things that go "bang" all day long) much to the understandably finite patience of our female companera. And while we could not manage to locate an authentic Indigenous watering hole (jedi/pirate debate aside) I did manage to spend some time at Powell's Books. If you have any bookish inclinations whatsoever and find yourself within 100 miles of it, I highly recommend you find your way to this city-block-sized bookstore full of new and used books. I could have spent days, perhaps weeks in there. One example that illuminates the broad selection is that I found over 20 books specifically on Fidel Castro when try as I might, looking in every bookstore I can in this land now called Canada, I have never found one. I also found hundreds of books on history, Indigenous issues, Latin America, colonization, political and social issues. Check it out.

And my final thoughts for today. I recognize that I am in a special place of privilege to be in school full time, and for that I am grateful. At the same time I am adjusting to and truly appreciating the perspective that comes with the modest living of the student experience. I am especially grateful to my friends and family who have been so supportive, through encouragement as well as donations of fish and other material support. And...I hope to be picking up some Tliina later this week from a Nisga'a friend of mine. Woo hoo! :d

Oh, and last but not least, congratulations to the most recent IGOV graduate who successfully defended her MA thesis this morning! Great job Vanessa!

Viva la rebellion mi companeras y companeros!

Duncan Campbell Scott: a Visionary Canadian Bureaucrat

2006-10-24T18:37:00.000-07:00

In a report at the conclusion of Treaty 9 negotiations, Department of Indian Affairs chief bureaucrat, Duncan Campbell Scott commented, “Do not think…that civilizing the Indian is the work of one generation, or even two. It might take as long as four centuries before Indians merged with Whites and ceased to exist as a distinct people” (p. 199). In Chapter 9 of The Imaginary Indian, author Daniel Francis succinctly summarizes Crown policy directed at the Indian problem from the early days of British military necessity to the egalitarian-minded albeit misguided White Paper of Pierre Trudeau. Francis hints that the Indian problem went beyond the obvious clash over land and resources, “Assimilation was a policy intended to preserve Indians as individuals by destroying them as a people” (p. 201) and “Indians had to be destroyed so they could be saved” (p. 216). The very existence of indigenous people became a constant reminder of the corrupt and immoral foundations of this country. In order for non-indigenous settlers to legitimate their usurpation and occupation of indigenous lands, it required seemingly schizophrenic policies of segregation and assimilation.

The legacy of Indian policy in Canada, from the banning of significant spiritual practices to the forced removal of children from their families and the litany of abuses suffered in residential schools, is a testament to euro-centric arrogance and greed resulting in the dehumanization of indigenous people. The paternalistic approach taken by senior bureaucrats and clergy in the early days of confederation is still very much alive today in mere existence of the Indian Act and the legal doctrine of fiduciary duty. Francis believes that events since 1969 have worked to change the assimilative agenda of the federal government. I disagree.

The most significant act of indigenous resistance of the twentieth century, the so-called Oka Crisis of 1990 created an unprecedented era of co-optation and cooperation. In BC we have the BC Treaty Process and ironically, the new champion of Indian assimilation is the Indian. On page 206 there is a striking photograph of the File Hills Colony marching band. Like many photos of the era, the faces are dark and sullen and the Indians look out of place in their colonial clothing. I was reminded of an experience I had in the summer of 2003. I was a spectator at the Riverboat Days parade in Terrace. At one point the Nisga’a brass bands marched by, proudly displaying the flags of Canada, British Columbia, and the Nisga’a Lisms government (in that order). My companion, a professor from UNBC took one look at the expression on my face and said, “I guess they still have problems with colonization.”

dj dubya...

2006-10-16T20:04:00.000-07:00

Today I stopped by the campus radio station, CFUV and have begun the process of finding out how to volunteer and apply for a program. Seeing as they have NO INDIGENOUS (not even ABORIGNAL) programming what so ever it looks good. So here is my appeal to you: Do you have any suggestions for a program name? Dubya's Hour of Power? DJ Dubya's Wild West Show? Radio Rebelde? Ya Basta? Done Gone Coastal? Son of Goin' Coastal?

I need help...

when the jedi ruled...

2006-10-15T15:34:00.000-07:00

Esowista, May 2006

Ta-toos, a new pad, school and our future as Quu'as

2006-10-12T15:51:00.000-07:00

I just can't keep my nephew off this page...he's so adorable and I love the kid so much. So this past happy-colonial-turkey day we had a quiet dinner with my sis, her husband, my mom, my mom's sis, my pops and Kashus and their Scottish neighbour. I commented to a friend, that I consider it a victory that my sis and I have managed to banish brussell sprouts forever it seems, and at the very least we engage in some decolonization discussion as we munch on our free-range bird.

Kashus' Nuu-chah-nulth name is "Ta-toos" by the way, which means star. A common refrain I know, but it is hard to believe how quickly it seems he is growing. He seems less a baby and more a little boy now. Although I talk to him now, and sometimes in our language (although my father is much better at it of course) I look forward to the day when I can understand what he is saying back to me. Ta-toos reminds me that our struggle to live and thrive and rebuild our societies is a long, generational process.

As I mentioned briefly in my previous post, I have indeed found a new pad, a place to lay my hat and call my own for at least the next 6 1/2 months. It's a small 1-bedroom above and behind a flower shop on Quadra. It seems like a pretty old place as I discovered the walls were still made from lathe and plaster as I put boxes and stuff in the storage spaces. I've almost completed my unpacking and will be ready to host a book club, revolutionary meeting or poker game soon.

Earlier in the week the Nuu-chah-nulth post-secondary students were invited to an NTC-hosted dinner at Macaroni Grill (Damn the Atkins Revolution anyway!) It was good to see some familiar faces and new faces. When I discovered there weren't going to be any speeches I tried to encourage Kelly to say something and then Dawn, but alas they tried to get me to say something. I teased, by volunteering my education = assimilation speech but decided against it.

I jest but I am also serious in feeling that Indigenous students should think critically and honestly about their chosen areas of education and hopeful vocations. What are our responsibilities? Are we different than your average Canadian student? Do we owe our families, our communities? Is not only the preservation but perpetuation of a uniquely Indigenous way of life important? And if so, how do we craft such a life in the face of such strong societal and family pressures todo otherwise?

I have thought a great deal about these questions and am comfortable with my current place and role. I do generally agree that one cannot use the master's tools to dismantle the master's house (and at the same time live a life that is authentically Indigenous and yes I am aware of how essentialist this sounds). I think the decades-long trend of "running in the white man's shoes", while well-intentioned in its conception has led toward many undesirable roads and destinations. I do believe that we need to re-think our roles and directions in life and yes I willingly admit that compromise is an inevitable part of life for most people, but I still believe our ways our beautiful and we must protect and promote those core values and principles that can serve us in this modern world without losing our souls.

...brief update...

2006-10-06T13:49:00.000-07:00

I will post in more detail soon. First, I am no longer homeless. I found a 1-bedroom apartment located above a flower shop on Quadra between Tattersall and McKenzie last Thursday and I moved in on Sunday. I don't yet have a phone or internet access but will get working on those soon. I'll post pictures of my pad as well.

Normally, I would write a diatribe on Thanksgiving and all that but I have a couple books to read this weekend and a midterm exam next week, so my polemical ways will subside for the time being.

I'm still looking for good homes for my two dogs.

I've made some new friends at school. It makes me feel 8 again. That's not necessarily a bad thing :D

The clouds and rain have seemed to find their way back to these parts. I need to pull out my waterproof riding gear soon.

Have a good weekend with friends and family, my companeros y companeras.

"my uncle needs a home" - Kashus, age 1

2006-09-27T00:02:00.000-07:00

I certainly don't want to give you the impression that I am on the street. As I may have mentioned previously, I am staying with good friends. Roots and Boots and M have been gracious and warm and welcoming although another friend teased that I should have taken the hint when they got rid of the couch and replaced it with two chairs...haha...ah the floor is supposed to be good for my back anyway.

In old fishing terms, I've been skunked thus far in my search for an appropriate apartment to call my own, at least for this school year. The last place I looked at was $700/month for a bachelor suite with a fairly large storage room. I say storage room because it might be a decent bedroom for a hobbit, with the ceiling being about 5'10" and all (I'm 6'1"). The place before that was a rather large (genuine) one bedroom suite for only $600/month but the 'interview' questions I was asked got progressively weirder and weirder. Here's a sample:

What kind of routine do you keep? What time do you get up? What kind of hobbies do you have? What time do you go to bed? Do you smoke? Do you drink? Do you smoke marijuana? How often do you go to the bar? How often is not often? Do your friends smoke? Do you burn incense? Scented candles? What kind of soap do you use? How about dryer sheets?

To be fair, she who would be living upstairs did have some sort of medical condition that made her ultrasensitive to odors. Additionally, she said she sleepwalks every night and sometimes she falls down. Yeah...that and my snoring routine told me that we were not a good neighbourly match.

The search continues...

"living" in Mituunii

2006-09-13T00:41:00.000-07:00

Forgive me. I have been remiss. I have been somewhat lax in both the quality and quantity of my updates this summer. In particular, I have recently become concerned with the former, especially since many of you have been so kind as to compliment me on my writing humour and style. Well, as I get into university gear with lots of reading and writing, I intend to ensure that the quality of thinking and writing here are worthy of the mundane adventures.

on school...

Week 2 is in full swing and I am still enjoying school immensely. Looking at the world we live in through anti-imperialist-docolonizing glasses is one thing, applying the same critical thought to specific classes is quite another. My long-time readers will appreciate the challenges and opportunities in the following classes: International Security (studying state system models, non-state actors, terrorism, evil doers [sorry, could not resist that one], economics, war), Early Modern Political Thought (studying Luther, Erasmus, Machievelli, Spinoza, Locke, Hobbes, Kant all the other imperialist cats from Europe - during my lecture Tuesday a summarizing thought occured to me as I listened to the professor talk of the early debates on free will and the early ecclesiastical political connections: "This all seems to be a vain attempt to rationalize imperialism"), English 395: Literature of the First Peoples, and perhaps the least contentious: East Asian Politics, although it is interesting to learn about politics from a non-eurocentric, albeit still imperialist, perspective. The trick I think will be to determine what degree I wish to challenge the assumptions of my classmates and professors. Although I shall not hesitate to speak when I feel some fundamental truth is being ignored or misrepresented, I shall also endeavor to be mindful of which battles I wish to fight.

on my homelessness...

Roots n' Boots n' M have indeed being very kind in opening their home to me, tolerating my snoring and all my totes and bags of stuff, and cooking very healthy and scrumptious meals. I hope to find a (groovy) pad of my own soon and get "settled" as well. I have NEVER lived on my own, without a girlfriend, "partner" or room mate, EVER. I'm looking forward to some domestic solitude in my life before I find the wife of my dreams and we do our part to populate the Indigenous Revolutionary forces.

on substance abuse, pirates, jedi and the movement...

You will have no doubt noticed various, vague references to "Pirates" and "Jedi" this summer. My ellusiveness is borne out of my apprehension and possibly shame to discuss the matter openly, but alas I must remain committed to the truth. These two terms were introduced to the warrior lexicon this summer to identify those warriors who live two, divergent ways: basically, Jedi are noble, strong-willed, free of substance abuse and conduct themselves with the utmost respect and dignity; Pirates are still revolutionary, but fun-loving, partying warriors, perhaps more reminiscent of the AIMsters of the 60's and 70's. We joke about Pirates with Jedi tendancies and Jedi with Pirate tendancies but really, I believe, we are one or the other. We are the sum of our beliefs and actions. I am hesitant to render judgement however, not only because I have been there myself, but also as Roots likes to say, to judge so harshly or be dismissive of our brothers and sisters is to not recognize them as a whole person deserving of more compassionate consideration.

That being said...I choose to walk the path of the so-called Jedi at this time because I believe that I cannot achieve what I want to achieve by being any other way. What I want to achieve is to play some small yet significant part in the revitalization of our Indigenous nations and people to a state of strong health, will and character, to have our children grow strong and dignified. In order to get there, I must not only be healthy to do my part, but I believe that we best serve those we love by leading by example. We must BE. This is an act of immediacy, of awareness, of now, not tomorrow or someday.

My love for my brothers and sisters, all of them has been no stronger than it is now, and despite assuming the label (from a friend who once accused me of being) Quick and Merciless, I shall not judge my comrades. It is not my place. Another pearl of wisdom from Roots is this: "Never assume that a person is unaware of the trouble they are in." As a brother, I am here for my brothers and sisters, always.

Darkness persists. The empire grows stronger. Our people are losing our ways, ways of being, Indigenous ways. Expediency and shortsightedness rule the day and the band office.

Our time is now. Our place is here.

the not so littlest hobo

2006-09-09T12:13:00.000-07:00

My first week of classes is over and I have to say I'm still excited about school. So much of the campus is the same as it was 12 years ago and a lot of the people (teachers and students) have changed - like that guy from dazed and confused who keeps getting older but still dates fresh(wo)men. Yeah so school is humming along just fine - the stage is set for some interesting debates with my fellow classmates and my professors but my living situation just got turned upside down. I may have mentioned that I had this house sitting gig for the month of September - this beautiful little place down by the water with a hot tub and all, well it fell through Thursday night for reasons I will not share. I'm actually typing this from my bed/Roots' couch - as Roots' and Boots and M have been kind enough to provide shelter whilst I continue to look for a pad of my own. Oh and my potential roomie situation also seems to be falling through, so I'm keeping my eyes peeled for a possible bachelor/studio setup. Here's to keepin' it simple!

higher colonial learning

2006-09-06T14:12:00.000-07:00

Today was my first day back to school and I had trouble being cool (not remembering whether Shrubs said I should wear my backpack with one strap or two) and grinning like a fool...man it was a beautiful day. :D I had three classes today, all short on the first day: POLI 300B: Early Modern Political Thought, POLI 348: International Security and ENGL 395: Literature of the First Peoples of Canada and the United States. Tomorrow I have East Asian Politics (POLI 318). I'm almost done my first reading assignment (I bought most of my books last week) and am still adjusting to the fact that I am now a full time student. It's a little hard to describe, and I find it easy to take for granted the significant shift in gears and life that is going on - no job, full time school (20,000 new school mates), no car, new pad, no dogs (still looking for good homes for Pongo and Cheyenne by the way), new town, missing friends and family (especially lil Kashus)...sigh. I'm at the same time, excited and a little fearful. As usual dear readers, I will keep you in the loop.

p.s. I can see better without my pirate patch, and hear better without that squawking parrot on my shoulder.

2 more sleeps...

2006-09-03T19:42:00.000-07:00

Yay! She's back!

2006-08-26T17:41:00.000-07:00

Who or what did you think I meant? How well do you know me anyway? How far back into the vague mundane archives have you gone? I'm speaking of course of my Apple G4i Book, who I shall nickname, Guadalupe just because that name has always put a smile on my face. I brought her into the Mac hospital July31st and I just got her back today. She had to have two busted power cord pins removed and a new cd drive/burner put in. Looking at the invoice, I'm now glad I sunk over 300 clams into the extended warrenty 19 months ago.

Anyways, not too exciting, but I am happy to have her back. I'm sitting in somewhat familiar surroundings - the Serious Coffee on Douglas in Mituunii with an iced americano in hand of course ;-D. What is exciting is that I start school again in a little over a week! I'm down trying to find a pad and pickings are slim it seems. In addition to cruising around and calling prospective landlords, I dropped into the Uvic bookstore and picked up about 7 of the 10-12 books I will need this semester. I will keep you, my faithful readers, posted on the forthcoming Decolonizing Adventures of Dubya.

3:55

2006-08-24T15:59:00.000-07:00

It's almost the end of the work day, I'm listening to Blackfire and I feel like moshing.

...some people fought back...

2006-08-20T21:55:00.000-07:00

I've recently had time to reflect. I've also been inspired by the actions and discussions I have had with certain friends and family members recently. A lot has been said about the current state of affairs of Indigenous people, our people. Quite simply to quote one of my hereos, "we're getting the shit kicked out of us right now." Our adversaries (imperialist settlers, governments and companies who wish only to expolit us, our culture, lands, waters and resources in case it's not obvious) have learned well. For the most part, the aboriginal leadership no longer believe we are at war, let alone a stage of crisis requiring something immediate. Economic development, capacity building, joint-ventures have become the new battle cries. They are our friends now. We no longer want to rock the boat, because we are in it too, trying to get ahead, trying to be progressive, trying to create economic opportunies for the people. [And in case that last sentence didn't reek with enough sarcasm, I say, "bull shit!"]

We are at war. And we are losing and it's even more complicated than it was for our anscestors. To borrow a quote from one of my favourite pop-culture indulgances (BSG): "Our children need to know that some people fought back, and others collaborated." Each of us, each of our communities have Indigenous laws, that supercede the prestige or authority of any one person. It is true that most of those laws are no longer adhered to. Much of our ways have been relegated to the trash heaps of tokenism. And while I agree that many of our practices must adapt, I believe that we cannot truly thrive as Indigenous people unless we breathe life back into our sacred principles and responsibilities.

Knowing this, it begs an obvious question: What am I doing right now, to further the revival of those laws, principles and sacred responsibilities?

bananas give me heartburn

2006-08-15T10:26:00.000-07:00

It's confirmed. Bananas give me heartburn :( After careful testing, data gathering and analysis I have determined that I can no longer consume peanut butter and banana sandwiches without paying the price. Damn you Jimmy and your JD Squishy Ways!!! I used to have the gut of a young man...sigh. Ah well. I must take full responsibility.

Speaking of paying attention to these sorts of things, I unofficially announce my intention to begin walking a better path, setting aside the ways W the pirate and adopting the ways of W the student/jedi/aspirant witwaak. This will coincide nicely with my return to school. As some of you already know, I will be returning to UVic shortly, re-entering my 3rd year towards a BA in Political Science. Specifically, I will be taking 5 Poli. Sci. courses this semester: International Security, International Politics: Mideast, International Politics: East Asia, Early Political Thought and Aboriginal (:p) Self Government. I will be leaving my cushy brown bureaucratic job and returning to school full time, and thus will begin the simplified living of W. I'm sure I will be counting on the generosity of family to help out with salmon and other game to supplement my KD and Mr. Noodles. In addition to the spartan living, I will be selling my car, keeping my moto, but riding my bicycle more. Over the past 2 years I have gradually gotten rid of lots of "stuff" so the transition shouldn't be too much of a shock.

Yesterday, I decided to simplify my cyberlife as well, and I'm happy to announce that myspace has won the battle of the pseudo-networking-thinly-veiled-singles-sites and I will be closing my bebo and hi5 accounts shortly, once I find a reliable person to carry on the management of my hi5 Eduardo Galeano group. The cool tunes ultimately won the day, although the bebo quizzes and polls are kinda fun in an obbessively narcissistic way (to quote one sarcastic Gitxsan sister).

Next fun task: Look for a place to live in Mituunii. Wish me luck!

Video: George Galloway on Israel and Lebanon

2006-08-09T13:09:00.000-07:00

The Coup

2006-08-08T23:28:00.000-07:00

What a weekend! I need another weekend to get over my weekend. Saturday night me and a few comrades went to see The Coup in Victoria. It was a kick ass show. It was off the hook. They raised the roof. Haha, What are the kids saying these days? Groovy? The shizzly dizzly bizzly? The Coup almost defy classification...I mean if one had to choose, one might say hip hop, but they also come with a real band, with real instruments which is always cool for a live show and one can't forget tha FUNK. Their tunes are easy to dance to and they came with enough energy at the right points to get at least Fish in a moshing mood. On top of it all, they are seriously political and socially conscientious, which is exactly what the Goin' Coastal crew are into. After the show I bought their new CD, Pick a Bigger Weapon (notabley, Succha and I - aka, the "friendly fellas" bought our CDs - while Fish and 'Rica were given their CDs free...lol). I highly reccomend you either buy or charm your CD...check out a few tracks at: http://www.myspace.com/thecoupmusic.

Anyways, back to my sedate bureaucratic life to get the rest I need from my action-packed 3-day weekend (I didn't even tell you about the other two nights and days full of action, adventure, vino, a lil veritas, intrigue, chillin', swimmin', family fun, card playin', ah the pirate days are numbered...)

Birthday Wishes for Mom

2006-07-25T09:34:00.000-07:00

My Mom. Where do I start? She loves us kids so much It's overwhelming but certainly appreciated. She inspires me to become a parent myself, and not just so she can have more grandchildren but to share life experiences and unconditional love...sigh. I am a fortunate son indeed. And she still spoils me. Last week while we were at Costco, she told me to pick out some stuff for my return to student life, that she was going to pay for. Of course it being Costco, I ended up with 12 bars of soap, 4 tubes of toothpaste, two giant bottles of shampoo and 16 of the lastest, snazziest 5-blade razor refills. I can't even begin to start how much this woman does for me and my sister and her husband and my new nephew. We are truly blessed.

Mom, you are my foundation and support and I will be forever grateful to have been born your son. You are a constant source of love, encouragement and inspiration. I appreciate your patience and understanding and the way you listen to my wacky points of view and love me anyway. I love that you worry when CSIS sends an agent to talk to me but you still support my desire for truth and justice for our people. I love that you encourage me to stay positive and not give in to the dark feelings and depression that so often accompanies this lonely road. I know that I will never be alone with a mom like you.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Happy Birthday Dad!

2006-07-24T13:17:00.000-07:00

Today my pops, Wickaninnish of Ahousaht is 62. He is truly one of my heroes. Like all heroes he has made his share of mistakes but he is a man of principle and integrity and I could not be more proud to be his son. About 19 months ago we almost lost him - he suffered a heart attack. Today he is the epitome of physical health, watching what he eats and walking my dogs twice a day. Last August he became the proud grandparent of my sister and Gord's son, Kashus.

Especially during these times of political pragmatism, I am honoured to have a father who is committed to authentic Nuu-chah-nulth principles. He inspires me to do the right thing, even if it hurts financially or otherwise. He has the spirit of a warrior and a strong love for our Nuu-chah-nulth ways, teaching us the language of our ancestors.

Dad, I love and respect you dearly and look forward to the day when you can share your teachings with my children as well.

Your son, Na'cha'uaht

Dad

2006-07-24T12:13:00.000-07:00

Kleco Allah C'est Friday!

2006-07-21T14:34:00.000-07:00

It's Friday afternoon and as far as I can tell, the quietest time on the internet. I'm listening to Al Green's "Let's Stay Together." These songs don't bother me anymore. :D Progress! It's a wonderful tune...gotta love that old soul music. Once again it reminds me of Sunday mornings when I was still running around in PJs. Imagine it's about 9am and you hear music coming from upstairs. My father has the stereo cranked up and he's listening to Al Green, Sam Cooke, The Four Tops, Temptations, Ray Charles, Marvin Gaye. He's groovin' on the couch reading the newspaper and mom is in the kitchen frying bacon (hey, it was the 70s!) The sun is shining. You run upstairs, hair all messy, sleep in your eyes and get some love from the 'rents. Next you go see if you can bug your older sister. Despite your ability to annoy her, one day you will both grow older and the love between you is stronger than you ever imagined possible, but for the moment there can nothing more fun than to make her mad while she tries to catch a few more winks, until you get chased around the house screaming and laughing with glee and fear at the same time. Just some fond memories.

What a week. Last weekend my buddy, Scott got married. It was beautiful and I was moved...Yes stoic W is capable of shedding a tear or two in the name of beautiful things :.I And then Pirate W took over, a little vino and old high school mates and underlying thoughts of Hezbollah/Israel/Lebanon/Palestine/The Godfather (not sure where that came from) and dancing to 80s and 90s tunes...yikes. I am humbled and plan on seeking reinstatement to the Jedi Order...lol.

Today at work, I was reminded of this poem I wrote last September. It made me smile. I've actually been in a really good mood the last two days. I had a good chat with my father yesterday as well as my friend Lahalawutsaa't. It's important for like minds to keep working together and reminding each other "what it's all for." Even us true believers get down from time to time (see the last 8 months or so of W's life). It is important to remember that there is a better way and that there is a difference between acknowledging reality and accepting it. Viva la rebellion!

O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!

2006-07-18T09:31:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I thought of such an obscure reference. I'm speaking of Act 3, scene 1 from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps the themes of doomed romance and tragedy still resonate with me. The line by Mercutio in response to Romeo's bended-knee placating of his enemy Tybalt accurately captures how I feel about my father's home community Ahousaht, giving Premier Campbell a Nuu-chah-nulth name.

I'm trying to work through the logic of the move, and of course my cousin, A-in-chut (AFN Regional Chief and Ha'wiilth) has provided some reasoning. He states the honour is not without consequence and is intended to push him the right direction. I hope so. And unlike so many other times with "aboriginal leaders" where the talk is big and the action is absent, I hope everyone is sincere about this.

I guess I am not the diplomat that people have always thought I would be. Am I regressing or just fulfilling my role? Perhaps I will feel different in time. I don't know. What would happen if we all compromised? Would we all get along? It sounds like it might make sense. Yet I can't ignore this profound sense of indignation. I once wrote that amongst all the things that younger (perhaps naive and immature) Indigenous people detest about the behaviour of our mainstream aboriginal politicians, it's the submission and seeming indignity that is hardest to take. Perhaps I will feel differently in time. Perhaps.

fyi...websites updated...

2006-07-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

kumtux and the Nuu-chah-nulth Stop The Violence websites have been updated. I can't believe it has been almost three months since I updated kumtux, but today I announce the launch of Wasase a larger movement that I have been involved with, in addition to the local stuff. Regarding the local stuff, if you go the updates page on the Stop The Violence website you will see we are attempting to keep the ball rolling on this important initiative to end internal violence and promote a return to balance in our families and communities. Whew, someday I'm going to have to consolidate these webs...

July 11th - Fish's Revolutionary Birthday

2006-07-11T15:03:00.000-07:00

On this day in 1990, my buddy Fish says he was born. Today is the anniversary of the beginning of the so-called Oka Crisis. Specifically, it is the anniversary of the failed SQ raid on the Mohawk barricades at Kahnesatake and the immediate set up of the Kahnawake sympathy blockade of the Mercier Bridge. Hard to believe I was 17 at the time and as apolitical as I may have been, the stand taken by our Kanien'kehaka sisters and brothers will always resonate with me and inspire me. Someday soon, I hope inspire other 17 year olds to stand up with dignity and respect.

kleco, kleco!

[I recommend York and Pindera's People of the Pines for a detailed account of the history and crisis.]

#48 - Completed

2006-07-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

Number 48 on my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days was, "Not use my mobile phone for a whole week (7 days = 168 hours)." Well as some of you may have noticed I was a little hard to get a hold of - Risky even went so far as to leave an excessively profane yet humourous message - at least I was laughing even if he wasn't - on my voice mail on the last day (yesterday). Actually it was kinda nice to not have one electronic leash on for a whole week. As it relates to organizing and da revolution, I often wonder what life was like before MSN, Gmail, e-mail, listserves, news groups, message boards, cell phones, text messaging, chatting, faxing and morse code...are we really more plugged in or are we unplugging from RL (real life)? Certainly organizing the last lil shindig I participated in was made easier by e-mail, but there's also something irreplacable about live, human contact. At the very least, I recommend unplugging as often as you can and connecting with real, live flesh and blood peeps - ironic to make such a statement on my BLOG, I know. btw, imo :p lol, lmao, ttyl

dubya dubya dubya

Viva la Nuu-chah-nulth rebellion!

2006-07-09T22:06:00.000-07:00

brrrrrr......

2006-07-02T21:00:00.000-07:00

Fake smiles after Roots and I take a 6am dip in the Pacific Ocean in Tla-o-qui-aht territory.

Dogs with purpose

2006-06-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

As I headed out of town this morning I noticed a dog walking swiftly down Redford Street in Port Alberni. It reminded me of other times I have seen dogs walking briskly down a road or sidewalk. I always wonder where they are going. It's different than a dog who has recently escaped their yard and is bounding between all the interesting smells they come across until they are recaptured by their owners or picked up by the SPCA. And it's different than seeing a dog lying around in the sun or guarding the home. These dogs seem to have another purpose, a drive, a direction. It always makes me wonder what could be so important? Where are they from? Where were they and where are they headed so intently? Just a few mundane thoughts of owner of two of my own mutts...

sigh...

2006-06-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

I took this picture as I sat in the back of an obnoxiously big SUV-limo driving on Beach Avenue in Vancouver. I was visiting my old stomping grounds last weekend to partake in a variety of stag-related activites for my buddy Scott. He's getting married in 3 weeks. The day began with my riding like a maniac to catch the 8:30 ferry. I have been having battery problems so upon disembarking from the ferry, one of the deck-hands offered to give me a push so I could jump-start the ole gal. I made it to Fraserview Golf Course in time for our 11:23 tee-off. It turns out Saturday was the hottest day of the year so far in Vancouver. I'm glad I decided on my moto, even though I had to rent clubs and pack what I could in my teeny tiny tankbag. After a poorly-played but fun round of golf I had a quick visit with Ly (of previous FUH2 fame) before heading to the barbeque and subsequent evening of debauchery. I actually ended up calling it a relatively early night at 12:30am after having forgotten my credit card at one establishment and then not being able to find the next venue. I hopped in a cab and headed to chez mama. Ah well, I had fun and needed to catch up on my winks after two previous nights of very little sleep.

Sunday morning, well afternoon, I managed to crawl out of my old single bed from back in the day that my mom still keeps in her guest room and go for the "cure" with Scott. He swears by eggs benny in helping one feel human after a night of mass consumption - even though I was pretty mellow, it was my third night out. After picking up my moto, which by some grace of the Battlestar Galactica Gods started without a hitch I headed to the land of the rich Indians (lol, Squamish) and met up with Old Man Rivers. We had a good chat on the pier near Ambleside. In OMR I trust. Dirka, dirka.

[I can't stand Norah Jones. Don't ask why.]

It has been a crazy-busy couple of weeks and I have been somewhat negligent in posting here. So there was my buddy's stag party. I good friend of mine is going through difficult times and well it just sucks and I wish it were 6 months from now for her. I've had my ups and downs lately as well. I find when I am not distracted by something, meaningful or not, I am feeling exceedingly lonely...still working on the whole being alone without feeling lonely thing. :p

[Break-up songs still suck. I'm glad Mexico got knocked out of the World Cup.]

The previous weekend: Father's Day. I took my pops out for breakfast (note to self: remember to update my list), and then we went for what is normally my only round of golf of the year. I know some of my revolutionary friends are cringing but I refuse to feel bad about this annual tradition I share with Wickaninnish. After golf, and some lying around watching some football on the telly, we had lunch with my sis, her husband and my neph. Here is a picture of his lemon-face:

Intellectual Warriors?

2006-06-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

I have always been a reluctant warrior. Most times I have felt the term to be pretentious. More recently, I have preferred to be on the path of being a Nuu-chah-nulth Witwaak. Semantics and subtleties aside, I should update you on my activities this past week. I am beginning the second and last week of an Indigenous Governance seminar course at the University of Victoria. It's called the ILF: Indigenous Leadership Forum (or as I have come to call it: the Indigenous leprechaun Front, for no other reason than to bring some light-heartedness to a sometimes heavy-hearted endeavour). Dr. Taiaiake Alfred has gathered about 40 students and community leaders and activists from all across occupied Canada, the north and even one student from south of the border to further the process of creating political alternatives (to existing federally-funded Aboriginal institutions) that truly meet the needs of our people. It has been challenging to say the least. Despite our commonalities, we also possess many differences as Indigenous peoples. The challenge will be to build upon the commonalities and not let our differences divide us to the detriment of all. It is my hope that a national network will be established that can support local organizing, for my heart remains at home with my people, the Nuu-chah-nulth and Tsimshian. I will let you know how it goes in future posts. Cuu for now...(academic)W