“In Canada, Indigenous boys involved with the justice system are 5 to 7 times more likely to die by suicide. They are 7 times more likely to be victims of homicide. They are overrepresented in opioid deaths, gang violence, and youth incarceration. For every 20 boys in high-risk Indigenous programs, 1 to 2 may not survive to age 25.”
— Based on Statistics Canada, Canadian Centre for Justice Statistics, and Indigenous Services Canada reports
Society writes my boys off as the problem. They are the symptom. We are trying to show them the red path so they can choose to be better warriors and take care of our women, who are our leaders.
We were asked to be at the funeral 15 minutes before the service. His mother wanted us to do a smudge and fan him down. What an honour. His mother cut off her braid, and we smudged that for her too. We also brought tobacco ties for the family, and did a little smudge together before we went back outside to wait for the service. I regret not going up and saying something on behalf of our team. I didn’t realize that we were such a presence in his life. He loved our program. We still don’t know how he died, but I do know now that it was in his sleep. When I saw his face at the end of the service, everything stopped. It was so real. He was so tiny for his age, 11. But he never let that stop him from doing anything.
After the service, we went our separate ways until it was time to meet up and set up our drum feasting ceremony. It was a beautiful evening. Seeing all my boys together, it’s a glimmer in the dark. Their families got to come see what we do. People from head office came and joined us. We presented our boys with their drums and their smudge kits. The smudge kits come in a gorgeous little box. Nobody knew what was in them until they opened them together. The look on their faces. Their little gasps. It took everyone’s breath away. That moment made me tear up. I am so happy that I get to do this for them. Our elder gave them the teaching and then they accepted the gifts and the responsibilities that come with them. (The drum is a baby and it has a voice, in a captured essence.)
One of my boys, my favourite one, his sister showed up with him just as our event was winding down. I’m still in the rage stage of grief over our kid that passed away, so I feel some type of way about the kids not making it to their friend’s funeral. Their adults suck. We pulled him into a room so he could get the teaching privately. His sister gave him a beautiful teaching for the smudge kit. There were so many tears between the two. I don’t know what is going on at home, but I know that my little guy keeps getting displaced. His sister is trying to get custody of him because their mom keeps relapsing. He is being forced to grow up so fast. His mother wasn’t raised by parents herself. She was raised by abusive priests at residential schools. These parents are doing their best, which isn’t always good enough, and they know it. I feel for them, but my little warriors have to grow through it.
Tomorrow is Family Fun Day. It’s a staff day at the park with bouncy castles and such. We can bring our families. I invited my sister and her kids. They’re coming. I’m so glad that they are. I will get to show my nephew what we do with the medicines (sage) that we picked from his field. He was so into it when we were picking it yesterday.
Loading comments...