Fish Out Of Water: A Collection

Coming of Age

I exit the Montreal Airport, clutching my mother's hand and my youthful expectations in the other. The wind slices at my cheeks, yet hearing languages from all corners of the globe, mingling with the sounds of traffic, sparks my excitement. Snowflakes fall from the night sky onto my tongue, sending me into a magical bliss. The next day, I run out into our host's backyard with my siblings behind me. Their backyard is huge and opens up to a small section of the forest that is filled with Evergreens. Our eyes focus on the fresh snow that covers the yard. Since it is fresh, its purely white. It glitters like diamonds under the sunlight.

That's how I remember the time when I landed in Canada back in 2010: My eight-year-old self was filled with love and awe for the country that I perceived as the second best nation in the world (Jamaica is number one.) It was diverse, had good schools, snow and the healthcare I needed for my epilepsy;What not to love? However, it was not until I attended those "good schools" did I realize just how much there was to Canada's past for me to learn. History was and still is my favorite class. Unfortunately, history has a way of poking holes into your childish perceptions. I learned about the Europeans traveling across the Atlantic and discovering the place I now call home. I learned about how the indigenous people welcomed the Europeans with open arms. I learned about how the two groups traded with each other. It seemed so peaceful (Gadacz, First Nations). However, I would later learn just how wrong I was.

    My Grade 8 class studied their various rituals. One of the many rituals that most groups do is when they enter a new place, they cleanse the area by "smudging." (Polizzi, The Art Of Smudging) To help us understand what smudging was, an Iroquois chief came to the school to teach us. He led us outside to the front of the school. The air was chilly, and our boots crushed the golden leaves that littered the ground. We formed a tight circle to keep out the cold as the chief lit a candle. We watched in silence as he proceeded to light a sage leaf in a small bowl with the candle. He mumbled a short prayer of thanks that was hard for me to understand, before walking around the circle with the burning sage. When it was my turn, I breathed it in. The charred-herb smoke filled my nose, and a tingling sensation filled my body. I felt light-headed, out of touch with my surroundings. Once the strange feeling passed, I felt cleansed, like I was in made anew. 

    I think it was because of that experience that I became interested in learning everything about Indigenous people and Canada's history.  I learned that their relationship with the Indegnious people turned sour. When Europeans expanded their settlements. They consequently kicked them off of their hunting grounds and sent them to reserves, further north, where animal migrations were infrequent. But nothing can compare to the graphic horrors that took place at the residential schools beginning in the early 18th century. (McIntyre Media) "They are giving them free education, what's wrong with that?" a naïve, fourteen-year-old me said when I learned about it. Slowly but surely, the smile on my face slipped into a frown, the more my teacher explained what happened in those schools. By the end of the lesson, my face was puffy with tears, the surface of my cheeks burning with anger, while my hopeful heart was shattered to pieces.

In the animated movie The Secret Path, they showed us the hardships and trauma those children experienced. They were beaten, raped, forced to forget everything that made them a native person. They had their haircut and were told they will go to hell if they do not convert to Christianity. A faith that I believe in. So I could not help but feel disgusted by what the Catholic church did. It was during this time when I found it hard to recite the Canadian Anthem and look at the Maple Leaf with pride.  I remember treading through the Plains of Abraham at age 10, where the Europeans and the "Seven Nations" fought the battle during the seven years war in 1759. Some of "Seven Nations" included: Wolinak, Odanak, Kahnawake, Kanesatake, and Akwesasne (Marshall, The Battle of Quebec). The Europeans all lined up in seven rows. The first row would fire first, then duck to reload as the next line would fire. They call this military tactic "Volley Fire" In the end, the green field smeared with blood and dead bodies, Most of them being indigenous as their arrows and spears were no match to the speeding bullet. I remembered how my vision was blurry with tears when I learned about this dark chapter of history. From where I stood, the beautiful Indigenous culture that I was learning died with the people who laid disfigured across the plain.