Agency

In Which Two Chiefs, a Clan Mother, and a Nervous French Woman Sit Down for Tea

the next day

Papa stood on the front porch, leather workman's gloves in hand. He beamed at Berenice, who had opened the door and been somewhat surprised to find he'd brought three people with him rather than the one she'd been expecting. They stood behind him in a semi-circle like a grim gang of superheroes -- only these folks were wearing regular clothes. No capes.

Berenice felt her voice waver.

"Come through, please. Everyone is very welcome," she waved them inside.

"We gonna go see the site first," said Papa, patting Berenice on the shoulder as he made his way through the door. "I'm gonna show them around and then, maybe, we have some tea and a good talk." He gave her a warm, reassuring smile, which she tried to return.

The two men and one woman behind him came through. They gave her no smiles or reassurances. They were all business.

Berenice shut the door behind her and followed the procession toward the kitchen. Thankfully, the dog was in the office with Berry. She didn't like to think of Mister Waffles being a nuisance during their visit.

When esteemed members of the Six Nations Council held your fate in their hands, one did not want to have to apologize for any leg humping.

She clicked the kettle on in case Papa was serious about the tea, and followed them out into the yard to hear what was said.

Papa was already touring them around his "site" like a proud parent.

"This area here, this was the main burial site. Pretty sure it was a ceremonial interment based on the artifacts surrounding the skeletal remains. As you know, it was common Indigenous practice to place offerings and personal effects with a body during burial."

One of the two men scowled at Papa, uninterested in the archeologist's version of history. His wise eyes drifted across the ruined yard.

"I see a lot of holes here," he said. "You've shown us the recovered artifacts back at your office, but there are more holes than artifacts. Have you kept anything aside? You know the law says..."

Papa shrugged the question off. "Eh. Only unrelated fetal remains -- they're documented. Contemporary, European ancestry."

The second man spoke next.

"The baby would not have belonged to her anyway. This woman was not a mother. She fought. We can know this from the grouping of arrows and the bear on her comb. These are both symbolic. She was huskëʼëkehtö. A warrior. Rare for a woman, but perhaps she was two-spirited. It was a thing."

The woman put her hand up. "We don't agree about that. Nothing says a warrior could not be a mother. We don't know that. They'll analyze the pelvis, and then we can know if she had children." She turned her grim face to the others and nodded as if the case was now closed.

"Well, either way," offered Papa, "The fetal remains were found in a different area and were of a different time."

The three Council members conferred quietly.

"Mrs. Ross, we would be happy to have a cup of tea now and explain our position," the woman said.

***

They were all seated uncomfortably around the coffee table in the living room: two Chiefs, a Clan Mother, a rotund Greek Archeologist and a nervous French Woman.

Berenice poured cups of tea out of her largest teapot and offered around a plate of Peek Freans assorted cremes.

The Council members who, as it happens, are named Tracy, Glenn and Jerry, all looked at Berenice with quiet understanding.

Tracy began.

"Mrs. Ross, we are not blaming you, but our community takes the disturbance of our dead with great seriousness. For many decades, we've fought for the rights to leave our ancestors in peace. This is something important to us."

Next, Glenn cut in to make sure the point was clear.

"You know, it wasn't that long ago we had to make a citizen's arrest of the ROM's Head Archeologist" -- he cast a sidelong glance at Papa -- "who was illegally removing ancestral remains for historical examination. But this is not a matter of Canadian history. It's a matter of our history. Our concerns are not moral or social. They are just wisdom. The dead do not like to be disturbed. They will bring on us all kinds of conflict until they are re-interred."

Berenice swallowed and nodded. She understood what he meant, and she could see how sincerely they meant it.

"I want to assure you," she offered, "We didn't intend any disrespect. We had no idea, of course, what -- who -- might be buried there. When we realized, we followed all the protocols."

Tracy nodded. "We understand, Mrs. Ross. You're nothing like the big condo developer we're dealing with in the west end. There's a man I have no time for. So eager to displace our ancestors and throw a high rise on top of their resting place so he can sell his little shoeboxes for a million dollars each. It makes a person sick to think about."

Berenice shook her head. No, she did not want to be in league with that guy.

"No," she confirmed. "I was only thinking about a nice new deck. Maybe some built-in planters."

It was Jerry's turn, and he sat forward in his chair as if ready to close the deal.

"Here it is then. We're satisfied that Mr. Papadakis has conducted a thorough survey. Technically, we have the right to conduct our own survey also, but the government expects us to pay for the archeologist if you can imagine that."

He and Berenice shared an eye roll. Tell me about it.

He continued. "The grave you found was unique and in many ways -- I speak for myself here, not the Six Nations -- I was glad to have had the opportunity to see her. She is wonderful."

Everyone in the room nodded.

"But now that we have visited with her, she must be laid back to rest." he finished.

"Here?" asked Berenice.

"Not here," laughed Jerry. "I doubt our warrioress wants to spend eternity under your new planters. No, we'll move her to a more appropriate location. We'll apologize to her spirit and pray that this second burial will be acceptable to her. It might be wise to ask that she not be angry with your family for waking her."

"Yes, okay," agreed Berenice, who, no offence, was glad the bones weren't going to be returning. "How do you suggest we do that?"

Tracy stood, signalling to the other Council members that they were finished. She looked at Berenice.

"You'll come to our Seed Ceremony. We'll say our prayers to her there. I'll email you the details."

And with that, the Council members said their goodbyes.