Monday, October 13, 2014

'Kia ora' - Maori are really loved by Indians.

'Kia ora tatou'

Maori are the tangata whenua.

We are fortunate to have met some Maori over the years.  When they come to Canada they are treated as Royality.
Actually they are treated better than royality they are treated like family - Cousins. That Which is better. I believe this to be true from the Indians I have seen interacting with the Maori.  Perry, Jigson, Ivy, and a host of other Reserve people. That is because they are our relatives. But we don't treat them like the cousins we see everyday. We treat them like the cousins that live a couple of Provinces over. Because when you see the same old cousins everywhere, you just give them the 'yeah yeah' treatment. (Smile and wave boys, smile and wave.) The cousins from aways away are treated a little better. You still tease the heck out of them and make fun of them, but you are more generous to them. Sure you will pull your everyday cousin out of the ditch in the middle of winter but you won't give him your last five bucks. If we treated our far away cousins  like royality they wouldn't be able to use the toilets. We would need to bring in a new toilet everytime they want to go take a dump.  I guess that is the gossip of what took place that time that Her Royal Highness came to Winnipeg.  The rumour was the Queen had to have a new toilet, one that was not used by anyone else. So the Maori can use the regular toilets in any Reserve home that they visit. They don't need to be treated like anything other than "cuz", our far away relatives. So that way we would give them our last five bucks. So we treat our far away relatives like our close relatives; with fun, kindness, happiness, generousity and openness. We don't treat them good to impress them. That is not the way. We treat them good because that is the way.

I like to think that Indigenous Folk like other Indigenous folk. Aroha
If you go to their home community, they will treat you with kindness and with an open home.

It was nice to meet new Indigenous people and it was also great to see an old friend, Carmine Heteraka. These Maori came to the city of Winnipeg, Manitoba as part of a get together (conference) on health.  I was not part of the conference at all.  I like to go to conferences to check out the trade shows. Lot of good information, lot of great craft and art. And to top it off you get to collect a lot of free pens. You can never have enough pens. There may even be a bag or two that you can score. I know, I know it is a Pa-chaak move. A Pa-chaak is (although I am not sure of the english translation) kind of a jerk. The jerk can be good or bad. You know the type, come into your home, doesn't take off their shoes, looks in your fridge, takes your last beer, jumps to the front of the line, mouches food for free at conferences. That's what I did. I am glad I did. I ran into our friend there from New Zealand - Aotearoa.   I also met a bunch of new relatives from New Zealand.  

I think there are many Natives out there that feel the same way. You may have met some great folk from other Reserves, different Tribes from different provinces or from different States or countries. That is what has generally been the experience I have seen. Other Indians will treat you pretty good when you go to their community.  I have gone to quite a few different Reserves in United States, Canada and in Manitoba (Cross Lake, Shoal Lake, Pukatawagan, Berens River, Bloodvein, Dog Creek, White Dog, Hazleton, Alderville, Fox Lake, Rocky Boy, etc) and the folk are good.  The close by Reserves are okay, but because they are close by they treat you like that, a close cousin (so no giving you their last five bucks, although some will).

For me I have some great feelings of comfort and happiness when I think of the  Maori and New Zealand. I was very fortunate to have gone there, thanks to a relative from Sagkeeng (Perry). At New Zealand we stayed at the home of Marlene and Mak Leuluai of Whangaruru.  They opened their home to a whole group of us. Fed us, shared their families and their culture with us. It was fantastic!  My Son was on the trip as well. He was about 12 or 14 at the time. I wish he were still here today. It is our hope, Suz, Chloe and I to go there one day. I have mixed feelings about that. The first time there was so wonderful, I am afraid that going there again may not be as I expect it to be. You know what I mean?  You don't want to be disappointed.  Weird I know. Its like that saying "you can't go home again".  "... took it to mean that things and you change, and that you can never recapture the feelings you had in the past. It will always seem different."  If and When I go to New Zealand I want to be treated like a God (not thee God but "a" god).  I want people to treat me as a long lost relative or a far away relative. Not like strangers. I guess that is what I am afraid of.



I was lucky this time around that I got to take a few people to visit my cousins. And I was happy because I knew my cousins would not disappoint, they would be good hosts. Because that is the way. They are open and kind.  Right away they looked for gifts for the visitors. My other friend in Sagkeeng I know him and he is the type to feed the people. So I am sure that when the Maori went to visit in Sagkeeng he would feed them.  I can guarantee that would happen.

That was one of the things I notice about Indigenous folk, they want to make sure you eat, you are fed. When I was at the conference, hanging around the people told me to eat. Make sure to eat.

That is a commonality amoung Indians, they want to make sure you are fed. It is important.

So if you ever get the chance to meet some Indians or Maori or other Indigenous folk, make sure to feed them. They know that is the way. 



Māori are the tangata whenua – the people of the land


Friday, September 26, 2014

Michele Titler: You are the sunshine of my life.

There is a woman living in British Columbia Canada that really really hates Native people. She hates them so much that she has started an internet page with the aim to get rid of them.  There is no doubt she has supporters and like minded individuals. People who don't like the fact that Indians were here and many of them negotiated agreements with Britain and Canada.  These people don't like the fact that there are obligations for the privilege of being allowed to stay in Canada.  I wonder how they feel about recent immigration, the increase population of Indo-Canadians, Chinese Canadians and others? I suspect once they catch their breath they will add other non-Whites to their target sights as well.  I think she doesn't like Quebec as well, but really who does?  Just kiddin'. 

That Michele Titler is really quite a character. She openly promotes hatred towards Indian people and is extremely focused and committed to ending any of the obligations that Native people are owed. If Native people were not the Original inhabitants of this Land she would be using the mantra of send them back to where they came from. Unfortunately that is not applicable in this situation. Michele Titler is certainly prolific with sending her message of anger, hate, and misinformation. Now that takes dedication and focus. I wish could be like that; focused, intense, determined and crazy. Sadly I don't have the drive to take on a cause. Titler has named her cause "End Race Based Law".  She is not a fan of the Charter of Rights, Section 35 in the Canadian Constitution.

This is the place in Canada's Constitution where it says things like Canada recognizes and affirms Aboriginal Rights. You know, us Indians, being the Aboriginal people in this case. That upsets Titler where you can almost see her "foaming at the mouth, snarling and gnashing her teeth in righteous anger and furious anger".  ( I couldn't resist stealing a piece from one of the great thespians of our modern era - Samuel L. Jackson, when he said "And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you.", He is so the epitome of cool, don't you think?) I wonder how a conversation would go with Samuel L. Jackson and Michele Titler?

Samuel - "Aint that always the way? Elevator music, a nigga with a kilt, and a chick with a nickle plated nine?"

Michele - "Nine? I have had nine before and that's not nine!".

Samuel - “Enough is enough! I’ve had it with these motherfuckin’ snakes on this motherfuckin plane!”

Michele - "Snakes? I have taken an anaconda. Now that is a snake!"

Samuel -  “Yeah, Zeus! As in, father of Apollo? Mount Olympus? Don’t fuck with me or I’ll shove a lightning bolt up your ass!”

Michele - "I am a fan of anal, mounting and Zesus."

Samuel - "Yes, they deserve to die, and I hope they burn in hell!”

Michele - "Zesus loves me yes I know, for the bible tells me so"

Samuel -  “You shut your face! If we want to hear you talk, I will shove my arm up your a** and work your mouth like a puppet.”

Michele - "you make me feel like dancing, dancing, I'm gonna dance the night away".

Samuel - "Mother Fucker".

Michele - "I'm a bad mother fucker..." "gemme a mothufuckin'hug"... "Yeah, I said it! Waste them mothufuckers!"

Yes, Samuel L. Jackson and Michele Titler would have a blast. Michele smiling or foaming at the mouth and Samuel L. Jackson saying his cool movie lines.  Groovy.


Michele is a taste of grapefruit for sure. We see her, large and sour tasting. But you know what? We like it that way.  She doesn't cloak herself in phoney rhetoric. She hates and lets you know that she hates you. She attacks like a trained pitbull with no other purpose.  At least in that way she is not hidden under the sheets of the likes of KKK crazies or linked into some right wing church that uses the bible to spew hate and intolerance, or part of the Stephen Harper's team of conservative hate promoting gang of rich folk and ignorant WT's  (for those who don't know, some of the white folk are WT's. meaning they are what is commonly referred to as White Trash, not judging or anything just clarifying what WT represents).  Nope, her intolerance, hate and bigotry is right out there in your big brown face. The bad thing or sad thing is that she is a magnet for those camouflaged crazy hate filled bigots. They can feed her and that's how she can gain strength. The only way to combat that kind of hate is to fight right back with more hate. Nah, just kiddin'.  I am not sure but hate on hate is probably not a good idea. I think the way to do it, is to shed light on the hate, show how crazy it is. How sadly funny it is. How ugly it is. How repugnant and foul an odour it is. Just maybe some people will smell how awful rancid that bigotry and hate is?  Michele Titler knows her campaign is a fraud!  She knows damn well Canada will freeze over before they tackle the constitution again. And it won't be for the Charter that's for sure. It is just an opportunity for her to spew hatred, pure and simple. It also gives her the chance to do interpretive dance to music on vemo.  Interpretive dance now that's an art. Michele takes it and really shows us how Crazy is to be interpreted. Yes, Crazy like in "puppy cooking crazy". Speaking of crazy; PETA should keep an eye on her.

I lied!  Michele is the not the sunshine of my life.  She stands for hatred intolerance bigotry and ugliness in society.  I can't say things like, "oh I will pray for her, or I feel sorry for her". Nope but  I do  feel kind of bad for her family. They have to live with the rot filt and the foulness of her being.


 You Are The Sunshine Of My Life
That's Why I'll Always Stay Around
You Are The Apple Of My Eye
Forever You'll Stay In My Heart

A little passage from the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry for Michele Titler and her minions to consider:

We believe that there is no longer an issue as to whether Aboriginal people have the right to govern themselves in accordance with their customs and traditions. It is clear, we believe, that they have that right. It also is clear that there is little agreement on how far that right extends into existing federal and provincial jurisdictions. It is regrettable that this vital concern has been addressed in terms of whether our first ministers are willing to "give" power and on what conditions. Instead, we believe that the way in which this should be addressed is to question how and to what extent Aboriginal people lost their original right to self-determination. Those who assert that the right is already limited are the ones who should bear the onus of proving this contention. Their inability to do so would mean that the right still continues in force.
In our view, Aboriginal people have not lost the right to govern their own affairs. This right to self-determination precedes colonization and has never been voluntarily surrendered. There is no evidence that Aboriginal people were ever conquered so as to be susceptible to the victor’s unilateral domination. None of the treaty negotiations in Manitoba indicates any intention by the Aboriginal leadership to surrender their governmental authority. Further, international law today clearly recognizes the right of peoples to determine their own future.
It is possible today to assert that Aboriginal people enjoy an ongoing right to self-determination which is not subject to federal or provincial interference. That position is confirmed by section 35 of the Constitution.
It is our assessment that Aboriginal rights to self-determination must be acknowledged openly and freely by all levels of government.
The law now starts from a presumption in favour of the continued existence of Aboriginal and treaty rights. This reflects a considerable change in Canadian law. Some limitations were accepted by Canada’s courts in previous years, but, in our opinion, such tendencies and those past decisions are no longer valid under the law as it now stands. The legal philosophies and the 19th century theories which gave rise to those decisions must now be discarded.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Suffering From Face Book Rage?

Yes I have a Facebook page.  I use this one to try and network, exchange ideas, share news links, meet new people and sometimes to tease a bit. One of the things I notice on Facebook (and other forum sites) is that people like to complain, fight or air out their individual woes. In other words lot of drama on the site. Some of the sites and Facebook pages are just horrible. Seems like people put them up to cause pain and spread manure stink all over.  However there is the flip side of that where some people are just fun or funny.
That kind that make you laugh out loud as your sitting in your basement all alone, the lights dim, the musk smell of dampness,  with media player playing some smooth blues jazz pop (something like Van Morrison's Someone like you) and you read the post and you laugh out loud like a crazy person. The laugh echoing on the grey concrete bouncing throughout the darkness.  Is it still okay to say crazy person? I am not sure these days, maybe I should say a "touched" person?  Anyway that Facebook is a time waster for sure. It's like a car accident, you don't want to look because of what you might see, but you look anyway, because like most people you want to see the carnage, the damage, the blood and the gore.  

There are those of us that act like pious (my new word of the day) arseholes. We are good to correct the behaviour of all those whiners and complainers on Facebook. Only our view is the right one.  Kind of sickening but what the heck you going to do?  I like to fight sometimes. Not fight fair mind you. Try use that underhanded passive aggressive moves that people just can't stand.  At the same time there are people that just need to be slapped in the side of their big heads.  Their moral compass is pointing directly at you and it's not a good feeling. Or there are those that have the superior perch of being saintly or righteous. You know the type, acting like all their moo (shit) is smelling like tulips and jam.  They need to be hit with a shovel in the head. (Like that poor girl on youtube) Now that is where I sometimes jump in like a Batman or maybe a Wolverine (nah, I think like a Batman, the cape endlessly flowing in the wind making a swoosh sound).  I swoop in on a steel cable from the roof tops of a tall older crumbling building made in the early 1900's.  The Facebook posters are unsuspecting of this fearless anti-hero. Absent in the anti-hero literary posts are profane laced barbs but rather fuzzy flowery prose meant to disarm the wild beasts of the dark dreary allyways of Facebook. Before they suspect they are caught in an innumerable unslaught of witty comebacks, logical statements, back-handed compliments, and mis-direction caused by truth and sincerity. All this by their own volition. After all they invited the today's anti-hero into their home with their asinnity.  I mean come on? What do you expect when you put out a question or statement that is so dumb a rethread ( notice I use the word that is less offensive, you know the word retard?) could dissect.  Not that I am some brainy arse.  Just use some everyday experience and you will see the posts I am referring to here. It itches my arse when people deem themselves to be the rebel with a cause, the protector of the feminine, the leader of the activists. So enamoured with themself, they fail to see the ugliness in their positions.  That is why I do it. I don't really like the one liners or word of the praise that posts are littered with. The anti-hero will bombard them with a paragraph of logic, sacracism, wit, poetry, humour, double speak and cryptic messages. 

The reactions are all so predictable. At first their will be a volley of returns to the statements, all the while mostly avoiding logic or counter position. Then it will quickly erode into single word attempts of personal attacks, insults, vulgarity and the default position of profanity.  The end result is the poster's rage uncontrolled in a mix of anger, hurt, confusion and defeat.  It is the internet equivalent of road rage. Except they are not having a car to ram you with, or give the finger salute, the poster has only the computer to exact revenge. They can't reach through the monitor and hit you with a shovel. And they can't match your non-aggressive slams of literary genius (don't have to be able to spell to win debates unless you're grammar schooled, now that is another type of troll).  Maybe the beaten beast gets off their office chair and goes over to kick the cat, who knows?  That is the Facebook Rage. With Facebook rage, defenders of the broken will add some band aids to try and soothe the beast. They will say: "we are with you." "We support you." "You go". "You rock". "True words", etc.  The general public see it as the last feeble attempt (at what the Chinese adoringly refer) to "saving face".

Facebook rage is not limited by interaction with an anti-hero but could also be set off by the ever lurking troll. Thing is the troll does not have the applealing qualities or repertoire of the anti-hero musings and wisdom.  The troll, well the troll behaves in a mean spirited fashion, and does nothing to educate the witless dolts that occupy Facebook.  So a troll generally doesn't capture the Facebook rage as most people see them as you would a pest, a bug, an ant at a picnic. Not worth the real effort to get emotional involved with.

So dont' be party to Facebook rage. Keep your posts smart, clean, informed, funny and free of drama. Oh one last thing, don't be afraid to NOT have the last word. 

Oh one last last thing, the anti-hero is not to be adored or revered, at the end of the day she or he is really just an arse.  

Oh one last last thing, Don't worry about the defeated beast coming on to your page, they are enamored with their self, they don't visit other poster's pages. 

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

When the Moose Barks.

My Dad used to work on the winter road around the 1980's. The winter road is exactly that: it is a road only used in the winter. It is made through the swamp, river and swamps in the winter to get to isolated communities in Manitoba. Much of the northern east side of Manitoba is isolated. You can only get there by air, or winter road (some places have rail line or a boat ferry across the lake). There is a television show called Ice Road Truckers. This is where the winter road is. It has been getting harder to make the road and the road use is getting shorter because of early melting (you know the dreaded climate change, which by the way Canada's PM doesn't buy into).

He told us of the time a Moose barked at him on the road. This of course was a bad sign. He told us of the story of the Moose and what took place that day. Anyway I won't bother you with superstition. Ha, just kiddin', I love that kind of stuff and believe in the Teachings. There are warnings that the Spirits and the Animal world will give you. The Moose barking is one of those warnings. Just as the Owl is a messenger that death will occur. The Moose will bring a forewarning of doom or dire consequences.

The reason I was thinking about the Moose Barks, is I have tenatively choosen the title of a book, should I ever write one, and it will be When the Moose Barks. Alternatively I was thinking of changing this blog title or starting a new blog (and abandoning this one) to When the Moose Barks.  I kind of feel that the blog has not attracted an active following. Maybe time to rethink or renew or rehash or restart things?  What do you think?

In any case I was thinking that the only thing I do have some control over is what I do with time.  I can continue to flounder at attempting different things, like making walking sticks or rattles or even writing.

For those of you that read the blog I am grateful for your time. Time is something that is finite for us. So coming here and spending some time with me, well I like that and I am thanking you.

So if a Moose Barks at you, take heed, try to make amends if that is what is needed and treat those around you in a good and kind way. I think that is what it was telling my Dad. My Dad he was a good guy, not the best in the world, or the worst, but just a good guy who made mistakes and tried to fix them.

I never heard a Moose bark, but I did hear a Deer Bark and it scared the hell out of me.



Want to hear how a Moose sounds when it calls? click Moose

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Nine years since that Fucking Suicide assaulted our Lives.

August 25, 2005 is when my Boy was found hanging in his Mom's closet.  Nine fucking years since we got the call. Nine years since our world became face to face with the ugliness of Suicide.  It was a blur, the phone calls, the fast drive from one place to another to see our boy. Nine years, since we stood in the hallway of the apartment while the police officer told us to wait until the medical examiner was done. Nine years since the medical examiner came out of the apartment and told us, that we had to prepared. Nine years since she told us that it was not pretty, that his tongue was sticking out of his mouth and we can now go see him.  Nine years since we entered to see our Boy in a  body bag with his head exposed so we can see him. Nine Fucking years since the smell of death greeted us as we entered.  Nine years since we saw him dead. Nine years since I rubbed his head, felt his hair.  Nine years since I lost my Boy. Nine years since that Fucking Suicide Assaulted our Lives.

It may seem like a long time for people to understand that we should be over the grief by now. Suicide doesn't let you move. Maybe the grieving changes in how it is displayed but its there. It is lurking inside you. Just waiting to assault you. Waiting for a trigger. Waiting for your guard to be down. While you are out at a movie having fun and then it decides to hit you. Bam!  A young couple are sharing a moment and you think, that could be my Boy. He should be enjoying the everyday moments of life. He should not have had to kill himself. That is what happens. You don't chose to be sad hurt lonely.  It just comes out of the back of your mind, from your broken Spirit, your heart.  That is what happens. So please forgive me if I sound like a broken record, same old story, same of violin playing that sad song. The grief of Suicide has never left. It is now part of your being. It is who you are: the Dad who let his Son kill himself. The Dad who could not be there when his Son needed him most. That it has been nine fucking years and we can't forget and as long as we breathe we will never know the joy of a Boy living a Good Life. It hits you when you are watching the news. Some children dying in another foreign land. Some Boy, young man gets shot and killed. Some girl is murdered and dumped like trash. It seems that Suicide laughs at you. It says see how ugly it is out there? You sit here and pity yourself over one Fucking act?  You are such a pifyful fuck!  That is what suicide does. It lurks forever in your life. It surfaces just when you think you can laugh without guilt once again. It shows up at your kids birthdays. Your grandchildren fun days. Suicide just hangs around, waiting for its chance to slap you hard across the face. You see a photo of a good memory and suicide tries to sully that memory, tries hard to ruin it.

Tonight we will have our children over to hold a meal for our Boy. We won't talk about that day nine fucking years ago. We will enjoy the meal. We will converse with our Grandkids. We will act like suicide is not lurking and trolling around our home. We will keep a dish for our Boy. That is what we do. We tackle suicide by keeping our Boy alive in our home. We talk about how good our Boy is. We laugh at how beautiful of a Spirit he had when he was just a child. That is what we do.

Maybe tomorrow we will go visit the site where his body rests. We will take a few pictures to let us know we have not forgotten him and that we still and always will Love him. That he is in our Lives everyday. We don't forget him.

For us we don't see Donovan as the twenty year old young man, we see him as our Boy. That way he was when he was just a boy. When he was 7 years old blowing out the candles on his birthday cake. The way he was when he was riding his bike and running away from his older brother. The generousity he had to others and the kindness he showed. That is who our Boy is. Not just another young Native suicide.

We don't talk about him to solicite sorry or good wishes of condolences/sympathy  from anyone. It is quite embarssing really to get them. We know people mean well and that's nice. But We talk about him for us. To keep him alive. He lives with us. He lives around our home. In how we conduct ourselves. We talk about him because we can. There are people who are newly hurt that the grief is so fresh that they are numb. Those are the ones that need your comfort and your very good heart right now.

So keep your own children close to your hearts. It can't happen to us, is a cruel cliche. It can happen to anyone. That fucking suicide lurks around. Keep him away from your home. Once he enters, he is there forever and he is ugly.  Suicide attaches to the Living and its horrible.

So we battle Suicide everyday and we do that by always Loving our Boy. 


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

What will a national inquiry on Murdered & Missing fiind?

Tina Fontaine was pulled from the Winnipeg Red River the other day. She was found inside a bag. Tossed away like garbage.  A beautiful baby at age 15.  The irony of the find was that police and people were looking for another person that drowned in the River. That man was the homeless hero, Faron Hall. Faron saved two people on different occasions from drowning.  So he was involved in the finding of another person.

Last night there was a Walk to bring attention to the Murdered and Missing women and the homeless in Canada.  Many people from all walks of life joined in the Walk.  The Winnipeg police took part in the Walk.  Not just as a police force tasked with traffic control but with the Walk itself. Police members taking part in the Walk for awareness. I think many of them must take ownership of the loss of life as well. You know, finding the bodies of murdered Women or speaking to the families on the tragedies.  Can you imagine dealing with all that anguish?  So I do suspect it gets deeply personal for them as well. 

It should be deeply personal for everyone.  These are your Mom's, Sisters, Daughters, Aunties, and a member of the community.  Its not an "Aboriginal Issue".  It is a people issue. Women, Girls are being taken and killed.  This should not be happening. We condemn the injustices done to Women all over the World, as we should, but we allow our own to be taken?

Many Aboriginal Leaders and non-Aboriginal are calling for a National Inquiry to examine the phenomenon of Murdered and Missing Women. People are asking Why?  Are there more Picktons out there? With the Pickton murders, the Province relented and carried out an inquiry.  This inquiry was marred with problems.  It seemed to seek absolution of law enforcement rather than look at the causes of the problem, and the systemic flaws in justice.The government put limitations in place that did not do the inquiry commission any real value. The Families' of Women who went missing in this case did not feel part of the process and rightly so. If a National Inquiry is to take place, it must not make the same mistakes as the British Columbia government.

When calls were started to be heard of a National Inquiry for Murdered and Missing Women, I was one that did not really understand.  As the voices grew I became skeptical that an Inquiry would even accomplish anything.  We have seen so many Reports, inquires and Commissions that have not yielded tangible results. Federal and provincial governments will do what they can to pacify the masses without doing any real work or changes.  Time has changed my way of thinking.  The many voices have been passionate and persuasive.  My reluctance was not about caring for the Women but more about my lack of trust in the governments.  For me, much of the interests of government lies in the status quo and the increased scrutiny of the public while decreasing business accountability and oversight.  So that was my way of thinking.  But I do believe that the collective of community voice can do some good.  Collective voice might be able to sway the bullies and the ideological political parties that are cemented in place.  Perhaps the collective voice can sway the collective "NO" that is the stance of Canada Prime Minister Stephen Harper and his minions. 

I think Harper regime is afraid of what the inquiry will expose. 

Harper has turned Canada into an equivalent of a 1960's southern U.S. State.  Where there are no checks and balances for business. Where the everyday person is at the mercy of the justice system and big business. With no compassion for citizens, environment,  and the people; poor people and Indian people.  They may be afraid to find out that the collective and cumulative efforts of governments policies of exclusion and oppression are major contributors to the problems. That many of the policies are hurtful rather than positive for people. That major change in a mindset is required. A mindset that mainstream is stuck in.  That the vulnerable are subjected to negative basis and judgement at every point of contact; from the hospital at birth to the last days of their lives.

Our people may find that our men (and some women) are exploiting our Women and Girls. Gangs will be looked at. Their false claims of brotherhood and security when in fact it is more about being predators and exerting power over their own people; negative power. That the answer lies not in the roots of Christianity but in becoming more aware of our identity. That it starts as babies. That many of the ills start with the concept of "original sin". The original sin of a woman corrupting man. That it is not the women who are corrupt but the ills are in society. That Women have to be recognized as the True life givers and not the rib bone of man.

That is what people are afraid to find out. That Women are not looked at as how they should be. That we must know their role as our futures.  That without Women we are no where.

Maybe an inquiry will make us see what we are abusing.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Wasted and Wounded:



Music touches the Spirit.

I remember when I was young that my Dad loved music. Not sure when but he stopped listening to music as he got older. I don't remember when he stopped but I know it was long ago. Long before he got old.

This August 25 is coming up fast. It will be nine years since my Boy took his life. He made that choice. But I am not sure if it really was a choice. My friend tells me there is a Suicide Spirit that is affecting our youth and our people. That Spirit is strong and looks all over. My friend does battle with that Spirit in the way he knows how; with prayer and ceremony.

For me that Spirit is alwasy lurking around me. I feel it everynight. I feel it when I see the youth.  I am in constant turmoil over the Suicide of my son.  I wonder how my children feel and deal with it. My baby is now 18. She was nine.   My wife is one of those people that keeps everything inside. But it leaks out of her every once in awhile where she can't keep the saddness from pouring out. There is nothing really that I can do to ease her pain. Everyone is different. My son named his Son, Jackson Donovan Albert, and my daughther named her Girl, Aviree-Don and my niece name her boy Donovan as well. So my Boy Don lives on in his name sakes.

Me I can't get over the loss and the waste. The guilt, the anger, the loneliness. It's weird how we never think it could happen to us. Or that it shouldn't have happened to us. I mean who are we that it can't happen to us?

When I see all the hate towards us, Indians, I guess I can see in some ways how we can decide to take our own lives. I guess no one wants to be hated. We all want to be loved. Isn't that not too much to ask? People don't think words hurt. After all its just words: "we're all PC in this damn world, no one can say anything anymore".  If your whole world has been constantly attacked maybe just maybe you might understand the weight of adding one more word on it. Constant "you're savage, you're lazy, you're nothing, you're pagan, you're filthy, you're drunk, you're ugly, you're dead". Then maybe you can understand how that ONE more word might just be the one that is so damn heavy that you can't hold it anymore. I don't know but you think?

I listen to music a lot. My grandkids say I listen to old people music. What do they know, they are five and seven years old. Got to love them. I guess I escape into a little world where my Son is still here in the flesh with me with the music I listen to .


I sure miss my Mom and Dad. I talk to them and Don late at night when I can barely breathe.

Suicide is a beast for sure. We never expect it to hit us, but what do we know? We're only people. 

"When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb."

For me, the child is gone, the dream is gone....