STORIES / Okara’shòn:’a
St. Patrick’s Mission
My father and my uncle, they were sent to a residential school in Oklahoma, in 1909. They had a railroad ticket around their necks. The conductors took care of them until they reached Oklahoma. Their parents didn’t want them attending there because already rumours were circulating about these schools. So anyway, they ended up there in Anadarko, Oklahoma at St Patrick’s Mission boarding school.
No help of any kind
My mother’s father, Frank Lazare, had a job in Lachine at the Dominion Bridge, it was a foundry. During the winter months, they used to have to walk to work on the train bridge - the CPR bridge. They’d put in a full day of work, then they’d have to walk home. There was no Mercier Bridge then.
Once-in-a-lifetime trip
My brother David and I did everything together. There used to be a creek that would run all the way from St. Isidore Road to the canal where the post office is today. There was a time when the creek was alive and flowed naturally. There were northern pike in that creek back then, you could see them by the protestant graveyard in the spring when it would flood.
Kwítaro
Halfway through eleventh grade I walked out of the school I was going to in Massena. I left because in social studies class, we were learning things about Indians that were all lies. I had had enough of it. I told the social studies teacher, “Do you know where that book belongs? It belongs right there in that garbage can because it’s full of garbage.” So, I took my book and threw it right out in the garbage can.
Burning wood
I remember in those years, when I was much younger, there were people still burning wood. There was a lot of wood burning. You would smell the smoke of wood stoves. During the holidays, and especially around new years, people used to go around to visit, so your relatives would come to your house, and that would last about a week.
Big giant hole
I used to play in the Seaway while it was being dug. My grandfather’s house, where I would stay in the summer, is just one street up from the river. They call it the Church road. From there, we used to just walk down to the river that used to be there. The riverside was where most of us would spend almost every summer day. It was within a football field’s distance.
A different life
I grew up in Kahnawake, but only during the summer time. My parents lived in Michigan, but always brought my brother and I back to stay with my grandparents in Kahnawà:ke every summer until I was around 12 years old.
Death Feast
I never attended a death feast until my younger brother, Irvin, passed away in December of 2009. A few days later, his wife, Dale, called me to tell me that she was hosting a 10 day death feast and she was inviting me.
Stay and listen
My cousins Susan, Shirley and Doreen had left our community to work in Montreal. When they returned, something had changed. They couldn't speak our Mohawk language anymore. It saddened me to see them speak English all the time. For me, regardless of where I am, I will always talk in my Native language.
Not that fluent
I think that I’m fluent in Mohawk but I’m not that fluent. I think about that often. I could say carrots, onions, and beans but as for other veggies or fruits, I have no idea. I don’t know why. It’s very important to teach children all the veggies because they need to learn that when they’re very young.
Children in the garden
My great grandmother and grandfather always had a big garden. They had one cow. There’s an old picture where he’s milking the cow and my great grandmother is walking down the path from their house. They lived across from where Eileen’s Bakery is.
My wife beat me up
Amelia wasn’t working at the time. Each morning, she’d be sleeping so I’d always give her a kiss and then go to work. This time, while she was sleeping, I went there to kiss her and she punched my face.
A heavy job
I used to do readings for people. When people have problems, like if they’re scared that somebody is sick in their family, they would come to see me.
Working on bones
My grandmother used to work on bones. Not broken ones because broken ones are very hard to heal but she would work on their muscles.
Dancing softly
My grandmother and her sister performed at the Indian Village together and they did a dance called “Harvesting the Corn.”