Population Control Quotes (25 quotes)
Wawahte: Stories of Residential School Survivors - FULL DOCUMENTARY
When the stranger bumps his shoulder into me, hard, without an ounce of concern, I can feel the fire bubbling inside of me. The heat from the concrete rising up, through my feet, reverberating like electricity about to erupt magma through every orifice of my body. Lava that will oxidize every atom and molecule of his body on contact. The city as embodied trauma. The trauma of settlement.
Reconciliation Poems Breathe in the first Residential School. Breathe out apology on all levels then must beat the Aboriginal child inside. and grow a new.
real ghost stories haunting encounters told by real people
Stolen Lives: The Indigenous Peoples of Canada and the Indian Residential Schools
Petiquay arrived with a small brown suitcase that his mother, Marie, had lovingly packed for him. In it were some of his clothes, his favourite toys-a car carved from wood and a little bow and arrow, all made by his father, Guillaume-along with a pair of moccasins sewn by his mother. That suitcase was taken from him at the school, emptied of everything except his clothes and stored in a warehouse. Petiquay would recall the image of his small suitcase many decades later in when, as an addictions counsellor, he had to unpack all the stories that he had heard from former students struggling from the impact of Indian residential schools. His reflection on their stories and his own life led to Ma Petite Valise du Pensionnat My Little Residential School Suitcase , a poem about loss and redemption resulting from his year voyage at residential schools: one year in Amos and 11 years at Pointe Bleue, also run by the Roman Catholic church. Over the years, however, this same suitcase would be emptied of all negativity, and once again be filled with good things: sobriety, spirituality, a recovered sense of self-respect and love for all people. With him when he spoke was the Rev.
Now that we are free and Residential Schools are no more there is still the venom in our heart of hurt, sadness and broken hearts. After freedom. I am sad that they were taken away when they were five because they are like workers that are in beehives. These poems are so powerful! They are well written, and really convey a lot of different kinds of emotion.
Published: March 27, Residential school survivors had a chance to speak, write a poem, paint a picture, sing a song or speak at a sharing circle at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Longtime Edmontonian Terry Lusty, a survivor who was at a residential school for eight years in Winnipeg, wrote a poem called A Survivors Prayer, another action he has taken to heal. The poem is the third he has penned on his experience in residential schools, written as he felt overwhelmed by the upcoming TRC. Meeting with a cross section of people including social workers, priests and school teachers has been triggering, but he has accepted what has happened, he says. Lusty used to conduct talking circles at the Native Friendship Centre for survivors and others in need to healing.