[Thoughts after helping with the fishing over the last few days]
I have blood on my hands – the blood of the First Nation people, the blood of their ancestors, and of my ancestors. As I am cleaning Salmon caught by these good people, I am reminded of what white people, my ancestors, did to them – I am reminded of what the white people are still doing. There are those damaged by residential schools; those suffering collective discrimination; and those subjected to legalized pummeling on a large scale. There is the collective ignorance and denial that white people refuse to break free from which, due to fear and inertia, they project onto anyone who is seen to be a native of the land. There is also the type of white man who takes hold of the power that is available in this cultural divide to gain personal gratification: ‘I am superior to these natives and anyone who disagrees with me is a traitor to this (whichever) country.’
However, the truth is all around me, and inescapable. There is a spiritual and societal force among the people of Kwantlen (and no doubt among other aboriginal peoples) that is tangible, and unstoppable. There is a balance that brings a deeper nutrition to the soul; a wisdom that is inherent in the very Earth. People who are in power seem to want to destroy this wisdom by any means. Their guns are pointed at the danger that is this wisdom and their ammunition is crafted from the gunpowder of greed and the howitzer of ignorance and inertia of the mass population. We need to share the knowledge that dampens the gunpowder and rusts the munitions so that trees and flowers grow from the muzzles like the nursery trees of the forest. It seems inevitable that this will happen – I only hope that there are still humans on the planet when this happens.