Monday, January 30, 2012

Day One Hundred: Launch

I reach for my red-headed firstborn's hand and our fingers intertwine. We're in the last row of green and black chairs, coffee at our back, sixty or so people listening to panelists talk their treaty walk.

Michael stands behind a podium next to the sheet covered frame, through which I projected a slide show earlier. The panelists are on the other side of the screen. My husband, the speakers and we, the audience, are triangulating treaty.
You hear the expression, "We are all Treaty people." What does that mean to you?

In your opinion, "Why would a teacher need to 'mediate on treaties'?"

In her blog, Sheena confesses, "I've lived in Treaty 4 territory most of my life, AND as a Saskatchewan teacher, I am expected to bring 'Treaty teachings' into my classroom; However, I 'know' very little about treaties." How common is this statement?

Do you feel any significant connection to the fact that we live in a place where Treaty Four was signed?

In your estimation, how would you characterize the relationship between First Nations and non-First Nations here in the Fort, in Saskatchewan?

What role does Treaty Four have in this relationship?

In her blog (Day 10), Sheena recounts a friend of ours, Helen Blacklake, making moccasins with a beaded Mini-Mouse design. What comparison would you make between these Mini-Mouse moccasins and Treaties?

The other day, Sheena was interviewed on CBC’s  Blue Sky, and at the end of the interview the radio host said something to the effect of, “Well, you have made a good impact or good start (on social justice) with this blog."  How much of an impact do you think Treaty Walks will make?

Right now, young Michelle -- who is expecting her first born -- is looking straight at me from the panel table; our eyes meeting through a sight line of black, brown, blonde and grey haired guests. She is offering me water words which I am gulping down my dry throat; as my heart is filling to overflowing Victoria squeezes my hand and Michelle's words drip down my cheeks, splashing on my glasses, salt stained still the next day.

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