Ms. Van Leeuwen has invited us to join her English 11 class to have a talking circle in honour of our ancestors and to support Canada Reads 2013 novelist, Richard Wagamese, who will be reading at Claremont, period 1 and 2, Nov. 25th!! Lucky yuuuzzze.
If you haven't read this amazing novel yet, I highly recommend that you purchase a copy. It's called Indian Horse and it's about the life of a First Nations young boy and his relationship to identity, society, residential schools and to hockey.
The opening begins in a traditional oral manner:
My name is Saul Indian Horse. I am the son of Mary Mandamin and John Indian Horse. My grandfather was called Solomon so my name si the diminutive of his. My people are from the Fish Clan of the noerthern Ojibway, the Anishinabeg, we call ourselves. We made our home in the territories along the Winnipeg River, where the river opens wide before crossing into Manitoba after it leaves Lake of the Woods and thre rugged spine of northern Ontario. They say that our cheekbones are cut from those granite ridges that rise above our homeland. They say that the deep brown of our eyes seeped out of the fecund earrth that surrounds the lakes and markshes. The Old Ones say that our long straight hair comes from the waving grasses that thatch the edges of bays. Our feet and hands are broad and flat and strong, like the paws of a bear. Our ancestors learned to travel easily through territories that the Zhaunagush, the white man, later feared asn sought our hlep to navigate. Our talk rolls and tumbles like the rivers that served as our roads. Our legends tell of how we emerged from the womb of our Mother the Earth; Aki is the name we have for her. We sprng forth intact, with Aki's heartbeat trumming in our ears, prepared to become her stewards and protectors.
When I was born our people still talked this way. We had not yet stepped beyond the influence of our legends. That was a border my generation crossed, and we pine for a return that has never come to be.
These people here want me to tell my story. They say I can't understa nd where I'm going if I don't understand where I've been. The answers are within me, according to them. By telling our stories, hardcore drunks like me can set ourselves free from the bottle and the life that took us there.
Tomorrow: We will get a chance to experience a talking circle.
What is a talking circle?
It is absolutely wonderful to connect to our stories and to one another in a gigantic circle of talk. Think about what you would like to say about yourself and where you "come" from. Use imagery to highlight your people, land, neighbourhood, etc. Read the sample above for ideas and think about what has shaped you?
For me it is certainly Port Hope and Hope Township, Ontario where I lived until I moved to Victoria when I was 19. This area is on Lake Ontario and is surrounded by lush farms and rolling hills, tall maples that blaze yellow, orange, and red each October. A lake so large it looks like an ocean and the Ganaraska River where I would catch crayfish and float in the rapids and jump of the old stone bridge at a park called Sylvan Glen. This small town let me see it all. The poor, the rich, the educated, the lonely, the brave, the cowardly, the mean, the dirty, the artists, the leaders, the weak, the dying. When I return and stand on the shores of that lake or on the bridge beside the library where I spent hours researching and reading about the world I knew I would travel one day, that river, that renewal is who I am. Barefoot, free, child-like and bold.
Your diction will not necessarily sound like the diction in the Wagamese excerpt above unless you are First Nations. Your diction will reflect YOU. Your images will reflect you. You send your story into the centre of the circle so you are not talking to any ONE person. You are putting your story out into the world to honour where you are from, who you are and what you may become.
I was taught by a Dene professor for one of my courses in Curriculum Studies at U Vic for my masters degree. It was a transformative process.
I hope you will enter this new experience with curiosity and humility. Since you are in Writing 12, your stories may be more embellished with imagery than the ones written by the 11s. That's okay.
You must speak on the spot. You can't read anything. You simply speak into the circle while you hold the talking stick. When not speaking, you listen by letting the words float over you. The circle is symbolic of community and connection. One can so often feel alone in a giant school such as Claremont. By calling upon the rituals of our First Peoples, we are a stronger school and a stronger nation.
You can google Richard Wagamese and you can find him on Facebook.
