Beatrice Mosionier - Come Walk With Me

Come

Walk

With Me

A MEMOIR

Beatrice Mosionier

2009 by Beatrice Mosionier

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Print format ISBN 978-1-55379-219-2
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Authors note
I have grown up with the word Native and have used it throughout this memoir to identify myself and others, rather than using more current terms.
In an effort to protect the privacy of those I write about I have changed some names.

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TO MY FAM ILIES,
WITH LOVE

CONTENTS

I T IS SEPTEMBER 1984. Im on stage at Kildonan Park, in Winnipeg, for the Canadian Womens Music and Cultural Festival. In Search ofApril Raintree has been published for 18 months; the school edition is to be published in December. I will be reading from a manuscript Ive been working on, Spirit of the White Bison, and introducing my panel of singers and musicians, none of whom I know. As I wait to go to the mike, Im thinking, What am I doing up here?

Earlier I had wondered if I should try humour for the introductions. But Im not blessed with that talent. Jokes that fall flat would detract from the performances. So I decide on safe, straightforward, if boring, introductions. The performers energy and music will liven things up.

As I get my cue, I walk over to the mike and begin to speak. The audience rises in a standing ovation. At first I want to turn to see who else came on stage. When I realize the recognition is for me, Im shocked, then Im overwhelmed by their generosity, but apprehensive of what they might expect. They dont know the real me. The posters for the festival describe me as Beatrice Culleton, powerful Mtis writer. I dont think Im powerful. Im a mouse.

I relish that standing ovation because I know that it will be the only one Ill ever get. In Search of April Raintree will be the only novel Ill ever write. Had I known I would write a story that was already so meaningful to so many, maybe I would have lived my life differently.

One of the performers I introduce is Alanis Obomsawin, a singer from Montreal. After our session when she asks to interview me, I learn she is also a documentary film producer for the National Film Board. I want her to meet my mother and Alanis decides to interview her, as well.

The following week we three get together. First she interviews me and then I leave them so she can interview my mother privately. Because of my trepidation and my ignorance of technology, 18 years will pass before I hear that interview. By then I have come to realize that pieces of my life were missing and I needed to understand my mothers life. I had never asked Mom and Dad about their lives, for fear of making them relive painful memories; but Alaniss empathy and warmth made possible what I didnt dare try. So I have placed elements of this gift my mothers story, as she told it to Alanis at the beginning of each section of this memoir, as both a mirror to and context for my memories.

AUGUST 1949 TO

DECEMBER 1966

I M 72 YEARS OF AGE. I was born in 1912, on the 5th of July. In Camperville.

My mother, she was the Indian chiefs daughter. Her name was Isabelle Napakitsit, Flatfoot, in English, eh. And my father, they said he was a Frenchman. Louis Pelletier was my fathers name. But I dont know where he came from.

I didnt know my parents because when I was three months old, my mother died. And I was, uh... Mrs. Frances Ross took me after my mother died. She breastfed me and I stayed with them until I was two or three years old. Well, she was a Mtis, but she married an Indian guy. And they brought me to that Indian school there, in Camperville. And the nuns took care of me, in that school. Sometimes it was, oh, that time Im alive now. But, oh, I took it, you know, because I was an orphan, and I didnt know any better.

Oh, I didnt even know my father. It was too far for him to come [visit]. He married another woman, after my mother died. So he had to stay home. One time, I, uh, I must have been about three years old. And it was just like a dream to me, when youre small, when youre two, three years old, it was just like a dream when I seen him.

I wasnt pure Indian. I wasnt supposed to stay there in the first place because I was a half-breed, eh. And they used to come and get me to work in the garden, to pull weeds. Oh, I dont know.

Sometimes, it was bad, and sometimes, just... just like that. I was only small, eh, when the nuns took care of me. And then from there they used to talk to me in English all the time.

There was lots of girls in there so we enjoyed ourselves. The girls, they learned me how to talk Saulteaux. When we were all by ourselves, eh, we speak in our language. But in front of the nuns, we had to speak in English. If we were caught speaking our language, sometimes we used to get the strap.

[Later] they sent me to Lebret, Saskatchewan. I liked it there better than the other one. Because if you do something bad, of course, you got punished for that. But if you dont do nothing bad, eh, youre okay. They wont punish you or nothing, for being good.

I stayed over there about three years, three, four years. When I was in Lebret, thats when my father died. I must have been 16 years old.

I was over 18 years and they send me back to Camperville. Its not like somebody that has been grown with their parents. When I come out of the convent, I didnt have nobody to fall back on, I had to go to work.

I had to stay with Mrs. Frances Ross. But they didnt treat me good.

I had to, uh, I had to work hard. A lot of times when I was staying at Mrs. Frances Ross, I used to go out to the bush and cry in the bush, Why did God take my mother away? Thats the way I used to cry.

But after, my sister took me. And then after that, my other sister Angele, she was in Camperville. Thats the one who took me. And then after, my other sister come to get me from Winnipegosis. She was married to Jim Thompson. And I stayed with them a year, I guess. After that I started to work out. I always had a job to go to, all kinds of work. I always had a job waiting for me. If this job was finished, I had another one waiting for me. Well, you have to work. It doesnt matter wherever you are. You got to help, you know, help out. Thats the way my life was all the time. I worked.