Contemplation cramped by cleaning up others’ messes

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 21/06/2024 (476 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Hungry and tired, we pull the boat alongside a long, low slab of granite, and begin unloading ourselves and our gear, looking forward to a rest. It had been a long day on the water — the second of a nine-day canoe trip I was taking with a good friend.

We were greeted by a scene of disarray and disrespect. A rock had been used as a fish-cleaning station, and the entrails were still there, drying and haloed with flies. Beer cans littered the site. And in the remains of a campfire, a half-melted freezer pack from a cooler oozed its remaining gel into the sand.

The air was thick with the smell of burnt plastic, stale beer and fish. We knew, tired though we were, we would have some work to do before we could settle in.

We set to the miserable task of collecting the garbage, knowing it was now our responsibility to carry it for the following week, until we could dispose of it properly.

Canoeing is a gloriously contemplative pastime. Both hands are occupied and all energy is in the work and the travel.

On clear days, I can contemplate the ripples in the water, the flight of the eagle and the call of the loon.

On stormy days we must be intensely present in the moment, of one mind, working muscle and mind to keep the boat facing into the waves and moving forward.

But for the rest of that trip, my thoughts were repeatedly drawn away from the scenery. The boat smelled of burnt plastic and stale beer, interrupting my thoughts, invading my breath. Even encased in a black garbage bag and sealed in an airtight plastic barrel, we were engulfed by it.

For a week, we carried, hoisted, portaged, paddled and rearranged this unpleasant responsibility around our other gear. It cut into contemplation, it demanded attention, it marred the experience.

As partners in reconciliation we need to remember, like canoeists, to “pack out what we pack in,” even when it wasn’t ours to begin with.

Like that campsite, we have a bit of a messy scene here in Winnipeg — part of an ongoing journey toward acknowledging how our past has defined our present.

The news of police assaulting an Indigenous mother in her own home, and the odorous legacy of residential schools that clings to current day child protection services remind us the past is strewn all around us.

It is ugly and uncomfortable to live with. The people who initiated this are long gone. They have left us their castoffs — systems and beliefs — that must be collected, lived with, carried and disposed of.

And yet, many of us struggle with the work that must be done. We tend to search for ways to exonerate ourselves of the work, and in doing so, change the story into something simplistic and therefore easy to reject.

The idea that every police officer, every CFS worker is a seething racist just waiting to snatch babies and beat their mothers is preposterous, of course. The truth, as it often is, is more complex.

None of us were here for the founding of our country, our province or even our beloved Winnipeg.

But the difficult truth, the uncomfortable, rank burden we carry is that non-Indigenous settlers arrived here, displaced our Indigenous relatives and then enacted longstanding systems to extinguish Indigenous power and sovereignty. This is the legacy we have inherited. This is our messy campsite. This is our responsibility to carry away from our beautiful home.

Doing the work of reconciliation may require hauling someone else’s garbage through the wilderness of policy and tradition.

As partners in reconciliation we need to remember, like canoeists, to “pack out what we pack in,” even when it wasn’t ours to begin with.

Doing the work of reconciliation may require hauling someone else’s garbage through the wilderness of policy and tradition.

It may require our own experiences be spoiled in the short term so others may benefit from long-term gain.

It will require ongoing discomfort.

Surveying our city, reading our newspaper, we see the mess, the work that needs to be done. It is everyone’s responsibility to shoulder the task of undoing the wrongs of the past.

Today is Indigenous People’s Day in Canada. It’s a day to celebrate resilience and history and unbroken generations proud of who we are.

But it’s also a reminder to confront and recommit to cleaning up the mess that has been left by departed generations, and to empower ourselves to do what is right.

rebecca.chambers@freepress.mb.ca