Lifting trees and pushing limits
Clearing Pow-wow grounds at Keys
Daniel Thau-Eleff
Photo by Daniel Thau-Eleff.
Around noon on Saturday, October 29, two car-loads of Winnipeggers arrived at Keys Lake. We were greeted by community activists from Asubpeeshoseewagong, or Grassy Narrows First Nation. We were soon joined by the Christian Peacemakers Team stationed in Kenora. We all stood around the fire chatting, introducing ourselves and each other. Finally, four young men from Grassy Narrows led us to the site. We walked down the highway and into the forest, where we began to work.
We had come to Keys Lake to clear Pow-wow grounds, which the Grassy Narrows community plans to use for a variety of purposes, from sweat lodges and Pow-wows to swimming, camping and traditional Mide ceremonies. “It’s very sacred land,” explained community activist Joe Fobister. “Our elders believe this land was used long ago as a meeting place.”
The mood was festive: we picked up thin, dead trees and passed them from hand to hand, sometimes throwing them like javelins into four big piles. The 30 or more activists quickly became friends, as we joined to dislodge a tree or carry off a heavier tree. “You gotta eat your Wheaties!” joked my new friend Burton Land, as he carried a section of trunk that was too heavy for me.
But in addition to its spiritual and social value, Saturday’s event had a political dimension. These grounds were cleared without the approval of Ontario’s Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR).
“What happens if MNR shows up?” asked Jim Loney of Christian Peacemakers Team.
“They’ll say we need to get a work permit,” sighed Fobister. “But we don’t need their permission to use our land.”
In the eyes of the Canadian government this is Crown Land, owned by the government, having been surrendered by the Anishinabe people in Treaty 3 (signed in 1873). The Anishinabe have a different understanding of Treaty 3. “We see it as an agreement of peace and friendship, but not as a surrender,” said Fobister. As the Anishinabe people see it, this land is their traditional hunting ground. “But,” Fobister added, “we don’t really own the land. We are a part of it. You can’t own or give away what’s been given to you by the Creator!”
The people of Grassy Narrows first gained an international reputation in 1970, when they discovered that the nearby paper mill had given their reserve one of the world’s worst recorded cases of Mercury poisoning.
Grassy Narrows drew international attention again over the past three years, when community activists set up a blockade and prevented Abitibi, a major forestry corporation backed by two levels of government, from logging on their traditional lands.
After working hard all afternoon (with a break in the middle for lunch), we found ourselves standing in a clearing. Those of us from outside the Asubpeeshoseewagong community climbed back into our cars, refreshed by the country air, the physical work and the spirit of the community. We left, grateful to the Grassy Narrows community activists for providing us with this opportunity.
