where I am...

where I want to be

whew!

Another one bites the dust - that is off of my list. Along with a few companeras y companeros, I ran the Times-Colonist 10km Run this morning. Of course, I didn't train as much as I had intended, but I'm glad I finished it. Johnny was the speediest of the bunch coming in at 48:33, and brother that he is, he ran back to the 9km mark to run with me for my last 1km. Great job Team Indigelicious.

Had a good (hearty) brunch, and now I believe it's nap time.

made it...

For those of you who stop by here from time to time, you'll have no doubt noticed that I usually try to include an appropriate image with each blog I write. For those of you who are my friends and family members (and yes, maybe even you enemies), you will also know that I've just recently completed all the requirements for my bachelor's degree. I was thinking it would be appropriate to include one of those motivational poster images here, you know the ones that say "Achievement" or "Teamwork" or "Accomplishment" accompanied with a striking image of a mountaintop, or an eagle soaring, or a rowing team on some placid lake at dawn. But then, I came across these "anti-motivational" posters and I couldn't resist. It reminds of that saying about the light at the end of the tunnel, and hoping it's not an oncoming train. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not always this cynical, but I do appreciate a little irony, paradox, and self-deprecating humour from time to time.

So yeah, I'm done. I wrote my last exam on Monday and I feel pretty good about it. At first, I was not sure what to think, and as I exited the building where I had written my last exam, I almost instinctively put in my iPod headphones, in that antisocial way modern students do, but I stopped myself. I thought, is there a song that will do this moment justice? Can I find that right tune that will add to the soundtrack of my life? In truth, my iPod is really the wee-est of the bunch, the iShuffle, and it has no screen or clickwheel to locate the perfect song. Instead, I closed my eyes, soaked in the warm sunrays, and smiled.

What next? Some rest, some time with friends and family, a summer job hopefully, and then back to the grindstone. Grad School begins in September and this adventure continues. Yes, I am a little masochistic. I am grateful to everyone in my life for their encouragement and support. It has truly been a group effort. Kleco, kleco, and a few Gila Kesla's, Meegwetch's and Huy'ch'qa's too.

almost done...

...stick a fork in me. By Monday at noon, I will have completed all my requirements for a bachelor of arts degree in political science at the University of Victoria. This most recent chapter in my life began here and, 20 months, 82 blogs (including a scant 7 on kumtux), 19 courses, more than 50 text books, a gajillion peer-reviewed journal articles, copious amounts of coffee, jarred fish, Mr. Noodles, much love from friends and family, some new friends, some new memories, some mundane and some not-so-mundane adventures, blood, sweat, and tears, and I am almost done. I have one final exam to go, for ENGL 429A. This final exam is for the only course that I may get less than a B in. :o I know. Apparently, English Literature is another language, and my indigenous revolutionary/social science brain just doesn't get it sometimes. Ah well, aaniikwaa. Humility has its upside. Well, I'm gonna do as Joe says, and finish strong...back to James, Stein, Wharton, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Hemmingway and Hurston...Damn modernist American expatriate writers (all except Hurston, although I think she did leave the South).

I'll let you know how it goes.

time for a change, time to grow up

Family, friends, loved ones, enemies no more. In two weeks I'll have completed my requirements for my bachelor of arts degree in political science. It's been an interesting journey, one that began in 1991 at Capilano College, with stopovers in student union, urban and old school and radical Indian politics, Cornwall, Ottawa, Toronto, Surrey, Port Alberni, Ladysmith and finally here in Victoria. I've learned a lot and met a lot of cool people.

I've met a lot of passionate people in the "movement" and developed a stronger sense of my own indigenous identity. I even had a brief stint as a member of the now-defunct West Coast Warrior Society. I've even taken a few peeps under my wing, dispensing red pills, promising only the truth, never mind the years of frustration, anger and further disillusionment. I've invaded your ears with indigenous revolutionary rhetoric from the radio waves of CHLY in Nanaimo along with the rest of the Goin' Coastal crew. And of course, I've utilized this space to weBLOG my insightful, pretentious ramblings about the indigenous revolution for nearly 3 years now.

Well, all good things come to an end. At the conclusion of this rite of passage, my graduation now assured, I'm reminded of that verse from Corinthians that they often read at weddings about setting aside childish things.

Last term, in the course of some research for a paper on indigenous participation in Canadian electoral and party politics, I came into contact with some really amazing people. They were young, positive, and motivated indigenous people - that also happened to be members of the Liberal Party of Canada. At first, I was a little stand-offish and even maybe a little mean. I insinuated that they had somehow abandoned their indigeneity by participating in the colonial master's game. I was convinced that they had fooled themselves into thinking that they could actually do something from the inside.

Well, to their credit, they were kind and patient and over the course of our discussions I began to see things in a new way, in a way that I had never fully appreciated before. Sure, I had worked for the Tribal Council and been exposed to indigenous-state politics, but I never really believed in it, until now. This one woman in particular floored me with some key revelations: "I would rather be inside making decisions for our people than outside protesting" and the real kicker, "It's easier to change the minds of your friends than your enemies."

I could not believe it. The cat had my tongue. I didn't know what to say. How could I dispute these obvious truths? Needless to say, the idea needed time to marinate in my thoughts and feelings for several months before I could make sense of it. I mean, messing with this idea of progressive and positive thinking was all the stuff I learned from Tai, Vine, and others, but I believe now is the time for me to change directions. It would be a lie to say that I am actually renouncing all those things I wrote and said. I think they had their place - like the Corinthians passage reminds us but what are our options, realistically? I mean really?

So, I take this opportunity to announce to you now, that I have accepted a special appointment as "Indigenous Advisor" to the Minister of Indian Affairs, Chuck Strahl. I've talked to Chuck a few times and he actually likes my ideas and thinks I have a lot to contribute from a slightly different perspective. I'm really encouraged.

Upon graduation in April, I will be travelling to Ottawa to take up my post and see if I can really make a difference from within. I believe I can.




Oh yeah, and one more thing...


APRIL FOOLS' DAY! ;-)

...as if.

my triumphs, my mistakes

I wash my hands of the phony democratic system; I will never let myself be distracted by the placatory crumbs that the elite led by the administration toss into the barnyard every now and again. Many of the oppressed have realized the truth and are ready to take action, even ready to take arms.

- Gaius Baltar

Tiocfaidh Ar La!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, and while it will remain a dry day for me, I am wearing my Ireland football jersey and saying, "Tiocfaidh Ar La!" to anyone who might seem to care. Perhaps I should be saying "You're day will come!" if they happen to be Irish, and maybe, ours too!

I don't have a lot to say today but I do have some links to share:

Recommended tunes today: Eire Og
Recommended reading: Trinity
Recommended viewing: The Wind that Shakes the Barley and
Michael Collins

And of course have some Irish food and a Guinness for me.

What is the problem with Michael Jackson?

Captain Said: What is the problem with Michael Jackson?
Sargeant Barlow: What do you mean?
Captain Said: What...Is...The...Problem...With Michael Jackson? You understand my question?
Sargeant Barlow: No, I'm not sure I do.
Captain Said: The king of pop, ooh-hoo, ee-hee.
Sargeant Barlow: Yeah, Michael Jackson.
Captain Said: He come to Egypt, I see picture in newspaper. "Hello" with the white glove. I'm Michael Jackson in my autoroom, with my chop up face. Your country make him chop up his face.
Sargeant Barlow: I don't think so.
Captain Said: Michael Jackson is pop king of sick fucking country.
Sargeant Barlow: That's bullshit, he did it to himself.
(Captain Said hits Sargeant Barlow on the head with a clipboard)
Captain Said: You are the blind bullshit my main man. It's obvious, a black man make the skin white and the hair straight, and you know why?
Sargeant Barlow: No.
Captain Said: Your sick fucking country make the black man hate hiself just like you hate the Arab and the children you bomb over here.

[Dialogue from the interrogation scene in David O. Russell's Three Kings (1999)]

huh...

"If we eat like them and live like them, we will die like them and go crazy."

- Khatsalano as told to Lee Maracle

put up your dukes

So, I've been on a bit of break, nearly three months. I've decided to end seclusion, however I'm afraid of two things: 1. No one will even have noticed I was gone or that I am back and; 2. I don't have anything wonderfully profound on this, the occasion of my return to the land of ones and zeros.

But, I do have something to ramble on about. I was at a workshop this afternoon about "Fighting Oppression." During the question and answer period, an indigenous sister raised a concern over the use of the word, "fighting" and the overtones suggestive of conflict. This is not uncommon. There seems to be extensive apprehension of conflict within indigenous communities. By no means, have I adequately worked this issue out but I know it bothers me.

Now, perhaps as a "guy" I cannot fully appreciate her perspective and perhaps as a "man" I'm predisposed to the fight, but I know plenty of pacifist dudes and plenty of rowdy women who would relish nothing more than to get it on and start kicking some ass. While I suspect gender is part of it, I am reluctant to make any broad generalizations.

Now, I'm going to make a generalization. Generally speaking, from my experience lately, we Indians are afraid of the fight and conflict in general. Oddly, we seem to really be into fighting each other. How many times did I hear the term, "lateral violence" when I worked for the Tribal Council? And when we do fight the colonials, it's more often than not in court, which is really like getting good white people (who are good to us, especially when we give them oodles of money) to fight the bad white people. Speaking of white people, I had another "half-white" friend express concern over my use of the term "white people." I wasn't even using it in an overly derogatory manner, unless you consider the whole phrase as somehow offensive to your communist/anarchist sensibilities: I was speaking of "rich white people" writing modernist American literature in Paris at the beginning of the 20th century.

How about I use the term "immigrant" or "settler?" Then I might offend my Canadian friends. Sigh, there's no winning the semantic game.

So anyway, back to the fighting issue. Are we afraid of fighting? Have we become soft? Perhaps we have evolved. Perhaps we are more civilized now. Perhaps we have seen the Gandhi-esque light and should know better. I'm not so sure. Perhaps we are afraid. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be flippant about the very real and devastating effects of war. I would hate to naively romanticize fighting, but surely we cannot achieve our goals without at least a little bit of friction. I know deep down we may truly all want to "get along" but surely we must strive for more. Surely, our goals must include justice and freedom, and I mean true justice and freedom, not the mere facades being able to go to court and shop at Wal-Mart.

What's wrong with a little scrappiness? Have we been forever pacified? I'm not equating non-violence with non-fighting either. We can be non-violent and damn confrontational, or at least place ourselves in a position where The Man is gonna be itching to pepper spray us. Fanon suggested a certain cathartic and therapeutic element to the act of the indigenous person standing up and fighting for themselves. I think he was on to something. Again, I AM NOT ADVOCATING VIOLENCE, but I should be able to live my life, to live an indigenous life. Unfortunately, doing so in the current day and age is certain to bring that way of life in conflict with another and the power of the state. So what do we do? What do you do?

jay-r

I'm on a hiatus.

It's not business, just personal

One of my favourite lines from one of my favourite "old school" bloggers went something like this: "When I was young, I kept a journal and I would have died if anyone read it. Now I blog and I fear no one will read it."

I feel the need to express myself but at the same time be vague: Enter the world of blogging. Emotional exhibitionist anonymity. Sort of.

So, I'm researching for a paper and came across some rebellious classics on my bookshelf (Fanon, Galeano, Magon) and I couldn't help but be brought back in time. It was not that long ago that I swallowed the red pill. They were exciting times. We had confusion, despair, hope, dysfunction, passion, but above all, for me at least, the feeling that "I am not alone, and I am not crazy." One cannot underestimate the power of solidarity in sustaining one's belief in the movement. Sure, it can lead to hasty alliances and errors in judgement, but it sure helps when you feel your weakest.

I don't know where this is going, maybe no where. All I know is that hope is important, and for some reason sanity seems to be too. I'll leave you with one of my favourite of Galeano's passages from his book, We Say No:

"We have come from different countries, and we are here, reunited under the generous shade of Pablo Neruda - to join the people of Chile, who say no.
We also say no.
We say no to the praise of money and of death. We say no to a system that assigns prices to people...
We say no to a system that neither feeds its people nor loves them, that condemns many to a hunger for food and many more to a hunger for the embrace...
We say no to the lie...
The colonial inheritance obliges the so-called Third World - populated by third-class people - to accept as its own the memory of the victors who conquered it and to take on the lies of others and use them as its own reality. They reward our obedience, punish our intelligence, and discourage our creative energy...
We say no to fear. No to fear of speaking, of doing, of being...
As it happens, we are saying no, and by saying no we are saying yes...
By saying no to the devastating empire of greed, whose centre lies in North America, we are saying yes to another possible America, which will be born of the most ancient of American traditions, the communitarian tradition that the Chilean Indians have defended desperately, defeat after defeat, during the last five centuries.
In saying no to a peace without dignity, we are saying yes to the sacred right of rebellion against injustice and its long history as long as the history of popular resistance on the long map of Chile. By saying no to the freedom of money, we are saying yes to the freedom of people: a mistreated and wounded freedom, a thousand times defeated as in Chile and, as in Chile, a thousand times arisen."

I miss our conversations...

did you know?

So, I'm doing a paper on indigenous peoples' participation in Canadian party politics, and I'm trying to determine whether this has proven an effective strategy, specifically in comparison to the visions articulated by some of the old school leaders like George Manuel, Andy Paull, Philip Paul, James Gosnell, Gus Gottfriedson, and later Harold Cardinal and Vine Deloria, Jr. If you know anything about me and my politics you can guess where I'm headed with this.

Did you know that when Andy Paull from Sḵwxwú7mesh was the head of the Native American Indian Brotherhood in 1947 he rejected the idea of re-granting indigenous people in BC the right to vote "on the grounds that it would open the door to assimilation and loss of rights and privileges."1

Hmmm...

On another somewhat less significant but nonetheless "grocery store line-up interesting note," did you know that Tina Keeper, the indigenous woman who played an RCMP constable on North of 60 was elected as a Member of Parliament for the Liberal Party in Churchill, MB last year?

1. Tennant, Paul. Aboriginal Peoples and Politics. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 1990, p. 121.

Nuu-chah-nulth United

So, I've been living with an ewok, Single Joe, for about a month and a half now (and no we don't have a bunk bed, we do have separate rooms). If you know ewoks, in addition to being cute, furry and friendly, they are also crazy about soccer, and Joe is no exception. Joe is a goalkeeper and I even noticed a "top goalie" trophy on his bookshelf from the glory days (2001).

I've been thinking about a return to the game of soccer for some time now. Would you believe that it has been about 16 years since I played competitively? Maybe is was Galeano who got me thinking about it again, in between scathing critiques of amnesia and neoliberalism with his Soccer in Sun and Shadow. Perhaps it was knowing that my buddy, Wiwchar of A Channel fame is still out there on the pitch, playing dirty at 40. It could just be the magnetic pull of "the simplest game" and the "passion of the people."

So, a few weeks ago I started talking about developing a Nuu-chah-nulth men's soccer team to start competing in next Spring's native soccer touranment circuit. I guess this is noteworthy, cause my good friend 'Cilla mentioned it casually amongst a gathering of Kwakwak'awakws (the previously referenced "ewoks"), and they all laughed and when it comes up again they still laugh. You see, in addition to being the only coastal people crazy enough to hunt for whales, the Nuu-chah-nulth are known for some pretty dominant play on the hardwood. We can hoop it up with the best of 'em but aside from a few hardcore players lately, our prowess on the pitch is unheard of.

Even though I too, laughed when I heard the retelling of the story, "my friend Cliff is thinking of starting a soccer team..." from that moment, I was committed. It will not be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. I'm already counting on the participation of Jose, Johnny and Darren, some training and coaching from Hazel, Carol-Anne, and Joe, support from Chiinuuks, A-in-chut, my pops and all the aunties and uncles.

In the spirit of sport, dignity and perseverance, I'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes from Mohandas K. Gandhi:

"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win."

Hegelian gazing at my classmates

A couple weeks ago, Professor Tully in a transition lecture from Kant to Mill, talked about a cat named Hegel (oh and I don't mean in the feline sense, I mean a dude. Can you dig it?)

Anyway, so this cat Hegel was a German philosopher (18-19th centuries) who came up with what has become known as the "Hegelian dialectic" or Master/Slave dialectic. Basically, I understand that Hegel believed that it dominated all human relations and it begins with a gaze. He said that we develop a consciousness in gazing upon others and having others gaze upon us. Not only do we become aware of others' gaze, and not only do we feel self-conscious , but we actually submit or dominate.

I don't know if I agree with the whole master/slave thing but I did find the idea intriguing, especially since I usually assume a rather deferential posture in most situations.

So the next day I decided to work on my Hegelian gaze and dominate my classmates into submission by the mere ferocity of my gaze, and wouldn't you know it, it works! Risky and Jimmy Nations would be proud.

Try it.

Bow down slaves!!! ):D

new kumtux blog: the right man for the job

New blog about the role of the Lieutenant-Governor and the BC Treaty Process here.

4 i's

I know I need to smile more, but here's a pic of me wearing my new glasses ('cause I know all ya'll were waiting with bated breath).

FYI, I'll be blogging on Kumtux soon about the recent appointment of former Justice Stephen Point as the Queen's representative for British Columbia, and of course the Tsawwassen Final Agreement (It's not actually a treaty), and what an indigenous rebel is to think (and perhaps do) about it all.

2V's
From the mean streets of occupied Lekwungen and WSANIC territories

I can see clearly now...

Once again, the world is vivid and alive. I have come out of a fog, the extent to which, I was not fully aware of until now. No, I have not renounced my revolutionary ways and seen the light of Dancing with Dollars nor have I pledged my support for Aboriginal electoral participation. Heavens no.

W has bought some new spectacles and although my prescription has remained the same (with only a minor adjustment for a slight astigmatism in my right eye), I am taken aback by how clear the world seems again. I can truly see individual blades of grass across the street! It is as if I was a newborn baby again seeing with new eyes. Everything jumps out at me and I'm fascinated by it. They don't call 'em mundane adventures for nothing.

From the windy streets of our colonial capitol
Don W

p.s. I've recently moved into a new apartment - this time co-habiting with Single Joe. So far so good. We are both pretty mellow and considerate so I'm confident we will be a good match. I'm just about finished unpacking everything and boy do I really have a lot of books. I need another bookshelf.

p.p.s. Thus far, in this my final year of my B.A., I've written two short papers and two exams. Sorry, Robert Williams, I have no desire to link arms together (not just yet), and Kant, you were an imperial bastard.

the lonely wolf and his facebook addiction

This weBLOG is of a rather personal nature, so if that is not your thing, consider this fair warning.

I've been called a lone wolf a number of times - as a criticism for my aversion to group conformity (under the guise of group cohesion I contend) and as a compliment for my defiant independence. I think both views are fair and fairly accurate. I've always been somewhat of a solitary figure. When I was younger I tended to pride myself in my capacity to be alone without being lonely. I guess in a way, I've always felt different from others and less able or willing to fit in.

In my recent, more politically oriented life, it is a given that my unorthodox beliefs tend to alienate me not only from mainstream settler folk, but also many of my own people as well (specifically the "Aboriginals", old timers and others who just want to live their lives in peace). This gap is not insurmountable by any means, as evidenced by my ability to come to terms with family members who hold radically divergent political views from my own, or others who are relatively apathetic. I love my family of course and that love is of an unconditional nature which makes accommodation perhaps not only easier, but necessary.

My love life might be what you would describe as that of a "serial-monogamist." Between the ages of 18 and 32, I was never really alone for more than a few months and those times that I was, I was insanely busy, working a job that all but consumed my waking hours. The past few years have been different and this past summer in particular was a significant departure from the normal routine of most of my adult life. Last September, when I returned to school for the first time in 12 years also marked the first time I was to live alone, ever.

And this past summer, although technically I had a room mate, in reality I only saw him about four times all summer. Even at my summer job, circumstances dictated that I worked alone for significant periods of time. I don't begrudge my room mate or my workplace. I think I needed it. I've found that often when we fail to learn lessons, life just keeps tossing us more opportunities until we finally get it. I don't know if I got it this summer but I think I learned a bit more about myself.

Enter Facebook. I recently came across this CBC article which prompted me not only to think about my coping with being alone, but also the media desensitization and virtual ADHD that is characteristic of our high-speed wireless times. The article references a study that suggests that which most of us already know: online networking sites connect us with hundreds and sometimes thousands of people in a rather shallow way but do little to enhance real world intimacy. Now I know it is not one or the other, all or nothing, and there are often exceptions to rule, but I can account for my own incessant checking and rechecking of my Facebook inbox all day long.

I've come to realize that in the absence of real world intimacy and connection, I've at times, tried to substitute with online connections. There is a reason people call it crackbook (no disrespect to those affected by real substance abuse problems). It's cheap. It's fast, and it fades quickly. Academics say that we are overstimulated, what with hundreds of TV channels, high-speed online surfing, satellite radio, mobile phones, text messaging, and iPods.

I did have a couple of opportunities to connect with people in the real world this summer and I was reminded of how good it feels. In my radical-indigenous-political circles we often talk about theory, practice and praxis. As a student this is no more evident than upon graduation and the inevitable confrontation with the so-called real world. At one low point of lamenting the challenges of life I commented, "the real world sucks" to which a companera replied, "this is the real world."

aaniikwaa. It is what it is.

I won't say that I've figured anything out but I think I'm pointed in the right direction. I continue my commitment to add as few applications as possible to my lil Facebook pipe. I will unplug when I need to and I will attempt to overcome my social awkwardness and connect with more people in real life more often.

Sigh, the Matrix has us all (especially if you are reading this...haha).