First Nations in Canada | “Our children didn’t come home anymore”

A cross with a child's dress stands not far from the former Kamloops Indian Residential School. The remains of 215 children were discovered on the grounds of the boarding school, which operated from 1890 to 1978. Photo: IMAGO/ZUMA Press It smells of damp earth, moss and cedar wood. Rays of sunlight shine through the dense canopy of Stanley Park in North Vancouver. You can hardly hear any traffic in the city of over a million people. For visitors, the park is a place of relaxation. For the First Nations it is a place of remembrance.

Indigenous communities lived in the area of ​​today's park until well into the 20th century. In the course of colonization, their villages were evacuated and the families had to leave the area.

The “Talking Trees Tour” with Seraphine Lewis begins here today. She is a member of the Squamish and Haida First Nations. Her ancestral name is Kwee-gay-ay-wans, the Precious One. The English surname Lewis was assigned to her family during the residential school period. »My grandfather was simply told: This is your new last name from now on. We didn’t have family names before.”

Seraphine Lewis' indigenous name is Kwee-gay-ay-wans, the Precious One. The surname Lewis was assigned to her grandfather. Photo: Michael Marek What Seraphine Lewis tells was part of a state assimilation policy. Indigenous children should lose their names, their language and their ties to their own origins. "The children's lifestyles, their spirituality and culture, but also their individuality were attacked," says Sean Carleton. The historian teaches Indigenous Studies at the University of Manitoba.

The Indian Act of 1876 gave the Canadian state the legal basis to intervene deeply in the lives of the First Nations and to restrict their political, cultural and religious freedoms. The residential schools became one of the most consequential instruments of this policy. Between the 1880s and 1996, around 150,000 Indigenous children were separated from their families. The schools were predominantly run by churches, around 60 percent by Catholic orders and dioceses. The state financed them and bore political responsibility.

Officially, the children should be integrated into the white majority society. In fact, the boarding school system aimed to destroy indigenous cultures - also for economic reasons, says Carleton. »As with colonization in other parts of the world, it was about land and resources. And the indigenous population stood in the way.

Duncan Campbell Scott, head of the Department of Indigenous Affairs at the beginning of the 20th century, formulated the goal in 1920 as follows: “I want to get rid of the Indian problem. We will continue until every last Indian in Canada has integrated into our society and there is no longer any Indian authority.

Historians now speak of an attempt at cultural erasure. In the boarding schools, the children's hair was cut short and their traditional clothing was taken away. Anyone who spoke in their native language was punished. Abuse, poor care and hunger were part of everyday life.

Moses Martin, in his mid-80s and a member of the Tla-o-qui-aht, spent seven years in a residential school. »I survived this school system. Maybe I was one of the lucky ones because I was able to suppress the memories for many years. They only returned in 2013, at a Truth and Reconciliation Commission event in Vancouver. "I was beaten almost every day because I couldn't speak English."

Moses Martin was taken to a boarding school far away. “We lived like we were in a prison.” He was only allowed to go home once a year, neither at Easter nor at Christmas. "They wanted to break our pride." For decades he didn't talk to anyone about what he had experienced - neither to his wife nor to his children or grandchildren. Silence became the legacy of residential schools.

The consequences can also be seen in the loss of language. »Today, around 1,200 people belong to our First Nation, but only ten of them speak our language. This shows what was lost." Moses Martin did not teach his children and grandchildren the indigenous language because he wanted to protect them: "They tried to force this language out of me. I didn't want my children to be beaten for the same reason." For Seraphine Lewis, Moses Martin belongs to the "silent generation."

For more than a century, the voices of survivors remained virtually unheard. It was only in 2008 that the Canadian government established a Truth and Reconciliation Commission after decades of pressure from indigenous communities. Thousands of First Nations people reported their fate, many of them publicly for the first time.

Kaila Johnston leads the educational work of the National Center for Truth and Reconciliation. It preserves the testimonies of survivors. The goal, says Johnston, is "that the dark past is never forgotten and never repeated."

“Today, around 1,200 people belong to our First Nation, but only ten of them speak our language.”

In 2015, the commission presented its final report with 94 recommendations for action. She described the residential school system as “cultural genocide.” The UN Genocide Convention of 1948 explicitly lists the forcible transfer of children from one group to another as a possible offense of genocide. This is exactly what happened in the residential schools.

As of 2021, September 30 is Canada's National Truth and Reconciliation Day. For Paula Amos of the Squamish Nation, Remembrance Day is important. He remembers the missing children and the survivors. Its symbol is an orange shirt: When Phyllis Webstad entered a residential school in 1973 at the age of six, her shirt was taken away. For many survivors, it is still difficult to relive the experiences, says Amos. "But without truth there is no reconciliation." Shame and anger have been passed down through generations. In the communities it is said that healing takes seven generations. »I belong to the fourth. I hope that we leave a better path for future generations.«

In May 2021, the Tk'emlúps te Secwépemc said that ground-penetrating radar measurements on the site of the former Kamloops Indian Residential School had revealed evidence of 215 possible burial sites. The news went around the world. Seraphine Lewis remembers the effect on the elders: »For many of them it is still painful to this day. It was like rubbing salt into an old wound." And: "We always knew they were there. Our children didn’t come home anymore.”

The evidence of unmarked gravesites made many white Canadians aware of the extent of the residential school system. It is impossible to estimate exactly how many children died. The National Center for Truth and Reconciliation documents more than 4,000 recorded and recorded deaths nationwide; Estimates range up to 20,000.

The residential schools were also places of missionary work for many indigenous families. In many cases, the Christian faith was not conveyed as an offer, but as part of a system of discipline and coercion. The intertwining of mission and colonial rule still strains the relationship of many First Nations with the churches.

In July 2022, during his trip to Canada, Pope Francis asked indigenous communities for forgiveness for the suffering caused by Catholic institutions. Many survivors appreciated this step. However, an apology alone cannot heal the wounds, says Seraphine Lewis. She and others are calling for church archives to be fully opened so that the fate of missing children can be clarified. The return of indigenous cultural assets and financial compensation are just as important.

For Lewis, language shows what was lost – and what can be regained: “They took our language away from us in just a single generation. Today we teach them again: from kindergarten to university. And for the first time in more than 100 years, there are children whose first language is Squamish.”

But the consequences of residential schools extend far beyond the loss of language. Indigenous communities experience disproportionate rates of poverty, poor health, homelessness and violence. The suicide rate is also well above the average for the rest of the population.

Moses Martin also sees the social problems in his community as a result of the boarding schools. There, contact with the parents was lost. "As a result, we have forgotten what it means to be a good father and a good mother."

To this day, the violence and consequences of residential schools have been trivialized, says historian Carleton. The system was well-intentioned and was in keeping with the times, they say. Abuse is exaggerated and deaths were unavoidable. In this way, “the extent of the cultural genocide is downplayed,” he says.

On the Talking Trees Tour, park visitors learn which plants help against coughs and how red cedars are made into canoes. Above all, they learn that memory needs a place. For Seraphine Lewis and Moses Martin, that place is the forest. Between Douglas firs and red cedars, it has become a memory of a culture that the state and churches wanted to silence.

This article cost you nothing. Us: research, production and technology. We saved on office rent as well as printing and distribution. And we gave up salary. Nevertheless, the calculation doesn't work without you. We need 300,000 euros by the end of the year. You pay what you can, in return we keep writing.

No paywall, no small print, just one goal: that nd stays.