The phone rang and I got the call I had been wanting to get all summer. It was my cousin calling to see how I was more or less. As soon as we got passed the phone call pleasantry protocol though, I asked right away:

“Did you guys go fishing?”

“No, not this weekend but last weekend. Got about a dozen, but Dad wants to go this weekend, just to get enough for canning.” my cousin said to me on the other line.

“So you’re going this weekend? I’m coming up.” I responded without hesitation.

These plans were ones that I have been trying to make all summer, only summer is of course in the rear view now. This is probably the last chance to go this year. At the rate things are going, it might be some of the last chances ever unfortunately.

When I attended the anti-fish farm solidarity event in support of the Musgamagw Dzawada’enuxw People at the Vancouver Art Gallery the other week, it really hit me hard when a speaker at the rally stated, “I ask this question wherever I go. How many people here have caught a salmon with your father, your uncle, your grandfather?” Many hands rise among the attendees of this rally, including my own. This statement, as innocuous as it may seem, in fact caused an emotional reaction within myself that I did not expect. I began to get overcome with a feeling almost instantly of losing that exact experience with my family. It hit me at that moment just how much the answer to that question means to me.

For a long time now, I have been going fishing as much as I could with my Uncle and his son. For me, it’s one of the primary things that has connected me to my Father’s people’s culture. It makes me feel at home, it makes me feel like I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I know that like the salmon returning home, I too must return home. The same way they have learned to return at that time of year, so too have I. I never feel more at peace with things anywhere else than when I am on that river, catching the salmon like my ancestors have done for many generations before.

“How many of you want to do the same thing for your grandchildren?” he asks us all. That statement what hit me the most. I don’t want this tradition to be gone. It made me tear up just thinking that we face the possibility of being some of the last generations to have done this harvest, one that has sustained many people up and down our coasts and all along many rivers within this land we call home.

Many hands rise again and cheers erupt from the listening crowd of supporters.

“That’s the fight we are facing today. Wild salmon and the governments that have been in play for far too long have lost sight of the value. The fundamental value of healthy and abundant wild salmon stocks of British Columbia. It was one of the primary foundations of this province and now they are foregoing it for benefits to Norwegians and the companies that live across the Atlantic Ocean. Because I know the reliant (people) and the appreciation of wild salmon extends far beyond First Nations people.”

He continued, “That is why I am so happy to see so many people here today. And now our job is to take this wonderful event that we’ve had, make use of your cellphones, get on Facebook, get on Twitter, #wildsalmonmatter, and let’s tag in the government at every opportunity. And if you’re shooting video, let’s get it up on the social media so we can then make this go viral and the government can’t deny the voice of British Columbians.”

Everyone in the crowd began to yell and hoot and drum in support of this message. It was a great moment but it was also a sobering one for me. I hadn’t really thought about the chance of being part of the last generations to go to the rivers we have been going to for all these many years. Many generations of the same families going to these places to maintain our lives from for these many years.

I don’t want to be a part of that generation, I want to be a part of the generation that will fight the power, fight the powers that be! (To quote my heroes Public Enemy.)

 

 

 

To say that the portrayal of First Nations people in most media has been less than stellar,  is a huge understatement. Donald Trump’s bizarre, pelican nest for hair, huge!

Back in my day, (the early 90’s) we used to get a lot of our information from comic books still. From Tintin to Turok, many generations most likely only learned about First Nations in comics or in movies and television when you really analyze things.

It’s hard to find good examples of positive portrayals of First Nations throughout comic history and WAY too easy to find the bad. In this article on Cracked, I was surprised at just how many First Nations based images there were. I was also glad to see that they didn’t just brush off First Nations stereotypes unlike say, a myriad of sports teams at every level.

I was surprised when I looked through my own comic collection to see just how many depictions and mentions of First Nations that I had glossed over or forgot about until I went back and looked. What was really surprising is how much of these images appeared courtesy of everyone’s favorite teenage octogenarian, Archie Andrews!

Yep, Ol’ Arch and his pals sure seemed to have a fair amount of First Nations encounters and Native inspired (appropriated) clothing all through the years. Seems like the appropriation of today is just another recycled trend, like most things appropriators get mixed up in!

Next issue, I mean post (I’ve been reading too many comics, wait, that’s not necessarily a bad thing I say!) I think we should journey to the darker realms of portrayals First Nations in the history of comics. Like most of our history, it’s not the easiest subject to look back on.