Even the nuns were not immune from seeing apparitions. Betsey Paul recalls:
Sister Rita taught sewing classes on the third floor which was where the choir gallery was located also. She used to check every night to make sure all the work was done, and one night on her rounds she saw a girl in the gallery but didn’t stop to talk to her. Then she went downstairs and saw the same girl in the recreation hall. “Didn’t I just see you in the choir gallery?” she asked. And Pauline answered, “No Sister, I’m here. You see me now. You must have seen my ghost because I’m here now.” Sister Rita was so baffled because she was so sure she had just seen Pauline somewhere else.
No wonder we saw or thought we saw ghosts so often. A number of our class mates died during our school years, sometimes in ways which suggested to us that our own lives were equally at risk. Rita Joe remembers the sequence of events which led to Mary Agnes Ward’s disappearance:
I was in the dining room with Mary Agnes and she asked the nun, “May I leave the room.” And when she said, “You may leave,” Mary Agnes said, “Swine.” Sister heard her and asked her, “What did you say?” and Mary Agnes said, “Nothing.” So Sister went around asking the girls what she said and someone told her, “She called you swine.”
The Sister took Mary Agnes near the big boys’ table and began to smack her around, all the while hollering at her. She kept smacking her, smacking, smacking until Mary Agnes’ back was on the boys’ table — smack right in the face. The other Sister was peering over the fat Sister who was pinching and hitting. Mary Agnes struck out, and her right fist landed on the other Sister’s face. Then the two of them got into it. After they were done beating her, the fat one pushed Mary Agnes all the way to the scullery and told her to get to work. When the kitchen Sister came from the dining room, Mary Agnes hid behind the door, but not quickly enough and she was seen. “Who is that behind the door?” Mary Agnes stepped out and you couldn’t recognize her because one side of her face was all swollen — her eye, her mouth and nose were bloody. And the kitchen Sister said, “My gosh, what happened to you?” And Mary Agnes couldn’t answer so she just puckered up her mouth and faced in the direction of the refectory. The kitchen Sister said, “You march right up to Father Brown and show him what they have done.” I was told to leave and I went to the recreation hall and told the other girls what happened. We hid under the open window of the reading room and listened. Father Brown was hollering and talking real loud. He was so angry! It was the first time I had ever heard a priest swear. And we heard her crying. Later when I tried to find out I was told that she was taken to the infirmary on the third floor. She stayed in that infirmary from that time on. Then we heard she was taken to the hospital. Then, sometime later, we heard that she was dead. The incident was so fresh in my mind that when Sister announced that she died because her bones were too big for her heart, I didn’t believe her.
Medical records show that Mary Agnes was sent to a TB sanatorium. Whether she died at that time is not documented. For her classmates, her removal to the third floor infirmary after being beaten already threatened her death or permanent disappearance. For us, the infirmary became the place from which children vanished forever. Sometimes we heard that they had died and sometimes we didn’t. To us, it seemed that those sick children just evaporated.
When I was researching the school in 1986, I took my daughter Valerie and granddaughter Sisip [Little duck] with me to take some pictures. As we drove up the hill, we could see that all the windows in the front were broken, the front door was hanging on one set of hinges and the front of the building had pock marks on its face, where people used to take rifle shots at it. There was no roof and the building was in its last stages of deterioration. My girls jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs while I was still getting my camera ready. They dashed up the flight of cement steps to the front door, but stopped suddenly, turning back to me with a puzzled look. I quickly snapped their picture and went cheerfully up to them saying, “You should have seen the look on your faces.” Valerie looked quite scared. “I heard someone whisper, ‘Come in. You’re welcome.’” “Yes,” said Sisip, “Like a nun or a priest.” They both had the feeling that someone dressed in black was standing just behind the open door in the shadows.
We burned some sweetgrass and sacred tobacco for protection and then went in. Inside, we found rubbish all over those same floors that the students used to spend so many long hours scrubbing, waxing and polishing. I took them to the chapel first because somehow I was expecting it to be in the same condition as when I was a child. Instead, I found debris everywhere. We walked along the chapel corridor sticking close together and close to the wall because the ceiling was coming down. When we got to the chapel, I told my girls the same thing the nun told my family on my first day as a student. “This is a holy place. And,” I added, “a place where a lot of children’s prayers didn’t get answered.” From somewhere in the building, we heard an echo of falling ceilings. “Let’s get out of here, Grammy,” said Sisip, “before the floor caves in and swallows us up.” And after thinking about that for a second, she asked, “What is underneath anyway, Grammy?” I answered, “Used to be a Mi’kmaw burial ground.” I looked down at where we were standing and though the floor seemed firm enough I was still worried about falling masonry. I began to realize how dangerous it was and scolded myself for bringing my children into this dangerous place. I told the girls to leave but they wouldn’t leave me, so the three of us continued to move cautiously around the decaying building. All of us were trying to make some sort of sense out of this place. We were trying to read the signs from the walls and the windows. The floor that once was so polished and shining was now warped and was slippery from the rotting pigeon droppings. I stood on the platform where the altar used to be and took pictures of every nook and cranny. Then we made our way down the three flights of dark stairways, among the rusted bed-springs and mildewed mattresses on the floors to the refectory where the soap closet was and I snapped three pictures of it before leaving.
Weeks later, I had them developed. On the rotting walls, in the peeling paint, behind the shelves of the infamous soap closet where children were once locked as punishment, I could see the form of a skeleton in a white shadow — skit’ekmuj.
We walked around to the boys’ side and that’s when we noticed that all the doors of the building had caved in. The chapel windows had been nailed over with some kind of tin sheeting. The tin had gaping holes in it which looked like something had exploded inside and escaped through the windows.
I also took a picture of some graffiti that said, “Burnt in hell, was prison for Indians.”
Two days later, the school burnt to the ground and all that was left was twisted steel and charred brick and granite. Only the soap closet, the place of punishment for scores of runaways, failed to burn.
Katherine Sorbey
I am a Mi’kmaw
Nin na Mikmawa’jj
Wjipe’nuk wetaqiey
Me’kwamu’k na’qi
Kji’niskam wa’soq, kil ne’mitun
Ta’nuk nin ma’mektasiew
Nin na Mi’kmaw L’nu
Ni’n nek pe’mapeksik mikmawey,
Pituimtlnaqnipunqkl we’ta’peksi.
Kji’niskam wa’soq, kil kejitun
Ta’nuk nin ma’mektasiew
Nin na Mi’kmaw L’nu
Nsitun nkamlamunk wetklusik
Ne’kaw we’tawsi wsitqamu
Kji’niskam wa’soq, kil nestimin
Ta’nuk nin ma’mektasiew
Ni-na Mi’kmaw L’nu
Ne’wt pas mi’majuaqn n’mites
E’litasianik nijank siawalino
Kji’niskam wa’soq, kil wikumitesk
Na’nekmowey mu mektimew
I am a Mi’kmaw
(nin na micmawajj)
I am a Mi’kmaw
In the East is where my roots are
My skin is reddish
You, the Creator up aboveYou see this
When will I no longer doubt myself?
I am a Mi’kmaw
Through me the Micmac heritage flows
It has been around for thousands of years
You, the Creator up aboveYou know this
When will I no longer doubt myself?
I am a Mi’kmaw
My language speaks from the heart
And I continue to live off the earth
You, the Creator up above,You understand this
When will I no longer doubt myself?
I am a Mi’kmaw
I live just once in this world
I look to my children to carry on what I started
When you, the Creator, call me
That shall be the one thing I do not doubt.
Indian Soldiers
We left our homes
to protect Our Lands
Against other immigrants
to keep them where they belong
Away from our lands.
We left our homes
So Peace and Harmony
May dwell on our lands
To keep war where it belongs
Away from our Lands.
We left our homes
Not once but o’r and o’r again
To protect our Lands
For fear others will bring
War to our Lands.
We left our homes
good enough you see
As soldiers of fortune
For Canada you say
I say “For Our Lands.”
We left our homes
as history shows
With Dignity and Pride
“For Canada” you say
I say “For our Lands.”
We left our homes
trained as can be
To destroy all that
threatens this
Our beautiful Lands.
We left our homes
Some of us ne’er return
We left our spirits
in a muddy grave
For our beautiful lands.
We left our homes
and families you see
Just like other people
who dared to care
For our beautiful lands.
Single Mother to Her Child
When I was young, my child
I was in a hurry to become a woman
I didn’t know what real love was
I thought that knowing a man
Was all that you needed
But today, my child
You know very well how you came into the world.
When I was young, my child
I learned about life when I had you
I was frightened, but also I was very happy
But at the time, my child, I was very poor
I put great shame upon myself
By having you when I was not married
But that, my child, is no fault of yours.
When I was young, my child
My heart broke into a million pieces
Becoming a mother was no easy task
There was no one to teach me
I tried to look after you
But they told me I wouldn’t be able to
That is the reason why you grew up elsewhere.
When I was young, my child
My tears would have filled a valley
Until they would turn into a large river
That is now much I cried over you
I looked for you but you were kept from me
Because someone else was there for you
And loved you just as much as I did.
Now today, my child
You understand all I talk about
Be strong and be brave
Your children now depend on you
Do not forget what I have said to you
The way you remember me
Is the way your children will remember you.
Today I see you, my child
I see how you’ve grown into a woman
I am happy each time I see you
But sometimes I also feel sad
Because it is no longer easy
To raise children
Especially when you want to enjoy yourself.
I ask the Creator, my child
For you to find true love
Remember, my child
Not to look down on anyone
And not to hate
To forgive everyone
For this is what love means.
Daniel N. Paul
The Heritage of English Scalping Proclamations
Even now, in the 1990s, the Mi’kmaq and other Native Americans are victimized by racially-prejudiced attitudes which are fed by the past false depiction of our ancestors as bloodthirsty savages. This systemic racism will, until effective action is taken to end it, prevent Native Peoples from achieving any measurable progress towards self-governance and self-reliance in the foreseeable future.
As evidence that these attitudes still prevail, Canada’s white majority continues to honour and glorify men who persecuted Native Americans without a trace of compassion. During the early British colonizing period, men of high rank and privilege such as General Jeffrey Amherst, John Gorham, and Charles Lawrence committed horrific crimes against humanity when engaged in stripping the First Nations’ Peoples of their dignity, lives and property.
The genocidal crimes committed by these members of the English gentry against Native Americans are well documented in the archives of various jurisdictions and as such are readily available for Canadians to ponder. However, in order to put things into proper perspective, researchers should, when dissecting the heinous deeds recorded in these documents, keep in mind that the British were the invaders and usurpers of another nation’s culture and property, not their saviours as many hailing from European ancestry would still like to believe.
To provide an example of the English gentry’s bent for cruelty I will relate the genocidal activities of one Governor from this era, Lord Edward Cornwallis, and let you be the judge of the values of a society that continues to award his memory with praise and platitudes of honour.
Cornwallis almost exclusively restricted his murderous activities towards Native Americans, particularly the Mi’kmaq. However, as will be revealed by provisions of the scalping proclamation he issued, he did leave the door open for bounty hunters to take the scalps of any Acadian or British subject who was caught offering the Mi’kmaq assistance of any sort. Also, during his sojourn as governor, by his incompetence as an administrator, he was responsible for the untimely deaths by starvation of many European colonists.
During his term of office, Cornwallis aped the racist practices of his predecessors and treated the Mi’kmaq as sub-humans. This designation did not entitle the Mi’kmaq to any degree of human or civil rights considerations. In analyzing the records of the era, one can state with confidence that the only time the English deviated from this path of persecution and oppression was when it was in their colonizing interests to do so.
In 1749 the Lords of Trade in London, the policy makers of the British government under the direction of Lord Halifax, made a decision to found a new settlement in the colony of Nova Scotia. To this end they appointed a member of the established gentry, Cornwallis, to oversee the founding of the new community. He arrived at what was then known as Chebucto Harbour during midsummer 1749 and founded a settlement as directed. The settlement was soon thereafter christened “Halifax” in honour of the Commissioner of Trade and Plantations, Lord Halifax.
The Mi’kmaq at first turned out the welcome mat for the settlers. One Englishman wrote home, “When we first came here, the Indians, in a friendly manner brought us lobsters and other fish in plenty, being satisfied for them by a bit of bread and some meat.”
What later provoked the Mi’kmaq into hostilities was the land grab by Cornwallis’s military government. Upon arrival at his destination, Lord Cornwallis, in concert with his council, began to conduct their a
ffairs with the Mi’kmaq in the same high-handed fashion as did his predecessors. Instead of negotiating with the Nation for permission to settle upon their lands, Cornwallis arrogantly began to take it over without any consideration for the Mi’kmaq’s “inherent land rights.” As a result of these provocative actions, the Mi’kmaq renewed their 1744 declaration of war against the British on September 23, 1749.
In retaliation against the Mi’kmaq for daring to defend their lives and property, Cornwallis’s colonial government met on October 1, 1749 aboard H.M.S Beaufort, at anchor in Halifax harbour, to debate a plan of genocidal action. The following is an extract from those minutes:
1. That in their opinion to declare war formally against the Micmac Indians, would be a manner to own them a free and independent people, whereas they ought to be treated as so many Banditti Ruffians, or rebels to His Majesty’s Government. [The ignorance these people displayed in regards to their own affairs is epitomized by this statement. Nova Scotia in 1749 was still in a declared state of war with the Mi’kmaq; the province and the Massachusetts Bay colony had officially declared war on the Tribe on November 2, 1744.]
2. That in order to secure the province from further attempts of the Indians, some effectual methods should be taken to pursue them to their haunts and show them because of such actions, they shall not be secure within the province.
3. That a company of volunteers not exceeding fifty men be immediately raised in the settlement to scour the woods all around the town.
4. That a company of one hundred men be raised in New England to join with Gorham’s during the winter and go over the whole province.
5. That a further present of 1,000 bushels of corn be sent to the Saint John’s Indians to confirm them in their good disposition towards the English, and
6. That a reward of ten Guineas be granted for every Indian Micmac taken or killed.
On October 2, 1749 Cornwallis put the planned horror into action by issuing the following proclamation: