Voices From Here: Wes FineDay

Filmed on March 31, 2019 in Sweetgrass First Nation, Treaty 6 territory, Saskatchewan.

Cinematographer – Jonathan Elliott
Series Editor – Madison Thomas
Colour – Benoît Côté + Outpost MTL
Sound mix – Seratone Studios
Portrait - Natasha Donovan

Transcript

You know, I will share with you. I will speak the truth to you as I remember it and experience it and feel it. And you can do with it what you will.

I cause the spirits to dance. See, and this is the way: The East. And then we have the South over here. And the West. And the North. But my great-grandfather had a Sun Dance here. In 1911, I think it was. They camped at the bottom of the hill and they had a Sun Dance. A "thirsting dance", we say - pâhkwesimôwin. Sacrificing your body so that you're doing without liquid or food for a number of days. And we do ceremony here to keep our connection with those spirits strong. Otherwise, we ignore them, and they recede from those doorways. And recede to the point where we may no longer have access to their blessings, to their power, to their energies. And so, it's important to maintain that connection.

And the trees are just getting their green. And you know, in this time of year, when the sap begins to flow from the poplar trees, when we were young, we would get taken out to the bush and we would have to find a big poplar and take a chunk of bark off of it. Not around, but up and down, so you don't kill the tree. Then scrape off that inner bark and eat the sap of that tree because it is medicine for your blood. It's a blood cleanser, plus it strengthens your immune system. After a winter of hardship and starvation a lot of times, you needed to renew your strength and that renewal came from the land. From the medicines. And so, everyone of these trees becomes a relative that you can come and visit and call upon. And so, "Who am I?" turns into "Look around you!" I am this and more. The things that you cannot see and the things you can.

Police, doctors, nurses, and teachers were the only ones that would come on the reserve - that we would see. And the police were always looking for somebody to haul away. Nurses wanted to jab needles in you. Teachers wanted to haul you to school and brainwash you. And so, we learned to become really afraid of white people. When we heard a vehicle, you know, we'd all as kids run for the bush and go and hide. But sometimes, you know, they would beat us, and we'd end up being hauled away.

My name is Wes Fineday - that's what people call me. The documents say Wesley Fineday. And in the lodge, when I go and communicate with spirits, when they come in and they address me, they say "pahpahmpitchoh." You know, so to the spirits, I am "the wandering human." And to the government, I'm Wesley Fineday. Or Wes Fineday to people who are more familiar with me. You know, I'm a storyteller, I'm a musician, I'm a songwriter, I've been to Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Japan - either lecturing or teaching about oral history and the origins of oral history, which is right back to the moment of the first sound: "ispikeesikohkakistawih" - the moment of the great explosion in the cosmos.

The spirits refer to these, in my language, as "kahkihkahnah kwahkih" - "the clearly visible offerings". Because they were made from the willows that I approached in a ceremonial way and spoke to. And reminded that willow, that in the beginning when humans were first here, you gave us authorization, permission to use your body to make our ceremonial offerings. You know, when I think about that, I'm reminded of the story of the first human placed upon this earth… into a physical reality and was given conscious awareness. And in sitting, looked around at this incredible, powerful, beautiful, world that we had been placed upon. And they say that the first human began to weep at having been given a glimpse of this reality. And feeling the power and seeing the beauty. And there was a willow standing nearby that stood and watched as the first human sat there weeping. Nîpisîy, the willow tree, wondered, "Tahnaikih omah itha kahapihyin kahmahmatoin? Why do you sit there and cry?" it asked this first human. First human turned and looked and saw this willow tree standing there and explained, "I am sitting here crying because I feel sad. I look around and I see life - and I see growth and I see renewal. And I see process happening here. But I don't understand. How do I fit into this? Why am I here?" And they say at that time, the willow sat and empathized with the first human. And finally spoke, and said, "Âstam" - "Come here." And so, first human, went over and while the first human had been weeping, so had the willow. Ever hear the term "weeping willow"? Some of these sayings, you know, they're ancient, but their meaning has been lost. But we still have the sayings.

But as the willow had wept, in sympathy for first human, they say that the tears of the willow came out of its eyes and began to roll down its body. And as they rolled own its body, they began to dry up and they ended up as this fungus that clings onto the willow tree. And in our stories, we refer to this as "neepsihohpahk kahwahpohin" - "the willow's teardrop".

And that willow spoke, and said to first human, "Âstam." "Come here. And take this willow. Take my tears off my body." And so, first human came and took the teardrops. Now call upon grandfather fire, kihmahsohm iskohtaih - your grandfather fire. Have a fire and then pull some coals from the fire. Do not put this on an open flame but put it on coals. And break off a chunk of my teardrop and put it on the coals. And as the smoke begins to rise, as my teardrops begin to burn the tears that I shed in sympathy for you that you might benefit and learn at that time. And I will carry your words, your prayers your questions, your thoughts in the smoke that rises from the burning of my teardrops." After a time, as first human sat there, there came a voice, that spoke and called out to the first human, "The reason I put you down there, in that physical world, was so that you would have an opportunity to learn and through learning, develop the strength that you need. Take this gift, open your eyes. Become consciously aware and look around at the environment. And before I put you there, I put another one - kihstes, your older brother, maskwa, the bear. I put that one there before I placed you on this earth. So that you would have someone to learn from. By having a role model to observe. So that when you get hungry, look at that bear. Watch where it goes. Watch what it eats, what berries. Because in the future, that's going to be your food. And sometimes it may not feel well. And it will go out to seek the medicines that it needs to get back to being healthy. Again, observe and remember. And become familiar with those things that it's using through the different seasons so that you will know your medicines - the things that can heal you. But understand that there is a process you can't just go around grabbing things. You have to be more aware and self-disciplined and respectful.”

You know, when I try to tell my story, often I'll have people saying, "Well, it couldn't have been that bad. Why don't you just get over it?" Some years, I didn't come home from school because they needed somebody to shovel coal for the summer and keep the furnace going. They would just choose a kid to keep there all year round. And you know, you didn't have any choice in it. You parents didn't have any choice in it. It was just that our lives were not our own. Even our free time could be taken. And to the point where you have absolutely no say in your life. No sense of identity. And then the isolation in those schools, I mean, you were with 30 other kids, but you were alone. There was no network. Except that there might be different little factions, or gangs, that hung out together for safety and protection and stuff like that. And so, it was not really a place to make any kind of friendships. I mean, so, emotionally there was no development. And I always tried to make it a point never to show signs of surrender. They can kill me, but I'm not going to cry. You know, when we were accused of something and nobody wanted to confess, always at the head of line - "Okay, you can't find who's guilty. Well, I'm guilty."

"Well, what did you do wrong?"

"Well, whatever you want to charge me with. That's what I did wrong. So, go ahead." And I wanted the other kids to see me as a person who was strong and would not yield in spite of all the tortures. But I remember one time, in particular, when I did that, and I was beaten unconscious. And you know, I was watching this person beat my body. And all of a sudden, I was up there on the ceiling looking down at this person beating my body. I heard screams and crying. And in my mind, I refused to surrender. And I didn’t realize until much later that that was my body crying, that was my body screaming. I was dying. Then I was dragged out there and flung into a shower that had eight heads. And they turned on the water. And they turned it to hot. That’s what woke me up. That’s what brought my soul back into my body, when I felt that burning. I tried to roll out of the way and then they switched it to cold. And they kept doing that. Hot and cold, hot and cold. You know, for me, it was just I have to try and survive this. I can’t do anything now, but some day, when I get out of this place… When I escape, they better start watching their backs. It was a hatred that grew. And that had no outlet because it was not safe to express those kinds of things.

You know, I survived. And I escaped in my seventh or eighth year. And I thought, "I'm going to this once. But I'm going to do it right. When I make my break, that's the last they're ever going to see of me." I escaped. Moving around the country picking rocks and roots as work. And I did that until I was 16 because I couldn't come home before 16 because they would send me back. And then my head would be shaved, and I would be beaten. You know, I became a really dangerous person. What was allowed to grow was the anger and the hatred and the frustration. So, I mean, I've had those moments and, you know, a reasonable person would tell you that was a great defeat. But I don't like to focus on the things where I've fallen short. I got up and I tried to work my way back. Kept trying to become part of something. I suffered losses. I was wounded. Lay at the edge of death. Gave up. And still had to get up. And thinking, "Okay, I can do this. I can create these changes." And I spent lots of time alone in the mountains, in the bushes, picking medicines. Becoming familiar with spirits. Interacting with spirits. But you know, when I began to learn about things that were important to me and then I began to see some sense in having these things passed on because they're powerful. Having ceremonies passed on. Having the process of becoming an oskapew (ceremonial helper) was explained in detail. So that if that's your role in life, that guidance can be given to you where these are the processes you will undergo. And these are the some of the things you may feel and experience. And especially when my boys came along. I mean, then I saw how important it was – that they should have someone to look up to. They they're not ashamed to say, "That's my dad.”

But all of these medicines, I mean, they're here. We just have forgotten about what they are. But now again, you know, is the time to begin to teach those people who want to relearn what we've left behind. Because they understand how important that is to a healthy environment and body.

You know, and I think we've all been in the same boat. We've all suffered. We've all had our unique experiences. And we should just sit back and learn to listen to each other. As if it matters, because it does matter. Take what we need from the stories that we're offered. Give back what we can - let the experience be reciprocal. And then, sit together, and try to make plans about, you know, there's a future coming! What are we going to do to meet that future?

To my children and young people. There is information and knowledge out there, but you have to search for it. – Wes FineDay