Residential school survivors share their pain with hope for a better future

MONTREAL, QC—The words are displayed on every banner. "For every child taken, for every parent left behind."

It is more than a catchphrase for those attending the fifth of seven national events hosted by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. Many are survivors or children of survivors of the Indian Residential Schools, come to share their stories.

Ancita Bugden is a second-generation survivor, her mother was raised at an Indian Residential School. Bugden shares her story with tears, but does not falter as she stands in front of the TRC commissioner and those gathered at the April event.

"My mother was not equipped to give me what I needed as a child. I see that now," she says. She proceeds to speak of the pain and history of abuse in her family, of the emotional distance they all suffered.

She doesn't hold back when speaking of her community elders and of the lackluster social services available to First Nations: "We are a broken people, leading broken people. What we need is talk about the real pain…we need spiritual heart surgery."

Finally, Bugden gives her last exhortation, to thunderous applause. "Man has always misrepresented God. What happened at the schools was in not the image of my God in any way, shape or form. The Kingdom of God is about justice and freedom. But what the nuns and priest did at those schools was just wrong."

Similar stories are heard again and again as survivors testify: stories of being removed from their families, losing their mother-tongue, being beaten and sexually abused, feeling isolated and rejected by their communities when they returned home, no longer able of communicating with their parents.

Long years of suffering ensued; women speak of multiple abusive relationships, the men share their struggles with addiction. The statements often conclude with the survivor's hope of reconciliation and healing, or how having children of their own offered redemption. For others, finding the right partner is what kept them alive.

Some speak of forgiveness, but this, for many, is a very difficult thing. Some victims were very young, and cannot remember the name or the face of their abusers. One survivor recalls being raped repeatedly every night for a year by someone who would sneak into the girls' dorm. Presumably, it was one of the priests on staff, but to this day she still has no idea who it was.

The critiques of the Church's role in running these schools are piercing, justified and numerous. But the four churches most involved (Roman Catholic, Anglican, United and Presbyterian) are striving to set things right. Besides offering official apologies for their involvement and in certain cases, settlements, they have collectively opened a "Churches' listening corner" at the TRC where victims can relay their stories and receive personalized apologies from representatives.

They also come to the TRC with thousands of archives: class pictures, addresses, memorabilia.

Gerry Kelly, settlement advisor to the Roman Catholic Church, explains the purpose of these archive booths: "Families come here looking for pictures of their mother and father because they're trying to build a history. You see, the survivors have no mementos, no photographs from their childhood. It's important to give them that."

He recalls one survivor who came to his table and told him that during his years in the Amos Residential School, he played on the hockey team to counter the loneliness.

"The team was quite good," says Kelly, "and at the final game of the season, the referee was none other than Maurice "Rocket" Richard. The kid's team won that year, and wouldn't you know, we found the picture of him holding his medal, and of another one of the Rocket refereeing.

"It was such a moment seeing [the survivor] show the picture to his family. This is why I've got the best seat in the house. I spent my week at the computer next to survivors, helping them retrace their visual history. And in some of the pictures, they were even smiling. Often, survivors don't remember smiling. Reconciliation doesn't just happen face to face. It can also happen shoulder to shoulder."

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