I had sort of an epic day today.
My preceptor and I left Terrace this am (oh yeah, I'm in Terrace now) for Hazelton, a cute little town in the middle of nowhere, about 2 hours out of Terrace. I had a pre-diabetic client who not only was totally focused on what I was saying (Yess!) but also had suggestions of his own (YESSS!!) and was already making changes to his diet on his own (HALLELUJAH, MY SISTAHS!) I love it when people actually want to see me and didn't just show up because they were told to.
I've been going around to quite a few reserves in the last week, Kitimaat Village, Gitwonga, and a couple others and they are some of the most beautiful places I've ever been. Today, we went to yet another reserve to teach some aboriginal kids a cooking class. Sounds not particularly epic, yeah?
It was a rough start. The group was quite late, but one lovely lady met us there on time. They had just gone to a seminar on colonization, and she was almost in tears telling us about what was done to her people. She talked about her principal making advances on her while in a residential school and not knowing that her closest friends were being sexually abused. She told us how they came with a shotgun to take her from her parents. She talked about the shame of growing up thinking her people were a bunch of drunks and not knowing the reasons behind it. That's rather a controversial sentence, looking back, but she went on to explain that with so much horror and loss, how could anyone be expected to respond? Now don't get me wrong, this isn't a spiel on the evils of residential schools. I don't know enough about it, other than to say too many were horrible, evil places where children were horribly abused. On the one hand, she needed to talk about it. On the other hand, hearing the prejudice and trauma she and her family endured at the hands of 'the white man' was hard to hear. Not just the trauma of what happened, but (rather selfishly) knowing that I was included under that blanket. And yet, she bore no particular ill will towards us specifically, despite an obvious and understandable distrust of 'the white man' in general which she voiced on several occasions. Human dynamics are incredible.
So anyway, the kids came and we started cooking - google Martha Stewart Farmer's Beans and Pasta if you're curious (it's delicious). Basically, it's pasta with beans, carrots, zucchini, onion and white beans in a tomato base. Super easy and the kids loved it! (Take THAT, naysayers!) They all begged to take turns chopping and stirring and all that good stuff. Originally we thought they'd be teenagers and be far too cool to participate - this was much better. They were super stoked, and the parents who came along to watch/help got caught up in their enthusiasm. At the end, we were all sitting around chomping down our pasta and oolichans (they're running now between Terrace and Prince Rupert, I guess. Super popular with the native kids), and a guy comes up to me and says, 'Have you ever heard about auras?'
Don't get me wrong, I'm not really a believer in that sort of thing. But I'm on someone else's turf so I'll politely listen to whatever he wants to say, yeah?
Anyway, he says, 'Your aura is bright orangey yellow with a white border and your head is pink.'
I have no idea what any of this means, so I ask 'Is that a good thing or a bad thing?'
He says (this is from memory, so not word for word, but a decent recollection of it.):
'The white is because you are pure of heart. You know who you are, you accept and love yourself so you come across with confidence. Everyone can feel that. It stands out right away.
The yellow is more of that confidence coming through. You stand strong with who you are, you know where you stand, and everyone knows where they stand with you.
The orange is because everyone tries to peel their problems off on you(?), but you know what problems are yours to take and which are not. You are open to everyone, you share everything, so these problems don't bother you because you release them back out into the world. You don't hold them in your head.
The pink is because you're open. Your aura reaches out to touch mine and everyone you meet. You are one with everyone. You understand people. You understand my people.'
Now even if you're like 'sounds like a bunch of airy fairy stuff to me' (which I sort of think, let's be honest), that last bit caught me.
Anyone who's worked on the reserves knows it can be hard to establish a rapport. The amount of tragedies experienced by so many of the people there; not just in the past, with residential schools and general oppression, but with current levels of abuse, be it domestic or drug abuse, prejudice, and the fallout from generations of kids snatched from their parents, raised by sadistic institutions and coming back without knowing or understanding why this happened. Again, I'm not saying this is how it always is, nor am I an expert in any way so forgive me if I'm on the wrong track, but that's sort of how it has been explained to me so far. Why should someone trust a bunch of other people who tormented and repressed them? To have even one person say I might have an inkling of understanding was one of the best moments I've had so far. I've always been interested in marginalized populations (hence volunteering in the DTES and so on), and originally wanted to come to Northern Health for internship because its scope includes more mental health and aboriginal health than the others. The job I'm shadowing now is one I could do forever, if I ever find the opportunity.
You see why today was a hell of a day.
