2019 was quite a year. For us northerners in Ontario’s James Bay region it was full of snow with very cold winter temperatures and a short summer. We all survived a nasty federal election, ending up with a minority government with the Liberals still in charge.
I firmly believe that Kahnawake Survival School (KSS) has a unique opportunity to produce some of the most successful students in my Mohawk community – and they have filled up an impressive list already. But there’s still room for improvement.
I was watching a recent episode of Enquête, Radio-Canada’s weekly newsmagazine, in which two self-proclaimed medicine men who make a lot of money in Europe teaching “Indigenous health and medicines” were being investigated.
Another year has come and gone. It may have been a great year, or it might have been the crappiest year you have experienced to date. We all hope the new year will be better no matter how good or bad was the past one.
Office parties are a lot of fun. Especially when it’s a regional event and you have to travel to go meet with your co-workers who are spread out across Eeyou Istchee. This year, an incredibly large Christmas party was held in Gatineau for our regional government.
Throughout the years many have asked me to include something in the Nation they thought should be there. However, in the past 25 years, my father, Ken Nicholls, never has… until now.
When I was invited to an event featuring Jesse Thistle, a Métis Cree author and assistant professor at Toronto’s York University, I had just a faint idea of who the man was.
It’s nearing that time of the year again when you are filled with the spirit of giving and hoping for a bit of receiving. I know that Santa does exist – as a hybrid of parents, uncles and aunts, and grandparents all sharing to give to the offspring that fill our world with lifelong memories and treasures to fill the scrapbook of life.
The phone rings and we dash around looking for it, a bit too late as the answering machine picks up. Damn, I think out loud. Then a foreign accent plays on the machine, and I realize that it’s a scammer.
My uncle Cheekanish passed away in Attawapiskat November 24 at the age of 88. Uncle Cheekanish’s English name was Leo Kataquapit. My family mourned his passing, but we also celebrated his long, full life that he filled with as much fun, happiness and goodness as he could.
