A few days away from launching his first EP, Nui Pimuten, and go back on stage to present Nui Pimuten. I want to walk, which brings together songs, slams and poetry, Natasha Kanapé Fontaine is also feverish at the idea of launching her first novel, Nauetakuan. A silence for a noise. Love letter to residential school survivors dedicated to their descendants, Nauetakuan, an Innu word meaning “noise can be heard from far away”, recounts the initiatory journey of Monica, Innu from Pessamit studying visual arts in Montreal.
No longer speaking her mother tongue, Innu-aimun, since childhood, Monica finds that she is cut off from her roots when she is moved to discover the work of Indigenous artist Rebecca Belmore. With the help of her new friend Katherine, of Innu and Anichinabe origins, she will meet other First Peoples students and artists who will allow her to take pride in the culture of her ancestors.
“The beginning of the novel is a bit like me, a dozen years ago, when I went to study visual arts and discovered Nadia Myre, who is the cover of the book, and Rebecca Belmore, which were really my two inspirations at the time and which followed me until now. Everything is invented! Laughs Natasha Kanapé Fontaine.
If the artist, poet, singer, slammer, actress, activist and now novelist multiplies contagious bursts of laughter, she does not hide having shed tears while writing the most difficult passages of Nauetakuan. By reconnecting with Innu culture and folklore, Monica rediscovers the sweet memory of her kukum with whom she beaded moccasins, as she remembers her difficult relationship with her mother and feels the painful legacy of residential schools in her bones.
“My book is so timely! exclaims the author. All the parts where I talk about residential school are the last passages I wrote. I was not able to fit in there, I was leaving holes. I told my editor not to worry. I waited to find the right words, and I cried! “
To end the shame
Having started writing the novel three years ago, Natasha Kanapé Fontaine could not help but follow the news. As the character took shape, she kept wondering why she wanted to tell her story. Then came the Joyce Echaquan case. Hundreds of macabre discoveries on the sites of former residential schools followed.
“My generation is the second after the residential schools; our parents were children who did not have parents because theirs had known all of what happened, they were literally broken people. In many families, it is still taboo to talk about it. For me, a novel was the best way to approach these things. “
In order to find the right words to deal with these delicate subjects and to better understand the suffering of her community, the novelist turned to a psychotherapist specializing in residential school issues.
“This novel is all my thoughts for the last few years, but I needed help to make it happen. In my family and in my community, I saw how we are a whole generation that is not yet able to weigh the magnitude of the consequences of residential schools. the modus operandi residential schools was to make us ashamed of our culture. For my generation, we were not taught to be ashamed, it’s like innate. “
Born to Innu parents, Natasha Kanapé Fontaine explains that, for years, she did not dare to say that she was Innu. It was by relearning Innu-aimun that she finally assumed her Aboriginal identity.
“My novel is a great metaphor for what I think we should do to heal, that is to return to our culture. Afterwards, you can travel everywhere and be really good about your identity. I wanted the book to be an invitation to reconnect with our Aboriginal culture and be proud of it. I also wanted to tell a story that would help non-native people understand from the inside out what one can go through. “
Indigenous solidarity
To create the universe of Nauetakuan, populated by giant animals and wonderful creatures, including the thunderbird, Natasha Kanapé Fontaine was inspired by her own dreams, various Indigenous myths and ancient stories taught to her by Joséphine Bacon.
“For me, the image of the thunderbird is resilience, that of a people reborn from its ashes. I think then of the consequences of the residential schools in which we live; to be reborn from that is quite a challenge. “
My novel is a great metaphor for what I think we should do to heal, that is to return to our culture.
There is also this mysterious crow that follows Monica. When it is pointed out to her that this bird evokes death for many, the novelist laughs. Obviously, she wasn’t thinking of Edgar Allan Poe at all.
“The crow has been with me for years! In some nations, he is the one who plays tricks, he can also be the guide or the wisdom. Among the Innu, it is also a scavenger, but for us, a scavenger is the one who continues the cycle. “
In addition to her favorite bird, the author wanted to share with her character the taste for travel: “I wanted to tell my experience as an Indigenous person who travels, who comes back wondering what she can bring to his family after seeing the differences between other peoples. Coming back home has been fundamental in my life. For my character, I wanted him to experience the opposite. I returned home, to Pessamit, before going around the world; I told myself that she was going to travel and see things that would challenge her before returning to where she came from. “
As Monica travels across America, Natasha Kanapé Fontaine introduces the reader to the ties that unite the First Nations.
“History teachers say that before colonization, First Peoples were at war all the time, but that’s not true. We knew each other, we traded, we traveled everywhere, we all knew mentally the map of the territory. The Mississippi was America’s highway. Atikamekw artefacts have been found in Mexico and Aztec artefacts in the St. Lawrence Valley. “
Recalling her travels, the one who conquered thousands of spectators and helped them reflect on the status of Indigenous women by playing Eyota Standing Bear in Unit 9 says she still has many stories to tell about Indigenous peoples around the world.
“What I want to do is give back this awareness that we are all similar and connected. When we know what others are going through or doing to give pride and hope to their community, we realize that we are not alone. We are an entire international community. Knowing that makes me strong. “