(Mani-utenam) Uapishtan Vollant clutches a small black stone between his fingers. It is a traditional stone that was given to him when he started on his path to healing.
“It means a lot, it’s my strength. I’m less afraid when I have my rock with me,” admits the 49-year-old Innu.
Uapishtan Vollant is still “in recovery”. He came here, to the Uapan Utshekatak center in Mani-utenam, to banish his demons: drugs, alcohol and gambling. “When I entered, I was far away,” admits the man who has been sober since January. ” I am clean he said calmly.
The Uapan Utshekatak center opened its doors in The Press on a sunny but still chilly Saturday in late March.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Entrance to the Uapan Utshekatak center, whose name means “the morning star”
The intervener Josée Vollant accepted, at our request, to bring together some members of the community of Uashat mak Mani-utenam who followed a healing session.
They are ten to form a large circle. They are between 13 and 68 years old. They stayed at the center for different reasons, but with a common goal: to get better. Together, they want to deliver a message of hope.
Because there are also people who recover.
“I have forgiven”
The Press reported Friday that the consumption of drugs, particularly cocaine derivatives, has been wreaking havoc in the Innu community located about fifteen kilometers east of Sept-Îles, since the pandemic. The authorities are on their toes, the Legault government promises action shortly.
“I’ve been sober for 600 days,” says Rocky St-Onge to loud applause from his comrades. The consumption of cocaine plunged him into hell. Family crisis, stay in psychiatry, dark thoughts… The 37-year-old father has come a long way.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Intervener Josée Vollant (centre) and Rocky St-Onge (right)
“I wanted to die. We’re going to talk about real business here… I wanted to take my own life. It’s not so much that I wanted to die, but I didn’t want to feel anything anymore,” he says confidently. His “harsh past” had repercussions on those close to him. He knows it well.
Two of his children, Mayna and Charles St-Onge, 15 and 13, are part of the circle. They listen attentively to their father recounting his journey. Tears stream down Charles’s cheeks.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Rocky St-Onge and his children Charles and Mayna
“I saw them, my children,” Rocky continues. His throat constricts, then he starts again.
[Mes enfants] weren’t sleeping well, things weren’t going well at school. Since I recovered, they sleep well. I have fewer calls from school.
Rocky St-Onge
“I’ve forgiven,” Charles retorts, his voice shaking. He and his sister are now involved in the Uapan Utshekatak centre, which offers stays for young people aged 14 to 17.
“When I’m the caregiver, it makes me feel good. It does me good to see people who heal, ”says the boy, his eyes reddened.
The Uapan Utshekatak center is well established in Mani-utenam. From the outside, the little faded blue house looks like nothing. Yet inside, great things are happening, according to the group. “When you leave here, you carry a light”, assures Rocky St-Onge.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
The Uapan Utshekatak center is well established in Mani-utenam.
“You have to carry this light that makes the world want to come here [pour se guérir] “, he adds.
The popularity of the session, which lasts four days, is undeniable. “I don’t even have time to post [la disponibilité]it fills up quickly”, illustrates Mme Flying. Word of mouth in the community of some 4,500 souls is also doing its work.
Victories, setbacks
This is not Uapishtan Vollant’s first therapy. It’s been two years since he got rid of his addiction to alcohol, but for drugs, it’s more difficult. He relapsed last year. “It’s a perpetual fight. Every day, ”says this former cocaine user, stroking his traditional stone.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Uapishtan Vollant and his spouse (on his left)
[Les revendeurs], they are everywhere. They are cousins, friends. It’s too easy to get them. I’d be glad there weren’t any more. Drugs are a scourge here.
Uapishtan Vollant
“You have to really want to get out of it,” he continues.
The problem is such that interview participants speak of “community healing”.
The Takuaikan Uashat mak Mani-utenam Innu council claims to have improved the offer of community services in recent years. The Pakatan symposium on suicide prevention, drug addiction, mental health and cultural identity begins this week.
Uauitshitun social services on Friday reported a meteoric rise in service requests since the pandemic. It is also a signal, according to coordinator Alice Guimond, that the community is asking for help.
believe in the future
Sitting next to Mme Vollant, Karine Régis is one of the last to speak. “I am a child of residential school survivors. My parents attended it, I grew up in the world of alcohol, violence, drug addiction,” she says.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Karine Regis
“I’ve never had a substance abuse problem,” says the 50-year-old woman. However, she struggled to live. A pain that she was able to calm in the center. Today, she clings to the future.
“I refuse to see my community as non-natives see us, as vulnerable people, alcoholics, drug addicts… I come from a community in recovery,” she pleads with conviction. “When I see Charles and Mayna, it gives me hope. »
“I believe in my community, I believe in recovery. »
Uapan Utshekatak means “morning star”. The one we still see at dawn, explains Josée Vollant.
That afternoon, in the little blue house, she still shone in the eyes of those survivors.